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Blogs > LadyCReturns > Mind the doormouse. > coffee and wheels

coffee and wheels   Watch Post |  Post a comment

LadyCReturns

4/28/2008 3:22 am
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It's been a long time since I felt like that.

I didn't really feel the joy on the drive down. Didn't really feel the usual rush as I walked through the doors and greeted the staff. Didn't really feel much at all.

Then I lumbered (and when I say lumbered I mean lumbered) to change. Latex. Black. Two parts. One effect. No fucking talc. Fuck fuck fuck. Ten minutes of rolling around like a demented weasel and I was in. Kinda, the sweat would have to sort out the kinks.

They started to arrive, slowly at first and we all chatted as we do, a few drinks, who's brought what, who was new, who needed to be introduced to whom. My DJ left for a cigarette and the music stopped. For two minutes. I started everyone on a chorus of 'Kumbayaa' as you do...It's quite a sight, 100 people in full fetish gear holding candles aloft and singing hymns. When he came back I dragged him to the bar to say sorry. Then he started. Dirty dirty DIRTY music. It got hotter, I glance up to see someone tied in a stunning Hogtie worthy of Midori herself. Then another one. Then another. Three little pigs tied up on the dancefloor, with nothing but feet in their ears and faces flat to the floor, arses in the air in some kind of semi-mocking salute to the wolves swaying above them.

Then it happened. BANG. That internal vision. Someone's going to get hurt, I'm practically drooling now because I've seen her; tiny, Italian, poured into latex and chains, hair that looked like coffee and probably smelt the same. I ignored her glances, her pleading eyes, her timid chat.

I pick up a house slave, go for a smoke. Use him as an ashtray, he thanks me profusely. Of course he does. Take him up to the dungeon. A cross in the corner, a crop, a candle, an amusing incident with a glass of piss and a show of viciousness so real it draws a crowd that have to be held back so I can get a good swing and people crane to hear spite whispered and spat into his ear.

She's there, behind me. I know this. I can almost hear her flinch every time that CRACK sounds upon his skin. I risk a glance, although I know my eyes are glazed and rolling, full of heat and hate and I shan't really see her clearly. She's pleading, equally filmy eyes, sweating slightly, desperate for me to stop and turn to her, equally desperate to watch the car crash that is happening in front of her eyes. Two of my watchers have been primed to keep a clear eyeline between her and me and they do so with such skill that I don't think she ever realised.

I stop. Ruffle the hair of my boy and tell him to go. I turn to my friends and ignore her completely to chat and laugh and bemoan my aching arm.

A tiny tap on my shoulder. She couldn't ask herself, her friend extends his compliments and asks to make an introduction to the little coffee haired girl who would very much like to be restrained on the wheel and suffer.

I turned back to my crowd and carried on holding court with nothing more than a slow nod in her direction.

It all got a bit intense after that...I can still smell her.


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sweetboytoy51
2089 posts 
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4/28/2008 5:47 am
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[quote]

Nice. Very well described.

cheers,
-sbt


LadyCReturns replies on 4/28/2008 6:34 am:
The one thing I'm having trouble describing is that part of me which threatens to force it's way up from the pit of my stomach when I feel like this, almost something clambering up my throat and forcing my mouth open from the inside so I it can crawl out and be there for all to see. Call it desire. But that's not its name.

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bodski
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4/28/2008 10:27 am
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Sounds like superfun. We will be back, I assure you.

Bod. ~O

x

Evil Religions <--- click here to vote please


LadyCReturns replies on 4/28/2008 12:38 pm:
I should bloody well hope so too.

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sweetboytoy51
2089 posts 
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4/28/2008 1:18 pm
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"The one thing I'm having trouble describing is that part of me..."

Well, yeah. You went for the BIG CAPITALS when you started approaching it. Which is okay, but...

Maybe you could ask that part of you to self-describe? There's many ways to call down the muse -- you know best, what will work for you. Though sometimes it takes a bit of strain and sweat and cursing to give birth to the right words.

cheers LadyC,
-sbt

p.s. "See, writing is just like having a baby" he explained to the astonished woman. To her credit, she didn't make him suffer while he died.

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creative_user
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5/2/2008 8:58 am
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It all got a bit intense after that...I can still smell her.

Boring!!


LadyCReturns replies on 5/2/2008 11:34 am:
Of course it is my dear. How remiss of me not to anticipate your need for mental stimulation today. How can I make it up to you?

Ah yes, the activities described above took place in a club which I happen to run - do come down one night won't you? As my guest of course. I cannot repeat enough how desperate I am for the joys of a real time discourse with you and to enjoy your rapier wit.

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