The Wager

Goddess Marquesa examined the enormous oaken door before her. It was stained a deep, lustrous auburn and carved with interlocking geometric designs. There was no doorbell, only a huge knocker in the shape of Heracles receiving the girdle of Hippolyta, with Heracles’s club serving as the mallet. This portal, as far as Goddess Marquesa could see, fit perfectly with the facade and vast grounds of the mansion to which it gave entry. It was as eccentric as the invitation that brought her here to Las Vegas. Read more…

Forgotten Time Remembered

There are more things in heaven and earth…
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
-Hamlet, Scene V,
William Shakespeare

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Which came first? Gods or the faithful?
Even in our day and age it lies unanswered.
Let us consider the particulars. Read more…

Falling for her part II

 

 

As the player moved up and down in concert with his chest he felt impatient, “when will it start?” he thought.  He calmed himself inside his mind and began to wonder why he was acting this way.  He had not even been able to hear a recording yet but the anticipation was so intense as if it were Christmas morning, Halloween night and the first time in love all wrapped up into one.  He started to tell himself to forget this sillyness and then he heard it. Read more…

“Past pleasures – It all started with a classic cassette tape!”

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon like any other. Finally he had been taking care of myself. Drinking plenty of water, getting 8 hours of sleep a night and focusing on things other than femdomme hypnotism. It seemed that every time he got into a rhythm or became productive something would derail him. Soon he would find himself scanning the net till the wee hours of the morning looking for the next kick, the next quick fix. Something that could break the spell she indefinitely had over him. Sure, he could stay away for a while but he always found himself drifting back, back and back again to the Goddess Marquesa. Read more…

Pig-maleon

Burton Clay pressed the flashing button on his office intercom. “Yes, Molly?” he asked in the clipped tones of a busy man.

“There is a depositor requesting to see you,” the voice of his secretary reported.

Burton looked at his watch. It was two-thirty. Even with shortened summer hours on a Friday afternoon, the bank would not close for another hour and a half. “All right,” he said into the intercom with weary resignation, “send him in.” Read more…

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