april
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2006
- Messages
- 1,164
- Points
- 38
I figured we could stand for a little erotica. Watch out for this one ladies and gents he will f#ck you up. He's a prick of the most sadistic nature. Sherlock Holmes; remeber the name 
Go on, Impress the girl.
http://youtu.be/BVpEF0pH5-Q
Remember the name
http://youtu.be/y5kSPS5okQ8
My ticklish little victim,
The Science of Deduction is never subtle. It may appear so to those whom otherwise possess an untrained eye or who are not inclined to observe the subtle nuances of human nature. You cannot imagine for a moment that one would not, could not see your desires; your hidden agenda. But as you lay there before me I can see and know all too well your inclinations and secrets. Is that not why I am here? Let me read you; feed you your sickness, tempt you with the medicine of lust and carnage.
Your pulse is elevated; pounding and heated at the very thought of my touch. Skin tone warm and blushing, pores open and permeating the room with the exotic scent of your pheromones; arousal. You are perfumed to be tasted. Even the tips of your toes are painted like candy apples; crimson the color of lust and deceit. I cannot be deceived as you well know. I bring your delectable toes to my mouth and against my lips. A soft kiss as I stare into your wide expectant eyes. Your pupils dilate. You feel my breath, heated and hungry; its warmth tickling your senses and nerve endings. My lips part; wet and hot as my teeth slowly graze your tender flesh. Sensation hits and your body tenses. I draw your toes into my mouth one by one, sucking, nipping, and gently biting. Your body squirms in delight as I take my time; my ticklish little victim.
I nuzzle your elegant high arch and I receive the first squeal of utter rapture and refrain to escape your lips. Your tegumentary system is flushed and alive; resisting my insistence to wander. Activating the delicious pressure point between the arch and the ball of your sole; arousal, my lips gently make their way to your ankle. Eyes wide, lips parted, slight exhale; excitement warms you as the flesh reacts to your vestigial reflex and goose bumps parch your silken skin. The roughened tips of my fingers travel ahead of my kisses as you tremble, the touch too light for comfort. This tickles, oh yes, I know.
Slowly down your quivering limbs I explore you, my delicate map. Nails tracing patters along your parted inner thighs; why are you quaking love? Is it because you cannot withstand the matrimony of delectation against sensitive flesh or is it that your desire for relief overrides your craving to be utterly violated?
My steadfast hands begin a sensual massage, gently kneading against the secret hiding places you wish me not to find; thighs and knees and your delicate hips. Your body stiffens for but a moment as you begin to shift beneath me; jostling and chastening. Uncertainty sets in your eyes as your hands begin to tug at mine and fight or flight invades your senses. The room fills with the choir of your desperate laughter; music to my sadistic ears. There’s nowhere to run, I have you in my grasp my ticklish little victim. Now is the time to panic.
Your frantic agitation excites me! I need you helpless; hopeless to my will. My fingers continue their arduous climb as I begin to wreak devastation on your ribcage. The tenor in your voice reaches a higher octave. I draw out these moments, these minutes of sweet torture. It continues on and on and amongst your desperate thrashing and melodious pleas for mercy you slowly begin to wonder if there is an end. My deliberate touch speaks volumes as irrationality replaces your panic with fear. Oh yes, you need fear me for is this not what you crave? I am the reaper of your deliverance and I intend to collect in full.
I cage you in my grasp, pinning your flailing limbs against the silken sheets. I mock you, tease you, taunt you with my words, locking out reprieve and instilling trepidation. You are enjoying this aren’t you? I asked aren’t you my ticklish little victim?! You will succumb! You will submit to every slice of subjugation I unceremoniously serve up until you slip into beautiful silence and exhaustion.
The fire that has been lit between your thighs burns and smolders as my hands reach your crescent hallows. You are begging me for mercy; crying and whimpering and finely spent. A single kindness will not be lent for we are almost there my love. On and on I play you to my delight and to your final moment of unparralled suffering until that final moment, your zenith.
It courses, rushing through your body, a quickening so profound that sight or sound or any other senses matters not; orgasm. Higher and higher you climb; head thrown back, a deep mask of pleasure so intense upon your face that your expression appears nearly pained. A lightness settles over your form, lifting you in weightless delight. And now I have finally collected my reward. I tenderly stroke your hair and cup your face to softly kiss your still parted lips. You smile and in your weakened state allow me to comfort and console.
Allow me to deliver you this rapture. Allow me to read you, to feed you your sickness and tempt you with the medicine of lust and carnage. Be. My. Victim.
Sadistically Yours
W.S.S.
Holmes
Go on, Impress the girl.
http://youtu.be/BVpEF0pH5-Q
Remember the name
http://youtu.be/y5kSPS5okQ8
My ticklish little victim,
The Science of Deduction is never subtle. It may appear so to those whom otherwise possess an untrained eye or who are not inclined to observe the subtle nuances of human nature. You cannot imagine for a moment that one would not, could not see your desires; your hidden agenda. But as you lay there before me I can see and know all too well your inclinations and secrets. Is that not why I am here? Let me read you; feed you your sickness, tempt you with the medicine of lust and carnage.
Your pulse is elevated; pounding and heated at the very thought of my touch. Skin tone warm and blushing, pores open and permeating the room with the exotic scent of your pheromones; arousal. You are perfumed to be tasted. Even the tips of your toes are painted like candy apples; crimson the color of lust and deceit. I cannot be deceived as you well know. I bring your delectable toes to my mouth and against my lips. A soft kiss as I stare into your wide expectant eyes. Your pupils dilate. You feel my breath, heated and hungry; its warmth tickling your senses and nerve endings. My lips part; wet and hot as my teeth slowly graze your tender flesh. Sensation hits and your body tenses. I draw your toes into my mouth one by one, sucking, nipping, and gently biting. Your body squirms in delight as I take my time; my ticklish little victim.
I nuzzle your elegant high arch and I receive the first squeal of utter rapture and refrain to escape your lips. Your tegumentary system is flushed and alive; resisting my insistence to wander. Activating the delicious pressure point between the arch and the ball of your sole; arousal, my lips gently make their way to your ankle. Eyes wide, lips parted, slight exhale; excitement warms you as the flesh reacts to your vestigial reflex and goose bumps parch your silken skin. The roughened tips of my fingers travel ahead of my kisses as you tremble, the touch too light for comfort. This tickles, oh yes, I know.
Slowly down your quivering limbs I explore you, my delicate map. Nails tracing patters along your parted inner thighs; why are you quaking love? Is it because you cannot withstand the matrimony of delectation against sensitive flesh or is it that your desire for relief overrides your craving to be utterly violated?
My steadfast hands begin a sensual massage, gently kneading against the secret hiding places you wish me not to find; thighs and knees and your delicate hips. Your body stiffens for but a moment as you begin to shift beneath me; jostling and chastening. Uncertainty sets in your eyes as your hands begin to tug at mine and fight or flight invades your senses. The room fills with the choir of your desperate laughter; music to my sadistic ears. There’s nowhere to run, I have you in my grasp my ticklish little victim. Now is the time to panic.
Your frantic agitation excites me! I need you helpless; hopeless to my will. My fingers continue their arduous climb as I begin to wreak devastation on your ribcage. The tenor in your voice reaches a higher octave. I draw out these moments, these minutes of sweet torture. It continues on and on and amongst your desperate thrashing and melodious pleas for mercy you slowly begin to wonder if there is an end. My deliberate touch speaks volumes as irrationality replaces your panic with fear. Oh yes, you need fear me for is this not what you crave? I am the reaper of your deliverance and I intend to collect in full.
I cage you in my grasp, pinning your flailing limbs against the silken sheets. I mock you, tease you, taunt you with my words, locking out reprieve and instilling trepidation. You are enjoying this aren’t you? I asked aren’t you my ticklish little victim?! You will succumb! You will submit to every slice of subjugation I unceremoniously serve up until you slip into beautiful silence and exhaustion.
The fire that has been lit between your thighs burns and smolders as my hands reach your crescent hallows. You are begging me for mercy; crying and whimpering and finely spent. A single kindness will not be lent for we are almost there my love. On and on I play you to my delight and to your final moment of unparralled suffering until that final moment, your zenith.
It courses, rushing through your body, a quickening so profound that sight or sound or any other senses matters not; orgasm. Higher and higher you climb; head thrown back, a deep mask of pleasure so intense upon your face that your expression appears nearly pained. A lightness settles over your form, lifting you in weightless delight. And now I have finally collected my reward. I tenderly stroke your hair and cup your face to softly kiss your still parted lips. You smile and in your weakened state allow me to comfort and console.
Allow me to deliver you this rapture. Allow me to read you, to feed you your sickness and tempt you with the medicine of lust and carnage. Be. My. Victim.
Sadistically Yours
W.S.S.
Holmes
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