Gulag

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"Hey.. What's your name?" "Patrick." "Hello Patrick. Where you from?" "New York." "New York? I was there once. Don't sweat it, Patrick. It's a piece of cake. They just want to push you, you see. See how far you'll go." "For what?" "For what do you think? For money." "I can't believe this." "Look at it this way.. Most guys would die to be in your place. A bunch of raunchy babes raping you? Most guys would die." "Has anyone died?" "Yes. In fact he was in that cell your in right now. That's Carmen.. she's got this weird idea in her head that she can make a guy breath." "What?" "Yah.. His name was Lou from Cincinatti. Carmen took him and drowned him in a long sit. And then she squirts the stuff in and out like a big bodacious set of lungs. Oh she has a good time alright.. Calling it the sexiest idea she's ever had. 'I can make him breath! I can make him breath!' You should hear the lunacy. But Lou didn't breath, Patrick from New York. He died.." Then he started laughing hysterically.. a crazy look of concern on his face. "A hard on that big.."

http://www.desktopia.com

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It was a cold and sloppy winter. The sidewalk littered with dirty, slushy snow. And a limosine pulled up to the clear spot on the sidewalk. The driver opening up the door to a long and beautiful set of legs in high heels. Can you imagine that? High heels.. She had this beatiful mink scarf wrapped around her neck to keep her warm. It looked like Davey Crockette's hat. "Hello Mrs. Scarborough." "Hello." And there was a petite red haired woman meeting her at the entrance to the building. "This way please."

"I can do anything?" "Yes. That's why we have so many interested customers, Mrs. Scarborough. It's all discrete." "I can hurt him?" "You can kill him." "I don't want to kill him. I'm not a murderer." "Oh! I didn't mean.." "I just want to make him struggle." And she lit up a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. "I want to feel him struggle." "I understand." And the little redhead handed her a book that ironically looked like a police mugshot photo collection. Mrs. Scarborough was very interested. In fact, she was getting turned on by it.. flipping thru the pages. "There's so many." "Yes. We offer something for everyone."

And like magic beaming thru the pages, thru the digital representation straight to her fantasy, she saw him. "Him." And she pointed and handed the book back to her. "You have good taste, Mrs. Scarborough." And with a final puff one would mistake for a laugh she said: "Thank you." And stood.

The driver was there to meet her at the limosine. Long, beautiful legs, for such an older woman. For such an elderly woman, she was quite beautiful. And very.. very wealthy.

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"John." It took him this long to figure out that he never even asked what his name was. With a sad look on his face it was like he read his mind, and he turned and smiled. "That's me." "John!" There was a big bald headed guy standing at the door to John's cell. The veins were popping out from his neck. Patrick recognized him from two days ago, when he threw him in his cell. Or at least he thought it was two days ago. "Are you gonna die man?" "I don't know. This is my second time.." And the big bald headed guy growled like a dog, walked in and grabbed him like he were a sack of potatoes. Throwing him out the cell door. John yelled back at him. "Don't forget me, Patrick from New York." "I won't." "Just hope I don't get Carmen. She's a regular here, I hear." And in defiance Patrick yelled out: "Fuck you! You fucking redneck!" But the big bald headed guy was like a mute.. didn't even turn a stare. And grabbed John by the arm leading him out the hallway door.

In the distance you heard John talking to himself. "Here I come, baby! Your fantasy come true! Here I come bitch.."

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"You've been victimized.." He wouldn't go away. All she wanted was to be left alone. To collect her thoughts.. To get to know herself better for a change, and not somebody else's interpretations. It was smothering the way everybody's help seemed to be her coffin. So much opened space out that highrise window, and people were drawn to her, one by one. For her sake.. Like a stuffy closet.

"Your hearts been broken.." "What do you want?" "To give you something." "What? Just tell me what, then leave. Please." "This." And he handed her a card. "Your card?" "Check the back." And she turned it over. "There's a phone number.. It's all been arranged. Payed for.." But she was frustrated. "What is it?" And Jack couldn't bare the turnaround any longer. Such a beautiful woman.. It was so sad to see her heartbroken, and now to see her angry with him too. He stood and headed for the door. "People who can help you." And he left.

The phone only rang once. "Hello?" "Hello?" "Hello." "Who is this?" "Who is this?" And there was a long pause. "This is Stella. Stella Oglebee." "Ah yes! Miss Oglebee! Hello, I'm sorry.. I didn't know it was you." "Who are you?" "My name is Julie. Julie Dire. How are you Miss Oglebee?" "I'm fine. I mean.. I'm fine. Jack said you can help me? Help me with what?" "Yes, it's all been arranged, Miss Oglebee." "What?" "Your session." "My session? Are you a psychologist?" "No." "A doctor or something?" "A doctor?" And the receiver laughed. "Are you sick Miss Oglebee?" "No." "I'll send a car." "For what?" And Stella laughed sarcastically. But after a pause the receiver answered. "For your wildest fantasy to come true."

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John lay there struggling for air. Coughing.. Mrs. Scarboroughs hands around his neck.. squeezing. Pressing in towards her bust that hovored over his head, her bare ear hidden in his sweaty dark hair. And she listened.. then let go. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a classy ball, and she sat up by his tired side to let her hair down. The company had met her every need.. ensuring the man was well restrained on his back on what they called a dominatrix bed; a bed that made quite sure the victim was restrained while making it quite a comfortable lay, or sit. Lots of room to play.. Lots of configurations..

John's head turned slowly from side to side sweating.. weakly reaching for air. And when her hair fell down to the small of her back she again looked down at him like an irresistable plaything. She hadn't even taken the time yet to get undressed. She gently shook her head from side to side letting all the hair fall down, sniffed, grinned, and then put her hand over his mouth. Almost shyly.. awkwardly. Like it were nothing, but like it were important. It immediately opened, his eyes slowly opening and closing. And she pressed down, trying to block the air. The other hand going up to his nose and pinching it shut. The act brought a smile to her face: "Oh, you're awake now." And she again bent over, putting her mouth to his while keeping his nose pinched shut to give him a long kiss. It was fascinating how comfortable she felt. Especially with him there in such discomfort.. Like it were one or the other somehow. She felt the nipples beneath her blouse get hard and the wetness in her lap get warm. And her own lips.. like she always did when she got turned on so.. like ice.

She let go of his nose and slid her fingers in between the space between her skin and her hips.. her buttocks.. maintaining a long and dominating kiss. Letting the hair gently smother him, all around him. Pushing away the uncomfortable layers of cloths. The skirt.. the nylons.. the underwear. Wedging it up and over that beautiful mound of muscle.

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Stella started laughing.. a laugh with a seemingly endless supply of humor as the neurons made their inevitable connections. "He thought that this.. and then I'd feel that.. and this.. and hahahahahahaha.." a hand slapping her own forehead, and slopping down the face. "Oh my god." "I'm quite serious, Miss Oglebee." "How much did this cost?" A look of insecurity came across the redheads face. "It's our policy not to discuss cost." "Oh of course not. Hahahahahahahahaha! Oh my god.." It was a comedy. Nobody else could describe as anything else! But nonetheless, the look on the redheads face became stern. Serious. "Don't you have any fantasies Miss Oglebee?" But Stella stood. "I'm sorry. You're going to have to give him his money back. This is not what I want." "Very well." And she stood from behind her desk. Despite the humor, she was a very very beautiful woman. A woman who without so much as a word could make or break the silliest of ideas. "Please sign this." "What's this?" "It's a release form." And Stella picked up the piece of paper, pulling her eyes away from the redhead's aura, and read. "What's this?"

"These men.. Are they held against their will?" "It doesn't concern you, Miss Oglebee. Please sign here." And she pointed. And the last of the humor made it's way out a short.. and curious single laugh. A whisper..

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It was like a man. The most beautiful man in the world. The way those two massive buttocks had a hold of him, and pushed long and slow and deep and desperate their inner workings over that man's face. Like there was nothing there.. Just a neck. Just a living, swallowing neck. She held one hand opened and delicate on his adam's apple, and the other was up and over on his forehead, though you couldn't see it. Rough, and tugging on his hair. And she so rubbed.. a devistating rub that made the fat in her buttocks jingle ever so slightly. Gentle.. Heavy.. Precise.. Exactly where it wanted to be. And her long lovely legs were spread awkwardly. A left heel pointing outwards.. pushing out the ass on the top into the head. And the right on it's side. Resting.. absorbing the comfort a lazy limb in the comfortable grass. And every now and then you heard the man's struggles. A serious struggle. A scream.. a choke.. A muffling up again. A gurgling and a goo. And she was crying. Not an unhappy cry. But of lovely cry. A desperate cry for a taste she for too long never had enough of. And it'd all stop for the orgasm. Everything.. right down to a heartbeat.

Over and over again this woman would do this to John. In many many different positions, all climaxing on that inevitable place over the mouth and nose. That holding of his breath. Of his life. And that bite of a woman's sting. A squirting so profound.. so nauseating. One time staring into his eyes, mesmerized, she jokingly told him he'd get pregnant. She fell asleep like that. A hundred times.. a hundred miles away.. a hundred different ways curled around his bound head, like his dream. The perfect plaything.. The perfect domination.

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"Hey. What's your name?" "Randy." "Where you from Randy?" "Miami." "Miami? Wow. Hot sun. Nice beaches. The good life." "Where am I?" "You're smack dab right in the middle of the womb of the biggest bitch's belly you ever saw, Randy from Miami." "I can't believe this." "Don't sweat it. You're the accumulation of every woman's hatred for mankind. The manifestation of male chauvinism in the raw. In the flesh. They'll lie, they'll cheat, they'll spit, and they'll pretend you're the fantasy of a lifetime. You'll like it." "They can't do this! They can't just take people! This is nuts!" "Most guys would die for what you're about to go thru." "Has anybody ever died?" "Yah.. as a matter of fact. The guy who was in that cell before you. John his name was. She was about to let him go too and then at the last minute wanted the feeling. A tingle in her loin and poof.. snuffed him out." And Patrick put his fingers up in the air making quotes.

"Patrick!" There was a big muscle bound bald headed guy at Patrick's cell door. "That's me." "Hey! Fuck you you fucking mute! Let us go!" Randy yelled at him. "He won't listen." "Patrick!" "Hey, don't forget about me Randy from Miami." "I won't." And there was a growl from the big man like a dog, and he charged in, picked Patrick up, and threw him out the cell door. "Here I come bitch!" Patrick yelled. "Here I come you god damned freak of nature! Your fantasy come true! Right here!" And the door to the hallway slammed shut behind him.

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Stella was dressed in her same gym cloths and sneakers she was when she first met the redhead hours ago. And she was off to the side of the room on the floor stretching. Whenever she was uncertain about anything she gave herself a workout.. relieving the tension in the muscles. Patrick was a wealth of words, most of them fowl, neatly strapped to that comfortable foam bed. Some of it actually got to her too. Some of it made it's way clear to her conscience. But thoughts of Kieth always cast a shadow in that window. "How could he just leave me? How could he just sleep with another woman? Like that?" And she sat with one leg out bending all the way down to put her nose on her kneecap. Feeling the muscles in her buttocks stretch. In the back of her thigh.. "IF YOU GOT ANY CONSCIENCE, BITCH!"

"What do you know about conscience?" "Everything! Hey, let me go, k?" "No."

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This girl, stella, manages to wean her bias about men psychologically, like he's a drain of some kind. He lives thru it, this one really isn't a murderer, but the older lady comes back and gets him later. (The guy who just came in gets Carmen).

But Stella is really really sexy.. because she's really gotta psycholigical thing going. The older lady is downright black as coal in the soul, a loss, but Stella is finding something out about herself with this stuff. A win. To her, everything is involuntary about her sexuality. Right down to the act itself.. And the redhead gives her something really special. A perspective. A choice. A kind of accepting of her feminine disparagement as "open space" just for her. She can smother him to death, but instead she finds room for air.. a giving. A grace she can't help. And that she learns to love about herself.

The face sit is really sexy.. because she doesn't know what she's doing. And at first it's sloppy and awkward, but after a while, when the psychology is right, she really gets into it. Like never seeing a horse before and jumping on it's back and looking like a natural.

Carmen is probably the best one though. Because she's got like a pump thing going.. freakiest sex you ever saw. If I wrote about her I'd just write a story about a slimey freaky monster, and then stick her name in afterwards.. :)

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That beautiful redhead is in the story too. Because when Carmen does that new guy? It's bloody aweful. I mean, it is literally like a creature from the black lagoon eating some poor guy up like a meal. And he doesn't go down easy neither. And Carmen, a really pretty woman, starts worrying with the redhead about it. She's even wondering if she's crazy. But the redhead goes something like:

"Don't worry about it. They're men. They don't know what love is. When they love someone, they love you by taking everything they fell in love with away from you so that no one else can have it but them. He got what he deserved."

Incidently, Carmen? Carmen is this beautiful black lady with this really really seductive voice. But she's unusaul because when she talks her tone and her semantics are overly emphasized.. It means nothing except that it's overly PC. Too polite.. Too proper.. You get the sense that she's too disciplined and not down to earth. The sense that makes you want to ask her "Hey.. do you ever let your hair down?"

[Richy]

Another cool story _ incidentally, I've only read the two, so far...

but I'd just like to say one thing, to all the lurkers out there....

LOOK at all the time and effort put into this - would a reply (ONE line, even) be TOO MUCH to ask for?

Do you know how damn IRRITATING it is to do this and no one can be bothered to reply?

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Well actually, Rich, it throws me off. It may sound wacky, but it's like finding the foxiest chick in the world.. And your imagination runs wild.. and some guy walks in, in the middle of your masterpiece and says: "hey.. cool.." instant no-boner-no-mo..

Or you marry the girl of your dreams.. and she gets this thermometer and says "I'm ovulating.."