Poems Songs of a chained heart Guidelines To play the game, for a slave, means to obey the rules... Fiction Work of fantasy, these stories are dreams, scenes imagined and events wished to become reality

main my submission faces of me writings ink on paper friends awards Updates Site Map Guestbook Her Beginning As she steps off the plane bearing the name Air France, the cool air hits her flushed face. Her belly flips over and over as she fills her lungs with the unfamiliar fragrance that tantalizes her senses from a new country. She giggles softly, partly from the nervous excitement and partly from the white wine that she entertained herself with waiting for her descent. Walking gracefully down the steep stairs, her black suede boots hitting the aluminum with a soft clang, she makes her way through the hurried mob. She looks up and her soft cheeks turn a light scarlet as her dancing green eyes meet his. She smiles from her heart. Turning with a flirtatious wink, she convinces a young man to help her with her heavy bags from the conveyer belt. Walking around a short corner, she sees him standing there. Proud, strong, and handsome, she searches for a trace of nervousness in His eyes, the same feeling that is shooting through her body, knowing it must be there, she finds nothing and is amazed. Her tiny body only wants to fall into his poised strength she finds in his arms, but instead, she bounces happily and embraces him with a tight hug and a soft sensual kiss. She smiles from her heart. A long drive in front of them, her heart pounds hard again hoping she will say the correct things, yet a serene peacefulness is found in the moments of silence; much like coming home after a long while away. Beautiful palm trees pave their way through the small Portuguese town, and they arrive at his apartment. He grabs both her bags, and instructs her to carry the one black bag that is not her own. She looks up at him in bewilderment, and with a compelling nod from him, she knows what the contents of his bag are. She smiles from her heart. She asks permission to take a shower after promptly putting her bags in the room he has prepared for her. “you may, krystynn, but only if you keep the shower door open and the curtain drawn,” he replies in a profoundly calm voice. Her heart beats rapidly once more, feeling as if it will pound out of her chest. Knowing that he recognizes her worst fear is for her to display her body, she falters and looks at him with anxiety filling her bright green eyes. He looks intensely back at her, his blue eyes demanding for trust, and in return, they are calming. In a terrified whisper she says simply, “yes Sir”. Trying to keep her composure, her tiny body still trembling, and the more she approaches the bathroom, the harder it quivers. The bathroom is small and a large mirror hangs on the wall, giving perfect view from the bathtub if the door is open. She does her best to undress behind the door without displeasing him, and jumps into the shower quickly, nurturing her body for him. Her eyes covered with the shampoo flowing down her head, she watches the door attentively through the stinging, never once breaking her stare. She finishes faster than she has ever previously, and dries her sweet smelling flesh. Walking swiftly with her fluffy white towel wrapped tightly around her body, she reaches the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind her, and a wave of relief jackets her. She dresses quickly, and realizes suddenly what the lesson was. Returning to him, she sinks her body to kneel beside him, and he glances down at her with a peaceful look of satisfaction, nods slowly, and says in a tranquil soothing voice, “good girl”. She smiles from her heart. Walking one slight step behind him on his left, they walk into an unpretentious elegant restaurant. He has called ahead and a small cozy table awaits them in the back. She sits across from him, her dazzling green eyes sparkling, and his back to the wall. She asks him to order for her, and with a controlled tone, he refuses. She settles on a gourmet salad not knowing yet the level of romance that will fill her body throughout this single meal. They dine, they chat, they giggle, every moment the new bond connecting them stronger together. The red wine tantalizes her taste buds, only to be complimented further with various fruits dipped in deep rich chocolate. Her mind wonders trying to recall a more extravagant dinner. She smiles from her heart. Watching him sitting on the subtle orange sofa, she feels and senses his brilliant domination. She hears his strong voice, “kneel, krystynn”. Without a second guess or hesitation, she kneels at his feet, only longing to be closer, to feel his touch, to be one with him. She looks up at him, watching his sea blue eyes taking her in. She kneels in awe thinking of how this has come together, how he is everything she thought he would be and more. Remembering the rectangular white box she has brought for him, she pauses for a single moment. Then without a word, she feels it, and rises from her kneel to go get the box, knowing deep within her heart he is worthy of her gift. Walking gracefully back to him, thinking of his self-confidence, his strength that is so apparent in his composure, she smiles knowing she is making the right decision. She hands him the box, gathers the two glasses to refill them with the sweet red wine they are enjoying, and leaves him to reflect on his gift. She returns rather quickly to find him holding the white box open, he is studying it, and for an instant, she is fearful he is not pleased. Their eyes meet and she lowers her gaze respectfully, whispering, “You are worthy of this symbol of O/our Lifestyle, for You really are a true Master, Ethan”. She watches his eyes gleam, and wonders of the thoughts flooding his head. Looking at him unfolding the paper that defines the symbol hanging from the Italian silver bracelet, the exact same emblem that she wears with pride around her neck, her eyes shine too thinking that all she believes in is contained in this one small circle of life. She smiles from her heart. Softly grinding, softly rolling, softly wriggling, softly swaying, slowly, seductively, his strong hand on her tender skin, hearts racing, eyes half shut, she breathes deeply, and in the quietness of their passion, she hears his controlled voice. “You are just as much of a sensual creature here as you are online.” She fights the desire shooting like electricity through her body. Knowing she mustn’t give into her infatuation yet, she sighs deeply and heads for the guest bedroom. Thoughts twirling through her head of what he must think of her and walking back and forth a few times, she finally asks him to tuck her into the bed she will not share with him, but her eyes twinkle with hope that he will take her in this bed. His strong hands wrapping her petite body in tight, she smiles seductively up at him and he bends one last time to gently brush her tender lips with a soft kiss. Leaning down to her, he tells her in a deep soft tone, “I will not do this until you ask for it, krystynn”. Her torture flows hard through her body, and he flips the lights off, she tosses and turns, hoping and praying that he will return for her. She knows that as a submissive it is not her place to question his thinking, but she begins to doubt the femininity of her womanhood. Is she not sensual enough? Is she not pretty enough? Is she not intelligent enough? Trying to shake the thoughts of insecurity, she hears his dominant words ringing through her ears and yearns for the simple courage to be able to say the words he wishes to hear. Still she waits. Finally, she concedes and tries to fall off to sleep, curling up into a ball, mind and body full of sweet suffering, she smiles from her heart. She wakes early, the thrill of being in his home almost too much for her to cope with. Promptly, she tends to her morning chores, having gone over the ritual she has preformed for him so many times online. Bringing him a fresh glass of orange juice, she prepares herself for the day that lies ahead. Each minute she peeks back into his room to check if he has woken yet. Her heart longing to be next to him, the events of the night before running fast through her head, she can stand it no longer and she returns to him. She longs for his touch, to feel his strong body next to her, for their bodies to become one. Sensing her presence, he wakes and they lie together, her heart racing and the passion growing stronger with each gentle touch from his fingertips. She sways and rolls before him, her body not her own but his, and she tries to control herself. She hears the voice she has come to get lost in, “What would you like me to do krystynn?” Her heart pounds quicker, almost out of her chest, and she hesitates. She knows what she wants, but she thinks to herself that he may not want the same thing, she wants to be absolutely perfect for him, all he has dreamed his submissive could be, thoughts race through her head quickly. Still wiggling beneath his touch, she hears him again, “ask, krystynn”. She whispers her reply softly, eagerly giving in hoping he will not think ill thoughts of her, “please Master, please make this girl Yours”. Strong, powerful, passionately, their bodies dance as one for hours. Slow, sensual kissing, she feels his moist lips roll lightly across her entire body, little by little, inch by inch, seducing her sensitive flesh. Her breath is shallow and unrestrained, her eyes glossy as she feels his masculine body overcome hers. They move together beneath the down duvet, like innocent white doves soaring in flight, melodic and uninhibited. Their aroused bodies saturated with tiny beads of dew, and the aroma of passion cascading throughout the room. Her dainty hands elevated, he raises his to meet hers, slender and strong fingers intertwined, he captures her completely. She whimpers softly, and as the passion intensifies, her body lifts subtly, each delicate movement bonded by his. She is in ecstasy, entranced in his touch. After the last breath is inhaled softly, she lies in his arms spent and content, and she smiles from her heart.