by mozenwrathe on Mon Feb 20, 2012 4:38 pm
Soliloquoy's Summary - Good For One And Maybe Another
by Yashawini Asaque, half-wolven friend of the fatesinger Neelkamala D'aari
the bonds that hold him fast
were tied by myself this morning
while he slept under the power of leaves
dried and powdered then mixed into wine
leaving him vulnerable for my taking
as he is no more than a target
something to be had for pleasure
just as he has done to many others
each wind of the reed-woven rope
has a tale within its softened length
specially created by those of a village
who use it to make strong fishing lines
but have I kept them a secret well
for their nets are but one of their gifts
this rope being another and better one
at least for my own desires this day
splashing him with cool water
as I have him hanging in abandoned cabin
do I watch him sputter awake and gasping
naked except for what binds him
words from his mouth unable to be understood
for is it cursing from his homeland's tongue
meaningless to any and all not from there
spread apart by longer rope is he
almost floating above the ground
with enough room for me to crouch
and move around underneath him
whether with dagger or with feather
could he do nothing but endure it
cock swinging free as it should for now
his bared bottom glistening in firelight
feet twitching with hapless vigour
as his ankles and wrists have separate lines
all connected in such way
could I pull him upwards by just those
torturing his well-muscled form
until everything came apart at last
dislocated under his own weight
a heavier cord do I lash him with
just once at first along his ribs
for I love the sound of his chest
much like the cask drums of home
his voice echoing in anguish
yet do I see his flaccid shaft harden
just ever so slightly at first
and smile of the predator forms
knowing this prey shall be very tasty
even more so as I tenderize him
held fast by the ropes that tighten
even more so as they dry against his skin
the lines I have to hold him aloft
are smacked with the cord in my hand
causing him to jerk around awkwardly
limbs pulled in ways they are not meant to
and the cursing changes to begging
much like the dawn becomes a morning storm
gradually but easily seen and felt on the skin
the winds never letting him free
pulling against his flesh like fingers
but not in kindly groping ways
instead fiercely holding him fast
like ogres playing tug-of-war for keeps
do I wish to make him weep and whine
yet with a will such as his
can I do so much more with his elven form
and his anal pucker begs to be tormented
with my clawed fingertips and cold tongue
but first do I pull on one line and then another
making sure each of them is still taut
causing him to moan and whimper
knowing he is helpless to my whims
never knowing even as I growl lowly
are others on their way to the cabin
to get their fill of vengeance
and perhaps more than merely that
current characters:
Prydain Mozenwrathe (Magi, smith, known to the Might Makes Right) ,
Ichilandar Shimmerstrike (dark elf, ranger, merchant) ,
Dasan (Sheykan, druid, real estate specialist)