Audience @ MindSay

Once the curtain closed, he held her hand, smiled and kissed her on the neck, and turned away for a few moments to prepare the fixture and the ropes.  She searched her thoughts to try to figure out what to do next and decided to begin with what she was taught.  He turned around to her and she presented herself, kneeling nude, with her knees slightly apart, her hands behind her and her eyes lowered. She had taken the tie from her hair off and there was a long dark flow down her back and across one shoulder almost obscuring her breast.

 

“You only need do that for your master. But it is a great demonstration of respect.  Thank you”.

“It is for my master” She raised her eyes to meet his and held his gaze for as long she could.  Without another word he helped her to her feet. She took a breath as if to say something, but he put his finger to her lips to keep her silent.

 

“I heard what you said, my pet.  Shhh” He raised her face and saw the teary eyes and a smile.   He wiped her tears with a tissue, while his hand caressed her breasts. “I heard what you said”

 

“Let me look at you”  He stepped  back and turned her  with his hand caressing one breast then the other,then sliding his hand between her thighs as she faced  away from him.  She was wet and flowing and she spread her feet further apart and stopped turning so his hand would not move.  He massaged her lips, but did not penetrate her.    Gently he pushed her forward and bent her over the fixture and she spread her legs for him as he spread her, examining her anus and her labia.

 

“Small hole, mmmm that’s good” His voice teasing her and she felt the feeling of humiliation begin to spread with the warmth and she flowed more.  Spreading her open, she pressed back against his fingers and he entered her deeply opening her more, rubbing her clit as he did. The pain started to sizzle inside her and she caught her breath and gripped the fixture tightly. She felt the pain and pressure build as he continued, and she held her breath , until the pain and pressing on the sensitive spot inside her, she came and gasped.  Her knees weakened as the pleasure shot through her and he held her from kneeling down, by keeping his fingers tightly inside her.  She was humiliated again and came again. 

 

She turned and sadly slipped away from his fingers and put her arms on his. He pushed gently again, lifted her and she found herself on her back on the fixture.   He put his hand on her tummy, brushed her hair from her face and parted her lips with wet fingers and kissed her.   She opened her eyes, recovering her senses a bit and smiled at him. She’d forgotten for a few moments what she was about to do and she relaxed a bit.

 

“Ready?”   He kissed her again and then took his fingertip and stroked her labia gently.  She smiled and nodded. 

“While I’m securing you, you can talk, if you like.  Just relax and let me place your body where I want it.”

“Will you gag me?”

“No, unless you prefer it”

“No. Please”

“I can offer you a veil that will lie across your eyes, down to your upper lip, if you like?”

“No. I want to see them looking at me.”  

"You can see through the veil, and not make eye contact"

"Yes, then"

 

He took her hands and gently held them together as he slipped soft lambs wool restraints over them, then securing them behind and over her head.  He looked at her seeing that her breasts were taught and noticed how dark her small nipples were.  Her tummy was flat and smooth down to her hips which were narrow, full and round. She had dark short straight hair trimmed on the sides, edged by slightly noticeable tan lines. 

 

“Tan lines!”   He stated, and she made a face, bit her lip, and felt the shame begin the flow again.

“You’ll have to forgive me,  Master”  She’d hoped  saying  “Master” would  get him to respond, but he said nothing and gently took her  ankles and fastened  lambs  wool restraints on  one then another. He spread her legs and opened them wide, drawing her legs up where her feet were comfortably back.  She blushed, and felt light headed as she looked to see him standing between her legs and without thinking spread her thighs even farther and arched her hips.

 

“That’s perfect my pet”    Your pussy is swollen and beautifully pink, and  we’ve only started.   She came from the shame and feeling his fingertips spreading her open and watching him examine her.  When her hips moved, and  she  spread herself even more, he secured the restraints and she stayed in the position he wanted. 

 

He walked around behind her where she couldn’t  see him and she looked down watching her nipples rising with her quick  breaths,  her thighs open as far  as she could, feeling the flow making  her  ass  wet.

“Take a drink. Its cold water, nothing more” He held a cold bottle of water with a straw for her to sip. She took one drink and another and another and caught her breath.   He kissed her again and she parted her lips and moaned, tilting her head and relaxing her jaw.  She felt his hand between her legs again, and he rubbed her clit and kissed her again until she came. 

 

She felt his fingers slide inside her then, the wave of humiliation rushed through her and she moaned at the feeling as he shaved her.  He  said nothing as she felt the  razor slide between her legs and his fingers  held  her  open and the skin tight  as everything  came off.  Between the shame,  his fingers moving in and out of her, she came every third or fourth  stroke,  until  she felt him petting the smooth,  very pink skin.   There  was nothing at all covering her now, all was  bared and sizzling. 

 

“I’m going to bind you with the ropes now.  You can rest and catch your breath. Once I bind you, you will only be displayed for 15-20 minutes. I am sure you will draw everyone. All will want to see you, all of you.   She tightened her muscles around his fingers and he pushed suddenly and firm. The sharp pain went straight through her clit and she came again,  and again as he held the pressure.  The sizzle of aching beginning a delicious soreness.  She wasn’t thinking about the gathering crowd any longer.  Only him.

 

He quickly looped and tied the ropes, not too tightly but where they would support her weight and efforts to pull against them without separating.  Once the ropes were in place, he slipped the lamb’s wool restraints off.   He gathered  her hair and let it  fall  to the opposite side,  where her face could  clearly be seen,  her arms were tight over her head and her ankles  bound  where her knees were drawn up and then separated as far  apart  as  comfortably possible.  He managed to gently spread her thighs even farther after the restraints allowed her muscles to relax and stretch. 

 

Her hair was long, dark and straight. She had a hint of an oval face, high-ish cheek bones, with dark almost golden tinted eyes, which when you looked closely gave hints of part of her ancestry.  She had a perfect smile and smooth supple skin, and the occasional freckle  that  proved she didn’t  need  the makeup she  thought  she  did..  She was tall, lean but round and full fleshed, her breasts rounded and dark brown nipples erect. Her waist narrowed and then flared, ever so slightly to her hips which were slim and muscular, her thighs taught and flushed.   Her labia were glistening and swollen, causing them to separate a bit showing a dark, moist, pink vulva, and the wet flow.  His fingertips pressed her clit again and she tightened around him and the flow increased as she moaned and moved her hips trying to find his touch again.

 

He looked again and saw an angel, helpless and earthbound. Moments passed, thoughts crossed his mind and he took a labored breath looking again at her until he met her gaze as she watched him examining her body. 

 

She was a love, an angel, that had been overlooked by fools.

 

{Copyright 2007}

I realize I've been very much not here lately, and I haven't had anything profound to say.  But you know, I notice my recent visitors list, and I know that plenty of you are coming to read.  I try to only post when I have something to say that is worth reading, or will get some kind of feedback from the people.  Lately my few entries have been that, in my opinion. 

 

So I fail to see why hardly anybody is saying anything.

 

I understand not having anything to say, but Jesus, people, nobody even laughed at the random quotes.  I mean, come the fuck on.  I live for this shit, all right? 

 

I feel there's no point in me posting anything if nobody has anything to say.  Cuz I'm not using this as a diary-thing.  I like my audience.  I don't hold any grudges against anybody, but if I don't have an audience, then I may as well be talking to myself.  I do that plenty enough in real life, and it just seems kinda redundant to do it online as well.

 

So yeah.  If you're not interested in what I have to say, don't come.  I'll be dissappointed, but I'm no more obligated to read/comment on yours than you are to read/comment on mine.  I can't force you to respond to my ramblings any more than I can force you to read them.  So if you're not interested, you are free to go on your merry little way.

 

Let me make something very clear:  I don't feel like you should have to comment to every God damn thing I post on here.  It's just lately in my scattered postings, I've noticed plenty of people that come to read after I've posted something, but then they leave and don't comment, though they continue to come back.  I'm not talking about random visitors, I'm talking about people I've had in my network for a long fricking time -- people I considered some of my "loyal fans", if you will.  They were always the ones to respond to my stuff, and now they're just reading and leaving.  And that's kinda aggravating, considering how bad I've felt about not posting anything for you guys in the last few months.

 

Forgive me if I sound bitchy.  Quite frankly, I feel bitchy.  So it makes sense if I sound as such. 

 

I'm not turning into one of those people who whines for people to comment on their stuff.  I just want my damn audience back, otherwise I'll just go on not posting as before.  I'll take my five die-hard fans and just leave the rest. 

 

I reiterate:  I'm not mad at you, whoever "you" happens to be.  I'm frustrated at the lack of feedback in general. 

 

I'm going back to sleep.

 

TheFallenAngel

This is going to be a long one.

Practicing piano. I'm feeling rusty today - I've been practicing every day, but for some reason my fingers are slow.

Heather came over earlier - we were working on our song. We really need to work on it with the piano part, but our best bet is Jaymi, and she's usually swamped. I'm not that talented - my sister could get it roughed out by the time it needs to be, but she's too busy to polish it. Haven't talked with Angela about it, I have no idea what her workload is like. Jaymi's our best bet because she's very good, and she knows the music. That, and she knows both of us, and has no qualms about being less-than-nice to us when what we need is to be whipped into shape.

Heather and I were talking for awhile - Tony came up in discussion because she was once the instrument used for another girl to try to ask him out. Everyone - don't do this. Really. If the individual you're interested in is worth dating, it's worth putting your pride on the line, and your fear of rejection, to ask them yourselves.

Hmmm. This comes back to nudge me regarding the situation between two of my friends. I should probably have her do it herself. Yep. That'll be it.

Anyway, I was playing through one of the songs that I've decided is a love song to the piano, or between the piano and the musician, thinking about this strange thing we call 'passion'. Thinking about my own passions.

It's approved for me to be passionate about God and my relationship with him with one group of friends, and it's not disapproved of at home. Interesting note - I don't really like this, but the only time we ever discuss theology or faith at home is when there's a conflict, or a moral issue that we're unclear on. It's not something that comes up in day-to-day discussion. I wish we could discuss it more, but our family's so busy that when we do get a chance to talk, it's usually catching up with each other on the events of our lives.

With the yahoos, I'm half-marked as a prude, and it's interesting that these are the people that, in truth, have the most discussion about anything in the category of faith and religion (I'm not lumping them together, just trying to sort thoughts out). Out of everyone I hang out with on a regular basis, it's not the musicians I get to talk with about this, but the gamers. They know I'm a Christian, and I don't get much flak for that - though I do for my attitude of saving my virginity. We argue about different aspects of religion, but never faith. Last time, we had an impressive debate about Lent (of the churches I've been raised in, none clearly observe Lent, so it was sort of being explained to me), and the imminent doom of the Catholic church. I didn't say we were theolgians - we're a bunch of college students trying to figure stuff out, and pretty much falling in and standing where we believe without budging. The time for uncertainty was high school - now, we're afraid of going unpreparedly into the world, and need everything about ourselves to be solid.

I miss Erin. She was in a lot of ways my mentor. She's playful, bouncing, fun, and a strong Christian. Loves kids, plays guitar, loves music and singing, and doesn't care if she's not perfect. She's only a year older than me - there are number of women who seem willing to be a mentor of sorts to me, but I don't have any girlfriends my age with a solid relationship with God.

Passion. It's strange that something so important to my life isn't something I discuss with any of my close friends. I managed to get scared off by events with the first three guys I dated - particularly the first. Some girls are afraid that they're the person who turned the guy gay. I'm always wondering if I'm the person who turned the guy irrevocably from God. Dan still breaks out in hives at the mention of the word, "church," and treats with derision anything that speaks of faith. I can't prove that it was my fault.

And that statement's left open-ended both here and in my mind.

All the things I was passionate about a year ago - it seems as though someone decided that they were childish. Those spikes of enthusiasm are well and good for a young woman, but once adulthood is reached...gently wipe away everything above the top line of the graph, to turn it all into gentle slopes. Yes, that's much better. Keep it down, keep it soft, keep it predictable.

A year ago, I wouldn't have stood for it. I was defined by the fires that burned in me - to dance, to fly, to make the music, to sing, to love, to laugh, to burn brilliantly in whatever I did. What's changed? Am I content with the quiet now, to simply watch with a smile while someone else is in the spotlight? I'm starting to think...maybe...yes. And I'm not sure if that troubles me or not.

It seems as though my music is the only permissible passion anymore. All of the others - why invest emotions in something you can't invest time in? I don't know whether I'm asking this question, or whether it seems like the rest of the world is.

I think it was out of courtesy to a few shyer people that I stopped bounding in manically every day. At some point, maybe I stopped needing the spotlight. I still love to be in it, but it's okay to let it go, to pursue my passions where no one else can see them.

That's the difference, then - I'm confusing the elated high I get from an audience with that drive that pushes me on. I still picture the audience when I'm doing a number of things, but it's more a nice touch with my imagination than anything else. I love working on these things by myself and getting better on my own. It used to be a matter of wanting to impress someone...and now it's a matter of wanting to be more than an image.

I just realized - no one's heard me play my sax by myself for the longest time. I'm spending the evening with her, and we're having a great time, but there's been so many evenings that we spend together alone, and...the last time anyone heard me playing in seriousness by myself, it was an accident.

I've toned down my dancing, save for when I'm by myself. Or Halloween - the exception to all the rules. I now just want to have fun with my friends - not really striving to be the center of attention anymore.

There's more to this than what I've found, I think. I'll probably be spending a few days puzzling it out. I've got more to say, but I've already said a lot...I think I'll let this one go out into the internet now.

By the way, this is probably the new record for post-I've-most-debated-posting. It's been sitting here for almost three hours in draft form, and I've been working on other things, chewing on my lip and looking at it between tasks.

Tonight was a most enjoyable evening.

One of our music friends, a charming little thespian of a bass (or baritone, I haven't bothered sorting out the guys yet), had the lead in a production of Beauty and the Beast. Yes, my favorite musical, thank you very much. Or play, or story in general. This one was a story, a much-abridged version that added a side angle of fairies. Fairly good, and our friend portrayed a wonderful character. It was amazing, because seeing him, I remembered, "Yes, that's Ethan," but I was seeing traits in this character that weren't in the typical Ethan, and I forgot what the typical Ethan was like. Awesome work, the boy belongs on the stage.

I've said it before, but it's definitely still a truth. Every time you see something that someone's created, you're seeing a part of them through it - their take on whatever they've made, and you love them a little more for that. But it's when they make something without thinking of you as the audience, without it ever crossing their minds that you'll be the one experiencing it, that it's amazing. We naturally alter things just a hair, a smidgen, a slightly different angle here, a different direction to take the humor there - to please the audience, or what we know of them. I talk differently with Heather than I do with Rahni - not that I feel any less close to one than the other, but their personalities and approaches to life are so different that I naturally react to them and bring forth a different side of me. So, that's the side they always see. Or any number of variations on it. In creating something by myself, though, I don't often plan on either of these two specifically to be the audience, and it shows. Something more of me comes through in what I just made, than who they know.

It's interesting, because for Rahni, I can play anything. Any music I've made, that I might be self-conscious about, I can always play for her, and sing for her. I can't sing for ANYbody - not with it directed to them as an audience. I'm gradually growing comfortable with people wandering through and hearing me - accidental audiences are entirely different. But Rahni's the only one I can always sing for, in seriousness.

Heather brings out my inner comic. The girl who belongs on the stage. Particularly Heather and Scott together, but mostly Heather. I'll take anything that gets thrown my way and go with it. Twenty minutes of improv stand-up? But of course! Bursting randomly into song (occasionally with dancing)? Always! Random physical humor? Well, why not? Heather is my spotlight.

It does need a bit of work, though. Some tweaking, currently with a hammer. I lack certain gifts of the comic - like not laughing at your own jokes. Laughing at your own joke is fine, as long as the audience started laughing first. But if you start laughing as soon as you've gotten it out (or sooner - breaks up everything you're saying so that NO one will be laughing), it's right up there with having to TELL people you're smart, good-looking, graceful, musical, whatever. If you have to tell people something like this, it probably isn't true - such things are the kinds of things they should be able to see for themselves.

My inner performer's been getting antsy. I haven't done anything solo onstage since I murdered my ex (wait, were we dating then? I might have killed my boyfriend - can't remember time sequence anymore) in Macbeth. Or the last Jazz solo. There's a safety in ensembles - there are always at least four other people doing the same thing you are, so you can hide behind them if need be, and no one will notice, or follow them, and no one will notice, or lead them entirely, and no one will notice. And for most performances, I'm okay with not being noticed - but it's our nature to want someone to say we're wonderful for something we've done.

Entirely different from saying you're wonderful just for who you are. Both very important. We know we are, but when no one agrees with us, we start feeling like deluded monkeys. Isn't it wonderful that I have a tail and can pick things up without looking? Yes, but you are filthy and sleep in your toilet.

I have to say that I'm glad for being a part of this band. Band's what I call us because it's what I always loved the most about music, but it's really the whole music community at the college. Just for the people in this group, and the way we work together, and in some way live together. For what we create, and the characters we've made. For who we pretend to be, and who we are.