Pretty Things - Yoga

"When the body is cleansed, the mind purified and the senses controlled, joyful awareness needed to realize the inner-self, also comes." - The Yoga Sutras of Pantajali

"Nudity is a woman's natural state. It is the best reflection of her beauty and submission." - Airudyte Dom

The Other Side

 
"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding."


Anais Nin

A Light In A Dark Room

I had this dream recently.

I am walking down a hallway with a girl and in the dream I know she is my submissive. The ends of her brown hair curl out from beneath a black latex hood that is tucked into a high leather collar and she is cuffed at the wrist and ankle, a rope looped through the D rings binding her hands behind her back. The ends are snubbed tightly at each ankle. Another rope connects her feet together, with just enough slack to allow her a slow, shuffling walk, like a hobbled horse. I am holding her upper arm, guiding her. The girl is nude and her tan is dark and even except for the faintest traces around her ass where she must have worn bikini bottoms recently. I will have to speak to her about that later.

The corridor is in darkness, lit only by a spill of yellow light from an open doorway ahead of us. As we get closer there are muffled sounds coming from within. I can hear them but with her own hearing muffled by the hood I don't think she can, not yet. There is rhythmic thrumming, unmistakably leather on flesh and as I get closer I hear soft exhalations keeping time with the louder blows.

We move forward slowly. The girl hears them now. Her lips have parted and I sense the slightest faltering in her step, the merest suggestion of a hesitation, before she resumes her awkward stutter step.  We are just outside the door now and there is no doubt: someone is being flogged vigorously, a steady metronome that marches forward relentlessly, the exhalations now turned into mindless grunts as the intensity increases.

We have stopped in the doorway and I can see inside. It is all darkness except for a high table sitting in a wash of bright light. The table is black and a girl is stretched out on top, long and pale, stretched impossibly wide and vulnerable. They haven't blindfolded her but with the light directly overhead I doubt she can see much more than shadows. From my vantage point, though, I can see the people gathered around, hovering in the darkness at what would be the edge of her vision. There must be 8 or 9 of them, both men and women, dressed in leather and latex, some masked, a pair of bare pierced breasts, high heels, vinyl dresses, torn stockings. The audience is murmuring approval as a shirtless man in leather pants and motorcycle boots plies his trade. The girl's skin is red and striped - tits, stomach, calves, thighs. He has been working his way up her legs and as I watch strikes the first blow on her yawning wide pussy.

She cries out sharply and the girl next to me flinches. I tighten my grip on her arm, small and soft in my hand.

As the pattern of blows picks up the grunts of the girl inside the room become a series of cries, punctuated by the wet impact of leather on skin. He finds a particularly sweet spot and she shrieks piteously, body arching up off the table, reflexively seeking escape. There is no place to go.

The girl beside me moans and pulls away but I don't let her. The sound from inside the room has become a keening wail. From the watching crowd there is laughter of delight and applause; they revel in her torment and surrender. She will break soon, I think, while they watch and enjoy. There will be nothing left of the girl on the table, just a raw, clenching animal, untethered from her rational self, floating free. It will be breathtaking to watch.

I grab my submissive's pussy roughly, probing with a practiced hand.   As expected, she is wet and ready. I let her taste herself on my fingers.

It will be her turn on the table shortly. I drag her forward into the light.