Delicate badger raping coming right up. Also, cheese is bad for subs. Please consider gravy or bean curd as an alternative.
I would. This ask really pushed an arousal button for me and now I’m pondering it heavily.
I found all my old rulebooks / comics for Necromunda and it got me nostalgic. Good games, awesome setting.
I played Spyers (go figure) who came down from the Spire to find and collect pretty slaves to take home to their decadent lairs. They kind of turned into the bad guys in our campaign.
One follower away from 2000.
I know you have many choices for getting yourself off, but thank you for choosing Mister X.
Thanks everyone, I’m flattered.
You know the videos. They zoom in way too close so all you get is a cock, or a boob, or a butt. And then they stay there.
I love full body shots. I like to see muscle groups, proportions, all that nerdy artsy stuff. I like to see a face while their body twitches and writhes.
A zoom shot with someone moaning over it is not quite the same.
evilantonio answered your question: Most devious chastity cages you’ve seen?
lots of spikes
On the inside or the out? ;)
Gathering up ideas. Real or fictional. I’m probably going to invent something devilish for one of the cages. I’ve got some poses sketched out. I’ll expand more after I get back from my holiday this weekend.
I kinda want to draw a casual-ish pic of three half-dressed subs in a half-circle, comparing chastity cages. I’ll stick Piper and another regular in there. Maybe a new face or someone I’m forgetting.
“Damn, dude, does that even have a lock on it?!”
“No… It’s welded.”
“Well mine tucks everything between my legs. Looks like nothing is there at all most of the time.”
“First person perspective” camera work for porn is really nasty. You always end up with just the view of someone’s back or awkward camera angles.
Get a tripod or a friend to hold the camera.
I seem to constantly veer from post-apocalyptic fantasy to dreary cyberpunk for my personal story settings. And then my porn is just generic real world. XD
Too many ideas.
“You’re everything to me.” The boy crooned. He nipped at Staton’s neck needily, his eyes half-lidded with carnal lust. The youth’s club attire left little to the imagination - his form fitting leggings made his arousal apparent, which he pressed up against Staton, like a dog in heat.
Staton smirked and pressed a kiss against the boy’s lips. He could hear the heated moan even over the noises from the nearby club. The two were alone in an alleyway, the only light a distant lamp and the glow of the boy’s implants.
“I love you, Staton. You’re perfect.” The last words were muffled as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, his face nuzzled against Staton’s crotch.
He still didn’t know the club kid’s name. Didn’t matter. Staton owned him now.
The fake moaning, the fake dirty talk, and the over the top climax noises.
Yes, porn is acting. It is a show and its unrealistic. But some of the hottest stuff I’ve seen is completely natural. People being themselves. Its pretty obvious when you’re putting on a show and when you’re lost in the moment.
New pic in the making and its more than just a portrait. ;) Almost done. Your patience with my writing will be rewarded visually.
“Why he got those chains?”
Kole slumped limply on the ground. The fire in his eyes persisted, but the fight was out of him. A sharp jab to the stomach left him vomiting on the leafy ground, the followup now showed in his swelling eye.
“He’s a slave, course.”
“Why he got all dem scars?”
“He’s a bad slave.”
The gang of mercenaries stood in a semi circle around Kole. Two of the others seemed disinterested, but the two that now stared at the youth made his flesh crawl.
Damn, I forgot about that station 713 story. Eesh. Hot. >_> Why the hell didn’t I do more with it.
Thanks for bringing it up again, anons 1 and 2. :D
Good catch, anon. You know my stuff better than me. http://misterchristianx.tumblr.com/post/18277031935/station-713
They should still be accessible here back in my archives. Nothing lost there. :3
That sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t recall when I wrote it or where I posted it. A lot of my quickie-one-off stories are only posted in one place - I don’t keep my own copies. Probably a bad thing, but meh :p
Damn. I’m approaching 2k followers. That’s pretty awesome.
Guess that means I need to produce something new to celebrate…
Magic exists but only the fae (pixies, faeries, little flighty folk). Humans discover that with a hard will the magic can be stolen from the fae and used for unlimited potential.
Unfortunately for the fae, this means they are hunted, collected, abused, and misused by those that are in the know.
I see it as an excuse to draw little people in all sorts of magically fueled machines or even used by “wizards” to cast spells.
Need a candles? Keep a pixie in a jar, give him a good shake.
I am getting the initial sketches put together for Meg and Kinsley, the feral boy pups.
I do need reference for a couple big dog breeds in the stages of lounging, butt sniffing, and possibly other unspeakable activities. Probably mastiffs unless someone has a better idea for big guard dog breeds.
Anyone know any sources?
Sites that think that porn is some guy sitting on a ratty sofa, wanking off.
Because I’ve never seen masturbation before.
Get up, do something interesting and risque!
Feeling like I’ve been holding my breath with my fingers crossed for the last four months. Good intentions and hopes are not the same as coming up for air.
I don’t think I enjoy writing a characters first bdsm experience. Nor the first training. I feel this material has been written over in every porn.
A desk job is stalled for that reason. Dogs’ Life has training all done, ready to hang.
(That was just an exploratory write up that I accidentally posted XD It was supposed to be saved. Seems folks enjoyed it. I’ve got a plot idea for this one - unlike A Desk Job, where I’m making it up as a go.)
Wyot crouched agog at the side of the Olde Black Road. The baying of hounds sent the man scurrying for cover, pulling his cart with him into the dense foliage that hung over the black earth.
His three days journey on the old road had been uneventful, free from bandits and other travelers alike. On several evenings smoke columns rose from distant, differing points along the horizon. Villages and hamlets that he intentionally avoided thus far. They were untrusting and wary of strangers. Wyot was no merchant which made him even more suspicious in their eyes.
Now the man watched as a deer burst from the woods, two great hunting dogs worrying at the beast’s side, with another three hounds close in pursuit. The pack felled the creature swiftly, massive jaws holding firm.
Roving dogs were a common enough menace. But then late comers arrived to the scene. Wyot supposed them to be the hounds’ handlers - a hunting party. The men quickly set about pulling the massive dogs away, holding them tightly by heavy collars. The final attendent cleared the forest, some kind of warlord or noble.
Wyot was only confused more by the man’s appearance. On a length of heavy chain held in his hands were two youths, lopping on all fours and completely unclothed. They nosed about the deer awkwardly, casting sideways glances at the bearer of the leash.
A big bull of a dog growled loudly at the pair, sending them both scampering back to the man’s feet, visibly quaking.
Feral children, he wondered. Raised by hounds? Stranger and stranger still.
Might write something more on that last scenario
The lord of the manner keeps a pair of his bastard offspring as feral pets along with his kennel of large guard dogs. Though many notice, especially when he takes them for walks on the grounds or throws them scraps in the midst of great dinners, nobody dares acknowledge that it is anything but normal.
I appreciate that.
Past experience has made me paranoid. People who don’t know when fantasy stops. The knowledge that these sorts of things actually happen in the world.
Survivor’s guilt without actually being a survivor. :p
Also, don’t be shy, lil’ anon. I’m not scary. ;)
That was kind of the premise for where that story was going.
But in this pawn shop I was picture it as willing victims who are at the end of their rope. I’m noticing a theme in my topics… I don’t know if this sort of exploiting vulnerability should irk me…
A pawn shop where individuals can get money for lending their bodies for set periods of time. What is not disclosed is that the shop reserves the right to extend contracts.
I appreciate the praise! It seems to be chugging along nicely, even if its a tiny piece a day.
Apparently I need to write down these random kink scenarios that come to mind more often. :p
Two boys are kidnapped or voluntarily brought into a full-time slave relationship. They don’t know each other, they haven’t seen each other. They live blind folded. Slowly they are made aware of each other - forced rimming, duo-bondage, etc. They are not allowed to communicate. They know that there is ‘someone else’.
This was not the first day that Fenton expected. It was worse than anything he could have imagined. He felt so low. Each of Exham’s words stung with their truth and the smug tone of his voice.
He really had no choice.
Fenton lowered himself down onto all fours, his face burning with shame, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He knew Mr Exham was looking up from his desk now. The youth could feel the smirk on the man’s face, the knowledge of his power over Fenton. For a moment he fumbled with the laces on his shoes before flipping them awkwardly off, leaving them splayed on the ground.
Slowly Fenton inched his way over to the great black wood desk. It loomed massively over him, as did its occupant. Unsure of what to do now, Fenton just remained there, glancing up.
He wanted to cry. Just bury his face in his hands and sob. Fenton knew his face was red and his features contorted as he fought back the tears trickling down his cheeks.
“Good boy.” Mister Exham said. Fenton expected it to sound sarcastic but the man seemed sincere in his praise. Fenton couldn’t speak, only sniffle loudly as he battled the runny-nose that accompanied heavy crying.
Fenton didn’t budge. His mouth hung gaping like a stunned fish.
“W…wha?” Was the best he could manage. That fucking piece of shit. Fenton’s thoughts blurred. Was this all a power trip? Why was he hammering this in. Fenton already felt like nothing for coming back to this job. How could he get any lower?
“You know what I said.”
“I…”
“You don’t have a job until you sign the papers. You don’t sign the papers until you are over here, beside my desk, on hands and knees like the little animal you are.”
Fenton squeaked. It was not dignified. He could not believe what he was hearing. He was agog. The teen could not form a cohesive sentence. He sputtered and stuttered.
“I … you …” He slouched. “You … you can’t treat people like this! I’m leaving. I’ll find another job.”
Exham didn’t look up from the paperwork he was sorting through (a habit that was really grating on Fenton’s already split nerves). “No you won’t. You’re going to stay right here.
"I know you, Fenton Brenton. I know your family’s situation. I know why you came back. I also know that you’re the one I want for this job.
"I’m paying you excessively for your self-respect, your dignity, and your consent. You won’t get a better offer for any of those. You’re untalented, unskilled, and unremarkable. You need this job.
"Now remove your shoes, get down on your hands and knees, and crawl over here, boy.”
It is something I’d like to see. But as always with my art, no promises. :p My muses and moods are annoyingly fickle. I am willing to take suggestions for what ‘furniture fenton’ is.