Could it be?

Kinky . . . → Read More: Chance Is A Strange Mistress]]>

A Bright Good Morning Dear Readers!  You know darlings, Miss Viv knows what kinds of fantasies take over your dreams and leave you all sticky in the morning.  I also know that every so often, you need to recast the characters in that perverted stage production, running in your brain.

Could it be?

Kinky sex -with a full cast of Beautiful People?  The stage set in sumptous  opulence of a penthouse party, you taking the male lead to a Powerful and intriguing Woman. Yes darlings, Miss Viv knows, and is posting this sexy story, submitted by a favored slut,  staring his own troupe of  tainted Thespians – and coming  to a Wet Dream in your bed – soon!

Chance Is A Strange Mistress, by Christopher L

 Part 1

 Chance is a strange Mistress.  On more than one occasion, she has turned my life inside out.  It was chance that gave me my very first break in the music business, by sending Harry Raeburn to the wrong Club XS, on a talent spotting expedition.  There, he witnessed me stretching my lungs on a rack of full-blooded R&B standards, backed by a threesome of enthusiastic amateurs.  Harry liked what he heard and offered to manage me.  He would never have seen me in the first place, had my fickle Mistress not struck down the band’s lead singer with laryngitis, leaving me to stand in.

Even after I had signed my first recording deal, Mistress Chance was not through with me.  My name just happened to bear an uncanny similarity to another artist, who was already well on the way to mega stardom.  The release of my first single coincided with the follow-up to his previous chart topper and I found myself famous by accident.  I would never be the kind of star who attracted screaming teenage girls wherever he went, but I was a star nonetheless. 

 Mistress Chance had been good to me and I would be forever grateful.  But all the time, she had been saving me for Lola – the masterstroke that made even fame pale into insignificance and changed my life forever.

 I should have suspected her machinations, when my jet was delayed at the airport, leaving me late for the recording of a TV show.  I was about to go home when I remembered Harry’s party, in honor of his third divorce and decided I might as well salvage something from the evening.

 By Harry’s standards, the party was a modest affair.  No mega-breasted blondes or outrageous drag queens and only a handful of doped up rockers.  Ex-wife number three must have really taken him to the cleaners.

 The lady in red appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, like a hand grenade tossed into the party.  Jaws dropped, eyes widened, conversations curled up and died in mid-sentence and the music seemed to freeze in the air around the amplifiers.  I thought of Mistress Chance.  Had she been made flesh, she would surely have taken the shape of this dusky apparition.

 Tall and sleek, with eyes as satanic as her mane of jet-black hair, she exuded an aggressive sexuality.  Her lithe frame was poured like black coffee into a suit of shiny scarlet rubber, adorned with silver hoops, chains, padlocks and studs.  Her boots, laced almost to her thighs, twinned with her black rubber gloves and sported lethally spiked heels. 

 As Harry greeted her, she scanned his guests, like a voracious predator.  Our eyes met in that old clichéd way, across a crowded room, and I felt my mouth go dry.  In those few seconds, a lifetime passed.  When she looked away again, my soul lay naked and bleeding on the floor.

 She took her time before approaching me, allowing me to compose myself.  She’s gotta be kinky, I found myself thinking.      

 ”Chris, at last we meet,” she greeted, flashing a sparkling smile.

 Her smoky voice raised a sudden suspicion that all might not be what it seemed. 

 ”The pleasure’s all mine,” I replied, shaking her hand.  “Do you make a habit of exploding into a room like that?”

 ”First impressions last,” she answered.  “My name is Lola.”

 I smiled.  “As in the song?  L-O-L-A – Lola.”

 She smiled back.  “Zero out of ten for originality.  Harry tells me you’re only here because Mistress Chance hexed your wings.”

 I looked amazed.  “Either you’re a mind reader, or we both call twists of fate by the same name.”

 ”I’m a disciple of destiny,” she said.  “If one is to be a slave, it’s better to submit willingly and with pleasure.  You and I have a lot in common.”

 I agreed, even as I grew ever more suspicious that one of those things we had in common sat snugly in our underwear.

“Here’s to Mrs. Raeburn number four,” she said, raising her champagne glass.

 I raised mine in response.  “You must be one of Harry’s most jealously guarded friends.  Do you and he go back a long way?”

 ”You could say that,” she replied.  “I don’t see Celine Garrison here.”

 ”Celine and I are history,” I replied.  “I was just something to keep her amused, in between film stars.”

 ”I have a very interesting story about being in between film stars,” Lola purred.  “Maybe I’ll share it with you later.  Mind if I take one of your cigarettes?”

I held out my cigarette pack, then my lighter.  She exhaled lazily, studying me through a nicotine cloud.  Nothing reserved about this lady.  I decided to continue thinking of her as a bona-fide member of the female sex, for the time being.  There was always the chance I might be allowing her name to lead my imagination astray.

 ”I know I may regret this question,” I said.  “But are you a fan of mine?”

 ”The truth?”

 I winced.  “Sounds painful.”

 ”I loved Butterfly Rose,” she replied.  “It had that kind of Parisian cafe, chain smoked Gitanes sensuality, if you know what I mean.  The rest of your stuff is a touch too pasteurized for my liking.  A voice like yours shouldn’t be buried beneath layers of production.  Now I’ve offended you, haven’t I?”

 ”A little constructive criticism never hurt,” I lied.  “What do you do?”

 She smiled enigmatically.  “I work black magic.  Excuse me a minute.”

 Now that I had the chance, I thought I should probably go.  But there was a simple reason why I chose to stay.  I was drawn to Lola – lady or otherwise – and certain the feeling was mutual.  It might be best to abandon myself to Mistress Chance and enjoy it.  If a rock star couldn’t take an occasional walk on the wild side, who could?

 Harry nudged me.  “You and Lola seem to be getting along nicely.”

 ”She’s an interesting lady,” I replied.

 ”More interesting than you could ever imagine.”

 My manager obviously thought I had no idea what I was dealing with.  I decided to string him along and looked at him enquiringly.

 ”What do you mean?”

 He took a deep breath.  “Lola is… different.  You could be setting yourself up for a nasty shock, to put it mildly.”

 ”You mean she’s not what she seems?” I whispered excitedly.

 ”I guess that’s what I mean,” he answered awkwardly.  “I know this might sound insane, but I have to warn you, for your own good.  Lola is a……”

 ”I have a fair idea what Lola is,” I interrupted.  “And between you and me, Harry, I don’t give a damn.”

 He whistled softly.  “Well, you’re a dark horse!  There’s no way she came out and told you, so how did you figure it out?”

 ”Let’s just say I’m not as stupid as I look,” I replied.  “I’ll bet my next royalty check you and she are more than just good friends.”

 ”Were,” he corrected.  “Lola conquers and moves on.  There are a lot of us around, Chris, and it looks like you’re ready to join the club.  I’ll warn her to be gentle with you.”

 ”Who said I wanted gentle?” I retorted.  “I’m going to grab another drink before she comes back.  I think I may need it.”

 Harry still looked uncomfortable.  He seemed on the point of saying something else, but then just shrugged, patted me on the back and disappeared.  A moment later, Lola returned.

 ”Has Harry been telling you all my secrets?” she inquired.

“He wouldn’t be such a spoilsport,” I answered.

“So you like mysteries?”

 ”I’m not overly fond of predictability,” I said, producing my cigarette again.

 She accepted another and moved closer as I lit it.  She was marking me as hers for the night, to the exclusion of all others.  I had a suspicion she would prefer a little more resistance on my part.  A determination to force the truth, perhaps.  She must surely have realized I was not taking her at face value.

 She sipped a Bloody Mary and smoked three more of my cigarettes, while I related the high points of my life story, with particular emphasis on the role of Mistress Chance.  Lola was an excellent listener, though far less inclined to reveal anything too personal, about her own life.

 ”I’m a traveler,” she said.  “I collect experiences and enjoy people, or vice-versa.”

 ”You make people sound like trophies,” I said.

 ”They are, if we’re totally honest,” she replied.  “It’s a shame we feel it necessary to coat ourselves in bullshit, don’t you think?”

 I laughed.  “If you’ll pardon me for sounding patronizing, you don’t look old enough to have such a cynical view of the world.”

 Lola smiled cryptically.  “I’m older than I look.”

 The transition from the party to her black Porsche took place as though in a dream.  I could not recall the bridge between both, even though I was far from drunk.  She slipped a CD into the hi-fi.  Reverberating to a thunderous techno beat, the Porsche bulleted us forth into the waiting arms of destiny, with a squeal of tires.

 You drive like you have a death wish,” I observed, as the needle nudged ninety.        

 Light me another cigarette,” she told me.  “I don’t want to take my hands off the wheel.”

 ”Wise,” I muttered.

 That was not a word I thought could be applied to myself, at that moment.

 ”My domain isn’t far,” she promised.

 I guessed she would wait until we were there to reveal her true self.  I was tempted to place a hand on her thigh and feel beneath that skin of scarlet rubber for myself, but a vision of death in a speeding sports car kept me restrained.

 ”Chez Lola,” she announced shortly afterwards, swinging into the gravel driveway of ivy walled gothic mansion.

 ”Nice domain,” I commented as I followed her inside, observing the graceful poetry of her firm, rubber sheathed buttocks.

 Until that night, I had thought there was little left for me to learn about myself.  How wrong I had been!  She escorted me down a long hallway and into the lounge.  Before offering me a drink, she put a CD on the hi-fi.  Lola was obviously one of those people who could scarcely function without a soundtrack.

 ”Can’t you stand the sound of silence?” I asked.

 ”I can’t stand anything by Simon and that other guy,” she replied.

 As soon as I was settled on the couch with a drink, she excused herself, promising to be back in a minute.  What’s it going to be? I wondered.  Whips and chains?  A combination of exquisite pleasure and unspeakable pain?  Lola was almost an S&M stereotype.  The prospect of being at her mercy excited me, but not as much as my imminent “discovery”.

 I wondered how I would handle it, once the moment arrived.  Would I suddenly find myself unable to proceed, despite my best intentions?  Or might I respond with the passion of one whose darkest desire was at last being realized?

 I did not hear her return, but she was suddenly beside me, the rubber sheathed vision transformed into a white silk dream, wrapped in acres of the transparent fabric.  She still wore her boots and, underneath the flowing robes, a pair of virginal white satin briefs.

 Her red glossed lips reached hungrily for mine, long fingers straying towards the swell of my crotch.  My hands weaved clumsily through the silk web, seeking the soft flesh underneath.  Her baby smooth skin was cool to the touch.  She was almost flat chested.  The buds of her dark brown nipples swelled instantly between my fingers.  I longed to roam downwards with my hands and discover the truth of her, but the time was not yet right.  I sensed she wished to play out the charade a while longer.

 Our mouths finally parted, leaving a silvery thread of saliva dangling between us.

 ”I want to possess you!” she whispered breathlessly.

“Anything you want,” I replied.

 ”Anything?”

 ”Oh yes.  I’m yours for the taking, L-O-L-A, Lola.”

 She smiled.  “You say all the right things, darling.”

 END OF PART 1

Share Your Wet Dreams  w/ Mature Mistress Vivian, call  800-601-6975
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http://www.ratemycall.com

Aww I know ya’ll . . . → Read More: More Fun Than You Can Shake A Stick At]]>

Hello dear readers!
What a wild morning your MILF Mistress had today! Round about 2 this morning, just as I was going to tuck it in for the day – one of my favorite losers gave me a call. Like Mel Tillis would say – it’s all about the T-t-t-t-timing.

Aww I know ya’ll don’t usually hear me call anyone a looser – you know that I believe that noone is truly worthless – they can always stand as a bad example. However, some males just beg for the title, and the tasty Miss Tara and I have named him – mister no balls.

The No Balls should be obvious – and the mister is because he’s an ole dude. Hey! Respect where respect is due – he did his time in a fox hole.

Yeah yeah pot calling the kettle black – but you know men when they hit that spot in life, when the mind says go go go – and the dick says – maybe maybe maybe. Eh? Add in a few cocktails and the humilation just extraplates. Tipsy and horny, his hair soaking wet from a dunking in the sink, my yet unnamed loser, was groaning in such delighful pain - I just had to share this perfect example of a weak man.

Now now, don’t go thinking that weak = stupid.

Stupid is no fun to play with- but a weak willed ole dude who can also carry on a convesation while having his balls bashed, is worthy of not just my attention, but one that should be shown off.

Enter The Spank Mistress!

 Oh yes! A perfect choice for a 2 call w/ a weak male who needed the balance on his credit card depreciated for his betterment, and our amusement. As a practical example of what a weak willed male can expect from This Fem Dom when he begs to be ruined – both my partner in kink, Ms Tara and our lovely dispatcher were gifted with monitary tributes – that equaled what he gave to his girlfriend that week – just for the privlage of having his tiny dick tortured, and his balls busted by 2 Superior Women.

 Oh the inhumanity!

He was quivering with excitement way before the Best Ball Buster around, our sexy Miss Tara,  was on the line.

I do hope, she will tell – The Rest Of The Story.

Are You Worthy? Miss Vivian MILF Mistress 800-356-6169

Honored I am, by Gawd. When I asked if I had his permission to post his lyrical . . . → Read More: Musical Pass The Penis]]>

Sometimes my chat sluts come up with such FUN ideas. Then we twist them and make them our own. Muhahaha. One of Miss Viv’s lil buddies, has written a snappy tune, proclaiming his Adoration of, yours truly.

Honored I am, by Gawd. When I asked if I had his permission to post his lyrical accolades, he got all shy and promised he would sing it for me one day, on a sweet and nasty phone sex call.  Woot! I do love being serenaded! Perverted slut that he is .. he commented .. might make a fun Pass The Penis game.

Now there’s an idea, worthy of the Mistresses of LDW.  Loosen up those vocal chords – we are gona pass you around like a bad case of influenza.

Humm…  Wonder how many stanzas, it will take, before you are begging to blow that load?

Never know till you try …

 Eh?