More than a teaser - the prologue from The Society Series, book 4, Vanished!

Just as I might never have published at all had it not been for the man who's memory this book is dedicated to, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere as a published author without awesome readers like you!  I was just sitting here, thinking about that, and thought, 'Ya know what?  I ought to post something longer from one of the books.'  As I'm working my way through the as-yet-untitled fifth book in the series, this seemed appropriate.  I'd love to hear what you have to say!

In contrast to the drive to The Manor, the two hour drive home seemed to fly by, and before I knew it we were pulling up in front of the house. I had been gone so long that it was almost like I was seeing it for the first time. The fact that Sean was indeed seeing it for the first time only furthered this feeling.

“So this is home.” Sean said, gazing up at the house as I walked around the Jeep to stand next to him.

“Yes, it is.” I replied with a little smile.

“American Queen Anne. It suits ye, little girl.”

I turned and gave him a surprised look.

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“I guess I've never had reason to tell ya. I've a degree in architecture.”

“Well, in that case you're really going to love this place! Would you like the grand tour?”

The slaves Francis was lending me had already arrived and Derek was busy seeing that everything was brought inside and put where it needed to go. He nodded in greeting and we headed up the stone path to the covered porch that spanned the front of the house and wrapped around the left side. I pulled open the heavy front door, admiring the refinished stained glass panel, and we stepped in to the large foyer. The twelve foot, dark wood paneled ceiling had been refinished, as had the matching panels on the walls and the cream marble floor polished to a high shine. All of the dark wood in the room might have been too much if it hadn't been for the cream color on the walls in between.

The large staircase was a brilliant mahogany, the deep red carpet running up the middle and covering the small landing unchanged. We stepped through the sliding panel doors to the left – something I'd had replaced – and in to a parlor that could have been right out of a history book. My eyes went wide and Sean let out a low whistle.

“Ye must've had an incredible designer, lass. This has been beautifully restored.”

“What I had was a crew of workers that could follow detailed instructions. I did the design plans myself.”

“I'm impressed.”

Though my household colors were black, burgundy and gold, the room was decorated mostly in green and gold to match the window seat cushion and the oriental style carpet set in the floor. The drapes were the same green and gold brocade as the cushion, and the Queen Anne couch and chair set I had found had been reupholstered in a deep green with gold accents. The fireplace had needed no work.

Across the foyer on the other side was the formal dining room, which had been left as I had found it, with dark wood wainscoting and a striped gold wallpaper above it. A small gold chandelier hung in the middle of the room and again there was a fireplace on the far wall. A long mahogany dining table sat in the middle of the room and the matching chairs had cushions covered with black and gold brocade.

Going through a doorway off to the left of the staircase at the back of the room, we entered a small hallway with a half-bathroom off to one side. It lead to the kitchen in the back of the house, which was large and airy with windows on each wall framed in antique lace curtains. The walls had been painted a sage green and the floor was hardwood now instead of tile.

The cabinets were a natural oak, counter tops a black granite. There was a round, rustic wood table with matching chairs, an electric oven with a gas range, a very large refrigerator and a dishwasher. All of these had wood facades that matched the cabinets to make them blend in. Off of the kitchen was a small butler's pantry that opened in to the dining room on the other side with charming little white cabinets on either side of the room and a pull out tray for resting dishes before serving them.

Going back in to the foyer, we went up the stairs to the second floor. It opened in to a good sized, long hall way with the same carpet running from one end to the other. On the far end to the right, taking up one side of the house from front to back was the master bedroom and off of that through French doors a lovely little porch with brick railing topped with wrought iron. There was a fireplace on one wall and polished dark wood flooring. The walls had been redone in the same wallpaper as the dining room above the new chair rail, and below that was a gold and burgundy print. A door had been cut in the wall to give access to a smaller room next door that had been remodeled in to a large master bath where as the door to the original bath had been plastered over and a door cut in to it from the hall way. Across from the fireplace was a king size oak canopy bed draped with gold and burgundy curtains. The room also had matching dressers and a black velvet covered love seat next to a floor to ceiling book shelf. A flat panel TV had been hung over the fireplace so that we could watch from either the bed or the couch.

“So, this is our room, isn't it lass.” He said as he looked around.

“Yes, it is. What do you think of it?”

“It's perfect.” He replied with a smile.

The master bath had golden and cream colored marble floor tiles and a matching counter around the his and hers sinks. The large, deep claw foot tub was set in to a corner, a loop of copper around the top for the shower curtain to hang from. There were little tile shelves along the wall behind the tub for candles, a a larger one with a towel rack for a washcloth. There was a warmer built in to the wall with a bath towel rack above it, and dressing room lights around a small vanity not far from the tub. A half wall covered in tile hid the toilet from view.

From there, I took him down the hall to the library. It was a cozy room with thick, deep blue carpet, dark wood paneling on the walls and ceiling, little brass sconces every couple of feet on the walls and a fireplace. This room also had French doors that opened on to it's own section of patio. A bit further there was a smaller room that had once been used as a nursery, with it's hard wood floors and pale blue walls. Next to it was a similar room with lavender walls. One had a fireplace and one didn't, and the Realtor explained that they had originally been one room that was the family's sitting room in the house, just as the master bedroom had been the mens billiards room in the house and the master bath had been the secretary's study. The small rooms I had left as they were for storage, or for when I had children of my own.

I explained how the previous owners had remodeled the second floor for the family instead of using the original family quarters on the third floor as we walked. That was where we went next and where the main staircase ended. The original master bedroom was right above the one on the second floor, running from the front of the house to about two three quarters back, where the original master bath was. It was very much like the newer one, with a huge claw foot tub and his and hers pedestal sinks with tables on one side of each and a towel rack on the other. There was also a lighted vanity as in the other one. Almost right next to the second master bedroom was the door to a bedroom that was only slightly smaller and also had its own fireplace. It was decorated in greens, blues and golds. I made the mental note that this would be Devon's room, since no furniture had been ordered for it yet.

Further down the hall were three other bedrooms, smaller than the second one. One of them had been turned in to a training room, one in to a room for Cunt, or whatever slave happened to be my favorite and the other in to a small guest room, all of them cream with dark wood accents. From there we took the servants stairs up to the attic, which was just one large room that spanned the entire house, with the ceiling slanted on either side. The whole thing had new insulation and drywall, as well as a refinished wood floor. There were several dormer windows that allowed plenty of light, with curtains to help keep it warmer or cooler as needed. At one end of the room two small bathrooms had been built, each with sink, toilet and shower stall. Slightly larger than normal twin sized beds took up the majority of the room, with enough space left for a nightstand by each and a path down the middle. Each bed had a chest at the foot of it for the slave's clothing and other personal items, if they were allowed to have such.

“Twelve beds? Ya intend ta have a large household, don't ya lass.” Sean said with a slight laugh.

“Well, yes, but also wanted to be able to provide someplace for the slaves of guests if they are not sleeping in the same room.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Ye have a beautiful house here, Annie, and I'm proud ta share it with ya.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I felt myself blush a little at the compliment.

“Now, if ya don't mind, I'm starvin'!”

I laughed and led the way back to the kitchen for our first meal in our new home.

***

The first week or so back at home I was busier than I had thought I would be. On the second day back I had taken Cunt to see Frederick and he had suggested that she be sent to the nearby slave maternity home as she was close to delivery. Without her at home, I found myself preparing most of the meals and enjoying doing so. I ordered a bed, dresser, night stands, lamps, book shelves, a desk with matching chair and a small couch for Devon, rush delivery, within three days of being home.

For the most part my days consisted of working on notes for up coming presentations and arranging to go to local slave auctions for household staff. In the evenings, Sean and I swam in the small pool in the yard and enjoyed the end of summer weather. Francis and his wife were frequent visitors, and the use of some of their household slaves was much appreciated. One evening, after being home about a week, Sean and I were watching the sun set from the front porch when a thought hit me out of the blue.

“It needs a name.” I said, catching him off guard.

“What does?” He replied, confused.

“The house. Most society houses have one.”

“I'd never really given it much thought, but yer right lass. We'll call it Julie.”

“What?! No, not that kind of name.” I said with a laugh.

“No, I know, 'tis just the first thing that came ta mind.”

I thought for a moment, tossing several ideas before I said,

“Stormhold.”

“Stormhold? I like it, it's regal just like the house. How'd ya come up with that?”

“It's from a fantasy movie that came out a few years back. We'll have to watch it some time.”

“Indeed. I can'na remember the last time I watched a movie.”

“Well, we will have to do that soon. I should have it on the shelf in the bedroom.”

The next morning had dawned stormy, providing the perfect excuse for us to take a day for ourselves. We curled up in bed and spent the day watching movies, starting with the one that had given me the name for the house. We were on our third movie, some time after lunch, when the door bell rang. As Derek was at his own house, though he had an office in mine, and we did not have any borrowed slaves at the time, Sean offered to answer it.

“Ya look too comfortable there, lass. I'll get it.”

I listened to the soft pat-pat of his feet on the floor as he moved through the hall and down the stairs to the hall way, finding the sound comforting. When he reached the door he opened it without thinking, as there had been so many deliveries as of late. However, this time it was not a delivery. Standing there on the porch, soaking wet and holding an umbrella, was Devon. Sean unknowingly glared at him as he stood there dripping. Devon looked at him expectantly, and after a moment realized that Sean didn't know he was supposed to be there. A wicked little smile split his face and in a cheery tone he said simply,

“Honey, I'm home.”

Teaser from At The Manor, Part One

I changed in to my training clothes, made my way to the porch, and stopped just short of the glass doors leading outside. There was Susan and three of the Ladies, whose names I couldn't remember for the life of me, all in casual clothing that was still impressively elegant. Their hair and nails were perfect, their make-up flawless. I looked down at my black tank top and shorts, black knee high boots and chipped nails. One hand found it's way self consciously to my hair, which was pulled back in a tight ponytail. With everything I had done and experienced since joining this world, it was unsettling to feel so much like an outsider. Taking a deep breath and shrugging off my nerves as best I could, I opened the door and stepped outside.

“Annie, hello!” Susan said in greeting, patting the empty chair beside her. “Come to join us?”

“I sure have. Derek offered to take care of getting my girl ready so I could relax a little before the party tonight.” I replied, taking the offered seat. One of the house slaves approached me and asked,

“Would you like a glass of wine, Miss?”

I smiled a little at how Susan had actually taken the time to inform them that I detested being called Ma'am, even though most of the Society Ladies preferred that term.

“Actually, Jameson would be great, on the rocks. And a ginger-ale.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The girl hurried off to get my drink, and I noticed that I was getting some odd looks from the other women at the table. For some reason, I was hit with a sudden wave of courage – and I hadn't even had a drink yet. I lit a cigarette, leaned back in my chair with my legs crossed and looked around at the surprised faces staring back at me.

“Why the strange looks, ladies?” I asked, suppressing a smirk.

“Annie, dear” Susan said before any of them could answer “I think they may just be surprised because not many Society women are like you.”

“I understand. With all the manners training and what not, it makes sense. Now, ladies, let me tell you something. I may be a little different from what you are used to, but that doesn't mean that I don't have manners or know how things work around here.”

I paused to take a drag from my cigarette and let what I had said sink in a little.

“Ya know, in a world where manners are so important, I have a hard time understanding the looks I received from you Ladies when I passed up wine for something a little stronger.”

Just then the girl returned with my drink, which I gladly took a long swig of before setting the glass down and looking around once more. Needless to say, the looks on their faces had changed. The women from their generation in The Society already had a tendency to look down on the ones around my age, and they were rarely ever called on it when their own behavior was less than stellar. There I was, much younger and pointing out their obvious faux pas. This time only their eyes showed their surprise, their faces frozen in politely blank expressions, any trace of a smirk easily hidden by a wine glass at the lips. There was silence among those seated at the table, the birds chirping near by and the ice in my glass the only real sounds. Finally, Susan spoke.

“I'm very much looking forward to tonight, Annie. Derek was hinting at a surprise earlier, said you have some kind of entertainment planned for the guests tonight different from what we usually have at parties?” It was more of a question than a statement.

I chuckled and sipped my drink

“I do have a surprise planned for this evening, and I think it's something that everyone will enjoy watching.”

“Would it have anything to do with the large canvas tarp covering so much of the garden?” There was a twinkle in her eye that told me she knew the answer to that, but would say nothing more that would risk spoiling the surprise for the others seated there.

“It sure would, but that's all I'm going to say.” Was my reply. Susan laughed.

“Wouldn't want to give anything away.”

I sat there in silence, sipping my drink and listening to the chatter of the other Ladies, suddenly much more comfortable with what I would be wearing to the party. Around six, Derek sent for me since the human animals were beginning to arrive. We had arranged for them to be delivered to The Manor before the party so that everything would be ready when the guests arrived. Susan kindly ushered the Ladies inside and made sure the drapes on windows facing the garden were pulled shut. They would remain that way until the unveiling of the entertainment.

Derek and several of the house slaves were waiting for me in my sitting room. With his help, I instructed the slaves on what to do with the array of ponies, cattle,puppies and kittens already being unloaded. That done, Derek lead the house slaves out of my suite to leave me to get myself and Cunt ready for the party. She was already bathed, her head freshly shaved and wig reattached, and Derek had done me a further service by getting her into her suit for the night. I left her to getting dressed and took a quick shower.

When I got out, I dried myself and wrapped the towel around my hair, not bothering with the robe. As I stood naked at the foot of the bed, staring at my clothes laid out and waiting, I felt the last of my reservations about the outfit melt away. First was the simple, lightly padded white bra,matching cotton panties and white cotton mid calf socks. I had stopped wearing panties almost completely as a teenager, but knew from experience that tonight I would be grateful for them. Second came the simple, black, sleeveless button up shirt with its crisp collar.

It came to an inch or two under my breasts, just a little above my slender waist and was held in place by the little tails in the front that I tied together and tucked up inside the shirt. Then there were the jeans, straight legged, deep blue and fitted in all the right places. They sat high on my hips, and between the jeans and the shirt, my smooth, flat midsection was perfectly accentuated. Last came the wide black leather belt with silver buckle and a pair of soft black leather knee high riding boots that looked just like the first pair I'd ever had.

I pulled the towel off my head and hung it up, shaking out my long, auburn hair and spritzing it with a little leave-in conditioner before running a brush through it. While I waited for it to dry a little more, I inspected Cunt. She was in a skin colored, opaque PVC cat suit that had a zip-on hood like the one Cow wore. The wig had been attached to the hood with strong double sided tape and had openings for her eyes, nostrils, mouth and even small ones at the ears to ensure that she could hear orders clearly.

Instead of leaving the breasts fully exposed, the suit had cups built in with smaller openings for her nipple and areola. Just below her breasts was the reason for not having the usual openings for them – the large opening that left her rounded belly uncovered. As with the cow suit, there was a zipper running between the legs to provide or prevent access to her holes as needed, and the legs were like stockings, encasing her feet as well.

I gave her a pair of black pumps with a six inch heel and locking 

ankle strap, which I made use of once she had put them on, then adorned her nipples and labia much as I had previously in the dungeon except that in place of the weights I used bells. I placed the same black posture collar around her neck and attached the straps for the tray. This time, however, the tray was resting just below her belly, secured by a strap that ran around her hips. The final touch was the words 'breeder slut slave' written across her protruding middle with thick black marker.

Having finished with her, I sat down at the vanity and brushed out my mostly dry hair. Perhaps it was a little cliché, but I parted my hair and put it in two braids that hung down over my shoulders. That had actually been my preference growing up, but I hadn't worn it that way in years. My make-up was natural, save for the deep red lipstick that had become my signature. After adding the implements from my belt that were always there for parties, with the addition of a soft black leather pair of riding gloves, I took a look at myself in the mirror. Staring back at me was a version of myself that I hadn't seen since I left my parents house some years prior.

Happy (Belated) Humpday! Teaser from At The Manor, Part Two

When the water began to cool, I stepped from the tub and in to the comfort of a warm, fluffy terry cloth robe that she had waiting for me. I brushed out my hair and braided it while she let out the water and extinguished the candles. The ones in my bedroom were already lit, and all I could figure was that she had done it while I was zoned out in my bath. She had even lit a stick of my favorite incense for me. She was getting quite good at anticipating my needs.

“Do you need anything else, Miss?” She asked, handing me a refilled glass of tea. I smiled.

“Well, there is one thing I'd like very much.”

“What's that, Miss?” Her eyes told me she was worried that she had forgotten something.

“You, clean and naked on my bed. You have ten minutes to shower.”

“Yes, Miss!” She said excitedly, then rushed off to the bathroom again.

I lit a cigarette and made my way to my window seat, sipping my tea. It seemed like forever since I had really spent “quality” time with my girl. In fact, I couldn't remember having done so since coming to The Manor. I shook my head, chiding myself for becoming too wrapped up in my work. She really was attractive to me now. Her own hair was still very short, and so she wore the chocolate-colored wig I had chosen every day. She had put on a tiny bit of weight now that she was in her second trimester, but it looked good. Her breasts were large and firm without resembling the rocks they had once been. Her skin had that glow to it that pregnant women often get, and her belly was so wonderfully round. She was a good bit larger than I had thought she would be at this point, and I suspected that the couple waiting for the baby would be in for twins. I was so lost in thought that I almost didn't notice when she emerged, freshly showered, and made her way to the bed. From the corner of my eye, I watched as she pulled the covers back and folded them at the foot of the bed and then lay down in the middle as was traditional when a slave had no more instruction than to get in bed.

I put out the cigarette and removed my robe, sitting on the edge of the bed. I stared at the girl that was mine and was suddenly very pleased with myself. Reaching out, I brushed my hand over one plump breast and then the other, tweaking the nipples a little and making her moan. I pinched harder and she moaned louder.

“You really have turned in to a little pain slut, haven't you girl.”

“Yes, Miss. Even more so since...” Her voice trailed off and her eyes went to her protruding middle.

“Since what?” I knew quite well what she meant, but the thought of hearing her say it did something for me.

“Since Miss had me knocked up for her.”

“Mmmm, I bet. Do you like that I had you impregnated now?”

“Oh, yes Miss, I do! I never would have known it was my place if it wasn't for you.”

Wow, I thought to myself. She really has made progress.

“That's right, Cunt. And what are you now?” My hand made its way towards the middle of her belly as I spoke.

“An object to be bred at your will, Miss.”

“Very good. And what else?”

“An impregnated slave, good only for breeding and serving, Miss.”

“Even better. And who do you belong to, slave?”

“You, Miss. Every inch of me belongs to you.”

Something about hearing her say it in that manner, without the third person speech, kicked my arousal in to high gear, and I kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm and full as she kissed me back passionately. I could tell she hadn't lost her taste for women, and I would make sure she never did. That single kiss quickly turned in to a heated make-out session reminiscent of two high-schoolers in the back of a car on a Friday night. One hand was on the back of her neck while the other alternated between caressing her belly and playing with her magnificent tits. Without being told, her hands began to explore my body in a similar manner, one wriggling between my body and the bed to reach behind me, the other gently fondling my breasts. It was that hand that eventually made its way between my legs and began to play with my clit. I moaned against her neck and bit down, causing her to arch and press her rounded belly against my flat one. The fingers circling my clit made their way further down and she pushed one, then two inside of me and found my g-spot within seconds. As I kissed and caressed and bit my obedient pregnant slave, she fingered me to a surprisingly quick orgasm.

Without even pausing to catch my breath from that one, I ordered her on her knees by the bed and slid my hips to the edge.

“You know what to do, slut.” I growled, my voice low with passion.

She set to her task eagerly, as this had been used as a reward early in her training, and began to lick at my pussy. 

 She teased as she cleaned me from the first orgasm with broad, flat strokes and when that was done she latched on to it like it was her last meal. Her lips, plump from kissing, almost formed a seal around the outside as she varied between circling my swollen clit with her tongue and darting it in and out of my soaking wet hole. Becoming a bit more bold than usual, she brought me to the brink or orgasm and back several times before pushing the same two fingers in to my pussy and suckling and licking my clit until I was convulsing on the bed, one orgasm flowing in to two and then three in a row. Normally I wouldn't have allowed such behavior, but something told me she did it because she knew I was stressed. Nothing cures stress quite like a series of incredibly powerful orgasms was something I often said in my lectures and presentations, and I never would have guessed the girl had been listening.

After the third, she let up a bit, pumping her fingers in and out slowly while alternately suckling and blowing on my little nub. When my breathing had slowed almost to normal, she began again, once more taking me to the brink and back before pushing me over it to a series of orgasms even more powerful than the first. I eventually lost track, and when I was laying there twitching and moaning and honestly unable to do much more, she stopped. I didn't even realize she had gotten up until she returned with two cool towels, one for my head and the other for between my legs. She placed them in their respective spots and then knelt at my feet until I could think coherently again.

“Good lord, you've learned a lot!” I exclaimed when I was finally able to sit up. She smiled at me.

“You are pleased, Miss?”

“Oh yes, yes, quite pleased, very pleased.” I still wasn't thinking completely clearly. She removed a cigarette from my pack and handed it to me as she struck my lighter.

“Thanks.” Was my only reply as I lit it and reached for my tea. She smiled a little smile that said she was happy to see me in this state from her actions. After a few moments, I said,

“You did very well, Cunt. And when I have recovered a bit more, there are several things I plan to do to you. Go fetch the red bag from my closet.”

The red bag was the one that held the toys I knew she was the fondest of. A black butt plug shaped more like a cock than a traditional plug, a matching dildo for my favorite strap-on harness, a pair of clover clamps and a handful of other things. She knew it, and the look on her face was so eager that I had to laugh. The poor thing had been getting used on a much more regular basis before her domestic training had really begun, and I made a mental note not to let it go this long again. Regular sexual use was a common way of keeping slaves content.

After a few more minutes I was clear headed enough to continue. I put out my cigarette and ordered her up on the bed, ass in the air. It was a lovely site. With a little bit of lube, I easily inserted the large plug in to her well used asshole, the six inch long intruder sliding in with one smooth stroke as she moaned. I ordered her to roll over as I slipped on the harness and attached the dildo, then placed the clamps on her puffy little nipples. It was one that she had been trained with when I first acquired her, and she had since become very fond of it. Twelve inches long and almost three inches around, she had screamed the first time as it had nearly ripped her in half. Now she loved it, begged for it. I was proud of how far I had brought her. As she lay there under me, lustily eying the dildo, I smiled.

“You want this, don't you girl.” I said, taking it in one hand.

“Yes, Miss, I do!”

“Beg for it, then. Beg like the nasty little cock loving slut you are.”

What had once been insults were now one of her biggest turn-ons, and almost terms of endearment to her. She begged like her life depended on it.

“Please, Miss, please, I need your hard cock! Please, Miss, your filthy breeding slut needs your cock, needs to be fucked by the one who owns her! Please, stick that big black cock in my cunt, Miss, please, your slave needs it!” The expression on her face mirrored her words and I found myself incredibly turned on again. I positioned the tip at the entrance to her dripping hole and slowly, almost painfully so, pushed the cock in to her waiting cunt.

As it went in bit by tiny bit, she whimpered. This had always been a sort of torture for her, feeling that black monster filling and stretching her so slowly that she felt like she could never be full, never have enough of it. Already her cunt muscles were pulsing around it, bordering on an orgasm. I saw it on her face. I stopped.

“Hold it back, Cunt.” I ordered.

“Yes, Miss!” She groaned.

I resumed what I was doing, the cock already about half way in. Moving even slower than before, I pushed the rest of it inside, finally filling her all the way. I let it rest there briefly before doing the same thing in reverse, watching her legs and hips shake with the effort of holding back her orgasm as commanded.

“Not yet.” I said as I began to ease it back in. “That orgasm belongs to me, your Owner, just as the rest of you does, and you will not cum until I allow you to, slave.”

“Yes, Miss!”

“I know you need it, girl. I know I'm going so slow it hurts. I can feel your cunt trying to pull it in deeper, feel how much you need this cock. Tell me what you need, girl.” I was once again stopped with the dildo halfway in.

“I need your cock, Miss! I need to be fucked! I need to get pounded like the disgusting, knocked up little whore that I am, Miss!” She was nearly in tears.

I reached up and gave the chain on the clamps a playful tug. Still holding the chain in one hand, I braced myself on the bed with the other and began to move in and out of her with long, slow strokes. Her trembling grew as I fucked her, knowing that she was right on the edge of orgasm and desperately wanting permission to let go. After a few more minutes of this exquisite torture, I began to pound in to her like the men and the machines had done during the early days, fucking her with the strap-on as hard as I could. Finally, I pulled hard on the chain at the same time that I commanded her to cum for me. And she did, harder than I had seen her cum under me before. She screamed her pleasure as it ripped through her, barely subsiding before a second hit, then a third and a fourth. I continued pounding in to her for as long as I could, and when I was done, we were both covered in sweat and the sheets were damp. I allowed her to catch her breath for a little while before having her get me off once more, as using her in that way had me all worked up again. When I was satisfied I headed for the shower, leaving her with instructions to put clean, dry sheets on my bed and then find her own.

Whatever Happened to Good Manners?

Please.  Thank you.  Excuse me.  There was a time when these were so completely common in everyday speech that to not use them when the situation called for it was unthinkable.  Today, sadly, not so much.  It would seem good manners are becoming a thing of the past.  Typically I ignore the lack of manners from the general public while making sure to use them myself, as I was raised to.  There isn't much I can do about the fact that painfully few children are raised to be polite anymore, or about the general rudeness in society today.  What I would like to attempt to do something about, however, is the lack of manners within the kink community when it comes to events.

I've been active in my local community for almost ten years now.  For some, that may seem like a long time, for others I may still be considered a relative newbie.  Either way you look at it, a lot has changed in those ten years and it's been fascinating to watch.  Trends have gained and declined in popularity, people have come and gone and come again - and what were once widely accepted rules have apparently gone the way of the Dodo.  I was at an event recently where I had the chance to simply sit back and observe.  The space was, admittedly, on the small side.  Many communities have to make do with less-than-perfect locations for events due to local laws.  Due to the size of the space, having well defined, separate areas for play and socialization wasn't possible as it is at other venues.  The point of this is generally to keep the chatter of those socializing from interfering with the scenes taking place.  In this case, not a big deal, right?  It would seem simple enough to speak softly when having a conversation near a scene, would it not?  Perhaps if the music hadn't been blaring so loudly as to make this extremely difficult, if not impossible.

Alright.  Not the first time I've seen something like this.  You prepare for it, work around it.  If you're going to have a scene, you know what sort of environment it will be in.  If the noise bothers you, bring earplugs or don't scene at that venue.  Still, what I observed from people at this event (and at others I have been to in the last few weeks) both saddens and appalls me.  I'll do my best to keep this as basic as possible.

1. Excuse Me.

Two of the most underused words in the English language today, if you ask me.  I can't count the number of times I have been at a crowded event and had someone push past me, push me in to someone else, step on my feet, and/or nearly spill a drink (theirs or mine) on me in their attempt to get from one side of the room to the other without so much as an apologetic look.  Yes, the room is crowded.  Yes, there may not be much room for you to get through.  Even more reason to apply basic manners and say "Excuse me" as you try to wiggle your way through the crowd, and while you're at it, be mindful of people's feet and drinks.  

2. Watch where you step

Since we're already on the topic of watching where you walk, be on the lookout for designated play areas.  Typically, the smaller the event space, the more important this becomes.  This is not only good manners, it is safety as well.  Look around.  Check the floor around any dungeon furniture that may be on display at this event.  Do you see areas marked off there?  Chances are, you do.  These areas are not guidelines, they are not polite suggestions.  They mean that should you step within those lines while a scene is in progress you may very likely get hit by some implement or another on the back swing.  And it will be entirely your fault.  Do not walk through these areas when a scene is going on, and do not stand too close to this line to watch. 

3. Watch where you stand

Many venues provide tables and chairs for the guests, and many people will arrive early in order to lay claim to a table, especially in smaller venues.  Some may even provide seating around the dungeon area (in a venue where space allows for separate play and social areas) so that guests may sit comfortably and watch.  Despite this, you opt to stand to watch a particular scene in progress.  That's perfectly fine.  However, take a few seconds to peel your eyes off the scene and look around to make sure that you aren't blocking someone else's view.  Now, I understand that in some cases, this may be unavoidable to a certain degree.  However, by being aware of your surroundings and, when necessary and possible adjusting so you are no longer blocking the view of others, you lessen your chances of coming off as rude or ill-mannered. 

4. Watch who you touch

One would think this would go without saying, and there was a time when it did.  However, lately, it would seem this has gone out the window right along with everything else.  The scene I'm a part of has always been fairly laid back and informal, unlike some others - it's a regional thing - and so it's perfectly normal for friends to hug and what not, regardless of if they are Dom or sub, owned or not.  In some scenes, even a good friend wont hug someone who is a sub or slave without the direct permission of their Dominant.  I digress.  Now, when I attend events, I see something that greatly disturbs me - people running around smacking others with toys without direct consent, people joining in on scenes (seemingly) without having been invited, and just generally touching people when they shouldn't be.  In my opinion, one simple rule applies here - if you wouldn't run around touching everyone in a vanilla setting, don't do it in a kink one.  Hell, even if you would do it in a vanilla setting, don't do it here.


Even in the world as it is today, manners still matter.  Do yourself and everyone around you a favor and try to remember that.

Happy Humpday! Teaser from At The Manor, Part One

 They were quickly devoid of garments, each sporting a bare pubic region and partially erect cock that I could tell would be more than satisfying despite their semi-flacid state. I could feel my body beginning to tingle just from the sight of them, and so, placing my wine glass on the bedside table, took a deep breath and said,

“I assume Susan told the two of you what I would like?” They nodded, and my control over what happened in my bed ended there.

Andy grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me from the bed, looping his arms through mine and effectively trapping me against him. Sean moved around the bed to where we were and pulled the robe open, then took his time in looking me over. He nodded to Andy, and next thing I knew I was fully naked and bound over a small, padded table that they had brought in while I was in my bath. My legs were spread, a small, angled pillow was placed under my hips to keep them at just the right height and my breasts had been pushed through holes that were just the slightest bit too small. I made a mental note of this unique form of breast bondage just before a pair of clamps dug in to my nipples and impaired my ability to think clearly. Andy stepped in front of me and presented his cock to me as Sean ran a hand over my pussy, wiggling a finger in to my slit and finding me wet already.

I happily opened my mouth and began to suck on the cock in front of my face, thoroughly enjoying the taste of a man for the first time in I don't know how long. He moaned and wrapped my hair around one hand, pushing his cock in deeper. Sean found my clit and began to play with it while spreading me open with his other hand and inserting two fingers in to my pussy. I moaned loudly around the cock in my mouth and Andy gave a little chuckle that had just a hint of cruelty to it.

“Sounds like this little slut is really enjoying herself.” He said, pushing his cock even further in to my mouth and down my throat just a little.

“Oh, for certain she is. Her cunt's drippin' wet already.” Was Sean's reply. “Though I bet I know what she really wants.”

He slapped my ass hard on each side.

“Ya want my cock in yer tight little hole, slut?” He said in a teasing tone and I nodded my head as best I could while sucking hungrily on Andy's throbbing cock.

Andy pulled out of my mouth, yanked my head up by the hair and said,

“Ask for it then, you horny little bitch. Beg for it.”

I shuddered with pleasure and anticipation at his words and his tone.

“Please, may I have a cock in my pussy? Please, please let me have your cock in my pussy?” The words seemed foreign yet natural and I could feel my own juices begin to drip down my thighs. He yanked a littler harder on my hair and said,

“I said beg, slut!”

“Please, please put your cock in me! Please, I need your cock, I need to be fucked! Please let me have your cock!”

“That's better!” They said in chorus.

Before I knew what was happening, Andy had shoved his cock back in to my mouth and Sean had slammed his in to my pussy. I felt waves of pleasure wash over me as they simultaneously pounded in to my body, fucking back against Sean as best I could while bound to the table. After a while, he reached around me and began to play with my clit again and I could feel orgasm building. Andy sensed this and began to work his cock down in to my throat, cutting off my ability to breath while Sean fucked me harder and rubbed furiously at my clit.

When I was right on the edge, Andy pulled back and just as I took a huge gulp of air, the orgasm hit me. My screams of ecstasy were cut short by Andy's cock being pushed back in to my mouth and I began to suck hard once more, without even thinking about it. As Andy fucked my mouth in a way very similar to how Sean was fucking my pussy, I was pushed over the edge to a second orgasm at the same time that I felt them both emptying their loads in to me. This only served to arouse me further, making the orgasm much more intense.

It didn't end there. Before sitting down to catch their breath, Andy attached a small yet high powered vibrator to my clit. They watched from the bed as I moaned and writhed in my bondage, cum leaking from my freshly fucked twat and my lips swollen from the abuse my mouth had taken. After what seemed like forever to me, I heard one of them unzip a bag and take something from it. I didn't know what it was until I felt Sean behind me, lubing the large butt plug with the juices leaking from my pussy.

Andy grabbed each of my ass cheeks firmly and spread them wide, eliciting a loud moan from me that only rose in volume as I felt the large toy being pressed firmly against my as-yet unused hole. There was a sharp pain as it forced my body to stretch to its girth, and then it was in, stuffing my tight little asshole completely. It was then that I was unbound and placed on my back on the bed, my head hanging over the edge. Andy was now between my legs, his cock hardening again and Sean was rubbing the tip of his own partial erection over my lips, prodding my mouth open. I swirled my tongue around it until it was long and firm once more while Andy rubbed his up and down my wet and swollen pussy.

The angle my head was at was just right so as to allow Sean to push his cock in to my mouth and strait down my throat with minimal resistance, and I gagged only a little as he did so. Andy took his turn with my pussy, pushing in to me just as slowly as Sean was pushing his in to my throat, until I was completely impaled on their massive cocks from both ends. The combination of their cocks filling my cunt and mouth, and the large plug up my ass was enough to push me over the edge right there and I convulsed under them as I orgasmed again. As though it had all been choreographed, they slowly and simultaneously fucked me, the long, slow thrusts driving me wild with desire. They pushed me to the edge and held me there for some time before the cock in my mouth was once more pushed deep enough to prevent breathing and the one in my pussy began to pound in to me hard.

I arched off the bed involuntarily, cumming hard and almost forcing Andy's cock out of my pussy with it's convulsions. Both cocks were slammed deep in to their respective holes as they began to pulse and shoot their hot cum in to my body. Sean's cock was so far down my throat that I had no choice but to swallow it, though I knew I would have chosen that on my own if given the chance. Andy's cock was pumping a large load in to my pussy and the feel of it was heavenly.