Friday, October 7, 2022
Saturday, September 17, 2022
A Somber Moment for a Love and a Knack for Servitude
Mrs. Omachas first class
A Screenplay by RobbenMs. Omachas first day of teaching class was tommorow. She had left me in frustrations, stressed out and enriched with solace. Stan and Brad were holding her hands, and kind of moving in flux trying to reinvent themselves. Sarah was more than Queen Isabella, she was radiant beneath cunning roses. And more sensible than taking her couragous tapes so assumptuosly.
Stan flinched, and received a kiss. Brad reached for a Morning Star.
"I want you Madly," she spoke as the three conferred.
There was a short breathe, and study, the lights were out, Brads thought that a child would yelp, in the best of times were actually the worst of times in her company, and created a problem. She really wanted the best, would get the best and not compromise. myself, I just watched the loss of my childhood go.
"Tantric Stan, and learn from me soulmates."
Said Ms. Omacha, and her precludes to merely greet Her girl.
Her findings were oaths were given, and all the same. Sarah came to almost cunnigly, shreer beguilement and leisure left her in need of precision. Liberty in her mind was the fact that Hollyood Performanced may be the worst qualification for a work acquistion in her field.
" The door shall be open, there is now nothing more to trope. I have a friend, who helps with tasting my shit for dependencies. I have to go, or he his thoughts of me pissingly will fail in the long run loves, all is well with me now the door is what is open, I am leaving."
Stan flinched, and received a kiss. Brad reached for a Morning Star.
"I want you Madly," she spoke as the three conferred.
There was a short breathe, and study, the lights were out, Brads thought that a child would yelp, in the best of times were actually the worst of times in her company, and created a problem. She really wanted the best, would get the best and not compromise. myself, I just watched the loss of my childhood go.
"Tantric Stan, and learn from me soulmates."
Said Ms. Omacha, and her precludes to merely greet Her girl.
Her findings were oaths were given, and all the same. Sarah came to almost cunnigly, shreer beguilement and leisure left her in need of precision. Liberty in her mind was the fact that Hollyood Performanced may be the worst qualification for a work acquistion in her field.
" The door shall be open, there is now nothing more to trope. I have a friend, who helps with tasting my shit for dependencies. I have to go, or he his thoughts of me pissingly will fail in the long run loves, all is well with me now the door is what is open, I am leaving."
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Insight
A Stage Play by Robben
The causal reasons to consume my Dominitrices shit
Everyone is accountable for at least a task. I used my income to watch her cum, but in a way that she would be willing to pee on my wardrobe. Upon greeting Ms. Sarah with as much as a dear, she with angelic gace wrapped her knuckle clenched to my Jaw. During times when her dozen lovers all said their oath to cum with her ownership of them, Mrs. Omacha removed the clothing from her buttocks.
" if only your source of hygiene in wiping were my moist mouth consuming your bowel." I said
Her brave scent of her shit permeated my nostrils just then.
"I have paid too little for such bravery, I will eat your feces according to your will" I said.
"According to What" mrs.Omacha said leaping from her seat. The white crane by her side, let in the curious eulogy. The door rasped with Carl and Carlos swinging on the panel. My orgasm had stopped, as Mrs Omacha sat perturbed knowing i would one day know courses of a meal again.
"Are the others here to hurt me? I asked
"No slave," she said but that time is near you see, my sexual intimates have't all obeyed rules the way I wish them to be. Do not strike bargains with me now." She said.
Tilting my head in arousal,to be far from edible plants and animal. It was my time to leave. Mrs Sarah Omacha sowed haste and perfect aggressivenes in my exit. When her accountability was having three men have sexual entrance into her bladder at a time.
" if only your source of hygiene in wiping were my moist mouth consuming your bowel." I said
Her brave scent of her shit permeated my nostrils just then.
"I have paid too little for such bravery, I will eat your feces according to your will" I said.
"According to What" mrs.Omacha said leaping from her seat. The white crane by her side, let in the curious eulogy. The door rasped with Carl and Carlos swinging on the panel. My orgasm had stopped, as Mrs Omacha sat perturbed knowing i would one day know courses of a meal again.
"Are the others here to hurt me? I asked
"No slave," she said but that time is near you see, my sexual intimates have't all obeyed rules the way I wish them to be. Do not strike bargains with me now." She said.
Tilting my head in arousal,to be far from edible plants and animal. It was my time to leave. Mrs Sarah Omacha sowed haste and perfect aggressivenes in my exit. When her accountability was having three men have sexual entrance into her bladder at a time.
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Position
A Stage Play by Robben Understanding Roles
The kitchen had an effervescent dim glow, a wine bottle was half empty and two wine glasses sat on the table empty, Donald had purchased lilacs and sunflowers for Mrs. Sarah, as they now were the decor in a vase. Mrs Sarah came out of the bedroom a little more moist than usual, wearing lingerie that left her nipples bare. Donald came out wiping the gushing pain off his cheeks, as she stood there ready to hold Donald in her confidence.
" Donald do you see now I am ready, and used to the worship.
Said Mrs Omacha.
"I wish I could have been more successful in convincing you of my heart." Said Donald
"I was hurting you violently, and inflicting you with pain." Said Sarah Omacha, "How do you feel now, do you have any doubts"
"No Sarah I will serve your will, let thy will for me be done." Said Donald
It was 8:30 in the evening I had just rang the bell. Mr's Omacha, opened the door and waved a hand in my my pre mature dismissal of being respectable. Mr's Omacha welcomed me into the kitchen, she graciously punched me in the lip, to see if there were any further questions of my risen faith, all spirits now ascending in her asshole. "I was screwing someone else." She said and put on a tee shirt over her lingerie.
"Then, in your own words what is your role and position in life.
"I am to live my life for you, and die to become your shit at your will, and my life will have no other meaning but as your servant, slave, and concubine.
"That' right, but there is something else. Donald don't get dressed just come out."
Donald came out of the other room fully naked.
"Shit." Said Mrs. Sarah addressing me, " to please me I want you to have same sex intercourse. I want many men to ride your door, and for you to deepthroat their Shaft until they cum in your mouth.
" I suppose I can understand why. " I said to Mrs. Sarah.
Mrs. Sara grasped my head in the palm of her head , and with a trill in her voice, gave the instructions to French Kiss Donald's Shaft. As the head of Donald's cock, and half his organ were in my frothy mouth. Mr's Sarah gave the order to deep throat, as cum was gathering on my lips, Donald released and squirted stream after stream of cum in my throat. "Now Shit." Said Mrs. Omacha "swallow it."
"This has to be the way it is between us." said Sarah
"This is the way it is both now and forever. I said still swallowing Donald's Cum
© 2022 Robben
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Complections
A Stage Play by Robben
Liberated Brotherhood, and Mrs. Omachas literal Surname
Withstanding the temptation to deface, as Ms. Sarah; Ms. Poppish ignited a liberal intercession, having an incestuos intercourse, now with two black brothers. They listened, is it sensible to believe men are gay for Ms. Omacha. Does the smell of floral hebs suggest that our families need play sodomy with each other. If there ever was a time that her men came to her with issues of pleasuring her with Kink and Masochism, is what Mrs. Omacha may consider a breach amongst regroupment with homosexuality, as to be very public about it in her name was preferred.
" If by chance I am not your dying word. I Prithee not to spread such carnevorous disease." Said Mrs Omacha.
"My refrain from a service to you may displeasure you." Said Antwan.
"Perhaps," said Sarah, " but much less than your becoming a thief has done."
Alas there was a hiatus, ontop a hilltop, a field of pansies, and a non fictitious thought. Seven years of touching butterfles in the stomach with nervy cravings of zeal possessed, Mrs Sarah Omacha who saw the days of witchcraft, but as creatable somehow into an artistry of her counting on her men to submit to pain. I have toiled eating Mrs. Poppish' shit in the realms of my fantasies, and reality for fifteen years. Denial would be an act of considering myself other than one gay boy amidst numbers, now of Mrs. Sarah Omacha's homosexual addresses and figures. Sharing now her misgivings, and our need for her to own us as possesions.
Mrs. Omacha french kissed Antwan and his brother, and "Said who knows we can see where this leads you two from here."
" If by chance I am not your dying word. I Prithee not to spread such carnevorous disease." Said Mrs Omacha.
"My refrain from a service to you may displeasure you." Said Antwan.
"Perhaps," said Sarah, " but much less than your becoming a thief has done."
Alas there was a hiatus, ontop a hilltop, a field of pansies, and a non fictitious thought. Seven years of touching butterfles in the stomach with nervy cravings of zeal possessed, Mrs Sarah Omacha who saw the days of witchcraft, but as creatable somehow into an artistry of her counting on her men to submit to pain. I have toiled eating Mrs. Poppish' shit in the realms of my fantasies, and reality for fifteen years. Denial would be an act of considering myself other than one gay boy amidst numbers, now of Mrs. Sarah Omacha's homosexual addresses and figures. Sharing now her misgivings, and our need for her to own us as possesions.
Mrs. Omacha french kissed Antwan and his brother, and "Said who knows we can see where this leads you two from here."
© 2021 R
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The Mandala
A Stage Play by Robben
At the time postcards were arrayed in arms reach about her table. Mr's Omacha's pure leitmotif spun a kind of Heirloom, around Phillip, and Jack; two siblings, who had barely outgrown their pains, in time to praise her walk through their epiphanies. In an air of cumin and lemon. Her pursuit of her Mandala to rectify the fraternity, was coupled with a woman's authority who leaves her bedside only for a fee. These are, and were the premises Mrs. Sarah Omacha hurried me into, and helmed me in, and cauffined me to with vehemence. While Jack, and Phillip had tilted the drops of perfume Mrs. Omacha persed to her postcards. Te martyrd duality of those who were left to pay Mrs. Sarah their Honor, she whose cleavage now leaked a pure jasmine ointment to wet her lips. Putting the postacards perfumed in her dresser table. She became ready for a visit from Phillip, who could not see her eyes as anything that did not come from the Goddess Isis. He melted in her cleavage as his tongue swallowed her hard nipple for ten minutes, she climaxed but did not believe he could take it alone. Maybe she related Phillip to my experience, maybe to Jacks, whose perfect member always left the musk in her hair, and the musk that permeated even my eyes, in the cirque de toilette Mrs. Omacha pampered me to adopt. "Your lips are so juicy, they make me sweat." Said Phillip to to Mrs. Sarah, who still was not impressed until she undid his pants and could see his balls with an erect shaft. "I need you to to show me how you want it." Said Phillp. ""Practicing the art of a libido?" asked Jack. "Well no, I am not immature." said Phillip, as Mrs Sarah, took down his pants, and placed a warmed palm to his cock and gingerly and eagerly spurred, and stroked him forward, Mrs. Sarah pressed her fingers to his balls, as Phillip shot a hot fire stream of pure sperm on the kitchen floor. To be the tete' de forte. Said Jack. I walked in at that moment, reaching for an expression like a Mozart Soprano to fit the sentiment. "His robes are know filled with the succor of a Prince." I said, but also becoming an easy target for Sara's unbridling, and clenched hand to my rib to aid me, in my losing pride. "Oh goodbye sweethearts." Mr's Sarah, said to Phillip. "Just let yourself be me at rest." Jack left in abidance with his soul mate. I have to discuss these matters with him now. A slaves mind, with a gay heart and his embracing thoughts. I shall never rescue him, or indeed would, but I need to see him now, as she dismissed her lovers triangle to seize a reign to throttle my mouth with.
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Putting the postacards perfumed in her dresser table. She became ready for a visit from Phillip, who could not see her eyes as anything that did not come from the Goddess Isis. He melted in her cleavage as his tongue swallowed her hard nipple for ten minutes, she climaxed but did not believe he could take it alone. Maybe she related Phillip to my experience, maybe to Jacks, whose perfect member always left the musk in her hair, and the musk that permeated even my eyes, in the cirque de toilette Mrs. Omacha pampered me to adopt.
"Your lips are so juicy, they make me sweat." Said Phillip to to Mrs. Sarah, who still was not impressed until she undid his pants and could see his balls with an erect shaft.
"I need you to to show me how you want it." Said Phillp.
""Practicing the art of a libido?" asked Jack.
"Well no, I am not immature." said Phillip, as Mrs Sarah, took down his pants, and placed a warmed palm to his cock and gingerly and eagerly spurred, and stroked him forward, Mrs. Sarah pressed her fingers to his balls, as Phillip shot a hot fire stream of pure sperm on the kitchen floor.
To be the tete' de forte. Said Jack.
I walked in at that moment, reaching for an expression like a Mozart Soprano to fit the sentiment.
"His robes are know filled with the succor of a Prince." I said, but also becoming an easy target for Sara's unbridling, and clenched hand to my rib to aid me, in my losing pride.
"Oh goodbye sweethearts." Mr's Sarah, said to Phillip. "Just let yourself be me at rest."
Jack left in abidance with his soul mate. I have to discuss these matters with him now. A slaves mind, with a gay heart and his embracing thoughts. I shall never rescue him, or indeed would, but I need to see him now, as she dismissed her lovers triangle to seize a reign to throttle my mouth with.
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I Two the Sandbox
A Stage Play by Robben
Act 1, Scene 2The rain was bountiful, the sun was bountiful, and Sarah's clentele was bountiful. By now, Sarah had disciplined my with vengeance as much as any one else In my past, so much that I fantasized about her knuckles, and wrists, and made love to the bones in her waist. It felt bittersweet, but to her clientelle. sarah was the dew, when it drizzled, the sun on browning skin, as her whispers promised to our consent that we could live our lives as her homosexuals. By now the eastern winds, held her back straight, as pride was an issue in it's cause and effect, that maybe attributed by a will to live, and a will to decide one's fate, yes to be her excretion, but also for understanding that there were also other issues, she may have with me as her slave. "When you stop believing you are right for women, You'll earn your vows." Said Sarah. "I am still a little dizzy right now I" I Said, " but I am willing to consecrate to to them." With a brief reminder she can help me Mr's Omacha undid her jeans, and fetched me her excretion, that I would consume. This was the hiatus, the rainbow was the movement she excreted. "I must now go meet Gregg, I am having sex with him, does that bring up any thoughts in you " Said Mrs. Omacha I turned towards the door, having eaten of her jeans. Hoping she would not make Gregg feel used or abused, while in my heart that possibility prevailed in my thoughts, like a cloud of billowy reticience, ascending into the temple of Sara's anus. Gregg was a man who was never mastricised, or wrapped up in Sarah's hand as a small prey to a bug. Gregg was still pushy, yet immasculate. I would absorb even his sperm with harm, that night, but Sara introduced him to me as something I am not. "Shalom my sweet dove." said Gregg. " How are you with women, it is that way with some you know." "You have the Body of Pallas Athena, and are as fresh as the mountain air. " I have more tasks to assign my slave, you see to women he was once their thoughts." Said Sarah. "I can only offer you my salary." Said Gregg." " Well for my cleavage that's fine." Said sarah. Mr's Sarah Omacha once did not shave her armpits when in my presence. like a glass of exotic succor, I became irrational, alost wishing to contact NASA to see Venus from a telescope, also wishing to end corruption, and counting on the good of boy friends to find it in me not to gamble. Mr's Sarah had armpits that bristled a kind of brunette majic, a kind of ginger Beer, and Coconut Water, that dispelled demons, by reminding me I was beneath her from birth to death under any, and every conceivable circumstances. The Clove scented bristle of armpit hair that Mrs Omacha fed my salivary glands with, and became for me what I understood as conflicts between good and evil. it would be a week, befor my fantasies would become less of an imperative, and wet about her sweaty armpits, before any real goals could be set again.
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A Stage Play by Robben
Act 1, Scene 2
The rain was bountiful, the sun was bountiful, and Sarah's clentele was bountiful. By now, Sarah had disciplined my with vengeance as much as any one else In my past, so much that I fantasized about her knuckles, and wrists, and made love to the bones in her waist. It felt bittersweet, but to her clientelle. sarah was the dew, when it drizzled, the sun on browning skin, as her whispers promised to our consent that we could live our lives as her homosexuals. By now the eastern winds, held her back straight, as pride was an issue in it's cause and effect, that maybe attributed by a will to live, and a will to decide one's fate, yes to be her excretion, but also for understanding that there were also other issues, she may have with me as her slave.
"When you stop believing you are right for women, You'll earn your vows." Said Sarah.
"I am still a little dizzy right now I" I Said, " but I am willing to consecrate to to them."
With a brief reminder she can help me Mr's Omacha undid her jeans, and fetched me her excretion, that I would consume. This was the hiatus, the rainbow was the movement she excreted.
"I must now go meet Gregg, I am having sex with him, does that bring up any thoughts in you " Said Mrs. Omacha
I turned towards the door, having eaten of her jeans. Hoping she would not make Gregg feel used or abused, while in my heart that possibility prevailed in my thoughts, like a cloud of billowy reticience, ascending into the temple of Sara's anus.
Gregg was a man who was never mastricised, or wrapped up in Sarah's hand as a small prey to a bug. Gregg was still pushy, yet immasculate. I would absorb even his sperm with harm, that night, but Sara introduced him to me as something I am not.
"Shalom my sweet dove." said Gregg.
" How are you with women, it is that way with some you know."
"You have the Body of Pallas Athena, and are as fresh as the mountain air.
" I have more tasks to assign my slave, you see to women he was once their thoughts." Said Sarah.
"I can only offer you my salary." Said Gregg."
" Well for my cleavage that's fine." Said sarah.
Mr's Sarah Omacha once did not shave her armpits when in my presence. like a glass of exotic succor, I became irrational, alost wishing to contact NASA to see Venus from a telescope, also wishing to end corruption, and counting on the good of boy friends to find it in me not to gamble. Mr's Sarah had armpits that bristled a kind of brunette majic, a kind of ginger Beer, and Coconut Water, that dispelled demons, by reminding me I was beneath her from birth to death under any, and every conceivable circumstances. The Clove scented bristle of armpit hair that Mrs Omacha fed my salivary glands with, and became for me what I understood as conflicts between good and evil. it would be a week, befor my fantasies would become less of an imperative, and wet about her sweaty armpits, before any real goals could be set again.
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The Dawn
Last act in which Mrs. Omacha's slave commits suicide
There was a chill in the air, as a frosty frothy surface was seen creeping up to the window. I entered Mrs. Sarah Omacha's parlorand courtsied.
"Mrs. Omacha, the time is now." I said, "I must die for you."
"What of fate, what of destiny." Said Mrs. Omacha.
""That I have only lived to become your being the time is now." I said
"Step this way." Said Mrs. Omacha.
Mrs. Sarah brought me to a closet where inside was a dung filled sack cloth with cyanide. " First you will open your wrists then I will tie you up inside, the cyanide will eat you alive, and you will only exist as a part of me." Said Sarah Omacha.
The razor was sharp I took it to my wrists, feeling the last pulses of my life I felt Mrs. Sarah Omacha tie up the bag.
The room was smoky, the odor was cancerous, when Mr's Omacha undid the sackcloth, there was no evidence of a body ever having been present.
The fumes seemed to enter her nostrils. There were no traces of there having been a life, no dung, and no corpse. A siren sounded outside then went away. Mrs. Omacha made her way to the toilet "now you are just this as one with me." Mr's Omacha hummed as she fingered her asshole, and excreted the last of my presences into the toilet bowl.
There was a chill in the air, as a frosty frothy surface was seen creeping up to the window. I entered Mrs. Sarah Omacha's parlor
and courtsied.
"Mrs. Omacha, the time is now." I said, "I must die for you."
"What of fate, what of destiny." Said Mrs. Omacha.
""That I have only lived to become your being the time is now." I said
"Step this way." Said Mrs. Omacha.
Mrs. Sarah brought me to a closet where inside was a dung filled sack cloth with cyanide. " First you will open your wrists then I will tie you up inside, the cyanide will eat you alive, and you will only exist as a part of me." Said Sarah Omacha.
The razor was sharp I took it to my wrists, feeling the last pulses of my life I felt Mrs. Sarah Omacha tie up the bag.
The room was smoky, the odor was cancerous, when Mr's Omacha undid the sackcloth, there was no evidence of a body ever having been present.
The fumes seemed to enter her nostrils. There were no traces of there having been a life, no dung, and no corpse. A siren sounded outside then went away. Mrs. Omacha made her way to the toilet "now you are just this as one with me." Mr's Omacha hummed as she fingered her asshole, and excreted the last of my presences into the toilet bowl.
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