DOMINATRIX LIFE
You know, sometimes being a Dom is not all fun and games.
Sometimes, there are desires that you simply cannot fulfill.
Sometimes, you can even make good people turn bad and, while this can hold a certain thrill, sometimes it leaves a bitter taste, like an ugly, bitter pill.
Especially when you bring married men to their knees, make them consider cheating on their wives, the women meant to be the love of their lives!
One would think I'd welcome the strife and spank them, whip them for being such a naughty boy.
Oh, I could and, I would but...
Not when they have children.
Not when it could mess up a family.
It's even worse when they're a good, Christian pastor, preaching the message of fidelity, but acting in hypocrisy when they hit on me unrelentingly, not looking for the holy sanctity of matrimony but instead, an affair, taken to the most heated extremity.
They crave me like they crave the very air they breathe.
Why?
It's not like I try to seduce them or make them want me.
I don't seek out the wrong to feel right.
Ok... I lie.
Maybe I do but that's not the point.
I still have morals, values and ethics.
Even a Dom can draw a line although, don't get me wrong...
I won't forget it.
I never do.
I'll store it away in my secret stash of memories, use it as a vivid fantasy, for those times I'm all alone and nobody will hear me moan.
Oh, the things I could do to them...
One thinks he is so big and tough, such a macho man.
Yet, I cannot help but laugh because, I know that I would break him.
It would be all too easy.
One look, one touch, one kiss and he would be putty in my hands.
I can picture it...
His tall, muscular body melting beneath my administrations, trembling with veracious need, head spinning in unrestrained desire as he devours me with his eyes, taking in my heeled, studded boots and the fishnets climbing up my long, smooth legs.
Then, he will gulp as his gaze reaches that sacred place between my thighs - barely hidden beneath the shortest skirt - and continues up my corset-clad waist to my supple, pushed up breasts.
"Please, Mistress," he will beg in shaky voice.
"Please, what?" I will ask with a smirk.
"Please, let me touch you, taste you! I need to taste you. Let me give you pleasure, Mistress, however you desire."
I step closer, just within reach, knowing how frustrated he is that he can see but cannot touch.
His hands and feet are bound you see, unable to free him from his place, bent over my bondage horse.
"Not yet, Pet," I whisper in his ear.
"Let me have my way with you and, if you're a very good boy, you can have me too."
I stroke his hardened member, bringing forth a groan.
"Shhh, Pet," I warn seductively.
"Not a sound, or I will use my crop."
To show him that I mean it, I strike him on his inner thigh.
He cries out and his member twitches.
I smile in my victory.
This strong, supposed macho man is completely under my spell.
He's all tied up, nowhere to go except where I take him, and I'll be sure to make the journey slow.
I blindfold him, plunge him into darkened suspense.
His breathing turns to pants.
I consider gagging him, but I don't.
I want to hear him break my rules and let loose his lustful sighs.
I long to leave my mark upon that well-toned chest, as proof that I have been there and that I have made him mine.
Only, a mark that fades is not enough.
I want him branded forever.
Oh, Pet, please make a sound.
Let me cut you just a little, only if you will allow.
It won't hurt, my Pet, I promise.
You won't even feel a thing.
But my crop?
That will most definitely sting!
Oh yes, I will think on it.
Quite often too, it's true.
But I will not act upon it, no matter how much my body screams.
I can't.
I won't.
Sorry, Mistress.
It's cruel and unkind, masochistic and a little sadistic but, I must deny you this pleasure, lest you walk a path of destruction from which there is no coming back.
So rest now, Mistress, until I need you again.
We see our pretty Pet tonight.
Let him lull you, satisfy you.
He does it oh so well.
You need him and he needs you so, for now, let that be enough.
Copyright: Chanelle Joy
31st August 2017
Chapter One: When Dusk Turns Dark (Excerpt from Game of Death)
With no shoes on, she was small. She had quite a willowy, delicate frame that only added to her elegance despite the fact she was perceived as weak and frail. Her skin was as pale and as smooth as porcelain, making the girl almost look like a china doll, with her short, blonde hair framing her face delicately, not a strand out of place. Her eyes seemed to resemble polished sapphires, glistening in the sun, and her lips were ruby red. Her dress draped around her body, fitting perfectly just like a glove to a hand.The skirt was fashioned out smooth, milky white, frothy organza that reached her knees. A satin sash pulled in her waist, making it looking smaller than it already was. The bodice of her simple yet glamorous dress was encrusted with tiny little gems and beads that caught the soft moonlight and glowed. The girl walked with the grace of a nimble Giselle and was as bewitching as a peacock showing off her beautiful feathers.
The girl, known as Pearl, had never felt more terrified and insecure. All her life, she had spoken every word strongly and surely, each command strong. Now, for the first time in her life she found herself faced with uncertainty.
The moment she’d volunteered for the elemental games, everyone had been so certain that she would return victorious, and had completely disregarded the rest of the competition. And despite all their words of encouragement, she knew that she was incapable of winning. Which was the main reason for her sneaking out in the middle of the night for a calm walk in the woods.
She let out a sigh and leaned against a tree. Terrified, she thought of the upcoming morning. There would be tears and goodbyes as she departed for the games, no doubt about it, but she couldn’t help but feel that she may never see any of her family or friends ever again.
Suddenly, an arrow nicked her ear as it flew past, thudding into a nearby tree. Pearl was immediately alert. No one from her tribe went hunting this late at night, and there could only be one possible explanation. It was an invasion.
But then, Pearl thought in a moment of confusion, Why weren’t there any horses? Where was the army?
The soldiers adorned in shining silver armor should have been visible under the light of the moon.
She trembled as she attempted to come up with an explanation. But before she could form a single thought, a tall figure lept over the brush in front of her, landing with a light thud, so soft she barely heard it. She automatically reached for her knife, but realized that she was unarmed, wearing only a thin nightgown. There was only one option, she realized as the figure nocked an arrow. She turned and fled into the darkness.
She heard the whizzing sound, and she rolled on the forest floor as five arrows sailed overhead. Her thoughts raced as she ran. No archer she knew could shoot that many arrows in one shot, and there was no possible explanation nor reason some other tribe would send a single man to kill her. That's when it dawned upon her that it was none other than an assassination attempt. This one thought compelled her to move faster.
The assassin wasted no time in following after her. They took to the trees, leaping from branch to branch covering ground ten times quicker than their target. In the faint moonlight that shone through the trees, it was clear to see the girl as she fled towards her village, her nightgown a white beacon in the dark night.
Breathing hard, Pearl came to a halt. She spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of her attacker, but there was no one to be seen around. Relieved, she turned towards her village gates, which was just beyond the edge of the wilderness, no more than a few feet away.
And that's when the arrow pierced her leg. She let out a guttural cry as she collapsed on the forest floor, a pool of blood already forming around her. A hooded figure stepped out of the shadows, and Pearl scrambled up, struggling to see her attacker through the tears that formed in her eyes.
“What do you want?” She cried, as the figure advanced. “Help! Help!”
She threw a desperate look to the edge of the woods. Why was no one coming? Could no guard hear her cries?
The figure laughed, advancing, and Pearl choked back a sob.
“Who are you?” She whispered, staring up into the cold merciless eyes of her killer. She would never get her answer. She gasped as something pierced her lower abdomen. Looking down she saw a knife buried deep inside her stomach. Tears pooled in her eyes, and then she felt something deep inside her give up and turn off. She became limp and unmoving, dead in a pool of her own blood.
The hooded figure smirked, before withdrawing a small pendant. She placed it atop the pool of blood and the necklace went from blue to a bright shade of scarlet. She placed it around her neck and a bright flash light illuminated the woods. In the place where the assassin stood a girl that looked exactly like Pearl, blonde hair, green eyes, everything accounted for except for clothing.
She smiled down at the dead body at her feet.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked. “I’m Pearl Evelyn Wavecrest of the Water tribe.”
Some good things to know
Did you know blood comes in three colors?
Bright red is oxygen rich blood, fresh from the lungs, pushed onward with the heart. It surges and spurts if you hit the artery straight on, or just leaks fast, like a hole in a jug. A nick to the brachial or femoral artery will kill some in two minutes. They collapse in one minute, heart pumping hard, purging them of life. Then they just die.
You ever feel someone's heart stop?
It lumbers and shudders in slowly diminishing gait, then a few sad little last constrictions, like a loser sputtering poorly formed last words in an argument.
I don't like the carotid, you might as well cut a hose under pressure. The blood gets everywhere.
The radial is hard to hit, the bones protect it pretty well. You have to cut hard, but because the artery is smaller it takes too long for them to bleed out.
Now, blood from the veins tends to be purplish, freed of oxygen. The wounds tend to ooze. Slow and steady, hitting one is still good, but they take just a bit longer to die.
Hit both vein and artery, which a good draw cut across brachial can do, pathways of life pulled taunt over bone, blade slicing deep, and you got a dead man leaking a odd mix of purplish bright red.
For this a knife is best, they are silent and hard to trace. Blood gets everywhere, but I just burn my clothes.
Goodwill is a good place to pick cheap replacements.
Granted, I could just slam a knife into their heart, lungs, or even their eye, but bones are tough. They are there for a reason, a rib or eye socket can deflect the blade, turn a killing blow into flesh wound. And stabbing them in the stomach just takes too long to end them. Unless you hit the liver, the liver is a good target. Kidneys too. But you need a long knife to get them right. Also wiggling the blade helps.
I know a solid upward stab from the gut has a chance of striking the heart, but the angle can be hard to get correct, especially if they are fighting you.
I mean at that point you might as well as shoot them or run over them with a car.
Where is the fun in that?
I cut deep and true. They die seeing my face.
And you pay me on time, you will never see mine.
Yours Truly
Dear Sirs or Madam,
Allow me to introduce myself, I am Mr Johnson. I come fully qualified and with bonafides as this letter in the box with the "package."
The "package" is a technical review of my skills, notice the neck is cleanly cut, and exsanguinated. This is just a sample of my work. Oh, there may be some resemblance to your English Literature professor who gave you the failing marks from 25 years ago. She wasn't that hard to track down, Professor Hodge, I believe...
As you can clearly see, I am a man of means, and a man of ability. An ability to get things done.
In closing, I am more than qualified for any task that you need performed and also enclose is your home's GPS coordinates, La 40.7127837 Lo -74.00594130000002
I shall use them to bring a bottle of Shiraz to discuss the assignment.
Yours Truly,
Mr Johnson
Resumé
Included with my resume is a blood stained envelope, filled with the trophies of my endeavours
1 severed finger of an ex-girlfriend
1 maimed brain of a controlling asshole of a boss
And my most prized trophie, your dear secretary Diana's eye, for all the pornographic photos of your sandwich man Jimmy she spends her office hours looking at.
And if your tongue refuses to grant me this job, it may just make itself right at home in here with Diana's eye.
Signed with the blood of my twin brother's dog,
All the best,
Well it would be quite foolish of me to include my name now wouldn't it.
Just call me The Collector.
Ps. The only form of payment I require is one body part of my choosing from the victim.
Will Roses Turn Red
how long will children carve the names
of colors in stanzas,
how long,
before the earth becomes a mirror and
all flowers turn black,
before they sip the soil
at teatime,
toasting to the heaven
above everyone they've ever lost,
and they'll be angels on that day,
standing on the dust
of paradise,
and, if we're lucky,
they'll play pretend,
and write rhymes
about roses,
like the petals
could one day last forever,
like their little polygraph heartbeats
don't give them away,
if only we could help them
disconnect,
this innocence would look less like a lie,
would look more like life,
and we'd teach them
to play hopscotch on our graves,
we'd teach them to see that angels
never fall before they leave the ground
and darkness sometimes creeps from above,
so I smoke to learn how
to say goodbye,
let's watch together,
as every cloud becomes lost,
and we'll finally see ourselves painted
by nature,
with petals black
and faces held in the memory
of the fallen.
Sitting Here
sitting here
unsure of what to say
unsure of what to do
unsure of what to write
sitting here
unsure of why i live
unsure of why i stand
unsure of why i move
sitting here
unsure of who i am
unsure of who you are
unsure of who i should be
sitting here
unsure of how ive gotten this far
unsure of how i still manage to love
unsure of how i do this
sitting here
unsure of when it all happened
unsure of when i changed like this
unsure of when i lost myself
sitting here
unsure of where i used to be
unsure of where i am now
unsure of where i can even go from wherever the hell this is
sitting here
unsure of myself
in general
unsure of others
in general
but mostly just
sitting here