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Showing posts with label bondage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bondage. Show all posts

Flash Fiction Friday - Chapel Doors



She heard the Cardinals gathering outside and smiled.  Looking at the vaulted ceiling she breathed deeply and felt the ropes cut into her bare skin.  Memories flooded through her causing her body to flood of its own accord.  She looked at the enormous chapel doors, heard them creak, then saw the light filter through a small opening. 

Multi-colored dust danced in joyous celebration as the light of hope poured through the stained glass.  She arched her back to increase the pressure of the ropes and show her curves and she felt the trickle leave her lips and add to the light show exploding inside the chapel. 

She remembered being taken by the hand during the Sacraments and brought to the alter.

“You will serve the church in extraordinary ways.”  She shivered, remembering his  word with  heavily accented syllables.  “Ex-tr-a-or-di-na-ry” He was true to his word.

He walked the center aisle stopping in front of her.  She kissed his ring as his shaky hands caressed her breasts gently.  His fingers tested his consigliore’s rope work.

“Are you retiring too?”

She kissed him and nodded, “As soon as the white smoke rises.”

“Then I will let them in.”

And the conclave began.

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“What a fucker.”

She realized where she was.  “TAYLOR!!!”

Her voice echoed futily off the ancient walls.  Her cunt twitched under the ropes as her blood boiled.  “TAYLOR YOU SONOFABITCH!”

She jerked her hands up and realized the ropes were woven through her lips.  The rough rope dragged across tender flesh and she gasped.

“Taylor!” she called out, moving her hand up and down, “Come on Daddy, I can’t get arrested again.”

She closed her eyes as the blood pulsed through her tits, swollen from the ropes.  As her hands pulled the hemp deeper into her cleft, she felt her heartbeat in her nipples and she knew she was edging ever closer.

She struggled to keep her balance as her juices flowed and her vision blurred.  With a sharp upward tug her clit started to sizzle and she wondered how loud she would be. 

The roughness of the rope drover her crazy, she could feel it everywhere and the soaked chords between her legs were chaffing and she ached for the pain. 

“Taylor?”  pleading now. “Please.”  Defeated.

“Yes” was all he said and she pulled upward once more and flooded the cathedral floor.

He stepped out of the shadows, threw her over his shoulder and walked out the far door.

She saw the puddle she left and called out, “Let the Conclave begin!”
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"I'm not Catholic, but I play one on TV"  OK, that's a really old joke, but it's true.  Well, not on TV, but, well, I do like funny hats and pooping in the woods, but none of that matters.

This week the world watches as the Catholic Conclave begins.  It is one of the oldest political rituals in history, dating back to before there were even little boys to ... well... let's move on.  

When the picture was submitted I had to jump on it for this week's FFF.  I'm not going to make a theme of cathedral porn, but it is fun once in a while.  So thanks to Kinbaku Gardener, and everyone else who joined in today, even if it did post on Thursday.  :-)

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As always, you can click HERE if you don't know what FFF is all about.

FFF - Black & White Dichotomies

Key Word - "Dichotomy" and/or "Waiting"
Word Limit - 275 for each picture
Extra Credit - Get one other blogger to join in
Bonus Words - 
25 for each orgasm you help someone else have between now and Friday morning.
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I walked into the room just outside the chapel and she was there, blindfolded as I had instructed, breathing heavily with a small whimper in her throat. The wedding was to begin in one hour, and I promised her husband that she would be on time for the ceremony.  Her wedding dress hung off to the side, a beautiful creation of beaded silk, ready to slip over her head before walking into the chapel.

My heels make crisp clicks as I walked across the hardwood floor, her perfume filled the air and I inhaled the scent of beauty. I had been waiting for this day for many years. I had watched her grow up, blossoming from an energetic tomboy into a towering beauty.  Her chest was bound tightly by the corset, her legs spread widely, wantonly, perhaps in anticipation of her wedding night.  I doubt it very much that white was an appropriate color for her. Boys talk, you know, but who was I to spoil the deception on her most important day?

“Are you ready to get married my dear?”

She nodded her head.

“Will you be faithful to him?”

She hesitated then nodded again.

She flinched as she heard my belt buckle open in the zipper on my trousers slide down. Her knees closed and then opened again, even wider, and she licked her lips and breathed deeply. I stepped closer.

“Are you ready for the final sacrament of marriage?”

“Yes Monsignor.”

She opened her mouth and extended her tongue, tipping her head back in the posture of a devoted supplicant. 

I hesitated. 

With her eyes covered she searched blindly, waiting for the living dichotomy of God made flesh. 

I intoned my blessing as the guests waited in the chapel, and left a white wafer on her tongue. (300)



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I waited. 

I protested, but it was a lie. 

I loved waiting.

The white sand under the chair shifted and forced me to use my legs to balance lest I fall from my chair, ruining my dress and earning his punishment.    

I loved waiting, my hands bound behind me, my position on the chair precarious.  It was all a game, a deliciously painful game, but I smiled through the blindfold, hoping beyond hope that he was watching my struggles.

Most likely he was nowhere near me.  Most likely it would be Raul or Thomas who would put their hands on my shoulder and slide them inside my corset.  The other would be holding the camera, naked, hard, such a silly game.  They were both nervous handling the Cappo’s mistress so shamefully, but orders were orders and their bodies inevitably gave their boss the show they wanted and the climax I craved.

But it was the waiting.  I felt the hard leather seat cover between my legs and tried to grind softly against it.  The gusset of my panties was soaked in anticipation.  If Thomas only knew how much I wanted is rough hands on my delicate flesh, or if Raul knew what his cock did to my insides, if they only knew we would not wait, so I did not tell them, because I loved the waiting.

My hands were bound, my breasts encased in bone and silk, yet my body was ready and eager to be used.  My girlfriend couldn’t understand the dichotomy of freedom in servitude, but as my master’s whore, I was under his command, but given total freedom to enjoy the gifts he gave me, and endless variety of pleasures, the strong hands of his henchmen, and orgasms beyond number.

I was free, and I waited.
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While I loved both pictures, and liked the idea of combining them for this week's challenge, it was more difficult that I anticipated to come up with a story.  I wanted to time them together, but it didn't work.  I thought about making them sisters, or lovers, or blah blah, blah, it just didn't work.  This afternoon (Thursday) as I saw my day slipping away and my writing time vanishing,  thought of the church angle for the bride-to-be.  It's easy to make fun of the clergy these days, but they've earned it in my view.  Of course, to be true to the storyline, I'd have made the bride an 11 year old boy, but that's beside the point.  I loved the idea that, in the end, she wanted the sacrament he offered as much as he wanted to give it.  (Yes, that's a "victim blaming scenario", I get it, but well, it's fiction, so suck it.)

The woman in black looked so much happier.  I didn't realize until really looking at the picture, in the right light, that her chair was on sand.  Perhaps i need a new monitor, or glasses.  She looked like her anticipation was happy, almost joyful.  The woman white, her head turned to the side, appears to be waiting for a blow, a slap, and her position is more guarded.

this is all so much blather.  I hope you enjoyed reading this week, and more, I hope you take a few minutes and write a Flash Fiction of your own!!!

Advizor

FFF - Jan 25 - Dark or Light

FFF for Friday
Jan 25
Word = Dark or light (but not both in the same piece)
Word Length = 300 for 1, 150 for 2, or 75 for 3
Extra Credit = Where did she go to college?
 
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“What made you choose Cal Luthren?  She asked
“I don’t rightly know.” He cinched the knot between her ankles, “My dad arranged some interviews and said that if I didn’t accept the scholarship he’d cut off my trust fund.  Why did you?”

He admired her bare cunt in the light of the dorm room window.

"I like teaching here”, she said with a sigh, “The students are so eager to learn at a religious school.”

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“I had no idea you Duke girls were in to betting on hoops.” He admired his knot.  “This should teach you a lesson about gambling.”

His fingers dipped between her lips and felt her readiness.

She moaned in the dark behind the blindfold.

The bet was simple, two swats for every point her team lost by.

She felt her body quiver, swell, and tingle inside.

He raised his hand, “What was the final score again?”
 
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She loved his weight on her back and the light tickle of her open blouse on her bare breasts.  They hung from her chest, heavy, full, ripe, and eager.  His hands were soft and his knots were tight and she felt herself dripping, pulsing, warming, swelling.  She rested against the headboard and clenched and released, doing her Kegals as commanded. 
“You make fuck me now.” She whispered.  She had gotten to CUAjust in time.

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I couldn't resist going for all three, but the 75 word limit was short.  At first I thought about writing 3 jokes about my favorite schools, but joke are tough and though "brevity is the soul of wit", 75 words was too short for a set-up, suspension, and punch line.

So instead you got the teacher, the gambler, and the catholic girl.  All favorites.  :-)  

SO, write your story, add your link, take a lunch, and get to work!!  Even if you are reading this on Friday, it's not to late!!!

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