Listen...

Well there is always music, you just got to know where to listen for it Listen closely.... The beat of your heart tapping out a steady rhythm the soft breath in your lungs the delicate blink of your eyelids the blood coursing through your veins There is music everywhere, you just need to listen for it The whisper of the wind, a crackle of a fire, the gurgle of a stream The soft howl of a distant wolf, the touch of a feather. All sing along, Just listen.... Listen to the music, It's always there, Dancing through your hair. clicking with your shoes, you just need to listen, and the music you thought was not there, Will always be there...

Fire

feel the warm air coming from the flames...

watch the fire dance it's seductive dance of destruction...

watch as the flames lick sensually upon the logs, caressing it hungrily in it's deadly embrace....

eyes follow the flames as they creep across it's victim, softly leaping into the air, pulling it's unsuspecting victim into it's warm and deadly embrace. Consuming it, needing it....

listen to the crackle, feel the pop, as the flames continue their sensual dance. Feel the warmth calling to you, pulling you closer, enticing your very soul, to join it in it's destructive dance...

Another victim to the flames...

feel the peaceful call of the flames, the gentle hiss of the crackling wood singing it's alluring song of pain, it's song of agony...

A cold, dreary day...

 

A cold, dreary day greeted Blackbeard like a cruel mistress as he stood at the bow of the ship. The wet dreary day started his day all wrong he thought as he yelled to the crew to run up the mainsail. The cold rain stung his face like a thousand fingers poking at him as the ship lurked forward. His eyes blurred as the wind came across the bow of the ship forcing the rain into them relentlessly. Today just did nay seem his day Blackbeard thought to himself. The day was not fit for man or beast, yet he stood firm. The tiller-man turned the ship slowly to the wind and the wind caught the massive sails billowing them out with great strain. They were underway finally. The ship sped it's way across the sea with vengeful lust and Blackbeard and his crew made great time to the waters of Yew. Lookouts posted on all four corners of the ship watched for unwary vessels as Blackbeard lit his pipe. They were on the prowl. "Ship off the port bow!" Rang across the deck. Blackbeards' frown turned upside down to a smile as cold as ice. He turned to the stern of the ship and pointed to the ship, the tiller-man quickly spun the wheel towards where he pointed, the hunt was on. Crewmen readied their weapons as they drew ever nearer the small ship. It was an easy prize to take, but a prize none the less and this was their first in days. The abandoned ship gave its self freely to them as they manned it with a small crew to follow behind Blackbeard and the rest of the crew. Onwards they sailed to the southwest towards Moonglow and Nujel'm. The pair of ships sailing together in a line. Blackbeard and a few more crewmen transferred over to the smaller ship and sailed slowly into the main port. Ship after ship they passed, most with guards posted on deck. Blackbeard grumbled in disappointment. As they slowly turned the ship as if heading for the smaller docks one of the crew spotted two unguarded ships on the fishing dock. The small maneuverable sloops would be great for running down medium sized ships. Blackbeard and a portion of the party lept onto the docks and scurried onto the unguarded ships. They quickly raised the anchors and cast off the mooring lines. The sails rose to the heavens as they pulled away from the docks. "Three in one day, now that makes up for the foul weather we had earlier!" Yelled the crew and Blackbeard as they sailed quickly to the mouth of the port. Off to the north they pointed the ship so meet up with the Q.A.R. The four ships sailed off towards Tortuga, the crew and Blackbeard richer then they ever imagined would have ever come from such a cold, dreary day.

Pillage of the cities....

The crew where ready. They needed supplies in a big way. The ships supplies had dwindled down to scraps and morsels. Blackbeard set his sights towards the town of Yew. The fat sheep farms would surely have enough fresh meat for himself and the crew, along with the wool they could take to trade elsewhere for other supplies.

Dusk drew upon the ship like a curtain as the Queen Anne's Revenge slipped slowly into the bay near Empath Abbey. Silently the crew slipped from her decks and off to the sheep farms with cutlass and dagger in hand. They dare not make a sound as they slipped into the pens and slit the throats of the sleeping sheep. Making quick work of their task at hand they tied the carcasses together throwing them over their shoulders until they could barely walk and headed back to the ship.

The deck slowly began to pile high with the hundreds of sheep carcasses the crew gathered late into the night. Blackbeard grinned devilishly as the last of the crew returned from the other farms with both wheat and vegetables. The loving embrace of the night had caressed them truly this time. The hungry crew readied the ship to make way and made for open sea.

As dawn approached, the sound of the sheep bones splashing into the sea and the smell of the meat cooking could be smelt everywhere on deck. The wool of the sheep stuffed safely away in the hold, the crew feasted upon their ill gotten breakfast.

Days passed as they sailed down the coast towards Skara Brae. The lamb supply being dried and salted and stashed away in barrels, the crew set their hunger for more supplies loose towards the unsuspecting Skara Brae.

The ship sat just off the shore as the crew and Blackbeard rowed ashore. The mid day sun glistened across their sweat covered backs as they pulled the boats ashore. The goal lay half a day walk away, the rich vegetable farms and cotton fields.
The crew herded together a few stray horses they could find and strapped packs onto them, they were ready.

As they walked on towards the farms the crew grew ever more quiet. Their senses on full alert as they reached the first farm. The sentries kept watch as the crew began to gather every vegetable piece they could find. Like a well oiled machine the crew filled their arms and walked to the pack animals and stowing the plunder on them.
From farm to farm the crew and Blackbeard went, meeting no resistance from the farmers as the crew took the their crops. Blackbeard grinned as he stroked his beard. He knew his ship and crew would soon be rich with profits as they approached the cotton fields.
Like an army of ants the crew swarmed upon the cotton, gathering arm loads and stuffing it into sacks. Blackbeard watched as a farmer burst through his homes door, pitchfork in hand in a futile attempt to protect his crop. The cold steal of a cutlass stopped the farmer quickly in his tracks as his neck met the edge of the blade. The farmer dropped his pitchfork and swallowed hard, yet nay said a word, he turned and went quietly back into his home.
The crew and pack animals, loaded to the breaking point, walked back towards the ship as the thick of night fell upon them. The crew and Blackbeard seemed to just vanish into the darkness as they headed to their ship.

Morning found the ship and crew resting lazily upon the deck as the ship sailed westward into open water. Blackbeard proudly congratulated his crew on their fine work as the ship sliced through the waves. Blackbeard had a new sight set, Moonglow.
The wheat fields there and the cotton fields would truly give his crew several months supply of wheat for bread, and fat pockets of gold from the sale of the cotton to other cities.

The Queen Anne's Revenge anchor splashed into the depths as the crew boarded the rowboats. They had anchored on the southern end of the island where few of the island naval vessels ever sailed.
The crew as usual made their way quickly to the fields and gathered the wheat and cotton in quick fashion. The rowboats hauling load after load back to the Queen Anne's Revenge and the awaiting crew there.

The early evening found all aboard the ship and the hold filled with the lot from the three cities. Blackbeard and his crew sailed towards Vesper and the black markets there to sell their plunder. With nay a sight of a ship in the spyglass Blackbeard yelled out to his crew,
"The seas be ours me hearties!"

An overloaded wagon...

Hunting was good, the pile of hides overflowing in the wagon. A warm smile upon her lips as she looked to her hunting partner. Off she would go, taking the wagon east to the train station to be taken to the big cities. She looked to the other wagon, the dried and salted meat stacked and lashed tightly. Slowly she climbed up into the seat, her hands gripped the reigns, lacing them between her fingers for gentle adjustments. One last look around as she propped her rifle against her leg, her pistol in her lap. A snap rang out as she clicked her tongue to the horses....

.... The wagon groaned and creaked, the hooves of the horses dug deep into the ground as they strained against the rigging. Wagon wheels bit into the dirt, slowly lurching forward, turning like the seasons. A long ride ahead awaited her. She settled into the seat, leaning back against the soft bear fur. At least two days to Amiville, provided the wagon held up under the weight. The sky above glided by delicately, the trees began to slip by with a gentle wave, yet not a single word....


...A warm tune came to her lips, breaking the groans, squeaks and creaks of the wagon. The sounds seemed to fall in time with the whistle that raced past her lips, creating the background music. Her lips curled up into a smile as she whistled on, the music echoing in the distance. The load of meats would surely sell well in Amiville and the other towns along the way..........

Without Question...........

Upon his boot,
I doth heel.
Upon this calf,
I softly grind.
Upon his thigh,
I press my breasts.
Upon his hip,
I press my lips.

Upon his words,
My body trembles.
Upon his whim,
My soul eagerly serves.
Upon his smile,
My heart doth yearn.
Upon his command,
My entire being serves.

Upon his touch,
My soul ignites.
Upon his kiss,
My desires flow.
Upon his scent,
My mind doth crave.
Upon his breath,
My heat doth moisten.

Upon his chain,
I serve.............
.............. without question.

Making bread............

She carefully washed her hands. Softly she bent down, her legs rubbing tenderly together as she grasped the sack of flour, hefting it to the table. Her nimble fingers quickly untied the cord and gently reached inside. The cool, smooth flour engulfed her hands as she took out several handfuls. She turned swiftly, taking a hold of two tarns eggs and a pitcher of water..............

....The delicate texture of the eggshells she caressed in her hand danced softly across it's skin. Lightly she tapped on the shell as she held it to her ear, checking it's freshness. A swift, but gentle tap of the shell and it's gooey contents was reveiled. Her fist made a hollow in the middle of the flour. In went the first egg, and then the second. Lovingly her fingers wrapped around the handle of the pitcher of water. A puff of flour stirred into the air when she added it into the hollow in the flour.........


.....The slimy texture of the eggs squeezed through her fingers, it made her shudder lightly. Slowly her fingers worked the concoction, it slowly becoming sticky, clutching to her fingers, bonding them together. Scraping her fingers with her others, she added a bit more flour to the mix. Her palms pressing into it, massaging it deeply. Her eyes watched as it slowly took form. It's texture changing, becoming firmer, pliant. Her mind wandered, hands kneading it sensually as if it was a Master's body she was caressing. She could not help herself, ever so lightly her her pelvis began to grind against the hard table, her heat starting to ache.........


..... The dough became firmer, feeling more and more like the the strong muscles of a Master's flesh. Ever so lovingly her nimble fingers pressed into it's firmness. Her hands dancing across it's surface, molding it into the likeness of a Man's back. She could feel her loins yearning, begging to feel the pleasure of a Master as he took his from her heat. Lightly her fingernails dragged across the dough's surface, leaving their marks of passion across it. Her face became red with lust, she could feel her heat dampening with every press against the hard table against her pelvic bone. Oh how glad she was that the other girls were out doing chores elsewhere today, that her Master was busy with his scrolls clear across the house.......

.....She was alone, no one would ever know. She quickly washed her hands and let her fingertips glide across her collar. The texture of it sending shivers. Tho she may be collared, owned, possessed, the feel of the collar upon her neck opened her, entranced her. Never had she felt so.... "free". Free to release her true nature, free to be... herself. No training in the world could teach her what she knew in her heart, what she was, who she was, how she needed to be. She needed to feel her total submission in it's entirety. Her fingers slid down across his property, caressing the gentle lines of her collar bones and down across her chest. Fingertips floated over her soft, silken skin of her breasts towards her rock hard nipples. A gasp rushed past her lips as her fingertips brushed across them, knowing they now were his. Down across her trembling stomach, it's heat burning at her fingertips they danced, knowing it was her Master's. The fire in it longing, craving, consuming her in her hunger to serve......

....Eyes darted from side to side, a quick turn of her head to look behind. Giving her legs a chance to part a little wider in her stance. The touch sent shock waves throughout her entire being, making her moan, making her squirm. Deftly her fingertip pressed against her special spot, gently circling it backwards and forwards, causing her to growl with desire. Her legs began to tremble like a shaking bowl of pudding. Light whimpers raced past her lips driving her mind deeper into the upcoming ecstasy. Her other hand grasping hard onto the heavy table, digging her fingernails deep into it's surface......

.....Only if they truly knew what being owned did to her soul, what pleasures the feel of the collar upon her neck made her feel..........................

.....How it gave her a sense of purpose, a sense of pride.......

....How it unlocked, her beast within.............


....Again she washed her hands, the smell of her ecstasy wafting lazily past her flared nostrils. She turned back to the dough, blushing as she looked at it's shape. Again her hands stroked the dough's shape. A playful pat of the backside in the dough, the shape disappearing with every motion of her hands.
She let the dough rest a few before cutting it into two halves and placing them into loaf pans. She turned and opened the heavy iron door of the oven and slid them in carefully. It's heat biting at her skin. With a creak the heavy door closed. She was done, in more ways then one.........................