Archive for October, 2008

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on Bound for Fun I II part3

Friday, October 31st, 2008

IN> slipped past your spell checker.

I’ll be waiting with “baited breath”, like the cat who ate cheese, and sat by
the mousehole.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_ / <_

P.S. Do you mind if I save this letter, except for your name, and use it
and my response to answer any future flames/criticism? It helps not
to have to do it twice.
P.P.S. I got the scanner, and recovered part-2. Story follows this post.
PLEASE don't get squicked, until you've finished the whole story.
THEN feel free to let me have it with both barrels. ;-}

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN> Frank,

IN>1. Using my last letter to respond to other critics, some
IN>probably not as friendly. I re-read the letter, and it is fine, except
IN>for my personal identity, which you should please safeguard totally, and
IN>the first paragraph. The first paragraph is not only irrelevant to the
IN>story, but also is pretty identifiable as written by me. To those who
IN>know me, that may be true of the whole thing, but they would not be able
IN>to prove anything, so go ahead.

I’ll remove the first paragraph, and anything else that points to you.

IN>2. Have not yet had time to go over “BfF I” in the detail I
IN>promised, to send you the minor typos, etc. Hope to do so today,
IN>if not, tomorrow.

I’ll wait on both stories for your criticism.

IN>3. “Bound for Fun II” – the blistering literary criticism! ;=}

IN>Anyway, I liked “BfF II” It certainly
IN>did not squick me. It dealt well with the trust issues, and the whole
IN>fascination with violence and torture as “fun” when in the real world
IN> 1) they actually go on, and
IN> 2) they are __NO fun.

Amen.

IN>Now, the literary hard part for me, is that I must tell you that you
IN>did not pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. This reader, at least.
IN>Jones is clearly too careful of Lynn’s feelings, her peripheral
IN>circulation, etc. etc. for him to actually be planning to kill her
IN>This plot reminds me of the movie “The Sting” I thought that
IN>was a fantastic movie, because it was all about a sting operation, and
IN>audience member thinks he is in on it, but in the end, gets totally
IN>taken in himself, and actually gasps when it appears that one of the good
IN>guys kills the other. Again, at least this viewer.

IN>I do not read a lot of the NC stories, except the Parker works,
IN>and so I am not too good at telling you what a NC perpetrator must “think
IN>like” in a story, but one thing is that he must be totally
IN>uncaring about the victim, except regarding leaving clues.
IN>Clues don’t really have to do with
IN>the victim, just protecting himself, but at least that as close as he gets
IN>to giving a damn about the victim. Jones is way too careful.
IN>He is also clearly too nice a guy. I really don’t know
IN>how to remedy this from the dramatic
IN>viewpoint in the story. That he is careful is okay,
IN> but that he is careful of the girl’s
IN>feelings and comfort is not. I don’t know how to get across his care,
IN>and maybe carefully and intentionally mislead the innocent reader, with
IN>statements
IN>that when read quickly look like the self-centered detail worries of a
IN>schmuck trying to cover the clues, but on rereading after the surprise
IN>ending actually may be interpreted to see that he was looking out for
IN>her all along. A difficult task,
IN>but the only way I can see to get the desired effect and leave it in 1st
IN>person.

The idea was never to pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. The Idea was
to see if you could convince the reader that “Joe” was good enough and
convincing enough to pull the wool over Lynn’s eyes. Since you don’t point
…End of the part3. To be continued..

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on

Wednesday, October 29th, 2008

As I said in the preamble to the stories, they were written for a friend.
After writing them, I managed to “lose” the second one on my hard-disk,
only retaining a hard-copy printout. This forced me into buying a scanner
to recover “Bound for Fun II” This is mentioned in passing below.

I sent both stories to the friend for comment, with a gap between them,
as I recovered the second. The enclosed material is excerpts from our
e-mail discussion of the stories. I am publishing this as an addendum
to both stories, to answer some questions (and possible flames) that
might otherwise raise their heads.

IN> Frank,

IN> Thank you very much for the story “Bound for Fun” which I read last
IN> week.

Thank YOU for the nice long response.

IN> Your story sure hits on some of our common and individual favorite
IN> themes. The girl is old enough for my tastes, I hope she is young
IN> enough for yours.

She is.

IN> I loved the allusion to “Preggie Sarah.” That was really choice.
IN> You really have a thing for getting them pregnant, don’t you?

As I’ve said before, getting pregnant is one of my biggest fantasies.
I’d give half of what I own, for the chance.
I know that I’m not the only man to harbor such desires, and
many women love the thought of BEING pregnant.

IN> The promise of a mother/daughter hot combo is also quite
IN> appealing, especially if both of them are kinked in the same
IN> directions as the protagonist, as they seem to be.

They are, but in slightly different ways.

IN> I appreciate the fact that you stayed away from specific descriptions
IN> of the bondage, etc, which you are not an expert in. This is great
IN> by me, since I find stories that start to read like parts catalogs for
IN> fetish wear to be tedious.

I always toss the ones that are nothing more than a description of torture-
devices.

IN> I am certainly no expert in bondage, although I have lurked about
IN> alt.sex.bondage for quite a while, but I think this story has some
IN> real-world problems with consensuality. Please let me note at the
IN> outset that I __know this is just fantasy, and no harm done, etc. etc.
IN> But the aspect of consensuality that primarily concerns me is the
IN> pregnancy one. Is the girl dumb, or am I? Does she know that she has
IN> been knocked up, and approve, or is she being taken along for a ride
IN> by her trusted parent? This could generate a lot of flames in a.s.b.

A. She’s dumb. Well, not DUMB exactly, just WAY too trusting. This is
explored MUCH more deeply in the second story. She trust EVERYONE,
even when she shouldn’t. Most especially, she trusts her mother to watch
out for her best interests, and in her own way June does.
B. Does she know? No.
C. Does she approve? I tried to make the implication, that she actually
WANTS to get pregnant, but is scared to do it, because:
1. She isn’t married, and doesn’t even have a steady boyfriend.
2. She’s afraid of what her school-mates would think, if she showed up
at school with a bulging belly.
3. This is the kicker. Most importantly, she THINKS her mother would
disapprove, and she doesn’t want to hurt her mother. If it wasn’t
for fear of overburdening her mother with raising another child,
Lynn would probably have already sneaked out and gotten pregnant
anyway. Her mother knows this, and implies at the start, that Lynn
would have to “earn” the privilege of getting pregnant.

IN> Also, I think, again with the “this is only fantasy” caveat, that it
IN> would be pretty weird for a loving, caring mother, which this one
IN> seems to be, to leave her kid in the hands of a semi-pro BD
IN> specialist, with only threats of retribution to safeguard her. I
IN> think a bit of talk about her extensive checking of Jones’ background,
…End of the part1. To be continued..

8 Hours

Tuesday, October 28th, 2008

by Dryad
(F-solo)

She moaned in frustration. She pulled the wet pink dildo out
of her glistening cunt. “Fuck! New batteries again!” she moaned,
flicking open the battery cover and dumping the rechargeables
out onto the bed. She reached for the stand pulled out the
freshly charged batteries and put them in. She looked at the
clock, figuring the battery time. 2 hours. Shit.

Sighing, she pressed the pink gel cock back into her yearning
pussy. The hum was louder now, more insistent, reverberating in
her pussy and against her clit. Yet still…

She pulled the laptop closer to her, scanning for stories that
would get her going. Going through her favorite authors…good
stories…but not enough sex. She started pulling up the stroke
that normally she wouldn’t touch–hot, nasty and fast. The
vanilla stuff wasn’t working, so it was time to find more
unusual fuel to jumpstart her motor.

Read stories on bondage. Warmer. Humiliation-warmer yet.
Aliens, dogs, horses, rape…each took her baby step closer, but
still so, so far away.

She glared at the clock, which was laughing at her. Four hours
and still no relief. She flicked on the TV and filled the room
with sounds of pornographic fucking-titled thusly as it sounds
different from your normal average fucking, because the
enjoyment sounds pathetically fake. Men with big-titted women,
women with women, women getting double fucked, and even triple
fucked.

Guess you can only listen to so many cries of “Baby ooooh,
yeah, fuck me good” before it doesn’t do anything for ya.

She groaned in frustration, reaching for her bedside drawer.
She pulled out the 10 inch, thickly veined plastic cock and
swirled it in her mouth. Once it was dripping with saliva, she
lowered it, pressing it below the still vibrating pink toy. The
pressure caused the pink dildo to vibrate more harshly against
her pubic bone as the head of the new toy popped into her sticky
pussy. Feeling quite full as she pressed the new toy deeper into
her cunt, she thought perhaps now she could finally cum.

She squirmed on the bed, her hips working against the double
assault in her cunt, and yet still she was stuck in third gear.
She screamed and cursed in frustration, moving her hips faster.
Her hands worked the two dildoes in a syncopated rhythm, moving
faster and faster. Finally, she reached for the nearby phone
and flicked off her toy’s noisy vibration.

“Hi Crissy, let me speak to Adam please?”

“Just a moment, Mrs.South.” the hold muzac came on as she
turned the vibrator back on, getting a pleasant jolt.

“Hey sweetheart, to what do I owe this surprise?”

“Do you have any meetings this afternoon?” she said
breathlessly into the phone.

“No,” he paused. “What’s that noise in the background? Are you
shaving the dog?”

“Mmmm” she answered noncommittally. “Can you come home early?”

“I guess so. You need help with something?”

“Yeah. I need something that only male muscle will fix.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can get away then. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said as she hung up the phone.

She flicked the movie back on, and reset the vibrator to low,
knowing that relief would be there soon. She squirmed a bit on
the bed, relishing now the constant ache in her pussy. The movie
ended, and she rewound it back to the beginning, then drew the
computer near her, reading up on rough sex and humiliation. The
batteries, having gone for nearly 3 hours straight now, were
starting to give back out, so she took the next set out of the
recharger and switched them. Since she had to stop, she decided
now might be a good time to go to the bathroom, since Adam might
be home soon. When she returned, she squeezed the dildoes back
in her tight twat. She moaned and squeezed her tit, making the
nipple rise up. She pinched it between her fingers, feeling the
small shock down to her core.

It was some time before she heard the front door open. Floating
in a sexual haze, she called out, “I’m in the bedroom!”

She could hear him coming down the hall… “Honey, I brought Mike
home to help me. I figured you needed to move something heavy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the bedroom door,
Mike gaping over his shoulder.

“Hi honey. You left something turned on at home.”

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

Something About Melinda By DrDan

Sunday, October 26th, 2008

Copyright 1999 by DrDan

It was only an email message from my girlfriend. I mean, how ominous could something so seemingly innocuous possibly be? Melinda wanted me to meet her at 9:00 P.M. at her home. She hadn’t discussed the possibility of anything resembling a date for the occasion, so there were no definitive plans to go anywhere or to engage in any specific activities except for my visiting her at the house. Simple enough, one would think we would simply pleasure ourselves with one another’s company once we got together. Since I had never actually been inside her home before, I was certain that there would be plenty for us to see and do.

Upon reading the message a second time, however, I felt the familiar sensation of beetles dancing in my stomach and goosebumps raising on my skin. The single paragraph email was more of an order than an invitation. There were no directions to call her to confirm things and it hadn’t seemed as though she’d considered the possibility that something urgent would arise at the last moment. The unspoken instruction was to drop everything and attend, an instruction she knew I was certain to follow.

With each successive encounter, Melinda seemed to be consolidating the rather dominant role she had defined for herself in our relationship. She was the one who initially pursued me at a party thrown by a mutual acquaintance, cornering and engaging me in a conversation about blues artists. It was a subject she somehow knew would pique my interest and about which she proved to be unusually knowledgeable, a trait that impressed me greatly.

When the conversation drifted to topics of a more personal nature, Melinda bemoaned the fact that her 5’11″ frame and assertive nature intimidated many of the men she dated. She was indeed a rare beauty, tall and statuesque, of Asian ancestry and wearing a clingy jade green silk dress, a garment that accentuated her shapely body exceptionally well. I took the opportunity to reveal my interest in her.

“Well,” I stuttered, “perhaps then you need to find someone older than yourself who’s maybe a bit more mature.” I smiled broadly, pausing for just a second, “maybe someone like me.” Melinda looked into my eyes, her curiosity piqued.

“And what makes you think that you’re older than I am?” She giggled just slightly, but knowingly, as though she were guarding a secret.

“Umm… it’s obvious.” I smiled and shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to reveal too much. “You’re still a young woman, I’m approaching middle age.” Melinda smiled and pecked me tenderly on the lips.

“Awww, that’s sweet,” she cooed softly, “but please remember that things are not always as they seem, and that it’s not too difficult sometimes to get yourself into more trouble than you had bargained for.”

“Trouble?” I chuckled, sensing a cryptic come on. “I’d risk all the trouble in the world for someone like you.” I watched her eyes widen as she licked her lips and looked me up and down, in much the same manner that a butcher would inspect a side of beef.

“Yes,” she repeated, “trouble. You look like a man well worth having, but I need for you to understand what you’re getting yourself into” I shot a quick glance between Melinda’s legs as she uttered the words “getting yourself into.”

“I would take that chance for the opportunity to be with someone like you,” I smiled, eyeing her in the same manner she had me.

Melinda didn’t utter a word, rather she smiled and took me by the hand, leading me to an adjacent bedroom. The ensuing sexual encounter, while indescribably erotic in the conventional sense, was also one of the more esoteric trysts I had ever experienced. Melinda repeatedly licked my head and neck, and seemed to have an unusual interest in a tiny spot on my face where I’d recently cut myself shaving. She sucked on the small wound, successfully drawing a drop of blood, smiling as she swirled it sensually on her tongue. Melinda sucked harder and carefully drew a tiny stream of blood. She raked it across her teeth, smiling, then cupped my face in her hands. She pulled us nose to nose and swallowed slowly, her mouth puffing up into a contented grin as I lost myself in her earthy gaze. A powerful chill simultaneously danced up my spine, short circuiting my nervous system and briefly buckling my knees. I knew in the depths of my being that it was coming through her eyes.

Those eyes, gazing deeply into mine, piercing my psyche and laying a claim on my soul.

“On you knees, lover,” she whispered, pushing on my shoulders until I crumpled deliriously to the floor. Melinda guided my head under her dress, between her legs, shrinking the size of my world, encapsulating me in a velvety darkness strongly punctuated by the aroma of her most intimate scent. I allowed my mouth to hang open, my tongue protruding ever so slightly.. until a strong hand clutched the back of my neck and pushed me into her sex.

I greeted the swelled, moist familiar shape of engorged labia lips with abandon; suckling, licking, kissing and slurping. I greedily swallowed her wetness like a dehydrated man inhaling the last few drops from a spent canteen. I was overcome with arousal, then dizziness, then an odd detachment as the secretions stung my eyes and dribbled down my throat. Melinda clamped her thighs around my face and spent herself on me, her moans muffled as I instinctively parted my jaws to catch and consume her gushing juices.

Melinda lifted her dress, split her legs and I dropped. I fought an odd altered state of semi-paralysis as I fell to the floor, watching helplessly as she methodically undressed us and mounted my stiff cock, fucking me hard and deep, pinning my wrists and raking her teeth across the soft skin on my neck. When she drew blood she sucked and lapped it luxuriantly as though she were a debutante at a wine tasting. Melinda rode herself to a long, throaty orgasm before dismounting and taking my cock into her hand. With a few short jerks I spasmed in climax,sending a rope of hot cum spewing across my stomach and chest. She smeared my spunk evenly across my body before piercing her own finger with a needle, carefully measuring out a few drops of her own blood and commingling it with my semen, forming a paste of sorts. I watched helplessly.. my limbs still feeling like lead.. as she dolloped the mixture lightly onto strategic areas on my body, my forehead, my neck, behind my kneecaps, and on my scrotal sac. Then she rose and stood over me.. licking her lips.. a predatory smile crossing her face.

“There is no turning back now, my love,” I breathed deeply, feeling the paralysis abate a little. I looked into her eyes as she licked her lips. “You are to be mine.” Melinda helped me to my feet, rubbing the mixture of drying bodily fluids deeper into my skin.

“I don’t want you to shower today, darling.” she cooed, “I want you to think about me all night and through tomorrow. I want our scents to linger and I want every thought that enters your mind to be prefaced with a thought about me. Now get dressed and go home.” She turned and walked away, blowing a brief kiss as my strength returned. I staggered away, staying at the party only long enough to regain my composure before slipping away.
***********************************************************************

I had no trouble finding the house. It was a modest, modern split level bungalow overlooking the ocean with an oversized front yard and a chained Rottweiler dog barking in the front yard. Although it was difficult to make out specific details in the darkness, it was obvious that the structure was tidy and well kept up.

I had an ominous feeling as I approached the house, having dated Melinda for some months now and nurturing a premonition of dread I was afraid awaited me on this particular day. We had replayed the sexual tryst that took place on our first meeting several times by now, at some times more intensely than at others. It always involved her consumption of a small quantity of my blood and my wearing a small quantity of hers. I couldn’t help but feel a psychic exchange, a compromise of my free will, a progressive invasion of my soul strengthened with each encounter. Melinda was on my mind more and more frequently, and it became increasingly difficult for me to concentrate on my job or many of the more mundane matters of my day to day life. I found myself masturbating perpetually, neglecting my own affairs for the sake of fondling thoughts about my sweet siren.

The dog growled ominously at me as I teetered up the walkway. I jumped as he lunged for my leg, barely escaping the animal’s clenching jaws as I retreated, hearing a sharp rebuke break the darkness.

“Bruce!” It was Melinda. “That will be enough of that.” Melinda looked into my eyes as she swatted the retreating dog and smiled at me deeply, greeting me with a warm embrace.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, the puppy will not harm you,” Melinda licked her lips, “only I will harm you.”

She was casually dressed, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and her trademark python boots. I smiled nervously and offered her my arm, which she took as she led me into the modestly furnished home. We seated ourselves on the sofa, at which time she kissed my forehead tenderly and caressed my hair.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Her concern seemed genuine enough.

“Well, I-” Melinda smiled.

“Nervous, scared, a little afraid of me, aren’t you?” I nodded tentatively, pierced again by those globular brown eyes, softening and comforting me now as she stroked my hair again and cradled me in her arms.

“I know, darling.. I know. It’s normal to feel that way right about now. My other pets all had the same experience, so be still. Don’t make things worse by resisting me. I am here to guide you through this unsettling time. After tonight, things will become much clearer for you.” Melinda leaned over to kiss me, pushing her tongue deep inside my mouth, enveloping me in the familiar canopy of control that had come to characterize our relationship.

She kissed passionately for a moment, then broke it off, abruptly directing my attention to an old high school science textbook she had placed on the coffee table. I thought it odd to punctuate an erotic moment by consulting a drab reference, but I said nothing. She leisurely picked the book up and began leafing through the pages. Melinda found the appropriate place and grinned. The article looked to be one about a specific insect.

“You know what? This has got to be my favorite bug,” Melinda spoke casually and pointed out a picture of an odd looking little creature. I looked, mildly curious, wondering where she was going with this train of thought. “..Abrostocetus Hagenowii.. it’s a tiny little wasp that lives in the western United States. It’s a little carnivore which feeds primarily on carrion, but when it comes time for the wasp to reproduce, it does a very curious thing.” Melinda looked into my eyes, licking her lips, then continued.

“It goes out and searches for an insect to host its eggs. Typically this is a beetle or some similar creature.. generally much larger than the wasp itself. It stings the beetle with a poison that disorients it without killing it. The wasp waits patiently for the poison to take effect, to make his prey nice and docile.” Melinda took time out from her narrative to stroke my hair, placing special emphasis on the word “docile.”

“The wasp then measures and chops off a portion of the beetle’s antennae, effectively rendering it senseless. It then herds the confused prey into its lair, where it lays an egg on it and gives the beetle one more sting to put it to sleep without killing it. When the egg hatches, well…” Melinda smiled and closed the book “..let’s just say that breakfast is served.” I looked at Melinda’s soft smile and squirmed uncomfortably, dreading that she was preparing to draw an analogy of some sort between the carnivorous insect and the two of us. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Relationships are funny, daniel. Really they are. There’s always a good deal of talk about equality and the equitable distribution of power. But in the real world, partners are seldom equals. Typically one partner very clearly takes charge.” Melinda looked right at me. “In this particular case, I think the partner who has taken charge of things has been me, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’ve taken charge sexually, I will admit to that, but I don’t necessarily think that means that-” Melinda laughed throatily.

“Oh, but it does. And I plan to prove it to you.” She licked the tip of her finger, trailing it along my nose and lips slowly, resting it on a tuft of chest hair. “daniel, would you like to share with me what has happened to you since we met? Do you find yourself thinking about me a lot?”

“Uhmm.. I think about you, yeah.. but I think that’s normal in a er-uhmmm.. man woman relationship.” Melinda just laughed and licked her finger again, unbuttoning the top button on my shirt.

“I think you’re not telling the whole truth, daniel. I believe that you think of me all the time. I believe that your first thought in the morning is of me and the last thought at night before you turn in is of me also.” I gulped and sighed heavily as she locked her eyes onto mine. Melinda smiled and tugged my chest hair. Her voice lowered as she moved close to me and almost whispered in my ear. “I’ve bitten you, daniel. Just like the wasp, I have confused you and paralyzed you. I have disoriented you, rendering you nearly unable to function. The first part of my plan has gone well, very well indeed.” I looked at her for a minute, horrified, then began to stand up.

“I think-I think I need to leave…” I stood up, but found myself dizzy, dazed, barely able to move. It was impossible to find the door. Melinda came over and grabbed my wrists, forcing them over my head and looking into my eyes. She spoke softly, unsmiling.

“Sit down, daniel..” Her grip was strong, my soul riveted. The senses that had betrayed me returned once I was in her grasp. The only option was obedience. I sat down and Melinda smiled.

“That’s very good, my love. Now let me explain a little bit about what is going to happen next. Please keep in mind that what I am about to impart to you constitutes ancient knowledge, very powerful and profound. If you weren’t already mine, I wouldn’t share any of this with you. However the process has already progressed beyond your mortal ability to stop it.” She smirked and sat next to me, stroking my hair and wiping the perspiration from my brow. She took a deep breath and looked as though she was preparing to deliver a familiar speech. Melinda licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“Many centuries ago, a group of women who lived in the South American Andes discovered something very special about the psychic connection between the exchange of bodily fluids between people and the ensuing bond that may be formed from that exchange. In many cases, the bond is egalitarian, and people develop a relationship akin to one that close siblings would have.” Melinda paused and smiled, gently stroking my neck near the carotid artery. “The ancient women, however, discovered that such an exchange coupled with very specific sexual acts allowed them to gain control of their partners to an almost frightening degree. They further noticed that each psychic and sexual conquest allowed them to restore their youthful beauty and vigor, and eventually that it allowed them to extend their lifespans for an extraordinary period of time.” Melinda licked my neck, lightly scraping her teeth across my artery. I noted an increase in my heart rate, as well as a sense of impending doom. “The lifespans of the men, by contrast, tended also to lengthen by such exchanges. But they benefited in other ways as well, because the essence of the woman lived in them, providing a calming influence and checking their beastly nature for as long as they did live. The man also had an unusual opportunity to express his total devotion and undying love for his woman by offering himself to her in this manner.”

“So you mean to tell me that you’re a vam- vampire?” I was aghast, trying to resist her but feeling the psychic leash tightening. Melinda laughed.

“No, silly. Modern vampire stories are based on the reality of what I just explained to you. They are also terribly sexist and inaccurate, since they almost always depict a male vampire and a female supplicant. Typical nineteenth century sexism, in my opinion. The reality is completely different, the roles are utterly reversed.” Melinda smiled. “I haven’t taken your soul yet, but once I do you will feel the length, depth, and breadth of my power over you.” I looked at her in disbelief, a rebellion welling within me.

“This is absurd. For you to lay claim to my “soul” based upon your swallowing a few drops of my blood is…ridiculous!” Melinda’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at me. I felt a familiar twinge in my stomach and those dark brown eyes burrowing through me. I sensed her displeasure but continued with my diatribe.
“..hypnosis, perhaps, or the inducement of a peculiar form of panic. I attribute that to some skillful erotic manipulation on your part. But a “soul” is far to ethereal to quantify, much less possess.” Melinda only grinned and then spoke very, very softly.

“Oh but the soul does exist, daniel. Your soul will, in fact, be taken over by mine before the evening is over.” She ran a finger along my forehead and nose, scratching very lightly, then down my lips to my neck. She pinched a spot on my throat ever so slightly. “Right there is a good place, I think. That’s always a wonderful spot to open a wound. The blood tends to gush, and the supplicant does stop resisting after only a few seconds.” She smiled as I began to back away from her on the sofa. Melinda followed, scooting near. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill or even seriously injure you. But I am going to make you mine. You will know what it is to be overwhelmed by a force which you cannot comprehend.” She smiled wickedly as I shook my head wordlessly, fearfully, trying in vain to keep her at bay.

Melinda reached out and grabbed me suddenly by the ear, pulling my head abruptly towards hers. I resisted, jerking away as she pulled harder and managed to snake her other hand through some of my hair. After roughly yanking my head to one side to expose the arteries bulging beneath my skin, she opened her mouth wide, clamping down hard on me and sealing the grip tightly with her lips. I felt her tongue briefly scan my defenseless neck, searching, probing for exactly the right spot, then shrieked in terror as her incisors punctured me, simultaneously drawing the blood from my body and yet holding me tenderly, beckoning me wordlessly not to fight her. I felt her skillfully take my essence from me, the blood spilling out of me in hot spurts at first until I became dizzy and detached, unable to resist her, perched on the cusp of losing consciousness.

She stopped sucking and just lapped at my wound now, seemingly able to stem the flow of blood from my severed artery magically with a few strokes of her tongue. She licked like a kitten, trailing her tongue leisurely across my neck, savoring the liquid that remained until she had consumed it, then blowing lightly on the bite to seal it shut before looking into my eyes.
I met her gaze weakened and barely to move or breathe, my mouth agape, so submissive and contrite. Her eyes were a conduit for something powerful, and as I lost myself in their depths I felt something enter me, an energy dancing electrically down my spine and then back up again, filling me with vigor yet not filling me too fully. Melinda leaned down and kissed me deeply, forcing her tongue inside me, painting the roof of my mouth with the taste of my own blood. She pulled back, regarding me, licking her lips and smiling broadly.

“Stand up and take off all your clothes.” she said. “Do it slowly. Unwrap yourself like a Christmas gift for me.” I did as she said, slowly rising and removing my clothing methodically as she kicked me a little with her boot.

“Dance, boy. Don’t bore me. You need to keep me happy.” I responded by dancing sinuously, sensually for her, moving licentiously to some imaginary tune I knew she was thinking of, teasing like a strip club performer and slowly disrobing.
I surprised myself and delighted her, my limbs taking a life of their own as my own motor skills were repressed. I took my cues from her gaze, ultimately winding up naked before her and suddenly weak again, collapsing into the couch beside her. She looked at me and smiled, stroking my hair, then forcing my mouth open. She deliberately cut her finger on my tooth and then removed her hand, dotting her blood on my face, neck, and shoulders, marking me, purring lowly. My body responded almost on cue with a deep sexual arousal as
she moved down to grope my genitals, deliciously painting them in blood as she did so. She licked my neck and face again, then paused to look into my eyes.

“We’re almost finished, daniel. Very soon now you will be mine.” Melinda locked her eyes onto mine, pulling me into an inescapable psychic vortex. She continued speaking softly, sensuously, and very slowly. “The bondage I’m creating for you involves an exchange of fluids, daniel. I have extracted and consumed a good deal of blood from your body, but unless you extract and consume a specific bodily fluid of mine, the bond will not seal.” She stroked my hair and tended to the wound on my neck with her finger, continuing. “The final exchange must be consensual. I cannot force you to relinquish your soul, nor would I desire the soul of one who would notwillingly give it to me.” She kissed me tenderly on the cheek and looked into my eye, stroking my hair. “I’ve taken you this far, daniel, will you allow me to guide you the rest of the way into your new life?” I inhaled sharply and trembled, mustering my vanquished will, and glared defiantly, albeit weakly.

“No.” I whispered, almost inaudibly. Melinda looked at me and broke into a giggle.

“No? Are you saying no to me?” I nodded as she continued to chuckle, almost as though she’d expected such a response.

“Please Melinda,” I whispered softly, weakly, nude and rock hard before my fully clothed girlfriend. “please let me go. I don’t want this. Allow me to go home. Give me my life back.” Melinda just smiled and spoke softly.

“Darling, if you want me to release you from your bondage, I will freely do so.” She licked her lips and held me tightly, her hand stroking my rock hard cock. “You should know, however, that your carotid artery is severed. It is only the spell of dominance that I’m weaving which keeps your blood behind its walls. Should I release you now, you will likely bleed to death in less than a minute.” She smiled triumphantly as I whimpered, not certain whether to believe her but knowing that a mistake could be fatal. She continued to speak. “So you see, sweetheart, while you may be free of me if you so desire, this is the last time you will ever say ‘no’ to me regardless of your decision.”

Melinda smiled and abruptly stood up, breaking eye contact, striding purposefully across the room. “Come to me darling. Crawl to me. Give yourself willingly, unconditionally. Surrender to me. I give you a minute to decide before I break the spell. Choose your freedom and die, or be mine and live forever!”

My consciousness churned like a tornado. I looked across the room at Melinda standing, legs spread and arms crossed, licking her lips. She was so sexy, so powerful, and essentially irresistible. I crumpled to the floor and found myself crawling slowly, hand over hand, knee over knee, to where she stood. She looked down at me, expressionless, unimpressed.

“Tell me what you want, daniel. Tell me now, please.”

“I want…” The words came with great difficulty “I want to be yours, Melinda.” She looked down at me, smiling slightly.

“Mmmmm, I must have scared you then, mustn’t I?” She strode in a circle around me as my body began to weaken. I could feel the wound on my neck begin to crack open slightly, with a few drops of blood trickling out and spilling onto the floor. “Why should I have you now? Just a moment ago you wanted me to release you. Is your change of heart truly out of devotion to me, or is it to save your own hide?”

“Please, Melinda! I beg you!” A warm stream trickled down my neck, nestling in my chest hairs and dripping onto the floor. The severed artery was breaking open. “I don’t want to die!”

“Not good enough,” she smirked. “Nobody wants to die. Either convince me now that I should take you or I shall shortly feed your carcass to the dog!” I shook with terror as the wound opened a bit more, the stream of blood gushing a little more freely, my senses reeling, lightheadedness setting in. I looked up at her in reverie, deciding suddenly to bare my soul.

“Oh Melinda, I-I must be dense. I have not been able to grasp what has been happening to me of late.” I barely noticed as the trickle of blood began to slow. “I love you and want to be with you, but I am afraid of you as well. Please don’t misinterpret my trepidation. My first response is a cautious one when it comes to ownership of my soul, but if I were to give it away, it would be to you.” Melinda looked down at me and smiled, mussing my hair ever so slightly.

“That is sweet, daniel. But do you really feel that way? Would you really give it freely if it were not forced upon you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” It was the first time I had called her that. “To you, I would give it freely.” Melinda held me close. The bleeding had stopped.

“Then I release you,” she said. “The spell is broken. You will not die. Should you choose to walk away from this relationship right this minute, the wound will not reopen. You are free.”

“No, Mistress,” I nuzzled next to her legs. “I would rather that you take me if you will have me.” Melinda smiled down on me, then bent over to plant a kiss on the crown of my head.

“Thank you, daniel. That is very sweet. We must complete the exchange in order to seal the bond. Are you ready to do that now?” I nodded, weakening just a little bit once again. She looked down at me. “daniel, I want you to use just your mouth to take down my pants, then I want you to pleasure me orally. When I climax, you will swallow all of it. You may feel a little strange as you do so. Don’t worry about that and don’t try to fight it. Just think of me, think of your life up until now, and consider what your future probably holds for you. Allow it to sweep you away. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I reached for her belt using just my mouth. Melinda flashed an approving smile as I awkwardly tugged it loose. I wrapped my tongue and lips around the clasp holding her jeans up, and managed to unbuckle it. I unzipped the jeans with my lips and teeth, releasing a pungent, dizzying, intimate scent that served to weaken me a bit further as I tugged her panties down. Melinda grabbed me by the hair and began backing up, beckoning me to follow as she sat down on a leather easy chair, flipping her legs over my head, using her pulled down jeans to trap me between them as I found myself staring straight into her sex.

“Kiss me, slave. Worship me with your mouth and give me the gift of yourself.” I nuzzled my way up Melinda’s inner thigh, intoxicated by her feminine scent, and felt a tingle dance up my tongue as I touched her wet clitoris with it and commingled some of her juices with my saliva. I opened my mouth wide, holding my tongue out for her as she pulled me inside. I kissed and licked with abandon, letting go, bathing her pussy with my warm breath and plunging my tongue between her labia folds, curling it, suckling, swallowing her juices as my eyes burned and my face became numb. I felt a detachment, a displacement within my body, an almost incomprehensible sensation of ecstasy coupled with dread. I burrowed my tongue deeper within her, opening my mouth wider to capture her nectar, more ardently stimulated her genitalia with my lips, tongue, and nose, desiring above all else to please her and comply with her wishes. I jettisoned my free will and acquiesced, a decision I was certain she sensed when she pushed me deep within her wet crevice, clamping her thighs tightly shut, reaching down to hold me close and hug me as she climaxed, her juices covering my face and trickling down my throat.

Something intangible entered me, I’m not certain what. It worked its way down my head and shoulders to my torso, then my pelvis, and finally to the tips of my very toes. I felt a oneness with my Mistress, although the merging was not of an egalitarian nature. She enveloped me, took me over, pushed my psyche behind the scenes, and began taking control of my thoughts, feelings, and even my motor skills. I abruptly became rock hard, stiffer than I had ever recalled being, as what blood remained in my body engorged my organ as though on cue. She lifted me up by the hair and captured my gaze, pulling me towards her, thrusting her legs into the air, coaxing my hard cock between her labial folds.
I pushed myself inside her to the hilt, thrusting slowly at first, then faster, harder, and deeper as she writhed beneath me and emitted a low moan. Presently her eyes widened as she gazed at my wounded neck, hungrily lunging for and capturing it between her jaws again, emitting a primal scream as she fed on me and then threw me over onto my back. She rode me, taking me, as physically endowed with strength as I had been weakened, as though there had been a transfer. She bucked and writhed atop me, as I lay supine and unable to move, her mouth still fused to my neck. We climaxed simultaneously as I gave everything to her, moaning, shaking, writhing, and then collapsing powerless, paralyzed, feeling near death.

We lay like that for a while, with Melinda closing the wound on my neck with a few deft flicks of her tongue. She purred and enveloped me with her psyche, my spine tingling again as our eyes met and she seemed to restore my strength with her gaze. Melinda smiled down at me.

“Well, lover,” she asked. “How does it feel to be mine, utterly completely mine?” I looked up at her, awestruck, terrorized, defeated, and remade.

I tried to move my lips in response, but couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. Melinda kissed me tenderly on the forehead, licking her way down my face, sliding her tongue between my lips and probing my mouth delicately, nurturing me. She looked into my eyes, her expression softening into a luscious smile. “It’s okay my sweet,” she said. “No reply is necessary.”

fucking pregnant GRETAS ITCH

Saturday, October 25th, 2008

Greta spent most of her mornings behind her desk, dutifully working.

She was a Dutch girl from Utrecht, and she took her job pretty seriously. But every now and then she clicked over to a Dutch women’s forum to read up on other women and their bumps. Most of the topics were standard – about hormones and the nesting instinct – but one caught her eye.

‘Does your pregnancy make you insatiable?’it read in Dutch. She went on to explore the list and read the testimonies of many different Dutch women who found themselves not only with morning sickness in the first trimester, but craving physical attention from their husbands.

Though she would blush to admit it to anyone in the office, these women were right. She had never felt (or it seemed looked) as sexy as she did when she was pregnant.

Her ash brown hair looked alive. The early wrinkles under her eyes seemed to heal up.

It must be a girl she thought – for all of these female hormones to be exploding all over her body.

‘Oh my God – it’s so sexy’ she thought. She thought of her husband Max fucking her the way he did. He was a really good lay – and he had a nice sized dick. Just the thoughts of sizing up her husbands elephant trunk exciting her and she thought she really just had to go pee to cool herself off, and let some of that hot piss satisfy her for now.

She got up from the desk and started to walk towards the door when Robert came in.

Robert was about 7 years younger than she was, she reckoned, and he was the cutest boy at work – the one that was a little shy, but with a sweet side. The one, who if stuck on a desert island with, she would have no problem using to continue the human species.

‘Good morning, Robert,’she said in her soft Germanic accent. ‘Good morning, Greta’he replied. There was something so comforting in his body – she thought. Whenever she had to get close to him in the office it was as if every muscle relaxed. Sex signals, she thought. Radar. She was no twit. Buts she had a date to go the restroom and to ease her itch.

In the restroom she guided herself towards the last stall and sat down. There was a newspaper on the floor and she began to read on about those funny Americans Jessica Simpson and Angelina Jolie – as her naked finger snaked its way up and down her ravine.

She looked down and she liked what she saw. She loved her vagina – and she loved it more now that she was pregnant. She loved tracing a signature over her pink lips and relished pushing her clit ever so slightly. She began to work her slender fingers and developed a sort of groove or rhythm as she read on about the news. She knew she really shouldn’t get off in the ladies toilet, but her finger kept its rhythm and so she began to squeeze her leg muscles and rub her flesh.

She began to think about Max and his big muscle and how it filled her box up. She really enjoyed the late night fuckings they had had. But she knew that not just Max could get her off in a quick way so she would have to go a little dirty. As she toyed with her wet flesh she began to envision another man – a bit silent, a bit dark, but handsome and warm – with a long body, and a long penis.

As he guided her to the bed in her fantasy she opened herself to him and let him have his way with her. She enthusiastically sucked him and let him have her ass and her face and finally her pussy – yes her pussy, where he would shoot his thick hot load. Mmm. The pleasure.

She continued to itch at herself – building a rhythm and embracing the strong man of her fantasy who took her ass, who took her everything, who used her like a rubber and threw her away.

Christ he was big. He stretched her with that big cock… GASP. When you withhold a loud orgasm the one that comes is a bit different and Greta essentially felt her body implode. It was like that idea of seeing stars. She felt a bit delirious and her body began to chill and convulse. Cold sweat built up on the back of her neck. She was light headed but then reclaimed her sense of place

‘Ah,’ She thought. ‘Now that is what English-speakers call ‘the big O.”

After she had calmed her pink pussy lips in the ladies, Greta returned to clarity. She remembered that Max was having a show that Thursday night in a comedy production in North Beach.

She had promised him to get as many of her coworkers to come, and so she dutifully announced to her coworkers when she got back from the ladies that they should all come and spend $5 to see Max and his colleagues perform at the church.

‘I’m going, Robert’ said matter of factly. ‘My girlfriend’s sister is in that show.’

Robert looked cute, Greta thought in a relaxed way. Maybe he was her mystery date in the ladies. ‘Oh,’ Greta smiled from behind her work station. ‘See you there.’

BARE AS A BODKIN

City Thursdays in Spring sometimes were wet and moist, sometimes were cold and windy, but on special occasions were humid and warm a prelude to summer.

Bars filled up after work, and all the good looking city people got together to drink beer, shoot pool, and engage in ancient courting rituals.

While Katrina and Robert needed neither spirits nor atmosphere to get their grooves on, they decided to have a few beers before catching her sister Lila in the show at St. Agnes.

The performance was called “Bare as a Bodkin” and it was some sort of raunchy take on Shakespeare. As they walked to the theater the two began to hold hands.

‘You know some people from work might be here tonight,’ Robert said trying to make small talk.

‘Oh yeah, who?’ asked Katrina. ‘Well, I know that Greta’s husband Max is performing, so I guess we’ll see Greta.’

‘Oh’ said Katrina. ‘That’s cool.’

Robert could tell that Katrina was a bit jealous. The truth was she knew that he probably liked her – she knew her boyfriend’s postures, his language, the way he said a woman’s name. Sensing his girlfriend’s apprehension he decided to proclaim her lack of accessibility to him.

‘Yeah, she’s expecting,’ he said.

‘Oh yeah?’ Katrina said, returning from her analytical detachment. ‘How far a long is she?’

‘Three months, ‘Robert answered.

When they got to St. Agnes they saw that it was going to be a big show. The line was out the church’s basement door and all sorts of hipster kids were outside smoking and joking.

Katrina and Robert waited in line, and slowly worked their way to the table where two young women, dressed as nymphs out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, took their $10 and stamped their hands. They then proceeded into the main chamber, which was entirely black and surrounded by bleachers. Katrina and Robert worked their way up to the top of one side and got a good seat.

Robert strained to recognize any of the guys from work, but couldn’t see anybody. Then out of the corner of his eye he spied her shape across the stage and at the front row. She was dressed in a dark velvety dress and had on black heels. She looked SEXY.

The bleachers began to fill up until the whole room was heavy with breathing and anticipation – when one of the nymphs came on stage and launched into a very risque sonnet. The audience laughed, but Robert was preoccupied with the mass across from him. He thought about her bump and he felt a noticeable twang in his penis.

There were several men on stage, but Robert couldn’t tell which one was Max. He assumed he was the bigger guy – but who knew. All he knew is that he just wanted to keep sneaking glances at his coworker Greta, and he did until she got up about half an hour into the show – just about the same time he felt a pressure on his bladder from the beer he had had earlier.

He asked one of the non-acting nymphs to point him towards the restrooms and she instructed him to go through a series of doors towards the back of the church, behind the kitchen. He almost got lost, but finally wound his way through the maze to the men’s restroom where he let go of his huge burden. He cleaned himself off and buttoned up and turned around to leave, all the time thinking of Greta and her legs and her bump, and her smile. He ‘must have a crush’he thought, hoping that if he classified his emotions they would go away.

But then he saw her coming the opposite direction. In her gorgeous medieval outfit. Their eyes met and he felt like he had been shot with 120 volts of energy.

‘Hi Greta.’

‘Oh – it’s so good you came,’ she said. She seemed cheerful and less industrious than her normal workself. They exchanged a bit of awkward body language but then Robert blurted out ‘You look really nice tonight.’

‘Thank you, so do you’ she said. This was terrible he thought. He had to do something. He had to say something, and the alcohol in his system just let his true thoughts slip out without warning.

‘I think you look really nice – especially because you are pregnant,’ he said.

‘Oh you are not the only one who has noticed,’ Greta replied with a grin. ‘I have noticed too. I think I am having a girl because of all this estrogen in my body. ‘She reached down and touched her bump and moved closer to him.

‘Here, feel,’ she said. ‘Feel my bump.’ She pulled her nervous hand closer and put it on her belly.

The bump felt somewhere between soft and hard. He was nervous to touch it too heavily, but felt calmed by the bump. She looked up at him, a kind of deep glare in her eyes and breathed heavily. ‘You know Robert,’ she said with a hysterical tinge to her voice.

‘I really want to kiss you. Will you kiss me?’

he leaned forward and kissed her forehead and then her nose, and then…my God…her mouth. ‘I just feel so sexy since I have been pregnant,’ Greta said sensitively, wrapping her arms around his tree trunk of a waist. ‘I just feel so aroused all the time.’

They began to kiss and Robert felt like a 14 year old in the middle of his first time. The air seemed so cold and he felt afraid because he was kissing another man’s wife, and afraid because she was pregnant, but overwhelmed by whatever pheromones escaped from her body and deeply in love with her scent, a scent he had breathed so deeply.

‘Please come with me’ she said, leading him down a hall way through a door to a dark room. She flicked on a switch and there hung many robes worn by priests and lay people.

‘Here’ she said, ‘help me take this thing off.’ Robert helped her lift the skirt off her trim body revealing nothing underneath but her angelic form – her tiny, yet swollen breasts, like a 15 year-old’s, so soft they would fit perfect in his hand. And of course her tummy, which started at the base of her rib cage, and protruded out in a natural arc just like he had thought of – perfect, hot and growing.

‘Can I?,’Robert hesitated. ‘Can I kiss it?’ She planted hot kisses on his cheeks and guided his face down to her bump. He kneeled before her and began to plant little daisies of kisses along the lining of her skin, hiding them in her pelvic valleys, and stopping to feel her curly black pubic hair tickle his chin.

She looked so gorgeous in the cloakroom light and he felt a bit overwhelmed down on his knees. But he stood up and she began to unbutton his shirt and pants. They soon were both completely hot and naked and she decided to take advantage of the situation.

‘Robert – I want you to fuck me’she said. ‘I want you in every orifice of me’she said as she guided his cock towards her thigh. She then slowly kneeled down and began to plant kisses along his rod, looking up to savor the feeling of another man’s big dick in her palm. Robert, as she expected, was quite long and thick and engorged by the sight of her angelic body. She felt so hot as she let his big thickness come into her mouth. She toyed with his p-spot as he grabbed masses of her hair and stood at attention and continued to bob her head up and down on his big dick. He mumbled and a certain giddiness began to spur in his testes as the night air hit his shaft as she savored him. He thought about where he would fuck her, in her throat, in her puckered little ass, that tight little ass, and finally deep in her mystic oven, where the next generation was brewing.

Friday, October 24th, 2008

Practicing Birth-Control part4

Thursday, October 23rd, 2008

Betty Jean’s last one had eased Momma’s aching arms for a
while, but even Daddy knows that Momma plans on having at least
one by each of us boys, before she gets too old to have any more.
At 38 years old, that won’t be too long. Still, some women keep
having babies until they’re 45 or even 50. I can hardly wait for
my turn. If I’m lucky, maybe I can plant two or even three kids
in my mother’s womb like my father did, before Mary Beth and I
get old enough to marry, and move out on our own,
When I reached Grandpa’s room, I felt a dribble of Daddy’s
cum running down my leg. I deliberately did NOT wipe it up, as I
knew that Momma, Daddy, and even Grandpa liked to see ALL of us
kids showing signs of being freshly fucked. Especially, by
having sperm dribble out of our holes, and down our legs. Yes,
even the boys.
Well, as I expected, Grandpa did NOT need me dribbling
Daddy’s sperm down my leg to get sexually excited. His prick was
not only swollen to it’s fullest, but was already sliding in and
out of Cindy Lou’s tight little slit.
Her little sister was lying on the bed panting; her bare
crack oozing white; giving evidence that the little 5-year-old
had already milked one big helping of our grandfather’s sperm
into HER tight little hole, while her year-older sister was
working to extract a second helping.
Momma has Grandpa fuck the little kids, because his prick is
long and thin; even smaller than mine, and that means he not only
won’t hurt them like I would, but they make a tighter screw for
Grandpa, than the older girls would.
I watched, waiting, until Cindy Lou’s sliding up and down
his skinny prick did the job, and a white gob started oozing down
the pole sticking up inside my little sister’s slit. Such a sexy
thought, that Grandpa was filling the little girl’s womb with the
white gooey stuff that makes babies.
Still, that’s another reason Momma has Grandpa fuck the
little girls. Like Daddy, Grandpa never pulls out; and at least
this way the old man won’t be getting any of my sisters pregnant.
So you see, even though none of my sisters are on the pill,
so at first glance it doesn’t look like it; we DO practice birth-
control at our house. Just because you aren’t rich, and can’t
afford expensive prophylactics, doesn’t mean you have to stop
having unprotected sex, with bare squirting prick ejaculating
warm sticky dollops of potent seed in eagerly accepting fertile
young family vagina where it belongs, or else keep having babies.
After all, most girls want, and should be allowed to feel their
father and brothers’ bare pricks squirting incestuous sperm high
up inside their horny little tummies; from the time they are 5
years old, until they are old enough to produce babies of their
own. Even THEN, little girls can still have fun three weeks out
of four, with their sibling’s, parent’s, or grandparent’s thick
cum warming their tight little slits, until they are old enough
to marry one of them. Even during the one week or so a month
that it’s risky, there are plenty of other ways for a girl to
have fun and get her men off, without really risking a baby in
the belly. You just have to be careful how, when, where, and
with who you have sex each time. In our house, for example, all
babies are not only wanted, but were planned for.

5

Except one of course, as a sudden howl of hunger reminded
me, before Betty Jean came dashing in the room to supply a much-
wanted breast to her little girl. Even Martha Jane was wanted,
if not planned for like her big sister Julie Mae, now lying on
the bed with her grandfather/great-grandfather’s sperm soaking
into the child’s tight little baby-hole, like her mother and
grandmother before her had taken it inside THEIR vaginas, when
THEY were five.
Now when Mary Beth and I get married, we plan on starting
our kids out at three years old, or maybe even younger, instead
of making them wait until they’re five, like Momma did with us.
I mean, just because a little girl is too small to take her
father or grandfather’s thick prick up inside her cute little
slit, squirting it full of incestuous baby-juice, doesn’t mean
the child won’t enjoy having sex with her brothers and sisters
until she IS big enough! Heck, even Martha Jane likes to have
her little slit rubbed, and she’s only a baby.
Even Joany Lou likes to feel me squirting her cute little
tummy full of cum at least once a week; in spite of the fact that
I’m still a little bit big for the 8-year-old. Still, my little
sister never complains; insisting on getting her “share” of my
sperm every few days. The little girl is so PROUD of the fact
that she’s finally big enough to take somebody besides Grandpa or
her little brother Mike inside her tiny little hole. So, I try
to be careful with her, and we both have a good time. Sex for
her is just fun; as it should be for girls her age, with no
worries about pregnancy or babies.
Children SHOULD be allowed and even encouraged to enjoy sex
as early and often as possible, so they’ll have that much more
time to have fun, before they get so old they have to start
worrying about babies and birth-control. Once they do however,
the kids should learn how to protect themselves, so they won’t
have any unwanted pregnancies. That’s what OUR parents taught
US, anyway.
I mean, can you imagine how big our family would be, if we
did NOT practice birth-control?

6

Practicing Birth-Control part3

Saturday, October 18th, 2008

stuff.
Joe stood there behind my big sister, shuddering for a
moment, and then finally he pulled out. A big bulge of white
made the condom sag, while white foam circled my big brother’s
prick. If not for that latex barrier, we all knew that Betty
Jean would probably be carrying yet another baby; this time by
her big brother. What a sexy thought.
Daddy seemed to think so. With a bellow that echoed Joe’s,
my father suddenly jammed his big prick up my ass as far as it
would go. For a second, it HURT, but knowing my father was
filling my ass with his warm sticky seed was enough to get me off
too. Not that the feeling of his prick massaging my prostate
from the inside would have let me hold off very long anyway.

3

My prick exploded into Sue Ann’s tight little hole, and she
grabbed both Daddy and me in a death-grip, as I was almost
squashed between them.
For a moment or two, it was almost as though Daddy was
fucking my little sister right through me. Daddy’s prick would
expand in my behind, and as I felt his sperm squirt in me, I
would send a responding squirt into my little sister. Squirt
after squirt. It felt like Daddy’s sperm would go right through
my body, into the base of my prick, and then ripple through the
tube on the bottom until it ended up being deposited in the
little girl’s womb where it belonged.
Daddy was just emptying the last sticky drops into me, and I
was doing the same thing to my little sister, when Momma came in
from the kitchen to tell us all that breakfast was ready.
“My God,” she exclaimed in mock disgust, “Don’t you kids do
anything but fuck?” “What kind of sex-maniacs have I been
raising around here anyway?” she asked, taking in her two oldest
daughters, obviously both freshly screwed, with their father’s
seed still drooling obscenely out of the eldest, and the sticky
mess on the other matching the wilting rubber-covered cock on her
eldest son. To top it, Daddy, Sue Ann and I were still coupled
like three dogs, while Mary Beth was licking the juncture of our
thighs, and a white gob dripping out of her tight little slit
showed she hadn’t been sexually neglected that morning either.
Two little naked kids watched the whole thing, while still
playing with each other’s sex-parts.
First Daddy, then Mary Beth, then the whole room started
giggling, then laughing outright. If anyone was an example of
someone who liked to fuck, then it had to be Momma. After all,
with nine kids by her own son, one by her father, and two
grandchildren, it was pretty obvious how our mother liked to
spend her spare time.
At first, Momma huffed at our response, but finally the
humor of the situation got to her too. “OK,” she giggled, “now
it’s my turn. Joe, get another one of those rubber things, and
get over here and help your mother out. Mike, you go down and
tell your grandpa and little sisters that breakfast will be
ready, as soon as your mother gets HER share of the fun.”
I giggled, but followed Momma’s instructions by pulling out
of my little sister and padding down the hall to the other
bedroom, that Grandpa shared with the two younger girls and the
baby. Daddy patted me on the ass, as he pulled out of me with a
slight pop. “Ooh,” my ass stung a little, but Daddy’s sperm
soothed it a little too. Sometimes I almost wish I was a girl,
so Daddy could squirt up my tummy and get me pregnant like my
sisters could. Oh well.
I heard a yelp of pleasure as I left the room, and knew my
big brother’s cock was sliding into the womb that we all came out
of; filling it in a way that none of the rest of us could match.
Twice now, Joe has split a condom while fucking Momma, and we all
know that someday he’s going to knob her good. If not by
splitting a condom, then when Momma decides she’s gone long
enough without another baby.

4

…End of the part3. To be continued..

Practicing Birth-Control part2

Friday, October 17th, 2008

and Daddy wasn’t far behind; jamming his swollen peter in my big
sister’s belly, as he jerked and spasmed her womb full of his
seed.
Gee that was sexy. My prick started to inflate in my twin’s
tight little hole.
“Mmmm, that’s nice,” murmured Mary Beth; squirming back at
me, “but don’t you think you should give a little of this to Sue
Ann?”
I looked over at our little sister’s pleading face, and knew
she was right. It wouldn’t be fair to squirt my twin again,
without letting Sue Ann feel me shoot up her first. Sighing, I
pulled out of my twin sister’s snug little hole, and lay back for
Sue Ann.
The little girl gave a squeal of glee at seeing my penis all
gooey and white-streaked with the sperm I had squirted in her big
sister. “Oh Goody!” she squeaked, while hurrying to get around
so that she could fit my cum-dribbling prick in her tight little
hole.
Sue Ann isn’t old enough to have periods yet, so she always
gets to feel me squirting her; unlike her big sisters. She sure
seems to like it. In fact, she likes it so much, that Momma
keeps warning me to make sure the little girl doesn’t try to
“sneak” a period by us, and get pregnant anyway. We all know it
won’t be long before it’s as dangerous for me to shoot up in her,
as it is for me to squirt her big sisters.
This time, I wasn’t in such a big hurry to get off; seeing
as I had already left ONE big load in my twin’s tight little
baby-hole. Mary Beth seemed happy; lying there with white goo
slowly oozing out of her freshly fucked crack, so I was able to
concentrate my efforts on our little sister.
Well, almost all of my efforts. Betty Jean and Joe were
getting almost violent at this time, while the two little kids
had gotten tired of their game and had stopped to watch.

2

I rolled on top of my little sister, and started fucking the
little girl in time with my big brother’s strokes into our older
sister. Betty Jean must have been right at the “dangerous” time
of month, because I could see the slick rubber covering of a
condom over Joe’s enormous member.
Working at the factory, Joe is the only one of us who can
afford rubbers; so he’s the only one who fucks the girls when
it’s not “safe.” My sisters are usually so horny they don’t even
mind Joe’s big schlong, when it gets that time of month, so by
wearing a rubber, my big brother gets a lot more tail that way.
Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to the girls, if they had to watch
everyone else get laid, and miss out just because they might get
a big belly. So Momma and Daddy let Joe fuck the girls even when
it’s the right time of month, and even though that monster-prick
of his has split more than one condom wide-open. Still, as I’ve
said, we’ve only had one “unplanned” pregnancy in our family, so
it seems to work out pretty good.
After a while, my concentration was about to center on the
little sister I was screwing, when I felt MY legs being spread.
It seems that Daddy had gotten all excited seeing his kids
fucking, and wanted a little more. Joany is still too small for
even Daddy yet, so he was going to use me. I didn’t mind. Heck,
sometimes I even had Joe stick his monster up my behind. Daddy
is small by comparison.
Thankfully, Daddy’s prick was still slick from the sperm he
had squirted in Lisa Marie, so with only a little pressure it
slipped up inside me with a popping sensation. Oh GOD, did that
feel good. To feel a prick sliding in and out of your ass, while
your little sister’s tight little cunny milks on your swollen
peter is a thrill that every kid should have. Especially, if
that prick sliding up your ass belongs to your own father. I
knew it wouldn’t take long with stimulation like this before I
filled my little sister’s womb with my white goo.
Sue Ann was right with me, as she felt Daddy pushing me into
her with each stroke. I knew that my tight little butt squeezing
on Daddy’s prick would get him off too.
Only it wasn’t any one of the three of us that came first.
Betty Jean suddenly started wailing, and Joe started bellowing
like a bull, as we all knew our big brother was filling the
condom inside Betty Jean with gob after gob of white sticky
…End of the part2. To be continued..

Practicing Birth-Control

Thursday, October 16th, 2008

An Erotic Story

This morning, I woke up horny (as usual) so I slipped my
prick up inside my sister, and fucked her.
Mary Beth was already slippery, so it wasn’t hard to get
inside her. By the time I felt the familiar tingling in my prick
that told me I was about to squirt, Mary Beth had woken up, and
was humping back at me just as hard as I was pushing into her.
My sisters all like to fuck just as much as I do, and Mary Beth
is no exception. Still, just because she likes to fuck, doesn’t
mean she wants to get knocked up.
“I’m going to shoot up you,” I warned her; giving her the
opportunity to pull off, if she didn’t want me to squirt her.
After all, I didn’t want to knob my own sister by accident.
“Huh, huh, huh, It’s OK,” panted Mary Beth, as she pushed
back even harder, “you can squirt me, if you want to. My period
was last week.”
Well, that’s a little close, but since my sister didn’t seem
to mind, neither did I. At least I had warned her. Still, we
had to be careful, ’cause Momma won’t let us marry until we’re
older, and earning enough money to afford babies of our own.
I barely had time to reflect on this, before my sister’s hot
wet hole sliding on and off my swollen prick got the better of
me, and I let her have it. Oooh, did that feel good! I felt
wave after wave of hot sticky goo squirt through my prick and
into my sexy sister’s tight little hole.
Mary Beth seemed to like feeling me shoot up inside her as
much as I did; milking each thick drop out of my dick and into
her sexy little tummy.
Our little sister Sue Ann was awake by this time; watching
with disappointment as I filled her big sister’s vagina with my
warm sticky cum. The little kid likes to have me squirt up in
her, when Mary Beth can’t take my stuff up inside her, without
risking a baby. So today, Sue Ann figured she would only get
“sloppy seconds.” Only today, seconds it turned out were better
than firsts. But she didn’t know that.
As I slowed down, with the last sticky drops of cum oozing
into my twin-sister, I became aware of the action going on on
either side of me. It seems that my fucking my sister had woke
everybody else up, and had started a regular orgy on either side.
On one side, Betty Jean and Joe were going at it like
newlyweds, while on the other, Daddy was sticking it to my big
sister Lisa Marie. Even the little kids Mike and Joany (Joanne
Lou) were “practicing” making a baby; even though neither one has
reached puberty yet.
For the next few minutes I watched the rest of the family
fuck, while I kept my half-hard prick up inside Mary Beth’s tight
little hole; leaking the last drops of cum inside her.
Mary Beth and even Sue Ann watched too; knowing that the
sight would probably get me excited enough to take care of my
little sister as well.

1

It was exciting. Daddy’s prick isn’t as big as Joe’s, but
he sure knows how to make our big sister’s pussy hum with it. I
knew Lisa Marie must be close to her period, as Daddy wouldn’t
fuck any of the girls unless it was “safe” to do so. One
accidental pregnancy was enough.
Daddy never pulls out like me, so he has to make sure he
doesn’t fuck any of the girls unless it’s the right time of
month. Once he’s gotten inside a girl, Daddy knows he doesn’t
have enough control (like I do) to pull out; so he doesn’t even
start unless it’s OK.
Me, I don’t mind pulling out, because there’s usually one of
my other sisters willing and able to take my squirts; like Sue
Ann had been hoping to. Even if not, none of my sisters would
ever leave me with “blue balls”. They were all just as good with
their mouths and fannies as they were with their tight little
pussies. It had been years since I last had to resort to a “hand
job.”
I watched as Daddy speeded up; thrusting his swollen prick
into my big sister, until they were both panting and grunting
with the effort to cum. Lisa Marie’s wail announced her orgasm,
…End of the part1. To be continued..

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on “Bound for Fun I II part5

Wednesday, October 15th, 2008

made it into a quite nice place to live, with an old converted cistern as
a “dungeon” play-room. The ambience is unbelievable. Joe’s clients are
willing to pay his now much higher prices, for the thrill. Joe can charge
more now, because he doesn’t have to do it, to make a living. His mail-order,
and personal sales of his line of “Dungeon-Ware” is quite good, and growing.

IN>Do they win the lottery and keep having kids?

The only “lottery” Joe is interested in, is the “baby-sweepstakes” that
Lynn has once a year, when they reenact her “lesson” in rape. Other than
that, Joe doesn’t gamble, and neither do the other two.

IN>(Actually, I would not worry about the lottery if I were Joe. He has
IN>already won big.)

Amen.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

BTW, I'm going to try to save all of these comments, and put them in the
package when I send it to you. I'll remove all references to your name,
and to you, when I do. You can then edit it again, and put it out to the
net, as a comment on the story-line. I'm not sure if it should go to
a.s.s, or a.s.s.d. Probably to a.s.s, as it does kind of complete the story.

IN>Frank,

IN>Well, the wait may not have been worth it, I’ll leave that up to
IN>you to decide, but here are my editorial comments on your wonderful
IN>”Bound for Fun” stories.

(Sound of a man releasing breath he’s held for days.) ;-}

IN>First , “BfF I”

IN>> MY GOD! For the first time, I realized just how far I had gone.
IN>> Not only had I came in the little girl, possibly (Probably)
IN>come in the little girl…
IN>…

No, came is right. Past tense of “cum” or come. As in “I came, I saw,
I knocked the girl up.” to misquote.

IN>> using the diaphragm to protect her daughter from pregnancy this
IN>> time. Oh well! At least ONCE, I had done it. Actually squirted
IN>> my seed in the little girl’s unprotected belly, that it. I
IN>that is
IN>…

I already found and corrected that one.

IN>> and Mr. Jones attend to things, OK?”
IN>> “Okay Momma. If you say so.” Dutifully, lay back on the
IN>Dutifully, she…
IN>> bed, and let me open her up, to her mother’s administrations.
IN>Did you mean ministrations?
IN>…

OOOPS! You’re right.

IN>> stimulation, of having her mother poking around in her, and me
IN>> from the thought of this incredible sexy, kinky woman actually
IN>> squirting my sperm in her own daughter womb, while making the kid
IN>daughter’s womb…

OOPS again.

IN>And then, “BfF II”

IN>> huh? Frank looked almost like a nerd, but even though some would
IN>> consider him “over the hill” he still had the best imagination of
IN>> the lot of us, when it came to ingenious torture. Especially the
IN>> kind that hurt, but didn’t damage. Fred was a guy you’d expect
IN>Is this a Hitchcock-like cameo, Mr. McCoy?
IN>…

Weeeelll. . . somewhat. Not exactly, but somewhat. The description is
close, but not completely true. Especially, I DO NOT go for torture.
even bondage, is not really my bag.

IN>> something. It wasn’t real, until that final blow. Now seeing
IN>> the knife sticking in her belly, while she reeled from the deadly
IN>> blow, it finally got home to her. This wasn’t a game, and it was
IN>How do you reel from a blow when you are tied down?
IN>…

You’re right. It was her mind that reeled, not her body.

IN>> couldn’t. Any force over about two ounces, caused the blade to
IN>> vanish into the sheath. It was an amazingly effective illusion,
IN>> especially when combined with fake blood canisters, but not worth
IN>Doesn’t the blade vanish into the handle?

Right again!. My mind slipped.

IN>I hope these comments are of some value to you,
IN>and of course, they are all from a friendly source, and not meant to be
IN>barbed, even if they seem that way when viewed on a CRT.

BARBED???!!! Heck, those are FRIENDLY comments. I even welcome barbed ones,
if they show mistakes in what I was trying to get across.

IN>I hope to hear from you soon!

I’ll try to edit in these changes, and the others we discussed sometime this
week, and send you the final disk. I’ll also send along another story that’s
been sitting for almost a year, waiting to be completed, but neither Tammy or
I seem to want to finish it, so we wrapped it up, and left it where it ended.
It ends fairly nicely, but it was originally planned to be twice as long. If
we ever do finish it, it’ll have to be “Chapter 2″.

IN>I have seen all of the material I posted (finally)

I saw your second post, just the other day.

IN>and have sent out some stuff to folks who missed part 1 of 4, etc.

Thanks.

IN>I will be posting more from your first disk soon.

Could you send me another copy of the list of files I sent you?
I forgot which, and I don’t want to duplicate.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on “Bound for Fun I II part4

Tuesday, October 14th, 2008

out any discrepancies there, I assume you bought that one, and the story
can stand. (Typos and other corrections gladly accepted.)

BTW, the story is NOT about LYNN’s suffering, but JOE’s. HIS hurt, is the
one that’s supposed to break your heart.
Think about it, having to do that to someone you love, in the HOPE that
it MIGHT save her for someone else. To be willing to make someone you
love, and had hoped to have love you, hate you, so that they’ll survive.
“Greater love hath no man. . .” I think that being willing to give up
the love of someone for their well-being, is at least as great, and THAT’s
the point I was trying to make.

I’ll admit, I WAS trying for shock-value, when Joe “did-in” her mother.
I wanted to raise at least a LITTLE doubt in the reader’s mind, whether
or not they had figured Joe out right.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN>Frank,

IN>Re whether Lynn was hoodwinked, yes, I think
IN>Joe and her mother did a good job of convincing the trusting
IN>starry-eyed girl that she was actually given up to a degenerate,
IN>and that he would enjoy her, and then kill her.
IN>Joe’s suffering is evident. Maybe you could put the “greater
IN>love hath no man…” quote in the story. It is both dramatic
IN>and succinct of the feelings Joe must have gone through before
IN>Lynn came over and all was patched up.

I would like to. I just can’t think of a neat way (or place) to put it in.
I’ll re-read it, maybe I can. Hmmmm. maybe afterwards, in a comment by
Lynn, or June. I’ll have to think about it. It’s a nice Idea, but I want
the story to flow smoothly. I’ll try. No guarantees though.

IN>For my own version of “what is right” you might
IN>also add in the epilogue that Lynn finished HS on the honor roll,
IN>despite her bulging belly.

Good point. I’ll fit that in somewhere at the end. “After finishing
High-school, Lynn has worked her way through college, and is now working
on her doctorate by taking evening classes, while June and I watch the
kids, sometimes alternating, and sometimes together. Now that the oldest
is 12, and can watch the younger ones, we find interesting things to do
together while still maintaining a presence in the house.”

Something like that. I’ll have to work on it. Any suggestions about this,
or the other will be appreciated. I think, that if I put in that Lynn’s
working on her doctorate, then her finishing high-school (honor-roll or not)
would be superfluous. What do you think?

IN>Everybody seems to live and make love happily ever after.
IN>Does Joe continue as a professional top?

Yes, but in later years it becomes more of a side-line. His main line
becomes designing and supplying bondage clothing and accessories, with
Lynn as his main model. Do you think this needs to be in the story?

IN>do Lynn and June become his beautiful and kinky assistants?

Lynn does, as explained above. June is closer to being a “top”, than
a “bottom”. Sometime she helps him with a fantasy with Lynn. June remains
as kinky as ever, but with her own twist on things. How and why and where
she gets those kids of hers, are each stories in their own right. Joe
THINKS almost all the kids are his, but he’s not sure about at least 2 of
them. June likes to keep him guessing. (BTW, outside of the story,
for your information only, they ALL are. June loves him just as much
as Lynn does, and wouldn’t dream of cheating him. Make him THINK they might
not be his, yes. Actually HAVE anyone else’s kids, no. Joe suspects this.)

IN>Does the huge family move out of the soundproof apartment?

That’s a bachelor apartment. What do you think? One-bedroom, bath,
kitchen and tiny living-room, plus the one extra “dungeon” room. Of course,
the owners have bigger, fancier apartments, at sky-high rentals. No, they
moved to a small fixer-upper ex-farm-house, at the outskirts of the city.
By the time the story ends, with the three of them working on it, they’ve
…End of the part4. To be continued..

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on “Bound for Fun I II part3

Monday, October 13th, 2008

IN> slipped past your spell checker.

I’ll be waiting with “baited breath”, like the cat who ate cheese, and sat by
the mousehole.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

P.S. Do you mind if I save this letter, except for your name, and use it
and my response to answer any future flames/criticism? It helps not
to have to do it twice.
P.P.S. I got the scanner, and recovered part-2. Story follows this post.
PLEASE don't get squicked, until you've finished the whole story.
THEN feel free to let me have it with both barrels. ;-}

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN> Frank,

IN>1. Using my last letter to respond to other critics, some
IN>probably not as friendly. I re-read the letter, and it is fine, except
IN>for my personal identity, which you should please safeguard totally, and
IN>the first paragraph. The first paragraph is not only irrelevant to the
IN>story, but also is pretty identifiable as written by me. To those who
IN>know me, that may be true of the whole thing, but they would not be able
IN>to prove anything, so go ahead.

I’ll remove the first paragraph, and anything else that points to you.

IN>2. Have not yet had time to go over “BfF I” in the detail I
IN>promised, to send you the minor typos, etc. Hope to do so today,
IN>if not, tomorrow.

I’ll wait on both stories for your criticism.

IN>3. “Bound for Fun II” – the blistering literary criticism! ;=}

IN>Anyway, I liked “BfF II” It certainly
IN>did not squick me. It dealt well with the trust issues, and the whole
IN>fascination with violence and torture as “fun” when in the real world
IN> 1) they actually go on, and
IN> 2) they are __NO fun.

Amen.

IN>Now, the literary hard part for me, is that I must tell you that you
IN>did not pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. This reader, at least.
IN>Jones is clearly too careful of Lynn’s feelings, her peripheral
IN>circulation, etc. etc. for him to actually be planning to kill her
IN>This plot reminds me of the movie “The Sting” I thought that
IN>was a fantastic movie, because it was all about a sting operation, and
IN>audience member thinks he is in on it, but in the end, gets totally
IN>taken in himself, and actually gasps when it appears that one of the good
IN>guys kills the other. Again, at least this viewer.

IN>I do not read a lot of the NC stories, except the Parker works,
IN>and so I am not too good at telling you what a NC perpetrator must “think
IN>like” in a story, but one thing is that he must be totally
IN>uncaring about the victim, except regarding leaving clues.
IN>Clues don’t really have to do with
IN>the victim, just protecting himself, but at least that as close as he gets
IN>to giving a damn about the victim. Jones is way too careful.
IN>He is also clearly too nice a guy. I really don’t know
IN>how to remedy this from the dramatic
IN>viewpoint in the story. That he is careful is okay,
IN> but that he is careful of the girl’s
IN>feelings and comfort is not. I don’t know how to get across his care,
IN>and maybe carefully and intentionally mislead the innocent reader, with
IN>statements
IN>that when read quickly look like the self-centered detail worries of a
IN>schmuck trying to cover the clues, but on rereading after the surprise
IN>ending actually may be interpreted to see that he was looking out for
IN>her all along. A difficult task,
IN>but the only way I can see to get the desired effect and leave it in 1st
IN>person.

The idea was never to pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. The Idea was
to see if you could convince the reader that “Joe” was good enough and
convincing enough to pull the wool over Lynn’s eyes. Since you don’t point
…End of the part3. To be continued..

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on “Bound for Fun I II part2

Sunday, October 12th, 2008

IN> or even if they had mutual friends in the scene, or were or had been
IN> lovers (or whatever you call ‘em -play partners?) might make this more
IN> believable. If you follow a.s.b at all, a huge amount of the talk is

Maybe that part, I didn’t make clear in the story. June had made VERY
extensive checks on “Jones” before bringing her daughter over. she had
not only checked him out, but had talked to several of his “bottoms”, and
even observed a couple of his “training” sessions, as a helper, and once
she had let him demonstrate on her, though it wasn’t her “bag” so to speak.
By the time the story starts, the two were good friends, and he had been
teaching her things to use on her daughter, as Lynn had fallen for the
whole bondage-thing through reading about it. After a while though, second-
hand, amateur knowledge wasn’t enough, and Lynn had asked to be introduced
to an expert.

LYNN was a trusting soul, and had never been really hurt in her life.
She had NEVER been abused, not even by a school-bully. She thought
EVERYONE was like the people in the stories she read, caring and thinking
about the other person, even when designing tortures for them, so that
in the end, the recipient always loves the “master” for what he/she does.
Lynn, to put it bluntly, was a romantic.

Her mother June, was anything but. She would go to great lengths to
protect her daughter, and had the personality, and ability to do it.
She’s as tough as a marine drill-sergeant, and could lick double her
weight in professional bar-bouncers. She would do anything to give
Lynn what she felt the girl needed, and if it was a professional B&D
experience, or a baby in the belly, she would see to it.

Perhaps there’s another thing I didn’t make clear, though there are
hints all through the story. “Joe” was a “professional” By that,
I mean he did it for a living. He was good, because he had to be.
He had a business, and he advertised, and he relied on repeat business.
June wouldn’t have set this up with anyone else. He did enjoy his
work, but nobody who gets into THAT line of work does so, if they
don’t like it. Joe prided himself on giving the customer EXACTLY
what he/she ordered. If they wanted to be marked for 3 days, Joe
provide welts and abrasions that would be not noticeable by that
dreaded 4-day-from-now meeting. His customers relied on him, and
he supplied. Joe wasn’t the “best” top in the city, but he was the
best “professional” one. All the others who were any good, did it
for personal pleasure, and quite often paid for the privilege, or
had a “stable” of “bottoms” to work with. Word-of-mouth sort of thing.

IN> about the building of trust, the reliance on trust, and the fantastic
IN> feelings of letting go __after you really trust a person (in many
IN> cases literally with your life.) But the trust always comes first, at
IN> least in the success stories. But that’s real life, or as close as
IN> the world of BD gets to real life, so maybe my comments do not apply
IN> here.

As I said, Lynn trusted EVERYBODY. Really TRUSTED them.
NOT a good idea, as the second story points out.

IN> As always, please take my comments as coming from a completely
IN> friendly direction, and not meant as criticisms of your views or
IN> positions, just as my suggestions for possible improvements in the
IN> story.

I do, I DO!

IN> Finally, I have a question to ponder. You and I like this story. Who
IN> else will? Is it silly to consider the “market” for a story which
IN> will eventually be immortalized on the net, and never see any other
IN> form of publication? What I fear is that the pedo interest may be
IN> squicked by the BD content, the BD types may be squicked by the pedo
IN> content, and the consent concerns I blathered on about above, and
IN> surely somebody will be bothered to learn that people’s mothers have
IN> an interest in sex, or have ever participated. Just something to
IN> think about. I suppose we could put it on the net, when you have
IN> edited as much as you want to, and see what kind of reaction it
IN> brings. I would be interested to see.

THAT doesn’t bother me. SOME people out there will like it.
There are LOTS of stories out there that I don’t like, and
I ignore them. I expect others to do likewise, with these two.

IN> I am looking forward to the next story you are trying to recover. I
IN> will reread this one this week, and probably send you a short list of
IN> spelling and other typographical errors that I noticed, which probably
…End of the part2. To be continued..

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on “Bound for Fun I II

Saturday, October 11th, 2008

As I said in the preamble to the stories, they were written for a friend.
After writing them, I managed to “lose” the second one on my hard-disk,
only retaining a hard-copy printout. This forced me into buying a scanner
to recover “Bound for Fun II” This is mentioned in passing below.

I sent both stories to the friend for comment, with a gap between them,
as I recovered the second. The enclosed material is excerpts from our
e-mail discussion of the stories. I am publishing this as an addendum
to both stories, to answer some questions (and possible flames) that
might otherwise raise their heads.

IN> Frank,

IN> Thank you very much for the story “Bound for Fun” which I read last
IN> week.

Thank YOU for the nice long response.

IN> Your story sure hits on some of our common and individual favorite
IN> themes. The girl is old enough for my tastes, I hope she is young
IN> enough for yours.

She is.

IN> I loved the allusion to “Preggie Sarah.” That was really choice.
IN> You really have a thing for getting them pregnant, don’t you?

As I’ve said before, getting pregnant is one of my biggest fantasies.
I’d give half of what I own, for the chance.
I know that I’m not the only man to harbor such desires, and
many women love the thought of BEING pregnant.

IN> The promise of a mother/daughter hot combo is also quite
IN> appealing, especially if both of them are kinked in the same
IN> directions as the protagonist, as they seem to be.

They are, but in slightly different ways.

IN> I appreciate the fact that you stayed away from specific descriptions
IN> of the bondage, etc, which you are not an expert in. This is great
IN> by me, since I find stories that start to read like parts catalogs for
IN> fetish wear to be tedious.

I always toss the ones that are nothing more than a description of torture-
devices.

IN> I am certainly no expert in bondage, although I have lurked about
IN> alt.sex.bondage for quite a while, but I think this story has some
IN> real-world problems with consensuality. Please let me note at the
IN> outset that I __know this is just fantasy, and no harm done, etc. etc.
IN> But the aspect of consensuality that primarily concerns me is the
IN> pregnancy one. Is the girl dumb, or am I? Does she know that she has
IN> been knocked up, and approve, or is she being taken along for a ride
IN> by her trusted parent? This could generate a lot of flames in a.s.b.

A. She’s dumb. Well, not DUMB exactly, just WAY too trusting. This is
explored MUCH more deeply in the second story. She trust EVERYONE,
even when she shouldn’t. Most especially, she trusts her mother to watch
out for her best interests, and in her own way June does.
B. Does she know? No.
C. Does she approve? I tried to make the implication, that she actually
WANTS to get pregnant, but is scared to do it, because:
1. She isn’t married, and doesn’t even have a steady boyfriend.
2. She’s afraid of what her school-mates would think, if she showed up
at school with a bulging belly.
3. This is the kicker. Most importantly, she THINKS her mother would
disapprove, and she doesn’t want to hurt her mother. If it wasn’t
for fear of overburdening her mother with raising another child,
Lynn would probably have already sneaked out and gotten pregnant
anyway. Her mother knows this, and implies at the start, that Lynn
would have to “earn” the privilege of getting pregnant.

IN> Also, I think, again with the “this is only fantasy” caveat, that it
IN> would be pretty weird for a loving, caring mother, which this one
IN> seems to be, to leave her kid in the hands of a semi-pro BD
IN> specialist, with only threats of retribution to safeguard her. I
IN> think a bit of talk about her extensive checking of Jones’ background,
…End of the part1. To be continued..