Time for a Short Break

Well, it’s that time of year again where I take a short break and hit all the haunted houses (and ghost tours) I can in a 3 to 4-day period. This year, I am headed further south (Florida) to take in some new haunts. Look for me to return mid-week, until then… this site will be as quiet as a tomb.

© AC Elliott, 13-Oct-17


The Man (Part Four)

As she stood up, she felt the man put his hand on the small of her back. He ushered her through the room and into his bedroom, his hand never leaving her. In some way, it provided a small amount of comfort, especially since inside she was in an uproar. She battled the desire to go through with it and the uncertainty of why she was even agreeing to any of this.

His bedroom in comparison to the rest of the place, was nothing like she expected it to be. It was sparse, with only the bare essentials in the room. Still, even in its simplicity, it was absolutely beautiful, with the centerpiece being the King Sized wrought iron bed in the center of the room. The ornate designs on the iron was absolutely breathtaking to behold.

“Do you like what you see, Melissa?” he asked, leaning forward and whispering in his soft voice once more. She didn’t know what turned her on more, his voice or the hand that had now slid down to rest on her backside.

“Yes, Sir,” she managed to squeak out almost inaudibly.

“Speak up, my dear,” he replied, his warm breath tickling her neck.

“Yes, Sir, I do,” she said more boldly.

“Good,” he replied, and then ushered her with his hand towards the bed. “Get on the bed, Melissa.”

She knew she must have looked a little bewildered at first. Especially since, besides the torn thong that hung between her legs, she was still completely dressed. He must have picked up on that too, because his hand continued to guide her to the bed, “I said, get on the bed, Melissa. Please don’t make me repeat myself again.”

“Yes, Sir,” she gulped and slid up onto the bed.

“Face away from me, and grab the headboard,” he instructed her.

Instinctively, she wanted to ask…’What?’, but then she remembered his admonishment about not making him repeat himself. So, she did as he asked, sliding into a kneeling position and grabbing the wrought iron headboard in her grasp.

“Very good, Melissa,” the man said, opening a drawer on the bedside table.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him pull out a pair of leather cuffs. Simultaneously she felt her breath catch and her core become suddenly hot and wet. She didn’t know what to do as the man joined her on the bed, and wrapped her left wrist with the leather cuff. Before she knew it, he had both hands cuffed to the headboard. ‘Why the hell didn’t she say no!?’ was the only thought in her head.

“Can I ask a question, Sir?” she said, rather boldly.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he told her, stroking her hair back gently and exposing her neck.

“What about my clothes?” she asked in what she knew sounded like smartass amusement.

She felt his hand tighten in her hair, as he roughly pulled her head back. He turned her head to look into his eyes. What shocked her was there was no malice in them, no anger, just a slight twinge of disappointment.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Melissa,” the man said in his even tone. “I will take care of removing your clothes. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she managed to breathe out.

“Very good,” he replied, releasing her hair from his grip. “I just want you to know Melissa, you can stop this at any time. All you have to do is say the word.”

“What’s the word, Sir?” she asked, almost breathlessly.

“You tell me,” the man said with a smile. “What can you remember to say when you want it to stop?”

“Blue,” she quickly responded without thinking. “Blue, Sir.”

She watched him pull a knife from the same dresser drawer that the cuffs were in. “Ok, there you go…blue it is,” he replied, pulling the knife from the sheath. “Now, to take care of those clothes you’re wearing.”

(To be continued)

© AC Elliott, 12-Oct-17

He Writes on His Parchment

He dips his quill into her inkwell
using her flesh as his parchment
to write out words of
desire, passion, longing
strength and love

He writes on his parchment
the way he views her,
extolling the beauty of who she is
while covering her with his scent,
marking her as his own

In her eyes he plays all roles:
Friend, Confidant, Lover,
Daddy, Master and Sir,
meeting the needs that make her
unique and beautiful

He writes her many different names
recognizing each has its place
according to her needs:
Friend, Confidant, Lover,
submissive, babygirl and above all His

He writes on his parchment
words to saturate her,
imbuing her with strength
when she needs it the most
taking comfort he is always there

Just as iron sharpens iron
each have their own strengths
and when forged together
they make the other whole, complete
stronger and sharper

So he dips his quill into her inkwell
and draws from her strength
to give him the words to write…
words that remind him, just how much
her needs are his own.
© AC Elliott, 12-Oct-17

Written using Free Verse poetry form.

dancing in the dark

Write with me, dancing in the dark
we’ll take it one step at a time
keeping the beat and staying on mark

Just relax and let the words flow
release what’s hidden within
and let’s just see where it goes
when writing with an unfiltered pen

Write with me, dancing in the dark
release the inhibitions within
and let flames erupt from a spark

As the heat from the flames grow
higher and higher, turn after turn
we’ll lose ourselves in the tempo
reveling in the feel of the burn

Write with me, dancing in the dark
and let flames erupt from a spark
©AC Elliott