Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 FF Spou Rape.., And then it escalates to a mutually abusive violent
anger-retaliatory codependant spiral.  Inward, and upward like a string of
christmas tree lights set on Marquis.  I believe you know the one, not a
Venus, furs or not in the whole shebang.  With peripheral victims just from
being too close to the epicenter.  For the duration, {Braces} signify
pushing, and popping in and out of Character {OOC).  As well as trigger
codes at chapter headings.  Strap in for a rough ride between the maelsrom,
and the Sirens.

   Sam {FF Psyc Mnem CoDe Sedu Saph NS.  Not going to get into non/consent
here, because of Overlap.  That ain't a line they're crossing, it's a
Neutral Zone.}

   "Hh!" rubbed under my glasses, and took them off.  Folded them and put
them back in the case.  "Could you be a dear, and mix me a Tequila
Spritzer?" Dove off the wagon, haven't even gotten drunk again yet, but I
turned in my chip.  "HhHhH.  Thanks." It steadies my nerves.  "Huh!"
Bartender, another round?  "Reverse psychology."

   "Like my working in Computers, because of my family's Luddite beliefs?"

   "No," shaking my head did little to clear it, "Sorry, that's the popular
understanding, but you mentioned that you can't remember the start.  The
details, because you started so young?" She nodded, "Well, it's actually
sometimes easier to start with more recent memories, and work your way back
through older ones that the new ones recalled.  Like your running away led
to your husband, and therefore you could recall from that to your childhood
romance." Definitely easier to read, but still pretty shakey.  "Hh, do you
know what repetition Compulsion is?"

   "I doubt I understand it." Progress, when we met she knew everything.

   "Good, all right well when our Ids chew on something they can't
understand, they tend to go over and over it, like a broken record.  It's
broken, though, so impossible to find something new without making it up,
but you may become desperate, and relive it in real life."

   "Like Role Play, and Larping?"

   "What's that?  The latter." Actually, Role-play isn't something we've
tried yet.  She's impossible to hypnotise, and I'm never any good at that
anyway.

   "Well, like D&D, but you go out, get dressed up, and act it our with toy
weapons, and the like."

   "Oh," not the kind of Role-Play I was thinking of, but possibly
Adaptable?  "Go on?"

   "Well, you can only do so much with Dice, to randomize the odds of
hitting someone, or what have you."

   "It sounds violent."

   "It's a boys game, like Pirates, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys an;"

   "Dungeons, and Dragons."

   "Right, but when I played it in college, I ran a Historical Fiction
campaign.  Without all the magic, and supernatural creatures.  It's not
historically accurate, but we really couldn't find a way to balance Magic
that was acceptible.  So, we basically used the D&D rules in more
conventional settings."

   "Like what?"

   "Well, depends on the Campaign, we started in the Renaissance
Mediterranian, but as if the 14th-through-16th centuries happened all at
once, and a geographic separation, East West." She nodded as much to tell
me she was following, "So, for instance the Morion helmet, which was fairly
common from England to Italy was mostly confined to, and symbolic of Spain,
the Inquisition, and Conquestadore's.  Then, after Columbus we sailed it
over to the Caribbean, Gulf Coast, and northern South America around the
mouth of the Amazon.  Then, generations after that we finally wound up in
the West up to about the Gold Rush to the Yukon."

   "What's a Morion?"

   "A fencing helmet, really nice for parrying sword cuts, with Rapiers,
and Sabers, like the Conquestadores wore.  Here, I've got one in a closet
somewhere upstairs.  I went around them, and up to Ian's room.  He keeps
most of the swords, guns, and so forth, to play with his friends, most of
them scattered about the floor, so I had to dig it out of the bottom of his
toychest.  "Here," I stood up, Still fit, "How's it look?"

   Goldish plastic.  "Where did you get that?"

   "It was a gift, from my boyfriend in college.  I think he got them from
Fiestas...  De Santa Fe?" De San Fransisco, de Asis.  "I went to Saint
John's."

   She nodded, "The one in Santa Fe." Right there has to be hundreds of St.
Johns' colleges, and universities.

   "So you need a character."

   "Well," she scratched her head, "I don't have a hat, but I used to play
Cowboys and Indians with the boys back home."

   "Texas?"

   She shook her head, "Oklahoma.  And soldiers, and Cops and Robbers, they
really liked guns, though."

   "Okay," I bent gown, picked up a rubberband gun.  "Will this do?"

   "1 shot."

   "Well, that's also balance.  Like not having Magic, pistols like
revolvers give an unfair advantage, for instance against a 15th century
Greek Pirate," she tipped her hat, "Like Morion, she had mostly Matchlock
pistols, muskets, and swivelguns."

   "That's your character?"

   "I like the hat.  Always did, and it's passed down from mother to
daughter, along with her fleet."

   "And she's a pirate."

   "Most of them were, Conquestadora, Merchant/Mercenary Privateer, Madam
of the 7 seas..."

   "You mean like prostitution?"

   "Yes, one of her many titles was Queen of Whores.  She also duked it out
with the various types of Christianity, around and across those 7 seas."

   "Symbolically."

   "Of course, my boyfriend was a bit of a Satanist, or called it
Anti-christian, but he had a pact with the Devil.  A Corruptors' Pact in
return for the souls he sent to hell.  That was his retirement plan, so the
various factions we're against were the 5 churches, roughly of the
Pentacost.  All of them at war with eachother, and we're right in the
middle.  There were 2, or 3 competing Popes at any given time."

   "Fighting all of them."

   "Well, raiding them, intercepting their ships, capturing them and
conscripting crews to convert them to, well it became a Cult at some point.
The Morions became progressively more Messianic.  Santa Marinana di Pori.
Madre' los, well Morion.  Generation after generation as her power, and
influence grew."

   "And because of the sexual aspect."

   "Well, the Prostitution was mostly for the men.  Part of the conversion
process, adapted, and liberally changed from the Bene Jessurit Missionaria
Prophetica."

   "I'm sorry?"

   "Frank Herbert, Dune.  My boyfriend was also more of a Science/Fantasy
nerd."

   "So, she's like an antisaint, or Popess."

   "Only instead of representing purity, and genocide, she represented
sexual liberation, and freedom."

   "So an anti heroine."

   "A heretic, the churches didn't care for her converting their soldiers,
and conquerers.  One of them tortured Torquemada to death, and used that
leverage to negotiate a Conquestadora's rank, the only Conquestadora that
never existed."

   "But without the Genocide."

   "Hh, she mostly pirated, yes, but her crew was probably a contagion
vector for all the plagues she carried over like Smallpocks.  They didn't
actively comitt Genocide, but she helped the Spaniards, the whole time they
were waging it on Hispanola, the Mississippis, and Amazon region."

   "Mississippis?"

   "Sorry, not the river, the people.  It was named after the primary
civilization on the continent, Pyramid Builders.  The Spaniards wiped them
out, leveled their mounds, and burned their writings so that the only thing
left was the name of the river they were lucky enough to control when we
brought Guns over."

   "Oh," History major, then I took some computer classes, as a second
actually profitable career.  I'm doing fairly well, all things considered.

   "So, rob from the rich, to feed their fleet, not unlike how the Mongols
conquered most of Asia, but on the seas to take advantage of all the
shipping at the time."

   "And sex."

   "Yes, and getting involved with the DM who got me into BDSM." ... 
"Bondage, and Discipline, mostly."

   "But like S&M."

   Nod, "Only the Bondage and Discipline aspects of it."

   "Hh, well I never liked.  Well?  You know, I was the girl, who played
with boys so give you 3 guesses who wound up tied to the train-tracks." I
nodded.  She held up the unloaded pistol, "Pew!" flipped it around her
finger, and looked back to pull out her pocket.  "So, hows the rules work
for this LARPing thing?" Used the clothes pin to clip it on.

   "Well, we have to make those up, it's a bit of a negotiation, but if we
work them out, then we don't need a DM."

   "What's that?"

   "A Dungeon Master."

   "Oh, good." She looked over my shoulder.  "Is that a cane?"

   No telling what Ian and his friends were doing with it.  "My father's.
Sorry, adopted grandfather's roughly.  From the Mennonites I lived with
until I turned 18."

   "Like Virgil, well Doc Holidays at the OK Corral."

   "Yes, let's go out and work on your character, first."

   Marion {g2M Auto Trans}

   I was born a sinner.  First and foremost, whatever they told me I
shouldn't do?  Do that, it usually feels good, the golden rule was "Just
don't get caught." So, when they told me not to pick boogers, I started to
pick my nose, in private, so I could enjoy it.  For hours, if I could get
away so long.  Long after I ran out of snot, and swallowed all of it
sucking it back down my throat.  That's why I started playing with myself,
children naturally do.  Touch their private parts, it's not even sexual. 
Babys grab their feet, and giggle, because their feet are on the other end.
That's how we discover our feet, and it's not called foot fetishism.

   So, there's one set: {Sin.} The second set I discovered was {Sex.} Girls
don't do that, so whenever I heard about a new boy thing, I tried it.  Not
out of some, iconoclastic cynicism, but because I'd done all the girl
things, to death.  You know what's not "Sin?" Sexism.  So, I can't be sure
whether I was always a boy tapped in a girl's body, or how much of it was
jealousy at all the cool stuff boys could do.  Pants?  Pants have pockets,
and button the right way.  They protect their knickers, and anything they
have inside.  And, I had to pee.

   In private, mustn't let anyone see, nor even hear you tinkle.  I had to
tell one of the girls, to tell an adult, when it started hurting to pee. 
You don't talk about it.  Another thought there was something wrong with
her when she farted.  Because that's how we're raised, with dolls, and the
complex lies that girls are hollow little porcelin things sewn up around a
mat of straw.  No heart, nor bowels, much less a brain, just like the
Tinmen we saw across the classroom.  And playing, not with me, because the
common misconception was that I was biologically incapable of climbing a
tree.  {And the Theory of Evolution was a myth.}

   Now wait just a damned minute, why in creation did God give us hands,
and not to climb trees with them?  Thanks, Eve.  nlm.  So, call it Penis
envy, maybe us bossy bitches wouldn't be so pissed all the time if you
didn't get all the good stuff.  I didn't read Fairy Tales, well except for
Jobe, I guess.  I was 11 before I heard of the Easter Bunny, Jesus brought
us presents for Yule, St Nikolas drove, and Ruprecht wasn't even discussed.
We didn't have pictures in the story books, and they were read to us.  So,
trying to understand my sex really has to account for the situation I was
raised in.  No, I wasn't trapped in a girl's body, I was a prisoner, of a
myth.  I didn't have the privilege of dreaming of being a Princess.

   However, for a more modern allusion, look at that story.  What does the
princess do?  Wait for the Prince, that's her adventure.  Know when to let
down your golden hair, get all your chores done so your fairy godmother can
get you all gussied up to dance with Him, how to poison yourself when you
wake up to find him dead, and poisoned, because he thought you dead.  Lie
there, clutching a Rose, until He comes in, to wake you with a kiss; I
could go on, but the story always ends there.  I was born dead, and damned.
Why the though of Hell never scared me, it sounded more interesting.

   The first thing I did was look over.  To the Right, walking up the hill
to the church.  For "Communion," honestly we ate and drank together, every
meal of our lives, so really this was a chance to eat with the Adults. 
Keepers of secrets, the Ruling Class, and hear the Pastor.  I learned early
on that in the congregation, nobody was watching me, because everyone was
there.  And in the choir box, ans long as you don't move your head, you
could always look up at the boys across from us.  "Hh," I always liked
boys. The way they look, the way they smell, their clothes, and all the
neat things they get to do.  Especially their hands, rough, tough, I saw a
boy pull a thorn from his palm, without wincing, and dust the dirt off
before going back to play.

   I don't remember ever wanting to be one.  So, no.  I don't believe I'm
Transexual.  {Technically, she is, a Transexualist to be more precise, but
there was no distinction between sex, and gender at that point.  Or she
would have heard of it.) I am a woMan.  Annie Oakely/Irving Berlin were
right, I don't want to be a man, I want to be Better.  We can do things
they can't, like create life, and actually get something out of their
nipples.  So, i guess one thing I'm learning from myself now is Why men do
it.  Why it's "Penis Envy" instead of Castration Anxiety.  Why the entire
society, all of them, and deritives thereof are the inferiorities of
females.  because the truth is, we are Superior.  at best, we need 1.  A
bull, or rooster, to keep us fertilized, when without us, the race doesn't
survive.

   The only way to cover it up is to yell louder.  Chain, and enslave us,
set up prisons, build walls brick by brick, mortared with lies.  You know
what have 2 legs, and flies?  Pants.  I was ignorant of why forever, it was
something pants had, when I asked it was so they could put them on and take
them off.  Our dolls didn't have pants, they were all girls.  We didn't
have babydolls, because we're not expected to care for children.  We had
wet nurses, and teachers for that.  Our purpose was to take care of our
husbands.  Keep them fed, clothed, and warm.  We did not see pregnant
women, in creche.  We knew where children came from.

   "God."

   So, it was for peeing.  Further back, that was for pooping, and don't
poot.  Girls don't do that.  Seriously, that was sex ed, for me.  Girls
don't fart, much less ever hear that word.  It was shameful, breaking
gender roles to do that.  So, I farted a lot, publicly whenever I could, or
saved it.  I got good at it, i even learned if i bent over right, I could
"Take a breath," and hold it.  So, if you're wondering where that fetish
comes from, there you are.  I also found, all the naughty places i wasn't
supposed to touch myself.  Because i heard we weren't supposed to, I'm
pretty sure skirts, dresses, and slips are to keep our hands from between
my legs, but I found them by process of elimination.

   First, anywhere it tickles.  My favorite game was Hide and Seek.  No
where else to play with myself, so I was never it, I always wanted to play,
because I could hide.  Be alone, and get my hands between my legs.  I
imagine that's why the insides of them are erotic, now that I think of it,
i loved slips before panties.  We wore linen dresses that could stop a
lazer, but cotton slips, because the more protection for that general area,
the better.  It was always hot, which is why I got into jumping, they
wouldn't flop up to the knees anyway, but I found I could let it slip even
with my skirt still over my knees.  I didn't need to use my hands, I could
leave them in my lap, and just move my knees.  Nobody looked, the other
girls were either watching the preacher, or looking up.  Across the church,
and the box of boys.

   "Hih!" Flap flap flap...

   That's how i learned to play with myself, first.  In public, the
relatively cool puffs of fresh air, and the relatively fine cotton in my
thighs, I even had to hold my heavy skirt up to keep it from getting sucked
down, and I had my first orgasm.  I swear, left hand to god, I got off,
slipping my hands down between my legs, and thinking about a boy.  Right in
front of me, with his hands between my legs.  The backs of his fingers,
held together, prayers style, and told the shoolmarm I had to pee.  Or, I
nodded, quietly, so I didn't have to say it.  "Do you need the toilet?"

   She walked me back, held my hand, sat down and waited.  Listened to hear
me pee, I bent over, and grunted to "Poot!" In the water closet, single
stall, and a chair for the schoolmarm to set on.  They had newspapers just
for that.  My skirt bunched up against the tank, bent over the front,
undercloth pulled down to my knees.  To hold them, coarse handwoven Linen.
Grey, like the dress, and we were not allowed to scratch.  We had slips,
like sheets to protect us from the itchy skirts, and it might as well have
been a crown of thorns to protect our maidenhead.

   I caught my breath, just cooled down until the feeling passed, but I
thought i was in love.  With him, I didn't know his name, even though I
lived with him.  I had to listen, within earshot, not to close to hear
another boy call him "Jake."

   I had another, "Rapture," sitting on a log, watching him split wood in
the snow.  He didn't take his shirt off, he rolled his sleeves up to the
elbows, and loostened his tie.  He left, couldn't have been more than a
year, or two before his voice cracked, but he wiped off his head, put his
cap back on, and left the rag for me to smell his sweat.  I stuck it, in my
underpants, after I brought it back to the dorm.  We were allowed this.  I
could sit out, hair covered in front of God, and everyone, and watch him
split wood.  The chords in his forearms, like rope covered in calfskin, his
grunts, and the power he split the log asunder with one swing.  "Huh!" I
could watch, and sigh.  Just couldn't do anything about it.  Sammy {f/m
TV/CD Fant}

   "Whatcha doin?"

   I looked up, had to shade my eyes under my bill, "Fishing." That boy,
Joel's brother.

   "You don't have any bait?"

   "Ain't got no fish, neither." Pull out the dangling string, and drape it
back upstream to wiggle down through the rocks like a snake, couldn't find
a snake to play with.  "Play fishin'," or a Centipede between mushrooms. 
(Atari.)

   "Huha!" he just jumped down.  "Hot as hell today."

   "Why'm down here." wiggled my toes in the wet sand, "It's cooler."

   He took his boots off, and sat on a rock.  Just like I did, on that side
of the bank.  "Ahh!" Rolled his pant legs up to get at the laces.  "How
long you been here?"

   "All my life," I laughed, "Loel." Right, Loel, and Joel.  "Huh, where's
Joel?"

   He shrugs, "You know my brother?" Never plays with him, calls him wuss,
and baby.

   "Yeah, I'm Sammy.  I played with him the other week?"

   He squinted, sun's behind you, I bet my face is pretty well lit.  "He
doesn't know any boys named Sammy?"

   Now I had to laugh, take off my cap, and let my sweaty curls drop out,
pull at them with my fingers.

   "Oh, Sammy."

   I nodded, "Yeah, just got my hair off my neck, you din't recognize my
face?"

   "Well," he laughed, "You usually walk around all, Cousin it." I hate
that, threw a rock.  "Hey!" he jumped.

   "Don't call me that!"

   "Sorry!" He looked around, "I'm sorry I called you a boy."

   Shrug ",'sal right," it happens, not all the time, but especially when I
got my hair up under my cap.  Often enough to get used to it.  "Tomboy," I
guess.

   "You like boy stuff?"

   "Like what?"

   "You know, like climbing treas," yeah, "Cussin, and fishin'?"

   "Well?  SPTUH!" I spat, "That's just kids' stuff."

   "Well, what about girl stuff?"

   "Like what?" this should be good.

   "You know, like dolls, house, teatime, and," he scratched his head.

   "I'll stopya right there," I put my hand up, "Now, you notice what those
groups have in common?  Your own set: How come boys get to climb, cuss, and
fish, girls get to stay home, take care of the kids, and cook dinner when
you get home?"

   "You can't climb trees in a dress?"

   "Why I wear jeans?" Pull my feet out.  "Well, your girls sound Boring."

   "I'll say!" He laughed, "I don't like girls likeat."

   "Good," cause I ain't one.  "And for another, that's sexist." He
laughed, and blushed?  "What?"

   "I just never here no girl talk about sex before."

   "Well, I ain't no girl, neither." I'm a tomboy.  That don't piss me off,
it's true!  "But sexism ain't about sex, it's a lie that girls are inferior
to boys."

   "Who tolja that?"

   "Huh!  It's true, I'm telling you that.  You ever hearda Annie Oakley?"
He shook his head, "Well, she's a trick shooter, in Buffalo Bill's Wild
West Show.  Best one he had, shot the pants of anyone that tried her when
they traveled around.  And she had this song.  "Anything you can do I can
do better, I can do anything better'n you." But it's a duet."

   "Nu uh!"

   "Yeah, it is, with Buffalo Bill."

   "Yeah, well what can do better'n me?" He's older, too.

   "I betcha I can out-shoot ya." I pulled out My BB gun, and pulled the
lever.  Had to fish a BB out of the seam in the bottom of my pocket.

   "What's the bet?"

   "How 'bout a dare?"

   "Well, then what's the dare?"

   Shrug, "Depends on how good I beatcha."

   "Your on!"

   I got up, threw my boots over.  "Besides, what d'you think girls talk
about in the girl's room?"

   "Idaknow?" He put his on, while I climbed up.  "Throw me my boots.  Same
thing you do in the boy's room, boys, kissing, making out;"

   "Nu uh!"

   "Yeah, playing with ourselves, too."

   "Stop!  Get outta hear."

   "No shit.  Don't you play with yourself?"

   "Yeah, but,"

   "So do girls, and grownups, practically everone." I know, anyway.

   "Butcher not supposed to." Reach down,

   "Yeah, but.  Uuhn!  Everbody does it," shrug.  "Just not supposed to
talk about it."

   "Why's that?"

   "Well, whad'ya get when you cross a rinoceros with an elephant?"

   "I dunno, what?"

   "Eliphino," clap his back, "Come on, I do my plinkin' down here."

   "Wantcher boots?"

   "Not right now," they're hot.  The grass ain't burnin my feet, he
brought them anyhow.  "Not like anyone'd steal them.  What do you think
about?"

   "I dunno."

   Not real bright, "When you play with yourself?"

   "Idunno," he shrugs, "Girls?"

   "Well, doin what with them, holding hands?  Huggin, kissin?" Kinda
pretty, though.

   Shrug, "Just whatchou look like," he didn't look, turned away, "Nekkid."

   He ain't seen me naked, "Ugh!" Has he?  Let me beat the pants off him
real quick...  "Go set up some cans, overup on that there fence," I
pointed. My gun, my range.

   "Why me?"

   "My gun, and I gotta fish the BBs out." Ooh, a pellet!  "Besides," I
pointed with the muzzle, but I had the lever open over my elbow, "You
gotcher boots on."

   Looked like it was in pretty good shape, "Wh!" blew some fuzz off.  I
loaded it first, while he wasn't lookin.  "Cocked."

   "Huh?" He looked back.

   "Clear the range," I hummed, "Where seldom is heard,.." Pt...inK!  Cock
it, roll a BB out between my fingers.  This ones' a bit flat on one side,
so put that back by the valve side, press it in with my pinkie nail. 
"Cocked," hand it over.  "Take yer time,"

   Nice butt, always thought so.  Didn't really ever have a crush on him,
but saw him all the time, and thinkin about boys, the ones you know tend to
flash through your head, playin with myself.

   Ptk!

   "You ever shot before?" I didn't pat it, or swat it, or touch him, or
nothin, but it looked pretty hard, under his jeans pockets.

   Cock, Pt...ksh!

   The bottle fell in pieces.  A big one, with the label off, but from 40
oz, if I remember.  Maybe a quart, he set it up.  Cock, "Here you go, now."
I helt it up, ran my hand up the stock, and showed him how to hold it. 
"The sights a little off, so aim high and to the left." I turned my thumb
sideways to hold the nail up next to the site, "Right about here.  And you
need to stand better, look," I took the gun, stepped back, "See how my leg
balances the gun out front?  And my arm, square that back, and point your
toes, lykiss." I pinched some dirt over with my thumb toe.  Didn't even
site, it's his shot.  "Here," I handed it back.

   He tried it, "Good, that's better." With his legs back, and spread
likeat, it pulled his jeans tighter, and I stuck my fingers in my pocket, I
don't want to outright cheat, not that I have to.  I already won with an
even number of shots.  He missed, and I don't have to.  I counted the
number of beads in my fingers with my thumbtip, Pt...K!  2 misses, nodded.
"Go set the can back up."

   Marked off a couple lines for me, wrote _Lowel_ with a big fat nothin
under it.  "Here," I handed it back, "Why don't you take the last shot?"
Dropped the shot back in the bib pocket, clean miss, I started walkin back.

   "Where you goin?"

   "Get my fishin pole."

   He carried my gun, too.  Jumped down, in the sand, no burrs.  Stepped
across, the stones that were practically mine anyway.

   "Well," he jumped down, "What about the bet?"

   "Take your shirt off," I wet it in the stream, it found it's own way
down.  He pulled it out, and off.  "Now, turn around." Probably would've
wasted more shots to get him to drop his pants.

   WhoOH!

   "Ahi!" he jumped.  Tried to reach back, pull his head to look over his
shoulder.  "Ow, that hurt!"

   "Yes, I can." ~Ethyl Merman.

   {Quote Note: She didn't read the jacket on the record, and thinks that's
actually Annie Oakley, singing a duet with Buffalo Bill in their Wild West
show, which she hasn't seen.  ~I.  Berlin.}

   Marion {FF BDS.  No M, also, notice the difference between Marion, the
player, and Morion, the character.  (Also the Id-state)

   "Huh!" Not bad!  "It's not all that Erotic."

   "I thought I'd start low, and build up from there," she took it back,
and tucked in her bag.  Purse/attache with a shoulder strap, to carry it
all in one bag.  "So, wanna try it?"

   Preliminary rule: Make it sound good, so we can act it out later, and
yeah.  Her script.  "You wanna go fishin'?" Just another language, or
Dialect, actually.

   "I thought maybe we could skip ahead to the action."

   "Shooting?"

   "Huh, 1: I been shooting all my life.  Carried a .270 out on the ranch
in case of Cayote, when I was little enough to be afraida Cayote.  And 2: I
don't have a BB gun, and there's no way I'm handing you a loaded firearm. I
mean the action at the end."

   "The flogging." Straight into the whips, "Your first scene?"

   "Yeah, but it's a wet yarn, how much damage can you do with that?"

   "Well," I got up," I'd have to show you." She asked for it, so I went
out, opened the door, and heard her follow me down to the basement.  Got my
keys out, and unlocked the padlock on the door all the way in the back. 
"What you're talking about is basically a coach-whip." I left it open, came
right out.

   "You have a dungeon."

   "And I collect whips," Hold up the cane, "This is a cane.  I am not
going to hit you with it, probably not for years, but I thought it would be
ideal for your toy fishing rod."

   "You got any yarn, lying around?"

   "I might." I knit, she knows that.  "Or macrame chord?" Why I don't have
cats.

   "What's the difference?" She doesn't, knew that too.

   "Macrame chord is heavier and stronger," I locked up, dropped the keys
back in my jacket pocket on the way up.  "Get the light, and close the
door, where do you want to do this?"

   "Outside?"

   "Well, that would have all the swinging room, now wouldn't it.  Not all
that private, but if we can move some furniture." Out in the living room,
there's a vaulted ceiling.

   "Hh," she shook her head, "Might as well go whole hog, I don't care
about privacy, your neighbors around?"

   "I don't know about the neighborhood kids," summer, "But;"

   "You think we could risk going topless?"

   "I," don't care.  She probably knows that, "I was rather more concerned
about your, taboos."

   "Don't worry about that, I'll get over them."

   "Okay!" It's not that hard to tie a yarn on the end of a stick, I really
din't have to bother whittling a notch in the top to loop a bight over. 
"Nice knot."

   "Boywer's hitch."

   "For archers," I nodded, "But not a bowline?" I shook my head.  Picked a
nice bruise purple, thought it appropriate, inkvine violet.  (F.  Herbert.)
"Mood is a thing for lovemaking, and cattle." ~G.  Halleck, I laughed.  "He
was always known for having the right quote.  It's recursive, like nested
allusions."

   She took off her shirt, shrugged.  "Bra on?"

   "And I'm thinking, you have enough control to hit me in the midriff."

   We are both in our 40s, multiple pregnancies, she had a little Sandia
scarring from stretch marks.  Not flat and tanned as a swimsuit model, and
I could care less.  I'm recovering from a lot of stupid issues, that she's
freeing me from.  This isn't gay, I loved her, and she, trusts me, to show
it.  "And if I turn around, I can't see how you do it."

   "All right," we pulled the cover off the hot tub, didn't fire it up, but
the fantasy specified a wet yarn tailed coatchwhip.  "Nh!" I tested it on
my arm.  "Nh!"

   "Okay," I dipped the whole tail, "This is a Stockwhip, which means it
swings like a flail," I took some practice casts, to get used to the
length, "so you want to swing it, in a swirl like this." Dipped between
swings to get used to the weight, Whhhhh!

   "Like Flyfishing."

   "I don't know, you ever fish?"

   "We had a stock tank," she nodded.

   "Well, ironically, I never got into it."

   She nodded, "You don't have the patience." I relaxed my shoulders, "Hh!
Okay, well the water actually makes it worse."

   "Like a wet towel."

   "W'll, Yeahbut those you twist up, like a bandana, so they have a taper.
This gets all the power from the stock.  It's like a lever, you only have
to move your wrist a little for the tip to move a lot, and that picks up
sPeed!" WhhhHK!  Water sprayed off to a mist.

   "All right," she undid her belt.  Jeans, bandana tied around her neck,
so technically still in character.  I didn't take off the Morion either,
but we hadn't really started role-playing yet.  It's better to do some dry
runs first, this was more like training than a Discipline scene.

   "You don't have to be naked." I haven't actually seen her naked yet,
we're taking it slow.  She explained it, the slower you go, the more
control you have over the escalation.  Like starting low, like a yarn whip,
instead of pulling any heavy artillery out of my armory.

   "Here," she held it up, wrists together.

   "You want me to bind you?" She nodded.  "Explicit consent." One of the
rules.

   "Yes, tie me up." Better to get it in writing, I'd never bound her
before, "i don't think I can stand still for this, and i trust you." And my
heart, she could see me feel it on my face.

   "Hh!" She threw it over one of the rafters of the portico.  And hung on.
To her belt, bound around her wrists.  "You look beautiful." She smiled,
looked down.  Flushed, not blushing with shame.  I remember, when she told
me.  'I'm not sure, when the nightmares turned into fantasies.'

   "You ready?"

   "As I'm gonna get." I picked up the lacquered cane from the side of the
cold tub, and dipped it to wet it consistently.  I actually shook most of
the waste off on practice swings.  "Don't tense," brought it back, "I can't
hit a moving target." Waited until she stayed relaxed, closed her eyes so
she didn't anticipate it fast enough.

   "Whp!"

   "Uhn!" She dropped, hung with her hands down, and I dropped it right on
the dirty concrete of the patio.  "Are you all right!?"

   "Hhh, huh?" She looked up, "Uhuh?" Got her weight under her, and stood
up.  "Whew!  That was intense!" Grinned, lit up like holly berries.  Held
up her wrists.  I just undid them.

   My turn.  "Hh," I unbuttoned my sleeves first.  Anything you can do,
"Huh!" Okay, don't try to play this off, she's about too whip me.  That's
the deal: Switch, I need to learn.  But it's a pretty big deal.  To
relinquish control, let someone else do the whipping, the binding, she just
set her belt down.

   "Just stand up by the wall." I looked around.  Wednesday morning, quiet,
sunny, hot, dry, no sign of anyone watching.  2 middle age women playing
strip and whip me in the back yard.  "And take your bra off, I'm not so
sure I'm good enough to miss it.' She beat the wall.  Practicing, and
dipping it between strokes like she saw me.  Didn't even look, had seen,
and even felt me topless, acting out our teenaged schoolgirl romantic
fantasies.  Which was, actually wonderfully romantic.  I'd, never.  Taken
it so slow before.

   "Whenever you're ready."

   "I closed my eyes, and put my hands up.  On the wall, the painted vinyl
siding was hot, in the sun, and i felt it on my back too.  Granted, it took
about 3 hours to get a burn, which rates my skin about SPF 180, "Nh!"

   ...

   I tensed, but she just mist.  I felt the spray from the whip, and even a
little air from it's passing, but it didn't even crack.  i couldn't hear
it, until it twilled away.  Then drips behind me, as she pulled it back out
of the water, and

   K!..  hwww.

   "Huh!" I fell down.  "Huh, huh huh!"

   "I'm sorry!" she dropped it too.

   "Noh!" I swallowed, "Gnh!" gulped, and "huH!" gasped.  "You're right," I
had no idea, "that is intense!" Didn't even leave a welt.

   She helped me up, and I felt her chest flatten on my back.  Her tummy
above my bottom, in her hips.  "Huh!?" her hands on my chest.  I just held
onto the wall.  The paint felt soft, in my nails.

   She whispered, 'let's go back inside,' in my ear.



   Chritiana {Gg Psud/saph Mole.  She's writing this for her, as a form of
displacement/dissociation, with subconscious child molestor excuses as self
victim blaming.}

   I guess I came onto her.  I heard, she got in trouble because another
girl caught her playing with herself.  So, when she got out of trouble, I
went to talk with her.  I had noticed, she tends to go off to play alone,
or sit by herself watching the boys.  that was allowed, we could look at
them, as long as it wasn't time to keep our heads down.  In line, at
church, or studying in school.  Most of the time, but we could go out and
play.  Not with them, they wouldn't if we wanted them to, and the
schoolmarms kept them away from us.  it wasn't said, but my understanding
is because they would hurt us.  Playing to rough, because we're such
fragile little things, donchaknow?

   I had been playing with myself a lot longer, so really the nice thing
was nobody we could talk about it with.  Secretly, but she didn't have to
go off alone, and I didn't have to do it all myself.  I must have been
about 9, so I knew better.  She didn't even touch her pissy.  That's what
she called it, giggling, "My pissy." She still thought that's what it was
for.  Fingerfucked herself, in the butt, to poot and giggle about it.  But
no sexual feeling whatsoever anywhere nearer where it belongs.  "Between
her legs," she took literally.  It's not like they told us nothing, it was
just all lies.  I was still trapped with her, hadn't even thought over the
fence, but I had to tell her that we kept our heads down walking back from
church so we didn't look Outside, Not so we couldn't look at boys.  "Of
course we can look at boys, how're we supposed to pick a husband?" Then, I
blew her mind with another secret: "Boys look at us too." She didn't
believe it, at first, either.

   Then I had to show her.  Mine, how you're supposed to play with
yourself, and, I never.  Imagined, someone watching me before.  Not even a
boy, but that's when I fell in love, and then got really into her sick
little games.  I was a little naughty, I played with myself, and enjoyed a
little pleasure in my life.  I didn't look at boys, or think about it, or
even other girls.  I thought about me, what I was doing, and how good it
feels.  I don't even remember how it started, when, the first time I got
off.  Just my favorite special place, where I could always go, to feel
wonderful.  My favorite place, and a second home for my fingertips.  But
even before i got my hands in there, i was as damp and swollen as if I had
been playing with myself for hours.  Just talking about it, the joy on her
face reflecting mine, then her watching.  Her eyes on me, under my skirt, i
could almost feel them on my thighs.

   "Like this?"

   She crawled forward, reached under my skirt.  She touched me first, I'm
sure of that, before she even untied her undercloth.

   "HIHN!" I thought I got off before.  I had had orgasms, but nothing like
that.  As soon as I felt her fingers, her tiny hard knuckles, brush up the
inside of my thighs, I almost passed out.  I managed to say "YES!" Louder
than I intended.  Yes, like that.  Keep doing that.

   So, it wasn't love at first sight, but the instant she touched me.  I
was hers'.  Now, I know the myth is one of us has to be the man.  And while
it isn't always true, of every homosexual relationship, between us.  If one
of us was the man, she was him.  She kissed me first, both on the mouth,
and then to get me wet.  I licked my fingers, that first time she touched
me, and then I untied her undercloth.  "You have to get it wet," I remember
being that young, and it taking forever to get wet on it's own.  But I
tasted myself, for the first time.  Still glowing from my first mind
blowing orgasm, the first time we made love, and I guess i never thought to
taste myself.  My fingers after.

   The spongey wrinckles of my fingertips in her pissy felt familiar.  She
felt small, sensitive when her tiny point popped, so I had to work around
it.  Not avoid it, just don't touch it directly.  Pull it up, so her split
pinches it softly, and roll the pad of my pinky around on her hymen.  I let
go, the spongey mass to pop back up in front of her tummy when she gasped,
and spasmed against my pinky.  Careful not to touch, or scratch her with
the nail.  Then they beat on the triangle to call us for dinner.  Then she
kissed me.  "Goodnight," to dream of her, it was allowed, but not expected.
Not on the cheek, "Goodnight," I felt my lips, and fell asleep with them
still hot, and swollen against my fingertips.  I could smell her, or mostly
me.  I got a lot sweatier, and used my spit, but "Shhh,' hhhh!' I dreamed
of her all night.

   Then, why it could have been the very next day, she moved my hands, and
said, "We need to get it wet." She kissed me, and at the risk of breaking
the mood, let me just get something off my chest:

   Girls, Lesbians.  Stop fucking cutting your hair.  I have no preference
one way or the other about shaving, or wearing bras, but the dyke bob to
protest the patriarchal sexualized image, or whatever?  Stop it.  If you
want any chance of ever getting down with me, don't cut your fucking hair.
Her's, god I loved her hair, it smelled wonderful, and brushed out to tight
springy corkscrew curls, that drove me mad rolling around between my
thighs. I would rather have a full head of luscious full bodied, beautiful
hair than Anything else in a womon, and you're never, Ever going to compete
with my first love's.  The real shame is how much they made us braid it,
and cover it up to go out in the light of day.  We couldn't let down our
hair.  She was beaten, Beaten with a switch for coming back with it hanging
down, over her collar, in the light of day.  Several times, it was so worth
it, and she doesn't stop.

   Beating her certainly never slowed her down.  ;}

   Sammy {F/F Fant.  Note Sammy is the Character, as opposed to Sam, the
Player.  You'll get the hang of it...}

   No man could catch her, {I picked up the belt, and looped it through the
buckle as she slid open the door.} I just couldn't turn her in.

   Turned, to leave it open, her hand coming away from the handle, so I
could loop it, pull it tight.  {Just like muttonbusting, girl rodeo, 'you
couldn't handle a calf.'}

   "Waht," she pulled, but I gripped it to the buckle with my fist.  "No!"

   "Yer not gettin away this time." I forced her back, over the island. 
Her free arm sweeping past her hair, but it knocked the knife block off to
clatter on the other side.  "Morion D'Elmar, you're wanted for murder,
harlotry, thievery, piracy, kidnapping an' Rape."

   "Hhh," She closed her eyes.  Nodded.

   "I been waiting along time ferthis." I felt her bottom.  "Bounty of a
lifetime, Ikin retire on the money;"

   "Hhhh," I could almost feel the cold steel run down her back,
straightening it, and glanced up just in time to see her grip the side of
the island.  "UHN!" I pulled back, but she got her legs around mine, so I
had to twist, and jump out of the way.

   And let go of the belt.  Then she was on me, "CUNT!" the loose tail
slapping my arm, then backhanding across my tummy.

   "Uh!"

   Her breath hot in my face, my hair, "I'll show you rape, whore." She
grabbed my chest, hard.  "This what you come for?"

   "No?"

   "They send a girl to do a man's job?"

   "Please stop!" Anything but the Word.  {I don't even remember, when the
nitemares turned into dreams.  Erotic, rape.  I never understand how that
could be erotic, so exciting and yet terrifying at once.} "Uhhh!" Her hand
between my legs, fingers curling tight, her knuckles, Her Fist!  "Huh!"

   "I'm gonna punchfuck you, Punta." Spittle sprayed from the lips, and I
could hear her clenched teeth.  She threw her leg over, like a saddle. 
Held my arms with her legs, her thick scuffed brown leather pants, tight
over her hips.

   Her "Mmphfgh!"

   "Shit eating dog.  Impetuous cur.  You thought you could take me, ME! 
on in My own home?" I shook my head, {Secretly wishing they weren't there.
The leather pants in the way, so i couldn't feel Her skin on my face, taste
Her lust, and drink it in through my nose to drown in it.} "Bend over," I
gasped, and panted, and she got them down.  My jeans.  "I'll teach you."

   "Auh!" The belt, still hanging from her wrist.  "Nauh!" {Not too hard, I
can take it.  "Nhhh?" Tensing for it...} 'nhh?"

   She got my wrists up.  Back, together.  "Huh, huh uh!" {She felt so
heavy on my shoulders, panting on my back, her breasts, my shirt slipping
down my back!}

   "Cummon!" She hauled me up.

   "Augh!" my shoulders, "Stop, uhn." Shake my head, think, {"Albatross."

   "Are you all right?"

   "Nh," I panted, nodded, "Hh, sorry, that, thust.  Huh!" I twisted the
belt with my wrists behind me.  "That hurts my shoulders."

   "No," she kissed my cheek, "I'm sorry."

   "It's okay."

   "You ready?"

   "Yeah," I nodded, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.  "Hm, take
me." Her belt, her wrists, her house, "Downstairs."

   Her dungeon.}

   She loostened her belt, held the edge of her short broad sword under my
chin to tye the strap tight in front of me.  I hung my head, low.  In
shame, it was stupid of me.  Thinking I could, I had a chance.  Blinded by
the noteriety, being the woman who brought her in.  "Impetuous," she said.
She was right, I got stupid, and now I was going to pay.  I heard of it,
what she had, buried deep in her fast little ship.  I staggered, as if
drunken by the pitching in the hall.  The world seemed to rock, back and
forth, and she jerked me along.

   "Cummon," she swore in so many languages, muttering under her breath. 
"Against the wall." My hands in front of me, I felt up the tongue, tried to
loosten the buckle pulled tight against the backs of my thumbs, twisting,
and prying my arms a part, but to no avail.  I was trapped, and jumped when
the lock hit the stone floor with a jangle of keys.  "Get inere!" She
pushed me, then jerked me back around by the strap.  Backed me up, her fist
on my heaving chest, cold steel curve of the guard, between them, pommel
pressed against my throat.  I swallowed, {And nodded.

   Her eyes, went dark, lifeless, and her brows relaxed.} She kissed me, so
passionately I just fell back on the (Leather padded) surface of the table.
The sword came up, and I winced, closed my eyes, turned away.

   THNK!  I felt it, the whole table snapped under me from it sticking down
into it.  "NUh!" She jerked my arms up, over my head, and down over the
edge of the table.  "Hhhh,"

   {I opened my eyes.  Looked up at the beams, the floorboards.  Blinked.
This isn't real.  She's not going to hurt me.  Look over to her, face. 
Looking down, concentrating while somehow attaching the strap to the
bottom. The underside of the table, so my elbows bent back around the edge.



   "Hh,"

   She looked up.  Smiled.  "You okay, sweety?" I nodded, she lifted my
head, flattened my hair under it, and put a face pillow (Modified massage
table) under it to support me.

   "Comfortable?"

   "Yes."

   "Good."}

   She grinned wickedly, up side down, then licked the tip of her tongue
back and forth along the peak at the center of her lip.  "Good, at least
they sent a decent lookin' whore this time." She pulled my lips open, "Go
all yer teeth?" She nodded, "Good.  Might haveta knock em all out fore you
suck me.  Don't want no bitin, you know how to kiss a twat, girl?" I shook
my head, "You scared, it'll bite?" {I couldn't wait.  I could, well I had
smelled her.  Before, not when she was wearing her leather breeches, and
silk undercloth, but we never did this before, in character.} I closed my
eyes.  "MH!" She covered my mouth, pulling out the crotch of my
underthings, and "MMH!" My eyes went wide, from her knuckles.  Splitting me
open, "NHh H H !" Sawing up though me like teeth.  "Huh!" I panted, but she
pulled it out.  "Auh!" She slapped me.  In front, between them, then jerked
them up in her fist.

   {Now, I understand Linen.  She hand sewed these, panties.  From Flax
Linen.  Not quite scratchy, but uncomfortable until they pulled tight.}
They almost cut into my buttcrack, but now her knuckles dug into my beard.
Punching me down until the linen got tighter, cutting deeper, and deeper, I
felt the threads creek.  Start to give way but not all at once.  Long
before I heard it, the snapping, then the rip!  {It also rips open, splits.
It doesn't have the strength of modern materials/weaves.)

   "Uh!" it fell tattered between my legs, and I tried to breathe.

   "I'll show you how to kiss a woman." I shivered, then shuddered, and
shook so she had to hold my legs.  Her boots on the backs of my arms, her
mouth.

   "Ah god!" I tried to take a breath, 'h h HhH!  AuhH!" I imagined, or
tried to.  {Licking my fingertip, soaking it good and soft, but it wasn't
Her tongue.  Her body holding me down.  And of course, I wasn't bound.}
"H?" I stopped, then I felt, "Wh?" Something.  Else, cold, and round, and
flat splitting me open.  "Nh?" I bucked, so she put her elbows in my
thighs, but it slipped back down, and my lips clapped together.  Then,
"Hh?" It touched me again, "Huh, nh, yuh, yeayeyeyeyeyeah!" Up and down so
fast, I couldn't tell if it was going or, "Nyyyyhhhhrrraugh!"

   Cumming.  Her pommel slipped, she dropped it, then she was on me, her
mouth in me, devowering me, sucking my soul out between my legs, {And all I
could to was open my eyes.  Focus on the rough wood overhead, gasping, try
to catch my breath, without slipping away completely...

   Sam {FF Saph Rimm}

   "H," I sat up, rubbed my wrists, got off.  "You ready?" I knew what I
wanted, pushed her back from her shoulders.  The whips, and dicks swung on
their pegs, but she didn't look back.  Surprised, eyes wide, but a grin
creeping up on her mouth when she nodded.  I held, my hand up between her
breasts, and reached down to pull the laces.  "Kh!" Her eyes went wide, I
just held her throat, her chin up, but didn't squeeze or nothin'.  In the
front of her breeches, like a bodice, or a section of spiderweb.  It
sounded, so much easier in the story.  "I unlaced his breeches."

   {"His," I looked up.  Her eyes, softened.  the crease between her brows.
It wasn't a masculine face, but she loves it when I call her him.  I
nodded.}

   "Thanks," I bent to kiss her, the top of her breast.  "Smq, might's well
make it up to you." Gripped it to make it bulge, firm and round, "Smx, some
time."

   "Hh," I slipped my hand in.  Felt the satin slip on the backs of my
fingers, and pulled out to loosen the laces further.  This is foreplay, the
way her odd nipple flattens, they don't match.  For some reason the one on
the, well her left.  Mine across to feel on my right, it doesn't go hard,
the tip doesn't stick out.  Like the other side, I lift it, and feel up. 
"Hh!" she touches my arms, and I stop, straighten up.  Try that, rigid, I
always had poor posture, but I'm learning.  "hands to yourself." I didn't
hit her, I don't have to.  She wants it, for me to slap her, boob her chest
together, or grind the satin into her crotch.  That's her fantasy.

   I pulled it out, "This is Mine." Away from her sweating cunt.  Not
touching her, hot and muggy, I could almost smell it.  "You don't touch
me." I held my finger up, and she went crosseyed.  {"Nihnm'!} aHm." Cleared
my throat, "You understand?" She nodded, "I touch you." She closed her
eyes. "Hands at your sides, hold them there."

   I practiced, she showed me the knot.  So I could tie it, and untye it,
in my sleep.  Better than even the breechlaces, which were enough like
shoes I haven't the foggiest why they tripped me up.  'look at me.' She
opened her eyes, to mine.  "Don't look away." I shook my head, and she
followed.  Smiling, she was getting into it.  "Good." I went down, her eyes
following, but I kept mine up.  "Don't even blink," she shivered from the
satin slipping down, between her thighs, I felt my hard.  Lifted it to
tickle at her most sensitive, patches.  Not spot, put pretty much
everything from the knees up.  Definitely something about the inside of her
thighs.  "Don'T!" Her eyes drooped, and snapped open.  "Close those eyes."
I stopped, held them.  Nodded, she nodded too, but her tummy was quivering
with shallow exited gasps.

   "Smx," Her beard.  The hairs, her sweat I had tasted, but the smell. 
The steam boiling up below that.  Now I was teasing myself.  I wanted it,
so bad, that I even denied myself, a moment longer.  "Don't close your
eyes. Lngh!"

   Her legs flexed.  I held her knees, through the leather pulled down
between them.

   "Spread 'em," but I could taste it.  "Snhhhh!" I blinked, then glared up
when I could open my eyes.  She smirked.  Fuck, now it was a staring
contest, but I've dreamed of this.  Too long, I don't care about winning, I
had to taste her.

   "Hhn!" I rubbed up her shaking thighs, and reached around to grab her
ass.  Staring, glaring up at her.  Daring her to blink.  Her eyebrows
almost came together, but her mouth grimmaced with the temptation to just
close her eyes, let it carry her away, but she kept them open.  I blinked,
I had to, but not as long.  "Yeah," I had to grab her hands, pull them back
down.  To her sides, she dug her nails in, but I dug my tongue in.  "Nhh,
mmh!" She was bucking, but this is Mine.  She is Mine, I'm making her Mine!



   "AWLLUHLULULUL!"

   "Auhn!" she turned away.  Eyes clenched, she couldn't help it.

   "Pussy." I stopped, stood up.  Smacked my lips, and set on the corner of
the table to watch her.

   "Nh, hHhn!" Shudder, then the tremmors going back to shivering.  "Hh h
H!" Trying to take a breath, then another spasm, "HuhnhuhH!" Like a
standing seizure.  Not full tonic chlonic, she didn't fall down, and I was
ready to catch her if she did, but eventually the shiverring took over. 
Knees locked, but still shaking.  She started panting, full breaths,
catching it.

   "Wow," I wish I'd thought of a stopwatch, "So how'd I do?"

   "Nh!" her head flopped, "hn!" I caught her arm, helped her to the table.



   "So," I rubbed her legs, "I've been seeing this massage therapist."

   "Hhuhhhh!" She started relaxing.  "Can I." Arms still held to her sides.

   "Oh sorry.  Yeah, let's cool off a while, catch our breath." She nodded,
reached up to set her face in the pillow.

   "Yeah," muffled, "That was incredible."

   I slipped my thumbs up, inside her sweaty thighs.  "Relax." She tried
to, it's mostly in front, but even touching this close to it, when she's
still coming down.  I rubbed my thumbs in, between her buttocks.

   "He's really good," I saw it.  Pulling her apart, and rubbing even
deeper.  Almost pinching them with the sides of my fingers, but I.  Dreamed
about this.  Too.  "Whhhhwww!  Relax." I managed not to giggle out loud,
when it puckered, and she shivered.  "You like this?"

   "Mhm?"

   "Explicit consent."

   "Yes," she took a ragged breath.  "Please."

   "What?  Ask for what you want."

   "Please kiss my ass."

   "As you wish," I lapped up first, almost brushed it, but just the sides
of my tongue rolled along her buttocks.  "Master." L.

   "Hhhh!" She gasped for another breath.  I licked my tongue in, didn't
even taste soap.  Just sweat, and I went down for another lap.  "Nh!" she
puckered.  "Yeah!"

   I let go, her cheeks flap shut around my mouth, and licked my tongue in
to wet it some more.  )L/7(

   "HahHuh!"

   That left my hands free, to slip back down her sweaty rubbery thighs,
and pulled them back together.  They slipped under my breasts, which
slapped together, and slipped out nicely, but I shook my head.  "LALAWHOL!"
and my hanging hair.  Trapped between her thighs, it pulled a little, she
pulled my hair a little before.  Role playing, but she was learning her's.

   her role, her place, beneath Me.

   "Hhinh!" I gripped them tight, tickling, and making her struggle,
flapping that ass all over my face, my cunt scented spittle all over the
place, and bit it, to try to hold still, but it slipped out of the pinch of
my teeth, so I bit it some more.  Not hard, enough to bruise, or even hurt,
but she was really struggling, "Ahahahnauh fughod, no, alh, albatross!" She
panted, and shuddered.  Shivered when I had to slip the tips, and split
ends of my crushed hair out between them.  "Hh, hh, hh!" I rubbed her
shoulders, kissed her neck.  "You all right?" She nodded, sniffed.  "Mh,"
she muffled, "Hh, can you fuck me now?"

   "Of course." She sat up, to show me how to strap it on.

   Marion {FF...}

   "Ah, albatross.  Hihn!" I clenched, and spasmed again when she pulled
out.  "Hih hin, hehn!" Nice thing about a plastic dick is it stays hard. 
"Hhhhh!" Hug my chest into the table.  I drifted away, while she was
fucking me.  "How long?" Blink in the shadow of my face, and the pillow
around it.

   "That was about 25 minutes." It was like a gangbang, with out having to
switch out dicks when they got off.  She kissed my shoulder, "You
satisfied?" neck, breasts rubbing my arm and back.  Feeling down, under the
table.  Where my arms were wrapped around it, pulled the loop out of the
knot.  "Hhihihihn!" I finally turned over, tasted the relatively fresh cool
air of the room.  Basement, saturated with sex.  I got her off, once, I'm
pretty sure.  Then, I lost count.  "Hh!" I pulled my hair back out of my
face.  "I went away!" I rolled my eyes, and laughed some more.

   "How do you feel?" She looked concerned.

   "Fantasic, and free?" I thought, pouted, "You think I'm really a
bottom?" Shrugged, never tried it before.

   "Haha," not funny.  "No, Im guessin it's just new.  Huh!  it was," she
shook her head in her hand, and her chest behind her forearm.  "Incredible
for me too."

   "But," I stood up, rubbed her arms, "You only got off once?"

   "Huh, yeahbut, I'm not the hedonist you are.  I don't have as much
tolerance as you do, and now my back feels like I been rode all night, and
put away wet."

   "Hm?"

   She looked, "Sorry," shook her head, "Horses."

   Sammy {; Ampu Fant, Bind.  Not Bond.}

   "You wanna go first?" I ran my hand along the wall, low, so just the
whips, straps, canes, and the Sjambok swung.  She nodded.

   "Pick the one yh;" she frowned, "I don't know," I pulled it off the the
peg, "If I trust you, with the signal whip."

   "To hit you," I twisted it to creek, and her lip pulled up, eyes
fluttered down.  Not a smile, more like a grimmace.  I let go, held it down
the lash, though it's not a stock whip.  it just tapers from the end, with
a wrist strap instead of a pommel.  Flicked my wrist backhand to at her
thigh, then swung it up again to hang it on the post.  "Or to Bind you?"

   I pulled my lighter out of my vest pocket, before she looked back, TNK!
Stuck the flame holder between my fingers to press it over her throat. 
"Don't move," I turned her with my forearm on her shoulder, "Don't even
breathe."

   She gulped, though.  I could feel it, even if she din't make a sound,
but she nodded to cover it.  I brought the tapering length of plaited
leather inside her knee, let the lash drape up her calf, and she shuddered.
I brushed my knuckles inside the other thigh, and "Ngh!" Wish I could see
her face, so "Hold it." She nodded, so I could stand up.  'Derringer' still
to her throat.

   No, real, gun nor knife play.  If she looses it, with that wedge of a
dagger, she can kill me before she comes to her senses, but this is about
Discipline.

   I twist the lash so it creeks, and twists between her thighs.

   "Huhn!  Ngh!" I wrap it around my wrist, and pull it tighter, to slip
through, even with the resistance, she clenches tighter, and starts
shuddering.

   'open her eyes.' I look back, harden mine, and jerk it up.

   "UGH!"

   "Look at me..." Singsong.  She looks so sad, then she bites her tongue,
from the creaking twisting braided strips of flattened leather, I have to
look down, wiggle it a little between her lips.

   "Where is it?"

   "Wha?"

   "You like to write, where's your," lean in to whisper, 'secret stash?'

   "Nh," she shook her head.

   "Hands down, on your sides, don't make me Bind you."

   "Nahh!" She can't keep her eyes open, turns away.  "Naugh!" She
struggles, but that just makes it twist, and pull over her clit harder. 
And I know she's got to be diamond hard now.

   "I asked your kids," She looked back, staring to glare, but,

   "AUGHN!" It slipped back up to my wrist when I stepped back, out of
reach, CLNKT.  I dropped it back in the pocket.  "Chistine wouldn't give it
up, I had to torture it outta Ian."

   "Rhr," I sidestepped, let the lash slip almost to the end, and wrapped
her fist.  Which left slack, but she couldn't turn without pulling tighter,
so she got her leg over.  Which put her arm behind her.  "Whh!" I ducked,
and stepped behind her.  Grabbed the whip off the post, and jerked it up.
"Ugh!" It slipped all the way up to the back of her knee, but made it
easier to push her back on the table.

   "Don't make me hurt you!" I grabbed her neck, doubled the bight in my
fist, and looked back when she closed her eyes.  Fell back down to
subspace. 2 Ids, the violent one, Morion comes out to protect her from
feeling sad, or helpless, or weak.  I felt it back down her thigh.

   "HhHhh!" She shivered again.  Her neck, she didn't even know about that
one, but I don't choke her.  I don't have to, it's like picking up a
kitten, or puppy by the scruff, she just goes limp, and submits.  When
she's in the right frame of mind.  "Sit on your hands." One already behind
her, I pulled it out, her leg up on my elbow, I hand to twist it around
again to take in more slack, but I took it out unwrapping the thin lash
from hers.

   And it was tight, on my arm.  Not bondage, binding.  Like the tight
vest, the ace bandage under it.  I imagine like Jeunne de Arc wore under
her breastplate.  No, I'm not transexual neither, but it sure is a nice
fantasy.  Now, I can twist, and pry the kink doubled over in my hand like a
hose in her cleft, and start rubbing her off.  Like she did, right here,
our first time, with her pommel.

   She just gave in, to the feeling, the creeking leather in my hand had my
eyes softening and fluttering so I had to blink it away, shake my head. 
No, I'm getting her off, so she'll do me.  "Hneugh!"

   "Hn!" I grunted through my teeth, "Take it, take it bitch."

   "Huh?" She rocked her hips.

   "Yeah, take it like a man you scared little girl.  Where do you keep
it?"

   I pulled out.  She shuddered and I twisted my wrist, unwrapping it as
quick as I could to let the kink out.  Stepping back, "No," she sat up.

   "WhHKSH!" she jumped back, but it just split the leather grain vinyl so
the cloth back showed underneath.  Hey, she already stabbed through it, but
her hands slipped off, and she lost her balance.  Sitting up, she didn't
fall back, but I held up the wrist strap, and pulled more out.  Grinned,
and she relaxed, panting.  "Hand me the mink oil?" I twisted it to creek,
sniffed it, "Got it pretty wet."

   She twisted the little handle to pop the tin, and I dipped some out with
2 fingers.  "Can't trust you with a snake whip," she looked down, at the
gash, right in front of hers.  Giggled, and jiggled, shrugging with her
palms down.  I'm getting it, her kinkset?  It's not just symbolic, she's an
artist.  It's an art.  Blink and you miss subtle things like stabbing the
leatherette table, right between my legs.  It's not sharp, but neither's an
axe, she can still stab it to stick in a plywood table.

   I twisted the pommel knot, pulled tight, so there's no shot in there,
just a ball of the core, wrapped in a Turk's head, wrapped in a triple
monkey's fist.  With a strap caught in the horizontal bights.  So, I can
loop it over, pull it through to a hondo.  Like a lariat, tapered, but the
wrong way, thicker and stiffer at that end, to swing it up under her foot.

   "No," I jerked it up, "Wait,' pushed her up, "ALBATROSS!"

   She won't let me Bind her.

   "I said stop!" She fought, but I turned her over, and used the loop
under her thigh to pull her heel to the buttock.  She put an elbow up, so I
stuck the lash under there, caught it win the other hand, and pulled it
back, with a twist-loop to catch her wrist.

   {Trigger note: For the purposes of this chapter, Bondage is consensual.}

   "Ngh, No, please, I said the safe word, I give up, you win, just let me
go."

   "I'm not asking, now." She hates being bound, feeling helpless, so it's
a barrier we have to get through, to move on.  Any further in our
relationship, deeper in her mind to find whatever's still hiding behind
Morion.  "Tell me, tell me where is it."

   "Behind my bed!" She twisted, "NGH!  Ah, you're hurting me!"

   "I already found that stash, remember Ian told me about it?  But I know
you're holding out on me.  WHEREISIT!?"

   "Online, ah!"

   "On the Internet?" She shook her head, "Newsgroups?  BBS?" She stopped,
tightened her jaw.  I leaned down, listened.  Heard her teeth, grinding. 
Good orthodontist, porcelain caps you can't see, but I could feel with her
tongue.

   "Now," I slipped the loose end out to the lash,

   "AUGH!" She tried to jerk, straightened her twisted back,

   "You're gonna give me a number," I hit her thigh again, "Question is,
how many lashes is it gonna take?"

   "AH!  1, NHgn, 8, nsh, augh!  Stop!  Hundred,

   .

   .

   GOSUB 1

   Return

   {Start over at \Hubby, this is where she discovers the original Undernet
BBS.  Other than the last flash to forshadow Morion, it's basically the
archive under Author: Mother_Love.}