eBlyss

~free audio recording of this poem~
***
“Fuck me.” She says
And all the reasons you shouldn’t be here are gone
Lost
Blown away by that warm breath against your neck
Melted on that sliver of moisture on her top lip
Lost

“Fuck me.” She says
And her eyes dare you to deny this desire, it burns
Hot
You came here to end this, to stop, pull out, surrender
But you always underestimated the skin of her close and
Hot

“Fuck me.” She says
And your gut clenches as you try and step back, escape,
Run
She is too young, you are too old, you have family,
Responsibility, this is wrong, indecent, leave, now
Run

“Fuck me.” She says
And she slips off that cotton dress, it floats to the ground
Soft
Her hands reach and there is no where left for you to run
She steps closer, pressing her body against yours
Soft

“Fuck me.” She says
And reaching up she runs her tongue across your lips
Wet
She pulls your trembling hands towards her center
Pressing your fingers up and in that hungry cunt
Wet

“Fuck me.” She says
And your succubus bitch lover knows your answer
Yes
Even before you speak it she can feel it in your pulse
In that throb of your cock pressed hard against her thigh
Yes

“Fuck me now.” She says
And you do.

I heard about Venus in Furs, by Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch (yes, the term masochist was coined after his name) a while ago but I only just picked it up from the bookstore the other day, and even though I haven’t finished it yet I must say… Wow! What a marvelous venture into the mind of man obsessed with the ideal cruelly dominant woman, Venus herself… in furs no less. Some quotes to titillate you:

…and am I not entitled to be cruel? Man desires, woman is desired. That is woman’s entire but decisive advantage. Nature has put man at woman’s mercy through his passion, and woman is misguided if she fails to make him her subject, her slave, no, her toy…

We can truly love only that what stands above us, a woman who subjugates us through beauty, temperment, intellect, willpower, a woman who becomes our despot.

…and everyone knows and feels the close kinship between voluptuousness and cruelty.

Think, you man, you’re not much better than a dog, a lifeless obect. You are my thing, my toy, which I can smash to while away an hour. You are nothing, and I am everything. Do you understand?

~free audio recording of this poem~
***(I wrote this piece a couple of years ago while I was reading The Secret Life of Salvador Dali)

I will be your Dullita

Sift like smoke through the bolted doors of your subconscious
You won’t even know I’m there
Till you feel my cool fingers creeping over your thoughts
When you think your mind is wondering in nothingness
A silver caress to shine through your dull and quiet moments

Soon your reveries will be swallowed whole by my silken silhouette
You will ache for the knowledge
That will paint my features on those shadows
Forget that there was a time when you did not need to know me

You will search for me in every dimly lit doorway
Every phantom will stop your heart
Until you turn and find it not me
Then your heart will beg not to start again

Your need to know me will be a smooth and solid gold weight
Pressing down at the center of your chest
Suffocating you in its brilliant and heavy beauty
But that suffocation will be divine
Because you will not want to breathe again until you know me

And when you finally find me
You will realize that the jewels of anguish you had been hoarding are worthless
That there is nothing more radiantly painful
Than realizing that reality is infinitely more exquisite than what you dreamt

In that light my silhouette will melt into curves you can learn.
And you discover new shadows in sublime crevices
Dip your tongue into pools of shaded beauty
Praying that destiny would have you drown here

You drink yourself full with knowledge of me
And intoxicated allow that part of you that threads your flesh
Into harmony with the universe to unravel at my feet

When I am gone loneliness perverts the passage of time
As you attempt to dull the ache of moments
Stretched and strained beyond tolerance

You pick up the brush
Stare at the canvas
Carefully spill paint onto your palette
And will yourself to create
Create some magic, some miracle
Some small moment in time where you can hide
And not have to feel your flesh burn with the need for my touch
Your fingers tremble to glide down the sweat-wet skin of my back

You put down the brush
Stare at the canvas
Porous white expanding and engulfing you
The blank sphere of your existence without me
And you will hate me

And when you see me again, a cool dusk moonbeam radiating into your space
Your eyes shadowed crevices from lack of sleep
You will know then that you must destroy me
So you pull me to you tightly, crushing me in an embrace
That is more dangerous than need yet more desperate than hate

Your fingers will mold bruises into my back
And your kiss will be like a moonless night,
Powerful and suffocating
We will collapse to floor
You will feel my breath slow to stillness beneath your grasp

You will feel also the lingering tenderness of my embrace
As my fingers play on your spine
And you will cry

I will be your Dullita

And you will know me.

It was finally Friday and Daryl had butterflies in his stomach the whole afternoon at work. He could barely keep his voice steady when his wife called him from the airport to say she was about to board her plane. When he got home that evening he went straight to the garage, to the little beat up metal shelf at the back. His hands were shaking so much he dropped the tiny key twice before he got it in the hole. He reached in and pulled out the pale pink rectangular package, his heart was thudding in his chest and he felt his face flush as the memory of his shopping expedition flooded back to him. All the other times he had played he used his wife things but this was the first week he was alone since he got the courage to indulge his fantasy. Today everything would be perfect and he had all the time in the world.

In the bedroom he placed the package on the bed and lifted the cover. Nestled in the pink crepe paper were the items he had chosen for this night: a pair of pink satin panties with a touch of white lace on the waist band and a sheer white teddy with pale pink frilled edges. His cock throbbed just looking at them. He stripped off his work clothes dropping them on the floor, never taking his eyes off the items on the bed. He lifted the pink panties, savoring the feel beneath his fingers, then he stepped into them and started pulling them up. He gasped at the feel of that soft satin against his skin. The material slid up his legs and he whimpered as it touched his balls and glided over his already hard cock. He had to pause for a moment, close his eyes and catch his breath. Then he reached down and picked up the teddy and lifted it over his head. It dropped around his torso like a whisper, so soft and light.

Daryl walked towards the full length mirror; his breathing was hard as he watched himself. He ran his hands over his chest, down his stomach and over the hard bulge in the satin panties. He could tell he wasn’t going to last long but that was okay, he had the whole weekend. His hand stroked up and down over his satin clad cock. He sank to his knees, tipped his head back and sighed as he melted into the moment.

“Daryl?”
He snapped his head around and dropped his hand from his cock. Standing there in the doorway was his wife.
“Daryl, what are you doing?”
He tried to talk, to move, to hide himself, to do something but he just knelt there frozen and gaping. His head felt woolen and heavy at the same time. Janice stepped into the room, still looking at him with that puzzled yet calm expression.
“Daryl?” This time she said his name slower and there was a hint of steel in her voice that he never heard before. He tried standing up but his legs threatened to fail him so he resorted to just turning around on his knees to face her, his hands fluttering about as he tried to hide what was already in plain sight.
“I… uh… Jan, it’s…” His pathetic attempt at speech faded away as he watched the corners of her mouth curl up into a small smile. She walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, crossing her legs and smoothing her tan skirt over her thighs.
“You can stop Daryl. I know.” His face dropped.
“Well, I had some very strong suspicions which have clearly been confirmed.” She said with a sweeping gesture in his direction.
“Now…” She leaned forward so her face was closer to his and reached out to caress his cheek.
“The question is: where do we go from here?” Daryl opened his mouth to try and answer her but before he could get anything out she burst out laughing.
“No, no Daryl. You misunderstand. That was a rhetorical question.” She chuckled again and stood up.
“Now stay here while I go and get ready.” She walked into the bathroom and closed the door. When she came back out she had taken off her skirt and blouse and was left in a pair of black lace panties, matching bra and black heels. However, the item that caught Daryl’s attention was the large black strap-on she had put on. Her smile widened as she watched him gape.
“Impressive isn’t it? This is just the five inch attachment but I am sure we will work you up to the larger sizes in no time.” She walked over to him in slow measured steps, making sure he got a good look at what was in store for him.
“Stand up Daryl” He just stared up at her blankly.
“Now!” She barely raised her voice but he stood up this time. Jan held his gaze as she reached out and grabbed his cock, which despite everything was still rock hard. She gave it a hard squeeze.
“Glad to see someone is paying attention. Now get over to the dresser, bend over and place your hands flat on the top.” Daryl did as he was told. Jan followed him and stood behind him.
“Look up so you can see me in the mirror.” He looked up, watching her standing behind him in the mirror. He could only see her from the waist up but he could feel the strap-on brush against his ass as she moved. She reached around him and opened a drawer, and took out a small bottle of lube. She held her hand open and poured some onto her palm. Keeping her eyes locked on his in the mirror she began to stroke the lube onto her strap-on. With her other hand she pulled his satin panties to the side. His heart was loud in his chest and he could feel a damp spot begin to spread on his panties. Jan placed her hand on the small of his back and with the other she guided the strap-on to his waiting ass. At first she slid in just a quarter of an inch and then stopped. His knees buckled and he almost lost it. She reached around and squeezed his balls.
“Not just yet” She whispered. Then she pushed into him one inch at a time until her strap on was buried in his ass. She let go of his balls, grabbed his hips and began a slow steady rhythm. As his breath began to quicken and his body shudder, she bent over him, pressing her breasts against his back. She sped up her pace and with each thrust she whispered in his ear:
“This…” in.
“is…” out.
“just…” in.
“the…” out.
“beginning.”

I met him in a smoky bar room
Hunched in shadows
Hiding from the world
I slipped into that space he had left
Between him and all he desires
Blew the smoke from his eyes
And said:

Take my hand
You will dance with me tonight pretty one
Fall into my rhythm
I will teach your body to move
To feel that universe pulse within your chest
There are worlds of passion beneath your skin
I will strip you down
Remake you in pinks and pastels
Sheer nylon to caress your virgin legs
Smooth satin on hard taut flesh
Don’t you realize pretty one?
You were always mine
You just didn’t know it

Jim had still not managed to say a word as he closed the door behind him and he couldn’t take his eyes off Clara. She was stunning, as if she had just stepped out of one of his fantasies. God knows he gave her enough detail about them but she never seemed to warm up to them and then this. She was wearing a black satin corset, black garter belt attached to sheer black stockings and black knee high leather boots. Her hair was lightly curled and flowing over her shoulders and she had made up her beautiful face with dark red lipstick and black eyeliner. She stood silently in the middle of her small studio apartment, one hand on her hip as she waited for him to find his tongue.
“Wow.” was all he could get out at first. “I mean… wow.” He ran his hands over his head trying to gather himself. She arched an eyebrow.
“You like?” She questioned.
“Oh baby. Yes… Yes I like very much.” He was walking towards her now, his arms outstretched. She held up her palm.
“Stop right there.” His cock twitched at the sound of authority in her voice.
“Take off your clothes.” He could barely scramble out of his jeans and T-shirt fast enough. This was more amazing than anything he could have imagined possible. Once he was completely naked he stood there grinning, waiting for her next instruction.
“Now lie down on the bed.” He didn’t waste a moment complying. She walked up to the edge of the bed took hold of his right wrist and pulled it up to the headboard. He groaned with pleasure when he felt the cold metal of the handcuff snap over his wrist. She secured both his hands and his feet so that he was spread eagle on her bed. His cock was stiff and straining up towards the ceiling. After she had finished she walked back up the length of the bed, trailing her fingers up his shin, thigh, hips and chest. He shuddered and licked his lips.

“Oh baby, you are so amazing. You have done everything so… so perfectly.”
“You think so?” She purred, staring down at him.
“Oh yes.” He replied breathless. She smiled and ran a finger over his nipple, letting the nail drag gently over the tip. He inhaled sharply.
“I am glad you are so…” She paused and looked down at his cock, then back at him. “…pleased” she said. As she smiled down at him the doorbell rang. He frowned slightly and then smiled again.
“I guess we’ll have to pretend you aren’t home.” He said. Clara chuckled.
“Now that would just be rude now wouldn’t it.” She turned and walked slowly towards the door, her beautiful round ass swaying.
“Clara?” Jim’s smile faded and he tried to pull himself up. “Clara, what are doing?”
“I am answering the door silly.” She answered without looking back at him. When she opened the door he began struggling wildly against the restraints.

“Clara! Clara!” She didn’t respond to him as she greeted whoever was at the door. Jim strained to see and caught a glimpse of a large definitely masculine hand wrap around Clara’s waist.
“Mmmm…” she sighed. “I am so glad you could make it it”
“Clara! This is not funny anymore. What’s going on here?” She walked back into the room leading a tall blond man by the hand.
“Jim meet Mark. Mark, this is Jim.” Mark smiled and nodded his head toward Jim who started to struggle again in vain, his cock now wilting from the shock and embarrassment.
“Clara! Untie me now!” She just laughed and shook her head.
“No, Jim. This was your idea, you wanted me to be more adventurous, to tie you up and… What were words? Oh yes ‘get freaky’. So this is me getting freaky” Jim stopped struggling since it was obviously not going to get him anywhere. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
“Look, Clara, this is not what I meant. Okay? I’m sorry for pushing you on the whole thing but… you’ve made your point okay? Just untie me. Please?” She laughed and leaned back against Mark and he started caressing her arms and shoulders.
“Hmmm… Let me think about it… Nope.” She laughed again at his expression and turned to wrap her arms around Mark. Jim watched as this man bent down and kissed his girlfriend as if he wasn’t lying there tied to the bed. Mark’s hands slid over her back and down to her naked ass.
“Clara! Stop this! Right now! Clara! Clara!?” She broke away from Mark’s embrace for a moment and took a step towards the bed.
“You know if you keep yelling like that, Jim, someone might hear you. Do you really want someone to come in and find you…” She took hold of his cock, which for some reason was rock hard again. “…like this.” Jim fell silent and completely gave up his struggle.

He watched Clara turn back to Mark and drop down onto her knees. She stared up at him while he undid his pants and pushed them down around his hips. They were close enough to the bed that Jim could see the veins on Mark’s throbbing cock as he slid it into Clara’s mouth. Mark was rougher than Jim would ever dare to be with Clara. He grabbed her hair and thrust his cock in and out of her mouth. She sucked and licked and gagged but she never once asked him to stop or slow down. After a few minutes Mark pulled her to her feet and spun her around. She bent over and braced herself against the bed, her hair brushing over Jim’s hip and his still hard cock. Jim couldn’t turn away. He was riveted to the vision of his girlfriend being fucked. Clara grunted as Mark slid into her pussy.

“You see Jim, this is how a real man fucks. He doesn’t whine and snivel and beg for some stupid bondage fantasy. He… ahh…” Mark cut off her speech with one hard thrust. He didn’t bother with any slow smooth strokes he just started right in fucking her hard and fast. Jim watched her breasts slip out of the tight corset and bounce with each thrust. Every movement made her hair stroke maddeningly over his cock and it twitched with every unwitting caress. Mark started to grunt. He thrust in and out three more times and then let out a hoarse yell as he shuddered against her. Clara pushed herself up on one hand, panting, she used the other to smooth the hair away from her face so she could look up at Jim. His cock was still hard and he stared down at her silently. Mark pulled himself out of her, stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed in a slump.

Clara crawled up onto the bed and straddled Jim’s stomach, then she slowly started working her way up his torso. Jim’s eyes widened as he realized what she was going to do. When her knees reached his shoulders he started shaking his head. She planted her shins over his shoulders her wet gaping pussy positioned right above his mouth. He could smell the strong scent of Mark’s spunk in her, see the pink fucked swell of her lips. He didn’t say anything just stared up at her, his eyes pleading. She wouldn’t do this to him, she couldn’t. She lowered herself onto his face, pressing her hot, wet lips against his mouth and as that first tangy sliver of another man’s cum slid onto his tongue he felt his Judas cock pulse despite his muffled protests.

This is your studio
And I stand naked at the center
Waiting for you to make me your masterpiece

This is charcoal dust on your fingertips
And I am your parchment
As you sketch dream circles around my navel

This is magenta on your brush
And I am your canvas
As you paint passion on my skin

This is your chisel
And I shape as you sculpt me

These are your pliers
And I curve as you bend me

These are your hands
And I yield as you mold me

I am reborn in your palms
Young and sweet
Ready for you to consume me

When you lift me to your mouth
I am soft fruit bursting between your teeth
Liquid music on your tongue

When you reach my core
It is opaque and pristine
A smooth milky lacquer

This is my pearl
My jewel of desire
My cool
That becomes hot
With your touch

So I finally got a few moments of free time to sneak into the comic book store and get me the last two installments in the Lucifer series. I think I want to do some very very naught things to Mike Carey. Here are some of my favorite quotes from books 10 and 11:

I stared at the fruits of my labors and wondered whether anyone had ever asked the devil for his money back

We must learn not to love, soldier. I was never cruel until I loved.

They obey me because Duma does and because, in the end, obedience is what angels are best at.

Flowers grow. Rain falls. People live, and die. The entire system maintained and guaranteed by a single will. Mine. In a room in a house in Antwerp, say, or Capetown, or New York, a child wakes from sleep, crying. The tear coursing down her cheek is like a miniature world, profound and crystalline and perfect. I am lost in it.

And this, too, is a lie. All stories are lies. But good stories are lies made of light and fire.

And long and late we lie together. After a coupling which, like the perfumes, deceived expectations. Sharp under sweetness. Delicate and harsh at once.

I’m not leaving. I’m arriving. Everywhere at once. And whatever else it might be, it’s not the end. It doesn’t feel like death. Unless a rockpool dies, when a wave breaks over it. Or warm breath dies as it fades and makes its peace with air.

And last but not least, this is Lucifer talking to Dream as Lucifer closes all the gates to hell. This excerpt is actually originally in Sandman by Neil Gaiman (another man I would do naughty things to) who created the Lucifer character:

Can you imagine what it was like? Ten billion years spent providing a place for dead mortals to torture themselves? And like all masochists they called the shots. “Burn me.” “Freeze me.” “Eat me.” “Hurt me.” and we did…They talk of me going around buying souls like a fishwife come market day, never stopping to ask themselves why. I need no souls. And how can anyone own a soul? No they belong to themselves. They just hate to have to face up to it.

Mmmm…yes the things I would do to Mike Carey if I ever got my hands on him. I know, I know, I’m weird, artists who are good at what they do turn me on. And now I must go off and masturbate and then write some stories of my own.

this is hard love
raw love
love that cuts you
and leaves you drowning in your own blood

but this love comes back
cleans you off
holds you close
and smiles as you beg to hurt one more time

“Come now, let us revel together”
she says
“Though your sins be as white as snow;
they shall be like scarlet,
though they are wool
they shall be red as crimson.”