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Message-ID: <43098asstr$1056661803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: genericjoe@offthebeatenpath.org
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Subject: {ASSM} GenericJoe's Images : 0004 (MF BDSM Mdom)
Date: Thu, 26 Jun 2003 17:10:03 -0400
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Images
by GenericJoe <genericjoe@offthebeatenpath.org>

In deference to short pieces, to Suki's images from when I was first
finding my bdsm-self, I am going to work on a series of images, most of
which will have a bdsm theme of some kind or another, all short.  At
least three a week (but I'd love to do them daily.)

As they are posted, the images will be archived at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/genericjoe/www/images/


0004
(MF BDSM Mdom)

The sculpture was of leather and bright blue Saran wrap and was
suspended, carefully balanced from the ceiling.  A faint buzzing sound
could be heard from it, as it slowly swung, pendulous, from side to
side.  The artist turned to his female friend, "Do you like it?" he
asked.

She smiled, blushing and nodded.

"Do you want to touch it?" he asked her intently.

Again she nodded.  He took her hands, and pressed them against the
sculpture's torso.  It was warm, and soft, the plastic slick against her
palms.  Her hands felt glued in place where he had placed them.

"Go ahead," he said.  "Touch it however you want.  Imagine what it must
feel like inside.  It can't hear or see or smell or taste us.   The only
thing it knows is touch.  And that is your power.  Touch it."

She moved her hands over it, down legs and arms, sliding in the private
place between the legs, caressing the chest, the head.  She couldn't
tell -- cock or pussy? breasts or not? -- underneath all the leather and
plastic.

He watched her, as she played with the sculpture.  Watched the sculpture
try to move and squirm to get more touch.  He watched as she reacted,
touching here, and there; one hand on her own breast, moving down to her
own crotch.

"What do you think?" he asked, coming up behind her.  "It's intriguing,
isn't it?"  One of her hands was on the sculpture the other, pressing
her dress into her cunt.

"Y-yes," she said.  "I think..."

"What?'

"I think I want..."

"Want what?" he asked, grabbing her free hand, and running it over the
hanging sculpture. She stammered, some part of her couldn't go on. 
"Tell me," he demanded. "What do you want?"  He guided her hand to the
scultpure's crotch, pressing it in.

"I want to do it," she said, and shuddered.

The sculpture moaned.

He roared with laughter.

(C) GenericJoe, 2003
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/genericjoe/www/images/image0004.html

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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