Monday, December 7, 2015

A XXXmas tale from ole Deity

When ole Deity was little, he absolutely loved Christmas. He would lay under the tree in the living room and just stare up through all the twinkly lights, the shiny ornaments and the velvet green pine needles all night long. He loved the Christmas songs that came out of this electronic sound box his parents had bought that synced the twinkle of the lights to sharp-pitched tones. He loved how this was the only room in the entire house he could lay and feel alone, but not in solitude. He loved that not far away he could hear the plates and glasses from dinner being cleaned and put into the dishwasher, and even further in the distance, the blurry vocal static of the television that his dad was watching. Not even his lovable orange tomcat came and broke his sanctuary. Hours and hours were spent underneath that tree, all in anticipation for the morning of Christmas day.

Now, you might think that the little boy was excited about the presents that he would be opening once Christmas arrived, but that was not what was going through his head. Every year, before the presents were opened, his family held a little ceremony where the little baby Jesus figurine was put into the handmade Nativity scene that sprawled all over the coffee table. Nothing could happen before this took place - no presents, no hot cocoa, no cinnamon rolls, no carols - NOTHING. The honor of placing the baby Jesus into the manger had always fallen to the little boy, and he considered it magical - he was the one who started Christmas.

One year, a few days before Christmas, the little boy's mother informed him that they were having to make a slight change to the way things worked on Christmas morning. She told him that his older sister had asked if she could place the baby Jesus in the manger this year, and his mother thought that it made sense to share the duties. The little boy didn't think it made sense at all. He erupted, screaming, hollering and tossing about the entire room. This response took his mother by complete surprise, and she saw that she needed to come up with a solution quickly. She told the little boy that he could carry the candle into the room that was used to light all the other candles around the manger - something his mother told him also needed to happen in order for Christmas to start. Until now, that role had been one of his parents, an adult role, and she thought he was a big enough boy to handle that important responsibility. The boy quieted down and accepted the role, but only after his mother told him that next year he'd get to be the one to place the baby Jesus (they'd alternate years).

So, on that morning, he stood in the hallway with his sister. He watched as she opened her hands, and his mother placed the beautiful figurine in her out-stretched palms. He then watched as she bent down and carefully lit the white candle he gripped tightly. His sister turned and began walking into the living room, and he followed, making sure to step carefully so that the flame didn't get blown away by his movement. He kept one eye on the bright fiery light and one on his sister as she stopped in front of the manger. And just as she bent down to gingerly place the porcelain child into his cradle...

...the little boy lifted the candle to the back of her head, and lit her hair on fire.

Thursday, January 15, 2015


The thing that interests me the most about cooking is the chemistry involved. You can take an egg (a liquid) and apply heat to it, and it changes into a solid (an omelet). Because I'm able to understand these phase changes, I'm actually a very gifted cook. I can read a recipe once, understand the basic methodology the various chemical/physical reactions it's intending to create, and improvise. I'm able to open my fridge, scan the leftovers, jars and vegetables, and compile a quick meal that exceeds most courses on offer at higher end restaurants. I'm not saying this from my point of view. I'm saying it from the point of view of the countless dozens of people who have been the recipient of my cooking. They cannot help themselves but offer their joy and delight upon immediately tasting the cuisine in front of them. All it takes to make a good dinner is concentration and clarity.

So then, why would I fuck with this combination by putting my girl into a predicament bondage tie while I'm in the middle of preparing the main course for an upcoming dinner party?

It had been awhile since she and I had played, and we had both been able to take off some extended time from our jobs during the holidays. This left us with more leisure time than we're used to having. I was going to the Italian market that morning, to get the essential ingredients for the sauce I'd be serving for dinner. As I was leaving, my girl came to me and expressed her interest in being tied up at some point that day - and who would turn that down? I told her I would be able to work it in once I started cooking.

The afternoon arrived, and I led her to the bedroom. On the bed, I had already laid out four 7-meter lengths of hemp rope, her latex-strapped wand/vibe harness, and her baby pink latex hood from Kink Engineering. I quickly bound her arms at her elbows, then anchored these to her torso, encircling her tits, until all bits were well wrapped and squeezed. I moved to her left leg, and affixing her wrists to her ankles, bound up her leg so that it was pointing up towards the ceiling. I repeated this same arrangement on her right side, threaded the rope through the outer bars of her bed, which forced her thighs up and outward. She would not be closing those for the entire time she was bound. I buckled her Hitachi into the harness wound around her crotch, and rest it between her legs. The head of the wand rested firmly against her naked, anticipating cunt. The last thing I did was to pull the snug, pink latex hood over her head, ensuring the micro-cut nose holes were in the right spot on her face.
And then I left.

I wandered into the kitchen, set the timer on the oven for 8 minutes, and began preparing the ingredients for my tomato sauce. When the timer went off, I quietly entered the bedroom. I began to inspect the rope, to make sure her circulation remained vibrant. I checked to make sure her breathing in the hood wasn't too obstructed. Kissed her delicately on the shiny, pink forehead, then flicked the switch on the Hitachi to 'low', and exited the bedroom.

Setting the kitchen timer to 10 minutes, I returned to my task, sautéing the ingredients I had prepared. The scent of the aromatics in the pan finally burst into the air right as the timer went off.

Once again, I penetrated the quiet bedroom, but this time, I was met with the constant hum of the Hitachi, and the seductive myews of a girl slowly reducing into a sexual collapse. Immediately, I turned the wand off. I methodically checked the rope and her breathing, and saw that she could easily remain for a good time more. I began to walk myself back to the kitchen, but before I left the room, I felt the rhythmic throb of my erect cock tenting out my slacks. In fact, once I took a moment to notice, my entire demeanor had altered, and a hunger to torment smeared itself all over my face. I reached into the nightstand and pulled out my black, latex cock sheath, lubed up my pulsing member, and slid it into the sheath.

I went back to the kitchen to attend to the sauce cooking on the stove. Set the kitchen timer for 8 minutes, and tried as much as possible to not think about the bound, naked, writhing frame lying on my bed.

Over the course of 45 minutes, I would repeat the cycle of wand on/wand off, eventually building the crescendo of not being able to stop myself from sampling the pool of erotic energy that once was my girl.

Incidentally, the sauce turned out amazing. Our dinner guests couldn't stop praising its richness and vitality.