Bound to you.

black garters 3

The night slip fell right off her, cascading like a silken waterfall. Her nipples stood rigid in the teasing breeze that sneaked in from the windows. The sheer curtains billowed like a gracious, heavenly hype.

It was 2 in the afternoon and she has led him to the hotel room that she was put up for the night. Meanwhile, the boring conference in the convention hall ensued.

“Would you like to have me one more time?” She walked towards him. His fingers were gripping the glass cup apprehensively. She pushed his frozen arms down gently, and made him put down the drink.

With a fleeting notion that was so well practiced, she rested her bare bum on the arm rest, and wrapped her hands around his neck like a mystic serpent. Her breasts encased his face softly in her tight embrace, begging to be caressed.

He wanted to remain antagonistic, but his lewd mind was spiraling out of control. His lips searched like a frantic man lost in the desert, and found its way to her nipple. With every flick of his tongue, she let out subtle cries, almost melodious. The atmosphere turned euphoric.

It was a frenzy.

He held onto her waist pulling her down onto his lap. as they synchronously rocked to the beats of lust, the overwhelming eroticism made her so wet, his pants were drenched right where his throbbing shaft was. With his free hand, he helped himself greedily to her flailing breast, groping, mashing and working in harmony with his tongue.

She then reached for his belt and zipper clumsily. He aided in that effort by tilting himself. The pants littered the floor in no time. He was half naked, and fully ready.

She gyrated her hips, feeling the length of him, warm and throbbing inside her. It was like ecstasy. Her muscles squeezed tight like a blushing clam, projecting him into delirium. Her juices flowed like a trickling stream, supplying to the chorus of sensual symphony.

With one sweep, He threw her onto the couch. He was so unlike himself. Her legs parted like a flower in spring, her nether lips in full bloom. Waiting for him. Hungry for him. He penetrated her furiously, one hand on her neck. He enjoyed the near asphyxiation that he granted her. Her face turned a petal pink, as she gasped so impertinently. Lips parted like she was ready to give a fellatio. The sight fueled his aggression as he pounded her like street choreography. Calculated, passionate and in bold strides.

He wasn’t done with her. He turned her over, Ass cheeks facing him. It was a gloriously brazen sight. He fed her swollen pussy with his manhood, making a callous entrance. His fingers then gathered her hair. He yanked as he pumped hard against her body. Her head tilted backwards from the brute force of his hair pull. Her moans were blocked, coming out in short hysterical notes.

!!!! He raised his hand, with dead accuracy, his palm landed on her butt. The spank was so loud it echoed across the spacious room. She screamed, body contracting from the shocking pain. She tightened even further.

A satisfied groan slipped through his lips. He couldn’t stop spanking her until her butt turned as red as her labia.

He was ready to come. He pushed her onto the coffee table. the fruit platter fell onto the carpet soundlessly, and still in perfect display. He knelt down carelessly, to nibble on her distended clitoris. His tongue lashed mercilessly against her wet crevice. He sucked hard, as if feasting upon her nectar. He inserted a finger, searching for the sweet spot.

He located it with sheer memory, plunging in and out relentlessly. Her eyes were unable to maintain sight. She gripped his head tightly, begging for him not to stop. The pleasure surmounted all her senses as all physical strength abandoned her. It was like a shockwave.

Her juices squirted, spewing in all directions. The liquid dribbled down his arm.

“Don’t stop!” She begged. Her grip deadlocked, the pleasure built up and then unfurled. It was an eruption. Her lower torso contorted to accommodate the violent bursts of fluid. The carpet was thoroughly doused.

He reveled at this audacious feast before his eyes. His shaft was so eager, the veins pulsed and dilated. He mounted her, giving her no time to recover. Both hands seized her pendulous breasts. Her arms thrashed wildly. The susceptibility drove her wild. He hammered her hard. The coffee table was sturdy, but it too was creaking just a bit.

“I’ll come now?” He asked. Manners apparently was so ingrained in him it did not forsake even the beast.

She nodded, eyes out of focus. She was panting heavily. In hard, angry strokes, he pushed, the sounds so loud it drowned her screams. He then came, like tidal waves. Spilling everything into her.

And then, too polite to flop motionlessly on top of her, he decided to get up. She cued in agreement as she then gently pushed him off before getting up and walking to the bathroom in a single, albeit slightly shaky, graceful gait.

He walked up to her “Don’t wash up. I want you to go like that. With my cum inside you.”
She did not raise an eyebrow but did as instructed. Her panty was soiled. His seeds were trickling out.

It was her turn to present at the conference.

“You still take the pill right?” He asked. It was a question he asked every day they fucked, from when they were dating, till they were married, and then…

She handed him the divorce papers. “There you go. It’s all done.”

“Yes. My boyfriend do not like children. Just like you.” She said as a matter of fact.

He tried to maintain a stoic expression, but wavered.

She on the contrary, was calm as a lake in the late of night. She picked her bag up and headed to the door.

“See you Wilson. You can shower before you go. Say hi to Rebecca for me. Thanks for the awesome fuck by the way. ”

She turned and never looked back. Just like the very first time she walked in to him banging her (ex) best friend.

The door closed shut. Just like the reality before him in form of papyrus. This binding…. will now slowly fade away, leaving nothing but regret and a stained panty.

Ebony and carnal desires

He was marched into the large palace, where pillars loomed into majestic view in their finest marbling and gold shimmer.

And there she was, perched on her divine throne, with two lions side by side. The carpet woven with gold seemed to stretch on endlessly as he made his way right in front of her, where he stood, clearly besotted with her heavenly beauty.

“Are you not going to kneel, before me?” She spoke, the words played like music on a well tuned harp. Her eyes were so beguiling, they sparkled like glowing amber. Her hair was slightly tousled, and perfectly ebony. Her skin was pale as the first snow, so fair that she glistened.

Her gown was a mere white silken cloth, fashioned into a dress held together by a braid. The scarce fabric revealed her ample bosom, which was still taut and ripe despite having no support beneath it.

The cleavage split beautifully like a carved divergent; a smirk snaked across her face as she caught him feasting on the sight before him.

Moments later, the words finally got registered in his brain. He bowed his head in embarrassment from having such a vulgar stare. The guards retreated as he dropped his knees to the sacred ground, right before her.

His head was still hung low.

“What is your name, mortal?” She stared down, clearly amused by his guilt of unintentional contempt, instead of taking offence.

“I… I am Edgar, your highness.” He spoke softly with a slight tremble in between.

“You can call me Vera.”

Edgar looked up slowly, as though afraid he was unable to handle the sight before him. The goddess stood up, drapes falling gracefully into place, shielding her modesty.

She reached out her left hand, waiting for him to offer his palm. Edgar rushed up the pedestal and helped her down the steps.

“Do you know why you are here, Edgar?” The goddess’s tiny hand rested on his outstretched one. He was trembling subtly, as though afraid with any greater force, his burly movements may shatter her like porcelain.

He shook his head in reply. heart thudding brutally against his chest.

Vera smiled, a smile so enchanting that even the grim reaper will drop his scythe.










50 shades of amber? :O

Actually, why do people still watch 50 shades when they can’t stop complaining that “Mr Grey’s actions damn gross sia!!! DAMN SADISTIC SIA!!! DAMN ERXIN SIA!!!”

And why can’t you stop criticizing about how the chosen lead actor don’t fit “Mr Grey in the book”? When you read, your mind conjures up images and faces. It’s pretty hard to imagine someone or a place that you have never seen before. I always liked to believe the theory that everything you dream about is something/someplace/someone that you have encountered before in your consciousness. Even if it’s just a glimpse of that particular guy whilst you are walking down the street, even if you only saw the scenery on the book before someone flips the page, even if it’s an object that you have overlooked on someone’s table.

Your idea of Mr Grey is probably a combination of (insert preferred hot celebrity) + particular features of someone that you really like (like, ian somerhalder’s eyes) + bearing the closeness of someone you like (your boyfriend or someone that you like).

I haven’t read the entire series of the books. But I have read many novels and watched the movies following which. And in all honesty… I think Our movie’s Mr Grey did quite a fine job there. Dakota did astoundingly well… Good submissive vibes. And their chemistry is overwhelming.

Many people ask me why 1) I don’t read the book since I enjoy erotic novels 2) Why did i not continue the novel I was working on. In case you guys don’t know, its here: (start from the prologue)

The reason being that 1) my story consists of dominatrix although not to Mr Grey’s extent. I don’t wish to end up losing my originality and deviate from my intended ideas because I’d like to believe 50 shades is an absolutely good read. 2) My ex was a dominatrix and somehow for the past few months it still hurt for me to even try to think about it. No… not because he whipped me 6 times. Just emotional issues which ironically were irrelevant to him that I have already solved.

However the good news is that I have decided to continue writing now 😀 follow me here on ~ and I will post the updates here. I don’t advertise about my novel elsewhere.

In case some of you have the holy christian mindset, dominatrix is nothing crazy depending on both parties. Pain and pleasure are interrelated, both having induction of the same hormone. Pain… is pleasure. This is what I told M, take a deep breath, let the pain wash over you. Your body grows accustomed to it, and harmonizes with the beauty that follows. (But of course we were talking about braces and not getting dickslapped by some belt.)

I actually enjoyed being the submissive when I was with my ex. No… he didn’t whip me till I bleed or anything. There are many levels and types of things that a dominant may want to do to you / with you. Don’t let Mr Grey’s playroom scare you.


photo 4

From my recent shoot.

The photographer said he saw the lingerie online and immediately decided that I would like it. Sure as hell I did 🙂

Anyway, I will be heading to KL for a short vacation this weekend. Will be back with more updates. And hopefully get started on chapter 14 of PTL. 😀

Yes, I need to look at a photo of ayam goreng before I go, and fantasize about it entirely for the remaining 1 day I have left in Singapore.


And I just realized that Malaysian boys like to eat fries. Is it a Malaysian thing or what???