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In Public. And at Home. (LJ)
“A couple.” She had him. “I would enjoy that. But a couple, darling…” Reel him in. “Has give and take.” Will you give to me?”
“Will you let me take your freedom, for a while?”
He swallowed, and reached over the table to touch her collar. “For a little while.”</blockquote
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First: The Collar (LJ)
Previous:…the whore (
He stripped her down to collar and the cuffs, chained her hands behind her back, and leashed her again. “They know you can be bought. What do you think they think of you now?”
She stared at him, tired and confused. “Sir?”
He dragged her out of the room, down to the center atrium. “Let them look at you, Princess. Let them see you for what you really are.”
“Sir?” They were, of course, looking, staring. She could feel their gazes on her. She could feel his breath in her ear.
“You are mine. That is all you are, Princess.”
She had run out of patience. “You bought me, Master. You claimed me. There is nothing to me but you and this collar. I’m yours.”
He stared at her, much as everyone else was staring. “Well. Why didn’t you say so? I did now know that you… I didn’t know.”
He took her in to his room again. He clothed her in simple clothes, a pretty dress, a stylish vest. “We will have dinner tonight in our room.”
“Yes, Master.” Stavanna was more confused, more lost, than she had been since the auction house.
“Call me Ander. It was nice of the King to host us, don’t you think?” He lit the lamp on the table, and poured two glasses of wine.
“Very kind.” She sipped cautiously, and, just as carefully, tasted his name. “Ander.”
His smile was something to behold. “I think we’ll make a wonderful couple, don’t you?”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/461697.html. You can comment here or there.
For @dahob’s commissioned request.
This is erotica with very little veneer of plot.
“I’m going to have to ship you.”
The man was frowning at Alisa. Alisa had learned, quickly, not to like it when the man frowned at her. It was never good, and sometimes it was rapidly very, very bad.
“I’m sorry?” she tried, but the gag in her mouth made it “Ah ahrree.”
“You certainly will be. Did you have to bite her?”
Did she have to bite her? She thought about that one, and then decided that the man was already angry at her, and nodded. Yes, she had needed to bite that obnoxious little shit. Yes, she had needed to hear her squeal. She thought she was so much better than the rest of them – and why? Because her collar weighed less? Because her chains were thinner?
“I know she’s a prat.” The man might as well have been talking to himself. He wasn’t looking at Alisa anymore, at least. He was looking at his shelf of packing material. She swallowed, and looked away. Shit. He really meant to do it. “I know she’s a miserable little bitch. But look at her, Number Seven. She’s perfect. She’s beautiful.”
What was she, then? Because he liked hearing her talk, mangled and miserable, through the gag, she tried again. “Uh Uh-ow ee?”
“What about you, indeed? You seem to dive into this lifestyle like you were born to it. You’re a gorgeous sub. You’re responsive. Even when you try to run away, you do it with style. And I’m sure your new owner will enjoy you. You’ll be able to be the jewel of his collection, which should suit you better than being one of the chorus line.” He was walking back over to her, his bootsteps echoing on the concrete. She wasn’t going to look. She wasn’t going to look. “But you are not nearly as perfect as she is, I’m afraid. Your height, for one.” He squeezed her breast until she whimpered. “These giant things. That’s not what men here are looking for.”
“Uh ee ih?”
“Yes. He’s a bit of a pervert, you see.”
“Oh, uu.”
“You’re going to have to learn to watch your mouth. The gag is coming off. Don’t try to speak.”
She closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to look. She wasn’t going to look. The gag came out, leaving her working her jaw and swallowing drool. She hated that. She hated many things about the gag, actually, but that was the worst.
“Breathing tube. Tilt your head back, and relax.” He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, until her head was tilted as far back as it would go. “Mouth open.”
There was no point in disobeying, and no point in trying to plead. She opened her mouth while he worked something hard and unyielding down her throat.
“That’s a girl. Posture collar, to hold you where you need to go.” The thing was more than just a collar; he’d put her in it before. He buckled it around her neck, forcing her head to stay in that position, around her breasts, around her waist. She couldn’t move her spine at all when he was done buckling.
“That’s my good girl. Hood.” She didn’t have her eyes open anyway, but the hood always freaked her out. She made a worried noise in the back of her throat, around the tube that was keeping her airway open.
“You’re doing very good. Your new owner will be very happy.” The hood zipped up, leaving her in the dark. “All right. I’m strapping your arms to the bracing, and then into the box you go.”
She made low keening noises, unable to stop herself. Not the box. Not the box. But he was pinning her arms to her sides, wrapping more strapping around her, and then there was the bubble wrap.
By the time he was done wrapping her, she couldn’t have moved even without the restraints, and she couldn’t hear a thing. He patted the sole of her foot, and then there was nothing at all.
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Hello and happy Saturday!
I confess, “everyone else is doing it” is a very strong motivator for me to not do something: dye my hair red, even when I wanted to. Wear something fashionable. Start weight loss programs in January.
On the other hand, I really want to lose weight and get in better shape. So I’ve started – technically in December – back onto Weight Watchers.
(Because I’m like that, I’m still using the old “fiber and fat” Points program, because I know it, it works, and I have all the stuff. (Fiber makes stuff cost less “points;” fat makes it cost more.))
And I joined a gym! This was tricky for me, because I kept getting nervous and finding reasons to stall and not go. It’s a tiny gym, but it’s less than 10 minutes away, it’s all-hours access, and it has the machines I want, most specifically an elliptical and a recumbent bike (I’ll worry about weights later).
I love it. I love getting all sweaty and out of breath. I love the feeling that I’m actually burning calories. I love the feeling in my muscles the next day that means I’m doing something right. I love it.
Now to figure out the weight machines so I can start toning, too…
So, what are you doing nicely for yourself this year?
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/460834.html. You can comment here or there.
Read Rix_Scaedu‘s Paradigm Changer
Then go Leave a Prompt of your own!
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/460460.html. You can comment here or there.
First: The Collar (LJ)
Previous: The Princess and the… (LJ)
Content warning: humiliation and dubcon.
“If that is how you will have it, Princess. I didn’t think you enjoyed the attention.”
“I do not, master.”
“So that is how it is. Stay.”
She stayed, on the bed, dress around her hips.
“Are you the Slave Princess of Al-ban?” The small, weaselly man dropped three coins on the table.
“I am.” She smiled at him, and sat up. He pushed her back to the bed.
“Roll over. I’ve always wanted to bugger a princess.”
“I…”
His hands were brutal, his thrusts short and violent. When he departed, he left one more gold coin on the table.
“Are you ready to shine my boots?”
“No, Master.” She was tired, sore, and bleeding. But not ready for his boots.
“Then we’ll move on.”
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This is to several of ![[profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lilfuff‘s Prompts
I do not know the title(s) of the book(s) the narrator references, but I recall reading at least one, possibly two, about characters stepping into a D&D-like world.
The borders moved at night, usually on the nights when both the moons were dark.
It wasn’t like those books I’d read as a kid, the ones about living in a roleplaying game. There weren’t dark lines on the ground. The world hadn’t reshaped itself into hexes. And, whatever the rules were – and only a select few were actually told – we didn’t, quite, have to limit our movement to gridlines.
That much was different.
Considering what we had, though, I think I would have taken the solid black lines.
You’d wake up in the morning, and you’d have finally gotten used to the ‘verse you were living in. You understood the rules. Maybe you’d found someone who had been a fan, or who had all the books. They knew what was going on, and they could share. Or, if you were particularly lucky (or particularly unlucky), you’d ended up in a ‘verse you yourself knew by heart.
(Don’t think that could be unlucky? Think how popular Vampires have been recently. And Zombies. Those ‘verses aren’t any fun at all).
So you knew what was going on, again, enough to function. And then you’d wake up to find that the border had shifted, and your house – or your place of work, or the corner grocery store, or all of it – was suddenly in another ‘verse.
Sometimes the borders were easy to cross and you could manage commuting between ‘verses to get to work (if your job still existed). Sometimes, however, they were damn near impossible, and you’d find yourself on an epic quest for The Right Key just so you could get a gallon of milk.
Crossovers weren’t nearly as much fun as they’d seemed in the fics.
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Previous: Humiliated (LJ)
“That’s it, Princess,” he groaned. “Don’t you think this would be delicious? The swapping of roles, you as my little maid, me as your king? Or, perhaps, I should degrade you even further, and sell you out on a corner to the highest bidder. Which would you prefer, my Princess?”
The decision was surprisingly clear. “Sell me out, then, my King.” She could do that more easily than shine his boots, slave or no.
Next: …the Whore (LJ)
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/459540.html. You can comment here or there.
No poll this time; there was only one way to go on the map!
First: The Collar (LJ)
Previous: Royally (LJ)
Content warning: humiliation and implied dubcon.
“Beg for it then, pretty thing. Plead for it.”
She squirmed under him, her cheeks burning. “If you wish me to be a Princess…” Her protest was weak; her body was still burning with need.
“I wish you to be my Princess. Beg. Squeeze your breasts in that corset and beg.”
“Please, my king.” The word caught in her throat. “Please, my lord. F…fuck me. Have me as you will.”
“More. Roll over.”
“My lord?”
“I will fuck you like the animal you are while you plead for it, Princess.”
She rolled onto her stomach, ass in the air. “Please?”
Next: The Princess and the… (LJ
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/459441.html. You can comment here or there.