Fiction: The Island Princess and the Monkeys Who Tie Knots

Once upon a time, there was a wonderful Island Princess. She was the most beautiful Island Princess that had ever lived. It is said that when she was born, the Royal Physician refused to wash his hands for he knew that he would never touch something as beautiful again. He is now a very dirty bum who lives on the beach but he is happy. His now smelly hands once touched the Island Princess’s bare ass.

One day, the Royal Hunter came to the palace to present the latest food he had found on the island. The Island King was very pleased with the many slabs of wild pig ribs the Royal Hunter had brought. The ribs were almost as tall as a man and the Royal Hunter told a wonderful story about how he fought and defeated the monstrous wild pigs. The Island King loved the story and commanded his servants to prepare for a very big barbecue and mixer.

The Island Princess was more interested in the great big red fruit that the Royal Hunter had brought. The fruit was the biggest she had ever seen; they were almost as big as the Island Princess’s own ripe breasts. The Royal Hunter cut open a piece and the juice flowed almost as much as the juice flows between the Island Princess’s thighs. He waved the piece of fruit around and the fragrant smell was almost more wonderful than the smell of the Island Princess’s hair.

“How much for the fruit?” the Island Princess asked.

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“Three hundred pearls,” the Royal Hunter said.

The Island Princess was shocked. That was her entire allowance for three months! You didn’t know the Island Princess had an allowance? The Island King gave her an allowance so she could learn the value of money. He also taught her to never invest in sub prime mortgages and always trust a skinny banker. The Island Princess wanted that fruit very badly but her own financial wisdom wouldn’t let her.

“If you’re going to charge so much, I might as well go get it myself!” the Island Princess said. “Just tell me where you found these fruit.”

The Royal Hunter sneered. “I found them on the west side of the island just past the Moaning Waterfall. Feel free to go yourself as long as you are willing to brave the vicious monkeys that live there. These monkeys have sharp teeth that they file on human bones. They have claws that can rip a tree part with their strength. Their tails are barbed and will flay your skin if they touch you. As the Royal Hunter I am duty bound to tell you what you ask but by the ancient laws I am allowed to charge a fair price for my services. Isn’t that right, Island King?”

The Island King sighed. He hated to disappoint his daughter but some laws were older than Kings.

“Pay the Royal Hunter, or do without,” the Island king said.

The Island Princess stomped her foot and walked right out of palace in a huff.

What nobody knew was that the Island Princess kept walking. She walked through the village. She passed through the jungle and right past the Moaning Waterfall. She kept walking until she reached the west side of the island. Although the Island Princess understood the value of money, she didn’t do as well with understanding that she couldn’t have what she wanted.

The Island Princess froze in her steps when she saw a monkey. She thought the Royal Hunter was making up stories and as soon as she saw one of the allegedly horrible monkeys, she saw that she was right. Why, this little fellow didn’t have sharpened teeth! His teeth were quite blunt and vegetarian. His claws were very smell and badly chewed. As for his tail, it was long and very fluffy. The monkey was also very friendly. He sat there patiently while the Island Princess poked him with a stick to see if he was violent. Other monkeys came out and surrounded the Island Princess. She poked each of them with a stick and none of them took offense.

“Vicious monkeys, my delicate sexy foot,” the Island Princess said.

That was when she noticed one of the glorious red fruits hanging from a tree. Her mouth watered and she dropped her stick. It was a hot summer day and the Island Princess knew the delicious fruit would quench her thirst. She reached up for the fruit and her fingernails just barely brushed the fruit.

The Island Princess screamed as she was tackled to the ground by thirty suddenly crazed monkeys. The once calm creatures were screaming at the top of their lungs and roughly crawling all over her body. The Island Princess tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. It was happening so quickly that she hardly noticed when they ripped off her grass skirt or ripped away her flimsy girdle from her round breasts. It wasn’t till she felt rough corded rope around her nude body that she realized the naughty monkeys had stripped her bare.

“I command you to let me go!” the Island Princess demanded. Unfortunately for her, the monkeys didn’t recognize royalty and they continued to tie her up. Rope was wrapped around her silky smooth thighs and around her ample breasts. Her arms were pulled over her head and then cocooned in the rough rope. The monkeys pulled her legs apart and tied her ankles to separate ends of a long sturdy branch. Most distressing of all to the Island Princess was a thick cord of rope that went down her back, between her butt cheeks and up over her sex before being secured to the ropes holding her breasts. The knots on the rope pressed against her sex and rubbed wonderfully against her.

The Island Princess was angry and also aroused. “You naughty, naughty, NAUGHTY monkeys!” she yelled.

The monkeys ignored her. They moved to the next step which involved throwing one end of the rope over a strong branch. Working together with a unity that would put Siamese twins to shame, the monkeys pulled on the rope and hoisted the Island Princess up into the air! They tied the end of the rope to the base of a tree. The Island Princess hung up in the air much like another piece of delicious fruit.

“Let me down!” she commanded.

The monkeys yawned and watched her.

A few minutes later, the Royal Hunter walked onto the scene.

“You! Help me, I command it!” the Island Princess demanded.

“Ha!” the Royal Hunter laughed. “I thought you would come out here. You have fallen right into my trap!”

The Island Princess struggled in the ropes but the knots held her tight. “What do you mean?”

“This was all an elaborate plan,” the Royal Hunter explained. “I trained these monkeys to tie knots and to tie up anyone who tries to touch this fruit. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist when I told you where the fruit was, and that you would come right here. Now I just need to wait a few days for your father to get concerned and offer me anything I desire to go rescue you from the vicious Princess-eating monkeys I told him about. He will give me all of the pearls in Oyster Bay! Only then will l bring your ass back to him. I will be so rich, I could go to the Americas and buy as many Princesses as I want.”

The Island Princess was pissed. “Not if I escape and tell him what you did!”

The Royal Hunter laughed again. “You will never escape. I have trained these monkeys in the ancient art of Islababari! It would take someone as flexible as an eel to escape that rope. It would take someone who could ignore the Seven Erotic Knots! It would take someone who could undo a knot with only the strength of their tongue! A spoiled Princess like you could never hope to escape!”

The Island Princess glared at the Royal Hunter as he went back into the woods. He was so confident that she couldn’t escape, that he was going to go drinking at the village and wait for someone to notice she was missing. The Island Princess was angry at the Royal Hunter for creating the trap, but she was more angry at herself for walking into it. All because she wanted a fruit she couldn’t have!

Well, there was just one thing an Island Princess could do: she had to escape. She had to make it back home before her father ransomed the kingdom’s treasury for her. Most importantly, she had to get back home, report that bastard to her father, and watch some horrible execution happen to him.

The Island Princess tugged and tried to see how strong the ropes were. Instantly she felt the Seven Erotic Knots and a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Three of the knots were on her sex, nested happily between her lips with one knot sitting right on her clitoris. One knot was on each breast, rubbing up against her sensitive nipples. One knot was right over her ass, threatening her with penetration every time she moved. The last knot was on the side of her neck, pressing in that very special spot that gave her shivers whenever anyone kissed there. The Seven Erotic Knots were going to be a challenge.

She thought about something else the Royal Hunter said. He said it would take the flexibility of an eel, and the ability to undo a knot with just a tongue. The Island Princess looked down at her suspended body as much as she could. The Seven Knots constricted and her body was filled many good feelings. She kept looking and she saw what she needed. Right there, at the top knot over her sex, was where all the rope came together and was tied off. If she could undo that knot, all the rest should come free.

“Hey monkeys, do you want to help me?” the Island Princess asked.

The monkeys just watched. One of them farted. One monkey got up and the Island Princess was hopeful but it turned out he was just stretching his legs.

“Oh well, I guess it is up to me then.”

The Island Princess was hanging from her arms so she decided the easier thing to do was to pull her legs up. The branch keeping her legs apart was heavy but the Island Princess worked out every day by swimming in Oyster Bay. Her toned legs were up to the task of lifting the branch as she curled her legs up to her head.

The harder part was ignoring the Seven Knots. As she folded her body, the Seven Knots worked their sinister magic. The two knots on her nipples pressed hard like a lover’s bite. The knot on her neck pressed against her skin and gave her endless shivers. The knot against her ass entered her and penetrated the Island Princess’s round bottom. Worse of all, the three knots on her sex ground and rubbed against her wet sex till she was dripping down onto the jungle floor below.

The Island Princess tried to ignore the Seven Knots but it was so hard. The sun felt great on her naked body. The wind gently pushed her body and her bound form would spin ever so slowly. The ropes and knots created a wonderful friction on her body that she just wanted to surrender to. The thought of being trapped here for days was looking more and more appealing.

“No, I have my father and my Island kingdom to think about!” the Island Princess said.

She pulled her legs up higher. With only the rope to support her, the Island Princess curled her body till her sex was in front of her face. It wasn’t easy being that flexible, but she was an Island Princess and being this flexible is why she was an island Princess and not some common fisherman’s wife.

The knots were so tight right now. The knot on her ass was now inside her ass. The knots on her nipples were now crushing her poor bountiful breasts. The knot on her neck was starting to interfere with her breathing and was this close to giving the Island Princess a new fetish. The three knots on her sex were grinding, rubbing and constricting in all the right places that it took all of her willpower to not climax right there.

The Island princess reached out with her tongue and started working on the knot. This knot was the centerpiece of the entire Islababari suspension. The weight of the Island Princess as well as the tension of the rope was making that knot very tight. There was no way a normal woman could undo this knot.

Well, it was a good thing she was not a normal woman. The Island Princess took that knot into her mouth and pulled at it with her tongue. She came from a long line of Royalty known for the power of their kisses. Once, her own grandmother had licked a nearly dead man back to life. Before that, her great-great grandmother had kissed the biggest oyster ever into opening and giving up it’s pearl. In fact, the very first Island Princess was said to have rekindled the sun back into flaming life just by blowing a kiss. Untying a knot while bound and hanging wasn’t too impossible of a thing for an Island Princess to do.

The only real hard part was how turned on the Island Princess was. The Seven Knots had her so close to climaxing. Her ass was being opened with a knot, her nipples were being rubbed into over sensitivity and other two knots on her sex were rubbing up and down on her pussy to the point that the Island Princess was moaning while her tongue was busy at work. The rope was already getting tighter because of all the sex juice it was absorbing, if she climaxed it would just be impossible to ever get the knot done.

Her tongue pulled and pulled.

The knots rubbed and tightened.

The monkeys watched and ate some fruit.

The knot came loose!

“Oh shit!” the Island Princess yelled. The rope completely unraveled and she went spilling to the jungle floor. Her body was so aroused and stimulated, that hitting the ground caused the Island Princess to climax. She clutched at the grass and leaves as the orgasm rode through her body. All of the tension, sexual arousal and desire exploded out of her body and through her throat.

Exhausted, the island Princess could hardly stand up. To her surprise, the monkeys came to her aid. They picked her up and she so very grateful for their help. They gave her clothes back and even got her a piece of fruit to eat. Since no one had ever escaped from their knots before, it was as if they recognized her inherent nobility when she escaped. Either that or they really liked the way her sex smelled.

The Island Princess went back to the palace and explained everything to her father, the Island King. He was very upset and had the Royal Hunter arrested. The Royal Hunter tried to deny everything but it was just a commoner’s word against that of the Island Princess. He was tried, convicted and exiled from the Island on a very leaky boat.

The Island Princess was given all the delicious fruit she could eat. After she had a few, she realized it wasn’t really all that good. There was a moral she could have learned about desire and satisfaction but she was a Princess and so she wasn’t required to learn it.

As for the monkeys; the Island princess had all of them brought to the Palace where they spent the rest of their days in the Royal Garden. They had all the fruit they could and royal servants to pick the lice from their fur. What no one knew was that on very quiet nights, the Island Princess would bring out a very long length of rope. In the middle of the night, the monkeys would show the Island princess all of the Islababari knots they knew and the Island Princess would escape from each and every one of them.

The end.

Review: Cashback

When I was a teenager, I wouldn't pick up a book unless it was part of a series, or over 300 pages. At the speed I read, I felt like I needed a lot of book to justify the time spent reading the book. I think I read every trilogy, five part epic and franchise on the market. It wasn't till I was in college before I realize how much of what I was reading was filler. I look back on these trilogies and often I can only recall one scene out of an entire series because that one scene was really all the writer had that was worth reading about.

Which brings us to 'Cashback'. The best thing about this 2006 DVD is that the 102 minute film comes with the 2004, 18 minute short film. It also reinforces my love for the short story which is always worth 15$ to be reminded of.

The premise of both films is simple and brilliant. Ben works a night job and in the alienating despair that comes from working nights while the rest of the world sleeps, Ben devolps the ability to freeze time. Being an artist, this allows him to observe, undress and sketch the women who come to the grocery store he works at.

In the short film, this concept is lean, brilliant, moody and sexy. It sets the tone for late night desperation perfectly as well as capturing the timeless nature of such a job. When he undresses the frozen women, it manages to avoid being creepy. I don't know how any creative person could not fall in love with the short film.

The long film however bloats out of control. An ex-girlfriend is introduced, as well as several short stories about early childhood sexual discoveries, a wacky best friend, a lucky career break, a wacky kung-fu coworker and I could be wrong, but I think at some point they were trapped in a forest with a bunch of Orcs. Although I enjoyed some of the diversions introduced in the long film, I found myself missing the central theme of beauty and loneliness. It is replaced with a diluted splatter of sex, slapstick comedy and tits. It was often amusing, but always meaningless.

I highly recommend this DVD because the short film is sexy and brilliant, while the long film is an education to any short story writer.

Fiction: What It Takes

Helen Ramada stretched her legs out in back of the limousine. Expensive shoes dangled on tiny feet while Helen slowly dragged her skirt up. She took her time, knowing that her chauffeur was watching every inch by the rear view mirror.

“Ms. Ramada,” Max said. “You are the heir to a billion dollar fortune. Your family has rubbed shoulders with politicians and royalty. You have done so little but enjoy so much of your family’s wealth and power. Please tell me that you are wearing underwear and that you will not be giving those paparazzi jackals yet another look at your spoiled rich girl cunt?”

“And what if I do give them a look?” Helen said. She looked at him through short cut blonde hair expertly designed to look wild and stylish at the same time.

“If you flash your cunt one more time,” Max said. “Then tonight when I drive you back to your apartment, I will whip your bottom with my belt personally.”

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Helen shuddered. Her chauffer wasn’t handsome or in fantastic shape. He was in his 40’s which made him almost incomprehensibly old to the young woman. His black hair was streaked with gray and he barely wore any cologne. Her friends said he was an absolute failure as a fashion accessory and they were right; he was a walking embarrassment wherever they went. But Helen kept him on the payroll for one reason and one reason only: He knew exactly how to treat her.

“The belt is too hard,” she whined. “I couldn’t wear a bikini for a week the last time you used it.” It was the same whine she used to convince her father to let her have her own apartment when she was sixteen.

“The belt is what you will get,” Max said. He had no pity for her whines. He cared nothing for her pleas. He listed her punishment with a certainty that made no sense for a man who depended on her for his wage. He would hurt her for shaming her family and that made Helen so very hot between her thighs.

The limousine pulled up to the club. Helen had forgotten the name of the place. It was famous for something or another that happened before she was born so what did it really matter? Right now it was the place to be for people like Helen to be seen. Helen didn’t know who decided what places were cool one week and lame the next but she didn’t care. She just knew she had to be where the hot people were or else you might as well be a nobody.

Helen waited for Max to come around to open her door. Before the door was even open, the lights were flashing. The photographers and their stupid cameras were chipping away at her, trying to dig out a nugget worth selling to the papers so they could pay their bills. Helen used to pity them, then she grew to hate them but now it is different. Now she saw them as sex toys to get Max worked up.

She had her routine down to a science. First she wore dark sunglasses so no one could see how alert and intelligent she was. She flailed her hand out in a perfect imitation of drunken clumsiness. As soon as Max grabbed her hand, Helen spun her leg around in a wide arc, flashing the entire crowd. A hundred light bulbs flashed and it took all of Helen’s focus to not smile in glee. She stood up and pretended to almost fall. Max grabbed her arm and supported her as she stumbled toward the club.

“You little whore,” Max swore.

Critics who saw her few television cameos said she couldn’t act but that was not true. Helen just needed the right kind of motivation.

“That’s Ms. Whore to you,” she said. Helen dropped the drunken act as soon as they stepped inside the club. There might be an agent or an advertising executive looking for talent. Max reluctantly released her arm and assumed his proper place a foot behind her.

“Helen!” a voice screamed inside the club. “Come sit with us!”

Helen squinted in the darkness to see if the calling voice belonged to someone worthy. She sighed when she saw a busty brunette and her boy toy of the night. It was Mackenzie Moen, a cokehead slut actress who Hollywood kept putting in movies because of her willingness to fuck any producer on the first date. Helen thought the girl was a waste of Gucci shoes, but the girl was famous.

“Mackenzie!” Helen yelled back. “You’re out of rehab!” She hugged the actress and winked at the blonde boy toy who was staring at her.

“Yeah, I got out this week,” Mackenzie said. “Those shit heads told everyone I had been cured. I love doctors; they are so easy to suck off. Oh, you still carry Max with you? Helen, you got to let me fix you up with some real bodyguards; the kind who watch your ass and then go down on you.”

Helen sat down at the table and laughed. “Max does watch my ass, don’t you?”

Max didn’t answer her. He stood to the side and folded his hands in front of him. He did amuse himself by glaring at the boy toy sitting beside Helen.

As for Helen, she amused herself by slipping her hand under the table and grabbing the crotch of the boy toy. The boy was smart for an underwear model, he just stayed perfectly still while Helen unzipped his pants and toyed with his cock.

“So Mackenzie, tell me about the latest actor you’ve blown,” Helen said.

The actress launched into a long drawn out lie about newest stud in Hollywood. Mackenzie did too many drugs to realize that she told the same three stories every time with just the names changed, but Helen didn’t mind. The important thing when you are a celebrity is that you have to be seen with the rich and famous so that you stay in style. Helen had spent the last year trying to get an endorsement deal with a lingerie company and her lawyers told her that they were very close to sealing the deal. In order to get that deal, Helen needed to keep appearing in gossip magazines and in magazine covers so that the lingerie company will get an erection at the thought of signing someone so important. As far as Helen was concerned, listening to a drunken actress make up shit was Helen’s job.

As for jacking the cock of Mackenzie’s stud while Max gave her dirty looks? That was just hot. The boy toy was groaning now but that was alright. Mackenzie was too into her story and herself to even notice. Helen kept stroking the guy’s cock, taking extra care to run her fingernail right over the tip with every thrust. She was pumping it so hard, her breasts were jiggling. They were threatening to fall out of her custom made dress. Helen almost wished they would just to see if Mackenzie would notice.

The pretty boy reached his hand under the table and tried to grab Helen’s thigh. Despite the loudness of the bar, Helen imagined she could hear Max’s growl. Helen squeezed the boy’s cock as hard as she could and the boy whimpered in pain. He pulled his hand back like her thigh was on fire and very wisely kept his hand above the table. Helen rewarded him with a much gentler grip and resumed stroking him. The boy muttered an apology while Mackenzie continued on obliviously with her story. Helen knew the boy toy had no idea how close he came to having his head ripped off by Max.

The boy toy climaxed and Helen kept pumping. Semen flew underneath the table while Mackenzie’s story segued into a discussion about her last photo shoot for a soft core magazine. The underwear model cried out but Mackenzie just took his exclamation in reference to her story.

Helen wiped the semen off her hand on the boy’s trousers. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

“If you find any good drugs, bring me back some!” Mackenzie shouted.

Max followed Helen to the bathroom. “I saw that,” he growled.

Helen smiled. “And what shall you do to me?”

“I’m going to tie you up like the delinquent you are,” Max said. He said it with an almost sadness in his voice, as if the punishment wasn’t appealing to him personally as much as it was just something that had to be done.

Helen shuddered. Her pussy flushed with heat. “Please don’t. I’ll be good now, I promise.”

Max didn’t answer.

Helen walked into the ladies’ room leaving Max behind. There were three nobodies at the sinks, trying to fix up their makeup so they could look like a Wal-Mart version of Helen. The girls all looked at Helen when Helen started washing her hand. They wanted to say something cool and funny enough that would encourage Helen to invite them into her life. Sometimes the fame hungry girls were more annoying than the pussy hungry boys.

“I’m just washing jizz off my hand,” Helen said. “So no talking to me, okay?”

There, she just made their day. Now they had a story about what a whore Helen Ramada was. Helen got to wash her hands in peace and three wannabes had something to text their friends about.

Helen looked at herself in the mirror. A glamorous rich girl looked back at her. She saw a force of marketing nature. She saw a person who could end careers and lives with a carefully placed tantrum. She saw a woman who improved circulation and television ratings every time she did something bad. The woman in the mirror could literally do no wrong that couldn’t be turned into a positive for her career and lifestyle.

There were other things she saw too. She saw the nose job she had when she was 15. She saw the diamond earrings her mother gave her instead of being in the country for Helen’s birthday. She saw a very thin body that was the result of too many damn hours in the gym and a completely boring diet. She saw somebody who never had a boyfriend that wasn’t someone that could help her fame.

“Christ,” Helen said. The nobodies jumped in fear. “I need to stop thinking like Max.”

She dried her hands off and walked back onto the dance floor. Max followed behind her but she ignored him. The sound in the club was overwhelming. Everyone was dancing, drinking or getting high. This was her life, a bunch of fucked up somebodies trying to stay ahead of the nobodies.

“Are you all right?” Max asked her. His usual mean tone was gone. Helen realized she must look as upset as she felt. Fuck, you don’t get reality show deals for having a soul searching moment in a club.

‘I’m fine,” she snapped. Helen saw what she needed. There was a table filled with executives that were obviously here to gawk at people prettier than themselves. Helen strutted right over to their table, used a chair to boost herself up, and then climbed onto the table itself. She pulled her skirt up with her hands and gave them a good look at million dollar pussy.

“Mind if I dance here?” she yelled. The men cheered.

Helen danced on the table. She wasn’t very good. She knew half a dozen moves from watching strippers and she cycled through them. It didn’t matter to the club. They cheered and screamed her name. Cell phone cameras clicked away as she flashed her legs, her ass and her pussy. It wasn’t her body or her dancing that everyone wanted to see, it was her fame. Helen knew they were cheering for her glamour, and every single one of them would sell their mothers for a chance to be apart of it.

Except for Max. He waited till the song was over and then he got her down from the table. His manner was gentle and most people assumed he was helping a very drunk Helen. They walked right past Mackenzie’s table and the starlet flashed Helen a dirty look for being the center of attention. Max dragged Helen out of the club and back into her limousine. A hundred flashbulb salute was her send-off as the limousine drove off.

In the limousine, Helen masturbated furiously all the way home to her apartment.

Helen groaned when Max helped out of the car, the iron grip of his hand locked around her arm.

Helen could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She had danced before a crowd of strangers without a second thought but now she knew fear. Something bad was going to happen there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“Please,” she begged Max. “I’ll buy you any car you want. Just pick one.”

Max ignored her as he dragged her to her apartment. He unlocked the door and shoved her in.

“Please, she begged again. “Just forget everything that happened tonight and I’ll buy you your own apartment anywhere you like.”

Max said nothing as he pulled his belt loose and snapped it in his hand.

“Don’t you dare come near me, mother fucker!” she yelled.

Max leaped at her. He grabbed her and pushed right over the arm of her imported French sofa. Helen screamed as Max grabbed flipped her skirt over and exposed her bare ass.

“Just think,” Max said. “If you were wearing panties, this might hurt less.”

The belt landed on her ass and Helen knew that no flimsy underwear could have protected her. It wasn’t the playful sting she might get from a fetish model during a photo shoot, or the gentle half hearted slap she got from an underwear model. This was a whipping. It was the kind of whipping you give a bad child, or a dog or a bitch.

Max whipped Helen. He pinned her down to the arm of the couch and he didn’t care if he was smashing her face into the textured cushions. All he cared about was blistering her bottom with his belt. She kicked and screamed but nothing would stop his whipping.

Helen’s petite ass turned bright red instantly and cruel welts formed seconds later. Helen screamed till she was hoarse. The whipping was relentless. Her ass hurt so much, that she forgot all about the club, she forgot about Mackenzie and she forgot all about what people thought or cared about her. To Helen, nothing in the world existed except her whipped ass.

The whipping stopped. Max let go of Helen and the heiress sobbed in relief. She slid down the arm of the chair onto the floor. That was too much. It wasn’t enough. Her ass was on fire with pain but her pussy had left an ugly wet spot on the arm of the sofa. Helen was aroused. Helen was sore. Most importantly, Helen felt real.

“You danced on a table like a damn ten dollar stripper,” Max said. Helen shuddered as he made his accusation. The punishment was coming.

“Lay a finger on me and I’ll have my father’s lawyers sue you for everything you’ll never own,” she said. Helen had to threaten him. It was what rich bitches like her did.

Max pushed her facedown onto the carpet. He planted his foot on her back like he was stepping on a pest. Helen struggled to get up but he pulled her arms behind her back. He used his belt to cinch her arms and then tied it off. He tore a strip of her dress off Helen screamed at the outrage. He treated her designer clothes with the same lack of respect he treated her. The strip of cloth was used to bind her ankles together. He tore off more strips so he could do the same to her thighs and to her wrists.

“If you’re going to act like trash, you might as well get treated like trash,” Max said.

He took his foot off of her and Helen flailed about in rage. She hated being restricted. To a girl who had never been told ‘no’, the loss of freedom was inconceivable. It was also very exhilarating. Helen flounced around on the floor, trying to get up without much success. The belt and the cloth bit into her skin, rubbing her raw while she struggled. The pain was just one more thing she couldn’t whine away.

“Please let me go!” Helen said. “I’ll be good! I will do everything you say, I promise. Just let me go, please, pretty please.” All she had left was the begging and empty promises that always worked on her family.

She heard Max unzip his pants. “No,” she moaned.

He picked her up by the hair and got her to her knees. She blinked back tears just in time to see his cock right in front of her. Helen opened her mouth, expecting him to fuck her face.

Max pressed her face against his balls. His cock pressed against her cheek. He wasn’t even giving her the pleasure of tasting his cock. With one hand he stroked his cock. He looked down at her with a mixture of disgust and regret. Despite the hardness of his cock, there was no arousal on his face. It was like she wasn’t even attractive to him. This was just a punishment.

Helen wished she could stroke herself. She wished she could plunge her fingers into her pussy and get herself off. It would only take five strokes, no only three, no just one damn stroke, she was sure of it. That is all she needed and she knew Max would never give it to her.

“Lick,” Max growled. He pumped his cock fast and hard, just like Helen wished he would pump into her.

Helen licked. His balls were hairy and tasted of sweat but she licked. Max was not the kind of guy to do any sort of trimming down there, so Helen was licking mostly hair. None of the actors, models and agents she usually sucked had an inch of hair on their genitals. It was ridiculous. It was degrading. Helen Ramada was licking some old guy’s hairy balls and she didn’t dare complain about it.

Max pumped his cock. Helen kept licking. She switched from one ball to the other. It never occurred to her to bite, or do anything bad to Max’s balls. Helen knew the punishment would be far worse than what was happening now. There was another reason Helen kept licking. Even at the depth of her degradation, she found a comfort in doing what she was supposed to. Licking his balls was something she choose to do. No amount of money, family connections or fitness trainers could do it for her.

His groan was her only warning. She closed her eyes as she felt the first splash of hot semen on her fast. Max kept pumping his cock and Helen kept licking his balls. A splash landed in her hair and Helen knew it was going to be a bitch to wash out. Another splash landed on the other side of her face and Helen shut her eyes tight. Some of his seed dripped down to his balls and Helen licked it off dutifully.

Max walked away, leaving Helen alone on the apartment floor. She felt all her pent up energy just leave her. If she wasn’t still bound by the belt and cloth, Helen was sure she would have collapsed and fallen right asleep. Helen was exhausted. She also felt redeemed. In this brief moment, she didn’t feel like a spoiled bitch. Helen felt like a real woman who had paid her due for her fucked up life. She felt alive.

She felt a towel touch her face. Max was wiping his seed off of her. Helen almost protested. With each wipe, she felt a little bit more like the pampered child that she was. She wanted to hold onto the punished slut that she wanted to be. She wanted to be the woman that understood consequences and what it felt to be real.

“Thank you,” Helen said, and she meant it.

“You’re going to have get the jizz out your hair yourself,” Max sad.

“I’m not thanking you for the towel,” Helen said.

“I know,” Max said.

Helen’s cell phone rang. It was the ring tone she designated for her agent. She pushed Max’s hand away and got to her. All of the exhaustion was gone as Helen found new inspiration from the news her agent might have. Did she get the lingerie deal? Was it a new magazine cover? She had to know.

She answered the phone and plunged back into the fake world she knew best.

The end.

Dr. Otto Von Madd Says

"Attention young inventors! Although steam powered vibrators are the current popular trend, second degree burns from leaking metal are not! Stick with safer methods of stimulation like the Von Madd Clockwork Vibrator, available in finer hobby stores everywhere!"

Cloverfeild, the Host, 28 Weeks Later and Writing Porn

I went on a Horror movie bender this weekend because I often feel that horror movies have the potential to break new ground more so than science fiction and fantasy. Horror is grounded in our day to day lives with a big heaping dose of reality breaking terror. Science fiction and fantasy movies to me seem to be stretching further and further into absurdity that removes the personal element. Of course this sentiment disqualifies slasher gross out horror, which is more interested in making you physically ill rather than mentally. Watching horror movies to me i a lot like mining for gold in a latrine. You have a bunch of shit to dig through to find the gems.

'Cloverfeild' is a gem. Critics have called it Blair Witch meets Godzilla because the point of view is entirely within a home movie camera but to me it reminded me more of blogging. Hud, the guy with the camera, documents everything out of a vague sense that people will want to know what goes down. Friends die, buildings collapse and Hud breaks down but damn it, he keeps filming. Hud has a sense of responsibility that transcends logic to most people but makes perfect sense to an audience that blogs their tragedies.

In the movie, some terrible thing attacks New York. While the characters are evacuating, one of them receives a phone call from the love of his life. He decides to turn around and go rescue her from her apartment, and the friends tag along. Here to me is movie's biggest weakness: Once the characters rescue the love of his life, the movie is just about over. We spend an entire movie losing characters we like, in order to save a character who is virtually a stranger to us. I resented the fuck out of the girl once she was rescued, and I never really got over it. The girl was a plot device. The fact that she is a whiny skinny white girl who repeats over and over "Why is this happening?" projects a sense of privilege. The main characters went through Hell to rescue this woman who seems upset that she something bad happen to her.

Which brings us to 'The Host'. This 2006 Korean movies was referenced by 50% of the 'Cloverfeild' reviews so I gave it a look. In this movie, a young girl is snatched by a horrible river monster and tucked away in a sewer like a squirell stores nuts. The poor girl calls her idiot father letting him know she is still alive. The idiot father, his drunk brother, his bronze medal winning archer sister and their snack stand owning father go out to rescue the girl.

What a huge difference this rescue team and rescue victim are from 'Cloverfeild'. As an audience we care for the girl who is one of the few good things that has ever happened to this family. We love this girl just as much as the family does and the failures of the family replicate the feeling of helplessness we the audience feel watching this play out. The special effects are weaker and the monster is much smaller but the tension and connection is so much stronger.

Out of bad luck, I also watched '28 Weeks Later' this weekend. This loud sequel was all special effects and one minute character development. Rarely have I seen so many people die that I could give a rat's ass for. It was even more bizarre considering how small and intimate the first movie was where it explored one survivor and his experiences. This movie was all death, gunfire and loud noises. Characters existed to act stupid and die.

So what does all of this have to do with porn? Everything. When a monster eats a character, wether we care or not depends on how well we know the character involved. The DVD cover for 'The Host' has a picture of a schoolgirl being snatched by a monster. My eyes glazed over the image because it reminded me of posters where Jaws is about to eat some anonymous swimmer. After the movie, when I realized the DVD cover was depicting THAT girl that I had spent two hours watching, I felt a jolt knowing it was showing the abduction.

I think beginning porn writers have even more to learn from '28 Weeks Later'. In their minds, their characters may represent lost loves, current crushes or cherished spouses, but if the writer doesn't make us feel the same way then all they are writing about are bodies fucking. I'm not saying writers need to do full biographies of their porn characters, but give us something to hold onto, even if it is a cliche. Idiot camera guy wasn't as interesting as idiot father but he was far more interesting than warm body that passed as a character in '28 Weeks Later'.

Invest in your porn characters and your readers will too.

Early Weekend

Let's start the weekend early. I have a crap load of work to do and my new story needs the kind of editing you can only do on the weekend. As always in times of trouble and despair, I turn to Kylie Minogue. Her polished dance beats, her international sexuality and Technicolor hair makes me feel all funky in my good places.

Divorce Papers

I have been filling out divorce paperwork all week long. As a writer, I often find legal documents to be hilarious. The cold dry language just begs to be parodied and I would happily fill my blog with sexed up funny versions of most legal forms. Filling out MY divorce papers however has not been funny. The cold language has been depressing and as a writer I just want to write in the margins little explanations.

Take cause of divorce. They want you to pick a grievance of some great injustice that is why you're breaking up or they want you to use the legal term of 'no fault'. I know we fall under 'no fault' but man, I ask myself if it is my fault every day. I wonder if I could have done more, could I have been forceful with my wishes, could I have been a better husband or did I just fundamentally fail at some point at making that marriage work. Putting no fault just seems like a cop out.

The divorce papers spend a great deal of time talking about children. As a child of divorced parents I understand the need but it makes me wish there was a childless divorce form. Flipping through pages of children discussion makes me feel like there was an important part of the marriage we never got around to. It makes me feel weirdly guilty for not having kids to put through this mess.

The obsession with children in the papers gets me angry that we don't talk about the things that matter to us. There is no discussion of pets and god damn it, I miss my cats every day. There is no discussion of music, of who gets to listen to the songs of the last decade without crying. There is no discussion of who gets to watch Sailor Moon without feeling guilty that a reincarnated princess of the moon and a amnesiac tuxedo wearing bad ass could make it work but two kids from North Carolina couldn't. No where in the divorce papers do they talk about who has custody of the memories of monsters defeated and quests accomplished when we played City of Heroes and Everquest.

Damn it. I need someone to make those decisions because I get caught up in the misery, the nostalgia and the mourning of it all. What is the point of a divorce if they won't separate those things for me.

All week I have also been writing a story. It has nothing to do with divorce, spouses or even romance. I'm enjoying the hell out of writing it because I think the main character really pops and it is a vacation from my current issues. I honestly don't know what I would do without my writing. Making something, and knowing that people will read it, enjoy it and remember it years after I have forgotten it gives me the comforting feeling that I can do something that will last.

Shon's Big Secret To Writing Porn

You have to love your characters. You have to want to spend the entire day with them. You have to like them so much, that you blow off your chores because you rather hang out with your characters.

You have to want to run off with your characters on a crazy weekend. You have to be so smitten that you daydream naughty permutations with them. You have to love them so much that you get cranky when you're separated from them.

You have to love that submissive slut character before you gangbang the wench.

Mondays Suck

Monday morning and the week long grind begins again. I work from home so I am still in my house robe. She works far, far, far away from me and she is dressed in all her sophisticated glory. Smart high heels, tight black jeans, a fancy blouse, sharp glasses and fine jewelry all topped by her immaculate hair. Man, she was hot.

She went to the door with purse in hand and a scarf around that slender neck. I didn't think, I just got up and stopped her from going out. She giggled as I kissed her. She moaned as I grabbed her ass. She gasped as she felt my erection grind against her.

"On your knees," I whispered in her ear.

She laughed. "I have to go to work."

"No, you have to suck me," I said.

She grabbed the collar of my robe and clenched it tight. She wanted to. She wanted the feel of my cock in her mouth. She wanted to lick the head and slip me between her lips. She wanted me to mess up her immaculate hair. She wanted to get dirt on the knees of her sexy jeans. She wanted me to use her scarf like a leash while I fucked her face. She wanted to go to work with the taste of my semen on her tongue.

"Okay," she said.

When Being A Pervert Helps

So I am sitting here this morning working when I see a flash of light coming from the wall outlet. The smell of ozone hit me and I knew that this was some deep shit. I shut everything down and called a friend so that they could be on the line to call 911 when I got electrocuted.

I wanted to call my wife. Isn't that fucked up? She has the computer degree. She's the one I turn to in all disasters computer related. I didn't though. I don't think she would have minded, but I had to deal with this myself, you know?

So after everything was turned off, I needed to turn off the switches on the power strips. I REALLY didn't want to stick my fingers near there. Sara suggested something wooden but my new kitchen is all metal utensils. That is when I remembered my toybox. I have wooden spoons for spanking. Aha! Wooden Spanking spoon to the rescue.

After turning off the light switch, I had the scary task of unplugging the outlets from the wall. I don't know if this is even necessary or safe, because I am not asking the ex, remember? This is just my own basic caveman knowledge of the magic we call electricity. The problem is that after working a car factory, I am really afraid of electricity. I have seen the videos of electric deaths. I want to unplug the cords, but I can't bring myself to touch them and pull them out of the outlet.

BDSM toybox to the rescue again. I have a 20$ oven mitt made of space age materials that does a wonderful thud sensation in spanking. I use it on women who can't take much pain, because it lets me swing full force and they get a nice pleasant thud. I am not sure how electric resistant it is, but it's a big ass glove and that makes me feel better.

Seeing how I am online posting this, you can assume I did not die. I have moved all the plugs to other outlets and for the time things appear to be working. I didn't have to call my ex and have her calm my hysterical ass down. Most importantly, I am not dead and I am thanking my box full of non-conductive sex toys for that.

Give It

Give me your ass to spank. Give me your mouth to kiss. Give me your cunt to fuck. Give me your hands to hold down. Give me your legs to bind. Give me your throat to choke. Give me your your body to photograph. Give me your mind to stimulate. Give me your begging words. Give me your need.

Give me your sex.

Flirt

Flirting is a language but it doesn't require comprehension as much as it requires imagination on the part of the recipient. Cosmic Minx sat across from at a dinner party and kept doing this flip with her collar. She did it with a smirk and a half wink, giving me a good peek of her beautiful skin and big wide view of her playful side.

I thought she was just playing around. It wasn't till my friends asked me in amazement if me and Cosmic Minx were dating that it occurred to me that she was flirting. It wasn't till each one them said how they had never seen her act this way that it slowly penetrated my brain that this friend of mine was coming on to me.

Looking back on it, it seems so obvious what she was doing. Heck, every time she did it, I burned it into my memory and knew that I would have to get her to do it again some time when I had my camera. Which is what you are seeing above. Even though it was sending a jolt to my libido with every collar flip, my brain wouldn't accept the obvious data because that would require my brain to see myself as a desirable person worth flirting with. I didn't. It wasn't out of modesty or sexual naivety, it was out of poor self-esteem. I just couldn't imagine this sexy smart woman was interested in me.

I know better now.

Haples Male Shopping For Female Questions

So my very special lady mentioned in passing that it was hard for her to find garter belts of women of her size. I too that as a personal challenge and went online looking. It's the Internet right? It has everything.

That everything does not seem to include size 42w garter belts. That strikes me as a bit insane. It's 2008! I would think by now that every article of sexy lingerie has been reproduced for every size. Isn't there like a legal fund for this?

Another question I have is metal snaps. I have found that any garter belt that does have metal snaps is terribly proud of having metal snaps but they don't exactly say why they are so important. Could someone explain the importance of this feature?

These are the days I am tempted to take up sewing in order to make my own.

Fiction: Human Resources

Donna Howman knew something was wrong as soon as she opened her eyes. The laboratory issued alarm clock told her the time was 8:24, a good two hours after she was supposed to wake up. The Von Madd Laboratory ran on a strict schedule and even though Donna was technically a computer administrator and not a scientist, she wasn’t exempt from the timetable. She had overslept and who knew what strange punishment the insane Dr. Von Madd would insist on.

She didn’t have long to speculate. The door to her dormitory room kicked open with a BANG! Two people clad in black leather and buckles stormed into her room. Paddles, handcuffs and other fearsome toys dangled from their belts. Both of them were wearing helmets that covered their faces with a reflective mirror surface. One had the unmistakable curves of a very busty woman while the other had the hard body of a man. The two rushed over to Donna’s bed and each grabbed a handful of her brown hair as they dragged her out of bed and onto the floor.

“Who are you?” Donna yelled. She tried to cover her small breasts with her hands but both of her assailants grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her back. Cold steel clamped around her wrists, locking her hands behind her back.

“We’re Human Resources,” the male said.

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“Oh shit,” Donna said. She heard stories about the heartless department. “Look, I’m sorry I overslept! My alarm must not be working.”

The female yanked Donna’s head back. “Von Madd equipment is tested regularly for performance and reliability! You, apparently are not.”

Before Donna could respond, the two Human Resources agents dragged her off the floor and pushed her against her dormitory dresser. Gloved hands yanked down her pajamas and her panties.

“Donna Howman, do you know the punishment for tardiness?” the male asked her.

“No sir!” Donna answered, though considering that she worked for a sexual research laboratory and had to fill out a rather libertine work contract, she had a damn good suspicion what it was.

The two HR agents pulled hard plastic paddles from their belts. Yep, that was Donna’s guess.

Gloved hands grabbed her head and forced it down onto the top of the dresser. She was forced to bend over at an unnatural angle while hard boots kicked her feet further apart. Her small breasts pressed against the cold dresser and her nipples hardened, though not from the cold.

A paddle came down on her ass, hard and merciless. As soon as it moved away, another paddle came down, smacking the same spot but with far more force. The two HR agents were on either side of her, taking turns smacking her bottom. Back and forth the paddles swung, covering entire bottom with cruel blows. The gloved hands kept her head pinned down as the paddles fell like hail on her ass.

Donna had never been paddled like this before. Once, a lover had spanked her with light hearted slaps that was too afraid to really give her a sting. This was completely different. This was a complete ass punishment. This was violent and relentless. This was so fucking hot, just like she read about in porn.

It hurt.

It aroused her.

It made her scream.

It made her wet.

The paddling stopped. Her head was yanked back up again.

“Learned your lesson?” the man asked her. She looked at the mirrored helmet and saw herself. She was surprised by the glow on her face. Donna knew she should answer yes, but she was half tempted to say no.

“She hasn’t learned anything,” the woman said. Donna cried out as gloved fingers invaded her cunt. Straight into her sex they went, pushing easily into her wet sex.

“Oh, a pervert!” the male HR agent said. “Take her to the bed.”

Donna’s legs went weak but the two easily dragged her back to her bed. Her head was spinning. Was this really happening? All this just for sleeping in?

They tossed her on her back. She cried out as her spanked ass made contact with the bed. Donna cried out again as the woman climbed on to the bed and grabbed Donna’s ankles. She straightened Donna’s legs upward and pulled them apart. Donna’s sex was exposed to the male HR agent who unzipped his pants. Out flopped his cock through the zippered opening, hard and frightfully long.

“Fuck,” Donna gasped.

The woman holding her legs laughed. The man said nothing. He just grunted as stepped up and entered Donna. Inch after inch slid into her until he was completely buried in her. Donna could see her own moaning face in the man’s mirrored helmet.

He fucked her. Gloved hands encompassed her small breasts and squeezed them painfully hard. His cock slammed into her, punishing, abusing and delighting her cunt. There were no soft caresses or soothing words. There was only the fucking.

The female agent squatted down on Donna’s face. Donna was surprised to see the woman’s pants were already unzipped and open. How long had they been like that? Donna barely had time to react before the agent’s cunt descended onto Donna’s mouth. She didn’t need to be told what to do. She opened her lips to open the agent’s nether lips. She used her tongue did the best she could while the HR agent rode her face.

The Human Resource agents used Donna like only Human Resources could. The man fucked her cunt while the woman fucked her face. Hard, impersonal and with a complete disregard for Donna’s wishes, they exploited her body. There seemed to be a never ending thrusting into her cunt and a never ending amount of pussy to be eaten.

Donna forgot about being a computer administrator. She forgot about over sleeping and she forgot about her family and friends. She forgot about something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but that was okay. Donna was a vessel for fucking and she found that she liked that feeling very much.

The HR agent on her face climaxed and Donna knew by the tight squeeze of thighs around her head. The HR agent fucking her cunt climaxed and Donna knew by the warm flood of cum that filled her body. Donna herself had climaxed several times but right now her whole body felt like an orgasm. She was only dimly aware of the two agents pulling away from her and leaving her alone on the bed.

Something soft landed on her thigh. It was an envelope. The Human Resource agents just stood there in their black leather and faceless helmets. Confused, Donna picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a card.

Happy Birthday from Dr. Otto Von Madd and the Human Resources Department!”

“Holy shit!” Donna yelled. She found the strength to sit up. “I forgot it was my birthday today!”

The HR agents zipped up their pants. “Human Resources never forget,” the man said.

“It’s our job to make your experiences here always memorable and pleasant,” the woman said. “According to your psyche profile, Dr. Von Madd recommended this as your ideal birthday experience.”

The man added in, “As well as time to sleep in and have the rest of the day off. Please enjoy your birthday, and if there is anything Human Resources can do to make your birthday better, please say so.”

Donna smiled and spread her legs.

“Can we do that again?”

Bound

Confined to my bed
Locked down with kisses and slaps
Ensnared on my cock

Fiction: The Island Princess and the Moon

Once upon a time there was a very special island. What made this island so special wasn’t the very majestic Island King. Nor was it the very strange and wicked Island Witch. It wasn’t even the endless number of beautiful pearls located in Oyster Bay though it did make everyone on the island very rich.

What made this island special was that this island was the home of the Island Princess, the most beautiful woman in the entire world. The Island Princess had beautiful black hair more luscious than the thickest jungle. Her skin was the color of golden tea. Her breasts were riper than the largest coconuts. Her legs were as long as a lazy summer day. Her lips were redder than island cherries. There never was an Island Princess as beautiful as her and many feel the world could not bear another as beautiful again.

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One warm summer night, the Island Princess felt a stirring between her tanned thighs. The moon was high in the sky, though in these days, the moon shone rather dimly. The entire Island was covered in a faint light and this awoke a heat in the Island Princess’s body. Her hips had to move, her shoulders needed to shift and her neck couldn’t stop swaying to a music she couldn’t hear but she could certainly feel.

She had to dance.

Island law forbade women from dancing at night for reasons long forgotten. This did not discourage the Island Princess for this young woman was a rather willful creature. She snuck away from the palace and crept away to the highest mountain on the island. Being a small island, this only took a few hours. It was around midnight when the Island Princess reached the highest summit far away from any spying eyes that would report her to her father.

The Island Princess danced. Round hips gyrated in circles. Long legs kicked out from her grass skirt. Creamy brown breasts bounced within her tight cloth girdle. The braid of her long black hair swung and swayed, held back only by the red hair band that was her birthright.

On and on she danced till she noticed that the moonlight was a little bit brighter. She could almost feel the heat on her golden tanned skin. The Island Princess felt like the moonlight was kissing her skin and this just made her want to dance faster. She kept dancing and she noticed that the moon seemed bigger and fuller than she have ever seen before.

“If I was some ignorant Island wench, I would think the moon was enjoying my dancing,” she said.

“I am” the Moon answered back in a booming voice.

The Island Princess stopped. Her heart raced. She was frightened but then she remembered that she was a princess. She lifted her chin in the arrogant manner of her father and spoke very clearly to the celestial body.

“It is impolite to spy on a woman of royalty,” she said.

“My apologies,” the Moon said. “But could you please keep dancing? I am very lonely here in the sky and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Well, flattery always worked on the Island Princess.

“I shall,” she said. As she began to dance, the Moon spoke again.

“And can you take off your hair band so I can see your hair; free and wonderful?”

The Island Princess was shocked. “Absolutely not! Only common washwomen let a man who is not her husband see her without her headband!”

She was so offended that the Island Princess turned around and stomped down the side of the mountain. She stomped the entire way through the jungle and she was still stomping when she returned to the palace. The Island Princess stomped to her bed and went to sleep. As she slept, her feet stomped her sheets in royal annoyance.

Now the very next night, a terrible thing happened. The Moon didn’t come out at all. It stayed hidden and the poor Island was plunged into darkness. The animals made strange noises in the jungle and the Island People had terrible nightmares. Everyone was quite concerned except for the Island Princess who knew what it looks like when a man sulks.

The next night the Moon did not return.

On the third night, the Moon was still missing.

On the fourth night, the Island People started to whisper and complain. They blamed the Island King for not fixing the problem. There was talk of maybe sacrificing the Island King to the night sky. Some of the more wild whispers even discussed starting a democracy.

When the Island Princess heard her maids discussing how to form a legislature, the Island Princess knew she had to do something. She snuck away back into the jungle. In the pitch darkness, she stumbled up the mountain till she had returned to the summit. Once there, she sighed and took off her headband.

On the highest mountain, the Island Princess danced with her hair down. Long black hair few around her face and body like shimmering veil. She danced as hard as she could, as fast as she could and as sensuous as she knew how in an effort to please the Moon.

A tiny crescent of the Moon appeared in the night sky.

“Are you happy now?” the Island Princess asked.

“Yes,” the Moon boomed. “Now can you take off your girdle?”

The Island Princess stopped dancing. “Absolutely not!” she said. “Only common tavern maids take off their girdles!”

The Island Princess was so outraged that she left the mountain right away. Through the dim moonlight she walked through the jungle and snuck back into her bedroom. She could see the silver crescent of the Moon through her window as she went to sleep. The Island Princess figured that she had done enough and the simple people of the island would be happy.

The next day she found they were not happy at all. Now the Island People were afraid that it wasn’t the Moon in the sky at all but some sort of nasty sky shark. There was talk about how many knives does it take to sacrifice an Island King and some were asking how many judges do you need to form a balanced court system. The Island Princess knew what she had to do.

That night, the Island Princess went back up the mountain. She took off her red hair band. She took off her royal girdle and showed her beautiful brown breasts to the night sky. Her breasts were large and pert with the vitality of youth. The Island Princess ran a fingernail over dark brown nipples the color of caramel and knew the Moon would want to take a lick to see if they were as sweet as they looked.

Then she danced. Once again the long black hair formed a veil around her body but this time the treasures of her chest were in full display. Free of the girdle, her breasts bounced, jiggled, wobbled and shook in all their glorious beauty. She jumped as high as her long legs would let her and sent her skirt flying high around her thighs.

In time, half of the moon came out to shine on her. The Island Princess smiled and called out to the Moon.

“Are you happy now?” she asked.

“Yes!” the Moon boomed. “Now can you take off your skirt?”

The Island Princess stopped dancing. She was about to say something about how only whores allow a man to see a woman without her skirt but she thought about the long walk to the palace. She thought about how stubborn men can be and how they are never happy till they get what they want. She thought about how fast the Island People are when it comes to trying new ideas and she had no desire to see them write up a Constitution whatever that was.

“Fine!” she yelled. She took off her skirt and threw it to the side.

The Island Princess danced again. Naked and beautiful, she danced the greatest dance of her life. Her hair snaked around her body, floating about her in the night air. Full ripe breasts bounced and collided with each other. Long thin legs kicked indecently high while naked buttocks clenched and jumped.

She looked up at the sky and saw that the moon was now three quarters full.

“What more do you want?” the Island Princess called out.

“Lay down!” the Moon boomed.

The Island Princess kept dancing. Her heart raced from the sound of the Moon’s need.

“Lay down!” the Moon thundered.

“Why?” the Island Princess asked, knowing full well why.

“Because you are the most beautiful Princess in the whole world,” the Moon said. “Because no woman dances as wonderful as you. Because your hair, breasts, legs and bottom drive me mad with passion. Because I am so lonely and you are so perfect.”

The Island Princess looked up at the sky and yes, the Moon was full again. Better yet, it was brighter than it had ever been before. The Island Princess felt a new heat take her over as she realized that she alone could make the Moon so full and bright.

“Okay,” she said and laid down on her back.

A beam of moonlight fell between her thighs and the Island Princess cried out. It was a solid touch she felt against her sex and it was a solid touch that pushed inside her and entered her on the mountain top. The shaft of moonlight penetrated her and the Island Princess had never felt such a more celestial sense of fullness.

The Island Princess began to dance again. She lifted her hips and opened her legs even wider. Slowly she danced on the Moon’s shaft, using all the same skill and hip movement that she used when she was on her feet. When her breasts bounced this time it was from the gasps of her breath. Her long black hair lay around her like a sheet of silk.

Up and down she danced on the Moon’s beam. The Moon grew brighter and brighter. The Island Princess cried out louder and louder. The night sky grew brighter as the Moon made love to the Island Princess. The animals of the jungle grew quiet as the Island Princess made love to the Moon.

The Island Princess climaxed, crying out so loud that it woke the Island King as he slept in the palace. Her body shuddered and her fingers clenched around nipples the color of caramel.

When she opened her eyes she saw that the Moon had come too. Shooting stars filled the sky, racing and flying in all directions to splash down into the ocean. The beam of light was gone between her thighs but the Moon stayed high in sky, brighter than it had ever been before.

Sated, the Moon stayed that bright for ever and ever. Sometimes the Moon would fade, but as it thought about the beautiful Island Princess, it would slowly grow full again till it climaxed again purely from the memory. On and on it did this because when you make love to the Island Princess, you sure as Hell remember it.

As for the Island Princess, she walked slowly back to the palace on unsteady legs. Her father, the Island King, was declared the greatest Island King that had ever lived and the Island People who suggested having a democracy were put on a leaky canoe and exiled from the Island.

The Island Princess still dances, and it is the most wonderful dance in the world.

The end.