Thank you for Flying Sadist Airlines
After a bit of reflection and mainly becuase I’m halfway through an unabridged version of Canterbury Tales for my current pleasure reading I’ve decided to try to write a post in a classic epic poem style meets Dr Seuss. Which is really nothing more than a way to potentially justify my poorly constructed and overly complicated sentences and bizarre rhyming scheme. Thank you for being masochists and indulging me by reading even just a little.
Part 1 Into The Darkness
All of this is true and none of it is true. Perhaps the events had happened a millennia ago and perhaps they happened in the residence next to where you are right now in the moments that only recently passed. This is the tale of the times, of today, and of tomorrow. They are the words also of legends of old, and of moments as modern as the moment you are in and as old as the universe. It is all completely true and an utter lie.
The wind whipped through the cool autumn air. That much I can assure did really occur. And as the temperature fell and the moon glowed soft and golden in the sky. The night was alive with far too many voices. Still despite it all somehow the possibility of magic lingered on the breeze and with it evil and wickedness simply waiting their turn. In the distance as our fair damsel made her way hastily across the black hard darkness that blanked the earth. She was in tow, and captured, and without even the slightest resolved to escape the fate that awaited her. Willingly unwilling and all too caught up in the surroundings to think better of things but as the story goes sometimes the things we crave are not the things we should admit to wanting most.
But admit is exactly what she had done, time and again; with reckless abandon. Truer words have never been spoken and great lies lied within them. But rather than run like so many before and what would have been of soundest intellect and purest mind to do she followed dutifully chattering harmlessly with the one who escorted her from the deep darkness into the unyielding of the light.
There are of course times when things like this occur. Where what is obvious seems less so and what is hidden seems so painfully obvious. Mythic tales of hardship and triumphs, of fool hardiness and destruction; which was ahead? Knowing what was behind remained yet unresolved. So the tormentor began his game with subtle suggestions and playful banter. She had no idea what laid before her. What wickedness awaited but only that there would be pain and a slight hint of ecstasy, torment and relief, surrender and in it escape that words never quite seemed to do justice, simple things first, necessities and treats, provisions for the journey that somewhere in the future she could enjoy. Things that he would undoubtedly share with another, so is the plight of a wanton woman when the Demon has another on his mind. Her mind, body and twisted little soul by her own design very much shared with so many.
So the journey continued as our damsel was given the option to choose some devices of her own torture, as adornments for the future, and reminders of the sweet and delicious torment that was yet about to come but would long after concluding be dwelled upon as marks, on the body, mind, and soul.
Remembering things long forgotten as he taunted her with what was yet to be endured, reminding her not so gently that she had earned ever uncomfortable moment that lay in her future and that if nothing else he was going to leave his mark on her in a way that even previous evils had not. All true as anything and all of which were just words to her as her mind weighed the possibilities of what he had meant. His intentions were quite specific but the details of which were with held leaving her to wildly contemplate her own fate.
Back out of the light and into the darkness she was sent, trailing behind him. His lust and wickedness was about to be spent. Dodging shadows and light, as the start of her night was beckoning and within the hour the moment of her duress would soon be at hand.
Part 2 The Road into Hell
His boots on the stairs, the door closed and the world left behind. They ask was she ready because it was her time? The hour was calling and yes her time was here. She nodded with a lot of excitement mixed with just a small batch of fear.
So over she went like a good woman should and he laid into her soundly with a stern piece of wood. It burned and bit with every impact the beginning was ending, really just two from the last. Then one of the wicked who was watching the sights. He called out an idea with sadistic delight. “Why she’s not counting and you know that’s not good. You should start over and give a few extra just because you know that you could.”
And with this the one laughed with paddle in hand. He said “let’s start all over, count out loud do you understand?” She gritted her teeth and dared him a smile. As so they began once again in the very same style. The room filled with smacking, and swooshing, with sensations and sighs. A few muffled mumbles for what he did to her hide.
And once they got there after beginning again, went from zero, to heaven, to hell in those ten. Which totaled out 18 because they because of the new start . He hated falling just short of 20 with all of his heart. So two more “extra” were harshly applied, and she gritted her teeth and lost herself deep inside. A few of those swats had left her well marked with an ass so it red it probably glowed in the dark. One would think she was bitter. But she was not bitter but hot. She loved every moment even the two extra, extra, extra, hard swats. And one would expect this was the end of our tale but it is just the beginning of her road into hell.
So off with the jeans, on to her panties, and then and on the bare. He whipped her with leather it seemed only fair. She squealed and she loved it with each solid stroke. So he hit some more while the men laughed, and they joked. Then onto the hand because it only seemed right, and if all went as planned it was the start of her night.
Part 3 Descent and Elevation
With night in the fore ground and not in the past, they gagged her, and pushed her and once again started to laugh. Thrown down on the bed so nice and so soft they brought out the blind fold and she nearly scoffed. The games men play are wicked at night, but she was all theirs and tucked well out of sight. She drooled into her gag with small bit of shame. She laughed at her plight and recounted how much she loved their sick game. Her bottom was glowing, still slightly ablaze as the ropes then appeared to bind to her frame. Hands tied to knees, and flat on her back they spanked her bottom, her pussy and legs but just on the back. And then he said something while she was catching her breath but on went the blind fold there would be no time to rest.
Her mind raced a little, faster, and more. She wondered what wickedness they had in store. Whips and leather, more wood and sins of the flesh. They would push the limits they wanted to test. Then there was just silence. Oh what could that mean? Then she heard a loud buzzing and wanted to scream. Not tender, not gentle, no pleasure, just pain. Not soft and not slow, they held her legs wide all as part of their game.
They took her to heaven through the bottom of hell and wouldn’t relent until they had emptied her well. She squealed, and she shook and they held her down. Making her shake from the tips of her toes to the top of her crown. And when that wave had passed there would be no respite. They simply continued the hellish and orgasmic delight. While pinching and pushing, while keeping her there, until she crested again and again and was fully aware.
She shook and she shattered and continued to shake. She wondered and thought about what else they would take. And when she was wasted, a soaked drooling mess. They’re loosened the ropes and before she could rest. They uncovered her eyes, and mouth just in time. As her gaze met his met the Demon’s he offered “Thank you for flying Sadist Airlines”
Part 4 –
So women seem wicked and often men also do . But even in evil there is often good too. They hugged her and kissed and they brought her back down but not before she’d come once more like a flood destroying cities and towns. And the dark one he drifted off into the night while two stayed behind to enjoy other delights.
And this brings to the end of our little tale, how you can find heaven from dark depths of hell. If you ever should wonder what evil is like, it the thing that laughs with you in the still of the night. It’s the words that still linger long after their said, and the moments so fleeting that dance in your head.
When pleasure comes calling there always is pain, whether wicked and wanton or modest with shame. And the words have been spoken and the deeds have been done. Life is too short to not have some fun.
So love all your lovers so pure and so true. And if you’re like us find something wicked to do. For nothing is new, only new once more. And pain can be pleasure for ladies and whores. So maybe this happened and maybe it’s true. And maybe it’s lie and a lesson for you. Would you dance with a Demon to find your delight, and how often you’ve screamed in the dead of the night? So I’ll say it once more, just one last time. Thanks you for flying Sadist Airlines.
Come See Who Else is Being WICKED this Week with Pleasure and Pain