T O R A N ’ S W O R L D
It’s really all about thresholds. You stepped through one when you entered this site, wholly devoted to my erotic writings dealing with Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism, Dominance and Submission. These are all power words, and if just reading them doesn’t send a shiver down your spine then this isn’t the site for you. You pass through a threshold as the first rope pulls your wrists together – you’ve entered another’s world, a world where you are no longer in control. You pass through another threshold as the whip cuts across your skin and you wonder if you need to safeword or if you just need more. You pass through the last threshold when the ropes are unwrapped, the caresses soothe your hurts and you look into the eyes of your Owner. Take my hand and we’ll walk the path together, and don’t be afraid if you hear your name whispered from somewhere just ahead. That’s you up there – the part of you that we’re going to get to know a little better…
STORY CODES: Each threshold is guarded by a door. Web doors are the lightest, merely a sheen across the entrance to a world with a loving beast, a spider that spins silk webs and keeps you snuggly wrapped tight in its grasp. Steel doors keep the unpredictable beast inside, the cat that licks you with a sticky tongue one minute then nips at your finger with tiny sharp teeth the next. Stone doors have to be rolled aside and the beast that lurks behind is black with eyes that look deep into your soul and a mouth full of too many razor sharp teeth – he’s the bull in the china shop and you may not like what you see.
Everything was now very important – my senses exploded and imploded, both reaching out and drawing in. The smell of the candles, the light waxing in through the stained glass windows, the four seamless grooves of blood I cut into her belly. And most of all, her moan, her whine.
She slept fitfully inside her box. There was nothing else for her to do. And that, of course, was all her fault.
…In those last precious moments of freedom she had even felt sexy in a darkly romantic way. Here she was strapped and helpless in the back of a van, her captor outside retrieving her shopping bags. As she lay on the musty carpet on the floor of the van it all seemed like a big adventure had started and she was the captured princess and soon her knight would save her…
…"The supreme sacrifice," he whispered, and the words worked the warmth even deeper into her body. To hear the words from his mouth, his eyes boring into her, she willed her hands to raise the brandy glass to her lips – anything to break the spell that settled in on her like a heavy blanket. Or the tight wrappings that were the skinny of all her fantasies…
With a lingering kiss and under the full moon, I bind my Goddess with wrapping. Her breath catches and her eyes close. I whisper into her ear that I can stop anytime - does she wish to continue?
…I nudged her bare breast with a toe and she slapped my hand away with a glare. “Tell me a story.” She’d been challenging me to come up with a horrible story, something that I could or would never do to her in real life. I smirked, my toes finding a nipple. She didn’t bother to knock my foot away this time, preferring to look at me from over the glass of brandy. I leaned in and gently took off her glasses, laying them on the nightstand…
A firm hand rolled her onto her back and Jenny screamed as the handcuffs dug deeper into her wrists. A big hairy arm slapped across her belly and she stilled, the cold fear racing up her spine. Eyes huge, straining to see in the darkness, Jenny peered at the big shape in front of her.
…I ran a finger down her taped and bound breasts and watched her start in surprise. She was a good moaner, that was for sure. I had held off releasing her from her blindfold and gag for a reason I couldn’t put my finger on completely. I think the logic went something like: once I can talk to her and see her eyes, she may loose some of that ‘just a product to be dealt with’ aura and become the Jenny I had grown to love in a long-distance way. I didn’t want that just yet…
…Nothing. Just the woods. The birds have even resumed their calls. She closes her eyes, an uneasy smile at odds with the single tear that streaks down her cheek. At least it wasn’t him…
“I wanted to give you something really special for Christmas, love,” she said, whether she’d meant it or not wasn’t important – she’d said it. And somewhere, the door to his dark and mysterious world had opened up. She had inadvertently presented the opportunity for what would become the best present anyone had ever given him.
…"Ok," she bit her lip. "But just for five minutes. I've never had anything like this on me
before." She delicately slipped her
left wrist between the circles of steel and gently clicked the band shut…
…It is all just one life, I realize now. One bridge over a difficult gap. The mind builds that bridge with whatever it
can find. In my case, a deranged Shadow
Man, who came to me in my sleep and made me pay for still being alive while my
family died. In the fourteen years
since, I've grown, matured, learned to reason, learned to live. I've practiced confronting my fears and now
fear nothing. I've erased
self-doubt. I've grown to love myself
for the first time since those early years...I put the diary down on my
nightstand with a trembling hand. Slowly
pulled the covers up to my chin. Closed
my eyes and opened them once more…It's still there. Dangling from the brass frame at the foot of
the bed, like a silky white snake. Since
I'd woken up this morning...Why has he come back?
…Their
eyes meet and he feels the first whisper of fear deep down in the sober part of
his mind. She has the blackest eyes, so
black it seems as if her pupils have enlarged, covering everything but a thin
band of white around the edges. And
she's looking at him the way a spider looks at a bug, just before she spins her
first strand of binding death…
…The chill air of the little wooden shack way back on the lot of wooded land was still much warmer than the winter wonderland outside. Their breath coming in short wisps of white softened the chill a bit, but it would be a bit cool for what they both had in mind…
…Her hand comes up along the tight leather straps that press my arms to my side and keep my wrists behind my back, delicately tracing a random shape across my chest – all unseen under the soft down quilt. She slides closer so she can give the loose belt ends a tug, drawing the next hole around the latch and crushing my arms into my body even more…