The Bio of Molly J

My mistress lay them down long enough to place a low wide armless chair behind me. She lowered the cable allowing me to sit. She released the cable. She left my hands in bondage.

"Show me your passion, bitch. Make your eyes shine for me, and my camera. I will share your lust with many."

I needed no command from my mistress. My hands went to the raging beast between my legs. I pet the beast. I scratched her ears.

I found my passion and lust with the flashing strobe of my mistress' camera. I felt my masters kiss upon my breasts. It brought my lust to fruition. I screamed in my orgasm.

I had never climbed as high. I shook with pleasure. I rocked with passion. I writhed with lust. I was alive and free. I was free to find the highest peak that I could find.

The climb to ecstasy was full. I knew my mistress would take me higher. She would raise my lust high enough for my nose to bleed. I had never been as happy. I had never been this alive.

My mistress put her camera and the whip aside. She unbound my legs. She pushed my to the floor. She picked up the camera and my master. She sat on the chair. I needed no commands. I saw her command in her eyes. I heard them in my mind.

My face went to her open vagina. I drank my mistress' passion. I found the pool of liquid lust in the bottom of her vagina. I looked up at the camera as I lapped up the elixir. My pleasure was for my mistress and her camera. The flashing strobe of my exhibition brought my passion higher.

The night was filled with passion and strobing lights. I drank from my mistress' well, at her command. I masturbated for her, at her command. I cried for her, at her command. I served her until she fell into exhausted sleep.

I was calm. I could not sleep. My head was spinning. I had to write it down. My writing was no longer shallow. The words flowed from my pen. I wrote every detail. I was still writing, when sleep could no longer be denied. I fell to the bed. I never lost the pen from my bound hands as I slept.

I woke to see my mistress reading the words that I had written. My face burned with embarrassment. I knew that the words were crude. My sentences were awkward. My mistress threw the book aside. She glared at me.

"You had better please me better with your mouth this morning, than you did with your words on this paper."

"Yes mistress."

My hands were still bound, as I crawled to her. She opened her self to receive my devotion. I fed her my love. I drank her passion. I drank all of the elixir that she produced. She sent me away as soon as she was done.

I went to the bathroom at her command. I left my waste with my morality in the porcelain bowl. I was glad to see both flushed away from me.

I bathed. I did not masturbate. I wanted to. Only my mistress could command my hands. My vagina must wait for her command as well.

The only thing that I took with me from my world, was my master. I moved into my mistress' bed and into her life. I was as real as my mistress was.

My mistress ordered me to both read and write. Her erotic library covered one long wall in her house. She said I would not leave the house until I had read them all.

I could not leave the house. I did not lack for adventure or passion in my captivity. My mistress brought both men and women home with her. She often made be pleasure the people for her amusement.

It was exciting. I had to serve them. It made no difference if I was attracted to them or not. If I did not serve them well, my mistress beat me. She would leave me in bondage when she left the house.

I turned tricks for my mistress. She made me dress up like a whore. I was required to ask for the money. I served my mistress' customers as I would serve her. My mistress' passion was in the camera. I learned all the forms of bondage being posed for her camera.

I found my greatest pleasure from my mistress, when she took my last virginity. Her slick dildo filled my ass. I found no higher form of pain, than when she violated my ass for her pleasure.

I screamed in passion and pain as she took me. My vagina roared with delight. She found as much pleasure from within my ass as she did when she herself was filled. She loved the pain as much as I did.

My mistress bound me in a hundred ways. Many times she left me in my bondage as she went to her room with someone else.

Those were the hardest times. I would cry in my bondage. I cried as I heard the sounds of passion, being raised from my mistress by someone else.

My mistress never stopped demanding the stories. She would sometimes whip my hands when she was displeased with a story. I spent many years in my mistresses house. I read every story in her library. Many stories I have read a hundred times.

My experience became broader. My mistress brought me many people. My hair was gray, before I stopped burning my stories.

My mistress and myself live at a much slower pace now. I have the memories in my head. My mistress is no longer satisfied to only read the stories. She demands that I publish my stories. The readers are so demanding. So is my mistress.

I am Molly J. The stories come from my head. I do not have enough years to write them all. I am real. My mistress is real. My stories are real. That is enough.