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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself."  I think it's  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.                   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
 
At Long Last (copules, orgy, exh)
Author's email: MarArch@ix.netcom.com



	He sat, somewhat nervously, in the small, dimly lit booth
toward the back of the restaurant, his elbows planted firmly on the
table, his fingers clasped together, his chin resting on his conjoined
thumbs, waiting.
	Within just a very few moments, he realized, she would be
entering the establishment and their eyes were about to lock for the
first time.
	It had been a playful relationship, in the most innocent sense
of that term. Oddly, their very first true contact had virtually been
by phone, when he was seeking information about a "play party" she had
attended. He had encountered her in the room, and immediately (and
somewhat boldly, he had thought at the time) offered her telephone
number. He had called, and instantly, upon the mingling of their
voices, had experienced a kind of affinity for her... a level of
comfort and perhaps even admiration for her cool, commanding tone and
the lyrical sound of her words. Gradually, as the conversation
progressed, and he learned that she was Domme, he felt a deep, distant
stirring of his own long neglected sub past. He had first made his
way, stumbling somewhat blindly, into the realm of the lifestyle, by
offering himself to the service of a woman, and had been stunned by
how fulfilling it had been, to be available and helpless in the face
of a woman utilizing his body and spirit for her own pleasure. But
that had long ago faded, and when he had taken the opposite position,
as the one giving the direction, conducting the music of a concert of
lust instead of being merely an instrument of it, he had discovered
his true element at last. Still, the sound of her voice did beckon to
that long buried sweetness somewhere within him, and he knew that,
were anything at all to develop between them, it would be she who
would look down on his helpless form, and not the reverse.
	Over the next weeks, they would encounter each other
occasionally, and there was always a welling of warmth and comfort
upon first contact, which rode along with every line that passed
between them. And, too, there was the flirting... subtle, delicate and
all the more exciting and pointed because of what was implied than any
bold statement could have been.
	Finally, he could endure the current conditions no longer, and
realized that they must now either take a further step, or the warmth
would ebb, like an ember growing cold with consumption of it's own
inner fuel. So, he had mailed her a letter and asked that they set a
firm date to meet. The reply was given, possibilities discussed, and a
mutual time and place obtained.
	And so, here he sat, waiting for her. There was anticipation
and the delicate churning of butterflies deep within him, and the
thousand, thousand questions erupting through his mind. What would
happen? Would the spark that had flickered between them explode to a
flame when they looked upon each other, or would it shoot off into the
darkness and fade.... would they be pleasant and kindly, or would the
heat of their subtle games blister the air between them...  He did not
have to wait long to find out.
	They spotted each other immediately, as she strolled,
confident and self-assured, down the lane between the booths, and the
instant their eyes touched, they both knew.... there was fire here.
	She slid into the booth opposite him and they exchanged
pleasantries, but still, their eyes remainded linked, as if studying
each other. And then, after the usual, expected round of politeness, a
silence fell between them, cut only by their deep mutual gaze. And
then she saw it, and slowly a smile spread upon her lips.
	"Mmmmm" she breathed, warming deeply.
	"What" he said, curious and attentive.
	Her look was now pierced with some inner reserve that stabbed
into him and impaled his spirit.
	"You've surrendered to me. Haven't you." And her smile was now
Cheshire and playful.
	He felt his breath catch deep in his chest, and it took some
effort to force it out, steadying himself.
	"Yes" he said, as coolly as he could manage "I suppose I
have."
	She nodded slowly, confirming what she'd seen... what she'd
felt.
	"Good" she said quietly.
	
	The rest of the meal was a whirlwind mix of pleasant talk and
explosive, deep, capturing gazes. Every time he looked into her eyes,
he could feel himself falling into her, giving up a bit more of his
reserve... his control... and he could see that it pleased her and the
glow around her brightened.
	By the time the end of the meal at which he had only picked
arrived, he knew that a part of him, that long forgotten part, had
floated fully up and he was now, for the moment, a captive to her
desires, and the central fixture in his mind was that he ached to
please her.
	"Well" she said, as he signed for the meal and they began the
tiny ritual of gathering themselves together "perhaps it's time you
saw what all the fuss about the club is based on."
	"Oh, yes" he sighed, feeling a leap of anticipation and
anxiety inside himself "I am dying of curiousity."
	"Well, my sweet man" she cooed, the corners of her mouth
turned up in a slightly wicked grin "let's see if we can satisfy the
curiosity... and kill you some other way."
	Her words struck him like a blow to the chest and he felt his
entire body begin, lightly, to tremble.
	
	The club was in a deep, long basement, and as she ushered him
inside it was as if he had stepped into another world. It was dimly
lit, and the crush of people made it seem more like a catacomb...
close and mysterious.
	Rather than settle into chairs, he felt her loop her arm
through his and begin to move through it's spaces, as if silently
conducting a tour for his benefit. Here and there she paused to greet
someone and introduce him, but his mind was a thousand miles away,
part of it roaming into the corners of the gloomy space, capturing
visions and sights that mirrored his fantasies, or some fond memory,
while the rest of it pressed against her, focused on her feelings and
searching for her desires, that he might fulfill them.
	Turning away from some couple to which she had granted a smile
and a fond greeting, she moved him deeper into the clubs' recesses,
and there he saw it.... 
	It appeared to him to be a tall post of some kind, thick and
dark... And afixed to it, his back turned, was a man, totally naked,
his arms raised up, hands holding the chains, the ends of which were
looped through the restraints around his wrists. There was a band of
some sort around the back of his head, though whether this was
attached to a blindfold or gag he could not tell. The mans legs were
spread wide, and held there by the spreader bar that was attached to
the thick leather straps around his ankles.
	Behind this helpless figure stood a woman, tall and stately,
dressed in a flowing gown that shimmered with a sort of silver ripple
whenever she moved. But what most caught his attention what the long,
evil looking flogger that dangled from her hand as she slowly swept it
back and forth at her side. Then, suddenly, her arm arched and there
was a loud crack as the dozens of long fingers of leather slapped
against the naked skin of the mans buttocks, causing him to moan and
shudder deeply.
	Observing this scene with a dread fascination, he suddenly
felt her hand, lightly settling on his own backside beneath his tight
jeans, and could hear the sound of her voice, softly muttered into his
ear.
	"Would you like to be hanging there, sweet man" she said, and
he could feel his body draw in a deep breath that fanned his
blistering sense of anticipation and desire. When she noticed this and
chuckled wickedly, he could feel his cheeks suddenly burn with the
blush.
	She looped her arm through his once more and with a gentle tug
drew him away from this scene, continuing her introduction of him to
this realm of marvels, and it to him.
	There were many devices scattered about the club he quickly
came to realize as they slowly circulated its depths, and every one of
them was in use, in some form or another.
	On a chilly looking leather covered medical type table, a
young woman was lashed down into the stirrups, her arms secured to the
top corners of the device, and two men slowly and deliberately applied
a variety of clamps and clothespins to every concievable part of her
exposed flesh, until they bristled upwards and shook as she trembled
beneath their bite. Had it not been for the huge, red ball gag lodged
firmly in her mouth, he was sure she would have been screaming, for
her entire body shuddered as each new tiny set of jaws bit into her
flesh and muffled sobs escaped her throat.
	Against a back wall was a large "x" shaped cross, to which a
woman was attached, her limbs spread so wide that she was virtually
standing on tiptoe. Although she too was clamped on the nipples and
labia, she must have been much more focused on the fact that just
before her, kneeling between her legs, was a tiny woman, who reached
up with one hand to hold this captive as best she could at that join
of her hips, while her other slowly, methodically, worked its way into
her, sinking just out of sight and engulfed within her up to the
wrist. The captive let out a moan so deep it was as if the invading
fist might have been pressing against her diaphram sto expell the air.
But when the petite woman before her slowly began to rotate her wrist,
back and forth, the captive let out a howl and began to shudder and
sob in the unmistakable signs of a nerve-shattering orgasm.
	His escort had to virtually pull him away from this sight, and
as he turned he found himself face to face with a stunning tableau...
	Two figures, one male, one female, were lying on the carpet
close to each other, their bodies separately bound with what must have
been countless yards of rope. The man was on his back, his wrists
tightly lashed together behind his shoulders, an additional rope
running from the closely secured wrists through the cleft of his
backside by a piece of cord far too short to allow enough play to his
genitals, which were tightly held at its other end. He might have been
kneeling when this procedure began, because his legs were bent back
under him and widely splayed, the ankles tied with long cords that ran
up to the wide band around his head, just above his eyes, forcing him
to bow over, the top of his head planted on the carpeting, his torso
arcing upwards, totally open to each drop of candle wax that the
slender woman above him delicately let fall onto his skin, causing him
to flinch and groan.
	Next to him was a young woman, also naked, who must have been
sitting when her ordeal was begun, but now it appeared that her body
had been folded neatly down, until her breasts were pressed firmly
against her thighs and a stout series of rope coils wound around her,
pinning her there. Her arms were drawn up behind her almost to the
center of her back, the wrists crossing so that the hands lay flat
against one another, and the end of the coils of rope that secured
them trailed upwards, like a taut bowstring, its terminus looped
through a rather heavy hook in the ceiling and running down to
surround her ankles and hold them pointed almost straight up in the
air. She looked absurdly like a closed pocket knife, standing on end,
except that this knife was gagged, blindfolded and quivering from the
effects of whatever was planted deep inside her sex, the control on
the other end of the long wire that ran from that part of her anatomy
in the casual grip of the tiny, slender oriental woman who stood,
watching the Domme delicately dripping the wax on the bound male and
pointing at patterns the drops made upon his flesh, quietly
commenting. Every so often she would casually flick the switch on the
control and send her own captive into another torrent of shudders and
muffled moaning.
	Observing this scene, he suddenly felt light-headed and giddy,
as if the overload of these fantastic sights were inducing a kind of
trance within him. It was several moments before he realized that she
was tugging at his arm, and then he felt a sudden slap against his
backside as her flat palm connected with it and he jolted heavily,
turning to her, shocked. She smiled up at him.
	"Behave yourself" she said, an edge of amusement in her voice,
and he was surprised to find himself beginning to melt into a welling
need to make up for his poor behavior. He started to speak, to whisper
those long unspoken words..."Yes, Mistress", but he knew that was not
what she saught, so he simply muttered, his face warming with the
blush.
	"Yes... yes, of course. Sorry."
	
	They spent several hours in the club, where she introduced him
to several people, and then sat as she chatted with a particular
couple whom she apparantly knew quite well. The woman was clearly in
charge of the relationship, for she chatted away, smiling and relaxed,
while the man sat quietly by, his attention focused on her like a
hawk. He watched, fascinated as, once, in the midst of some light
gesture, the womans hand turned and extended two fingers upwards, and
instantly the man was extracting a cigarette from the pack on the
table, scooping up the lighter, igniting and slipping the cigarette
between her fingers with a rapidity that startled him. A few moments
later, he watched as her eyes merely flicked down to the dreg-laden
drink before her and the man was already out of his seat, moving
toward the bar to order another for her.
	While he was gone, the conversation between the two women
trailed off as some topic or other became exhausted, and the woman
across the table turned and fixed him with a probing, critical gaze.
	"He's a nice one" she said, a touch of admiration in her
voice.
	"Yes" his companion said smoothly, reaching casually out as if
to pat his cheek. But to his amazement, she instead gathered the beard
on the side of his face firmly between her fingers and pulled, turning
his head so that he faced her. Their eyes locked and he could see
approval deep within her gaze, and perhaps the stirrings of a heat
beginning there. Then she pulled firmly on the beard, drawing his head
close and when their lips met, for the very first time, he felt hers
open slightly and her teeth rake lightly over his lips. Before he
could adjust to the rush of sensations, she was pushing his head away,
her fingers releasing him, leaving him unbalanced, and were it not for
the table before him, he might have tumbled out of his chair.
	Across the table the other woman sighed, her eyes fixed on
him, drinking in his reaction to this rough and loving little assault.
	"Ooohhh" she sighed, admiringly. "I want one of those."
	Both women laughed, and the discussion turned to other
matters. He sat, steadying himself, struggling to slow and deepen his
shallow breathing, get some sort of grip upon himself. The other man
returned bearing the new drink and as he slid into his seat, he placed
it before the woman, his eyes searching desparately for some hint of
approval from her.
	For the first time, she turned her attention to him fully,
looping one arm over the back of his chair and gathering up his hair
in her hands, she pulled his face down, roughly enveloping his lips
with her own. Her hand slid off the table, disappearing out of sight
into the mans' lap and in a few moments he began to whimper. Suddenly
he shuddered as if in pain and one of his hands jerked up slightly, as
if grasping at something far out of reach, while the woman continued
whatever it was she was doing out of sight below the covering surface
of the table.
	He sat, staring at this, his mind reeling, and suddenly felt
her fingertip against the point of his jaw, pushing it gently upwards,
until his mouth closed. He turned to her and the look in her eyes was
appraising and now decidedly hungry.
	He sighed, feeling himself beginning to float out, drifting
across the small space between them and fall, like smoke, into her
gaze. She sighed, and suddenly was reaching to gather her things from
the table before them.
	"I think it's time we were going" she said, casually, already
beginning to rise. He tried to leap up, hoping to be attentive, but
found his legs were weak and he almost stumbled, reaching quickly out
to grip the table, bracing himself for a moment before drawing in a
deep, steadying breath and pushing himself to his full height.
	She observed this, amusement and pride on her face, knowing
full well the effect she was having on him, and turned, moving toward
the door. He fell into step beside her, longing to sweep an arm around
her, draw her close, feel her warmth... and not daring to without her
specific permission.
	Outside, the night was cool and quiet, as they emerged up the
steps and stopped on the sidewalk. She turned to face him and once
more their eyes locked for a long, questioning moment. She seemed to
be calculating something, turning over possibilities in her mind, and
he didn't dare to interupt whatever speculations she might be
considering. At last, she sighed.
	"Oh hell" she said, as if resigning herself to something. "I
hadn't planned on doing this... not tonight, anyway.... but..... come
with me."
	The looped her arm through his once move and stepped off, down
the sidewalk, drawing him along, his mind reeling.
	
	The room was dark, lit only enough for shadows to play upon
the walls, and on the bed that occupied one wall.
	He preceeded her into the chamber, and as he stepped gingerly
into it, he heard the door close behind her and the click of the lock
being slipped into place. Through the dim shadows of the room, he
couldn't really make out much, his eyes taking a long time to adjust
to the gloom. He blinked and squinted, letting his gaze sweep slowly
around the area, when suddenly he heard her, quietly and somewhat
forcefully behind him.
	"Undress. Now."
	He hesitated, feeling a rush of fear, mingled with
anticipation at the base of his mind, but then he felt the firm swat
on his backside from the palm of her hand and her quite, calm voice.
	"Do it."
	He reached up, taking the lapels of his jacket in his hands
and beginning to pull it down and back...
	
	He knelt, at the foot of the bed, totally naked, his arms
drawn out, wrists secured to the corners, his cheek pressed against
the softness of the covers, feeling the rain of blows from the flogger
against his back and upturned buttocks, his mind drifting, his cock
throbbing beneath him... feeling and hearing the sound of his
whipping, like a relentless tune playing on his soul...

	He stood at the foot of the bed, his wrists bound behind his
back, feeling her pressing against him from behind, her fingernail
plowing furrows on the skin of his chest and stomach...
	
	He lay, naked and blindfolded, upon the bed, his arms and legs
secured to its corners, awash with the sensations of the plug that
rooting into his bowels, and the clamps that held his nipples tightly.
With each drop of blazing liquid fire that fell upon his skin from the
candle she held in one hand, and the slash of the whip that glanced
over him from her other, his body jerked and moans spilled from
him.... until he felt the large, spherical gag slipping between his
lips, and she began her work in earnest, slowly, methodically ravaging
his flesh and shredding his soul so that the pieces slipped from him
to where she could scoop them from the air and absorb them...
	At long last, he felt the gag being removed, and the weight of
her above him, the press of her calves upon his pinioned arms and the
heady scent of her sex before him... instinctively, his lips opened
and his tongue brushed against her opening, slipping between her now
moist and throbbing lips, and finding the pinpoint of her lust...
beginning, gently, to carress it.
	He felt as she scoop up the chain on the clamps and gently
tugged on it, stretching his nipples and quickening the rhythm of his
tongue upon her, his entire being now a beast of burden whose only
purpose was to carry her on a frantic ride to ecstacy as she rode on
the saddle of his tongue and lips...
	And when she erupted with a cry, he drank down her lust,
savoring it, absorbing it, and quickening his rhythm yet again,
striving to carry her off those known paths to the wilderness of heat
and unfulfilled lusts.
	But she quickly dismounted, and he felt the press of the gag
against his lips once more, and he knew, as he knew that she now
possessed a piece of his soul that would never be his again but belong
to her as a tender keepsake of this moment, that their flight together
had only just begun... 

E-mail with comments: MarArch@ix.netcom.com
