Andrew. June 19, 2008

“Turn around, love… yes, just like that. Now look at me. Look up at me… yes, just like that.”

He knelt down with his back turned to me, bare of clothing, his hands bound together at the wrists with cable zip-ties, and his mouth gaping open with a red ball gag. Saliva extended in spiderweb strands from his lips and dripped onto his pale, marblesque shoulders as he turned over them to gaze up at me, his eyes meeting mine. I love the way it sounds when he breathes heavily through his nostrils. I love the way he looks at me when he’s begging for more.

I grab him by the hair–a handful of wavy blonde tangles–and turn his ear to me, cocking his head to the side.

“Would you like some more?”

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. I examined the scratches and gashes that adorned his otherwise pristine back. He was hairless and flawless, free of any blemishes or markings but the ones I caused–rays of nailmarks that stretched from his broad shoulders to his hips… various bruises that were haphazardly dispersed across his skin… fields of red from the impact of my paddle.

He nodded slowly, and a tiny smirk painted my lips. I pulled his head back further toward me, kissed the leather of the gag that rested upon his cheek, and nuzzled the skin of his face softly. I brushed my cheek against his… my fingertip against his shoulder… my nails against his lesions…

“Good baby,” I whispered in his ear.

I lit a cigarette with his Zippo lighter and sat down in a wicker chair in front of him. He was so handsome, with a short blonde mop and glossed-over blue eyes. His legs were bound together with cheap nylon rope at the ankles, knees, and thighs–nothing fancy or for aesthetic purposes, but they served their purpose. I smiled down at him. My name was written across his chest in permanent marker–”Elise.”

I could tell he wanted to smile back, but he was obviously unable to.

I shoved the heel of my stiletto into his shoulder, digging it into the area between his collar bone and his neck. He screamed behind his gag, but non-verbally, he obliged–he didn’t dare move. My smile stretched into a maniacal grin.

I wish I were seventeen again.

Obligatory introductions. June 19, 2008

My name is Elise.

Fine–that was a lie.
The following, however, is not a lie:

I love to make shitty, talentless doodles on my tablet PC.
I love to write. I love my life. I love sex.
I love to write about my life and sex.

My life is abnormal. My sexual encounters are abnormal. Hell, my completely normal non-sexual encounters end up becoming abnormal sexual encounters. It keeps life intriguing, but occasionally things just get goofy around these parts. That’s why I started this blog. I don’t know if people will believe it and I don’t really care. The only things I plan on lying about are names and places, and I think that’s fair enough.

I’m your run-of-the-mill 20-something college sorostitute with heavy interests in BDSM, independent music, Jagermeister, overachieving and tech-culture. Born on the east coast, raised in a moving van, and temporarily transplanted in the midwest until I complete university–that’s the current state of things, I suppose. I enjoy things like Sony Ericsson phones, accessorizing, gratuitous movie gore, the entertainment value of pornography, dancing like it matters, giving blowjobs, and working overtime. I indulge in Serie A calcio (forza Roma) and soccer in general. American football and basketball are also boss.

I believe simultaneously in personal freedom and consideration of others; of freedom of speech and thoughtful tact; of wholehearted sincerity and standards of social interaction.

I’ve slept with more people than I can count on my fingers and toes, and no–I do not have an STD (I’m tested regularly, actually). I’m kink-friendly, but far from a pervert. I’m dominant, but am willing to play switch for the right man. I am sexually liberated, but terrified of love. I’ve seen a lot of shit, but carry little emotional baggage. I’m cocky as shit, but who can blame me for being realistic and honest? I enjoy the way men gaze up at me as they entrust me with their pleasure and their pain.

My name is Elise. Meh, we both know that was a lie. Nice to meet you anyway. Drope me a line; I’d love to get to know you. Maybe.

and tomorrow: I walked in on a guy trying to stick his own dick in his ass. You can’t even make that shit up.