Join me as Mystk opens up to us in my next featured interview. I am fortunate enough to count Mystk as a dear friend and fellow WPW member. She's a beautiful soul, grounded and kind, and after reading this, you'll understand what I mean.
What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Love, words, music and nature, not necessarily in that order.
What sound or noise do you love? The cacophony of birds rising along with the sun. Hate? There are very few things that I can honestly say I hate and sounds are generally not on that list, though the actions that cause certain sounds elicit feelings of hatred (ie children and/or animals being abused). If you were to ask me what sounds aggravate me, the list is longish and includes things like someone singing ever so slightly off key (eg Nelly Furtado singing “I’m Like a Bird”) and trying too hard when they sing (ie Alicia Keys yelling “New York”) – both elicit the stereotypical response of nails on a chalk board causing me to immediately turn the tunes off; incessantly dripping water; vague noises you can’t identify or even begin to pinpoint in order to put a stop to them (ie I have this thing going on in my house where this random sound goes off downstairs somewhere (like a loud click) and, while not alarming in anyway, it’s aggravating to the ‘enth degree. I’ve spent innumerable hours trying to figure out what it is and where it’s coming from to no avail.)
What is your idea of earthly happiness? I’m still working on finding the answer to this question and expect it will present itself in brilliant flash of clarity at the moment of my death.
Who are your favorite heroes/heroines in real life? I would say any sector of the human race who, by virtue of the geography of their birthplace, must struggle every single day to survive in the harshest conditions and somehow, day after day, manage to do so. They have my utmost respect.
What is your motto or favorite quote?
The Sufi “The Three Gates” saying: “Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask, ‘Is it kind?’”
The berries were fresh. The cream, fresher. The dark chocolate was the perfect counterbalance to the sweetness of the berries but under it all was the salty-sweet flavour of Shae. She was writhing and moaning with need by the time I took my place at the end of the table and sat looking over the landscape of her delectable body. I slid my hands under her knees and pulled her toward me, placing her legs over my shoulders. I slipped my hands under her buttocks and lifted her pussy to my mouth, locking my eyes to hers. “Do not come, pet, until I allow it. If you fail, I’ll punish you.”
Shae’s eyes widened as she watched me move slowly toward her heated and needy centre, my full intentions becoming clear. An involuntary gasp of air escaped her lips when I licked her creamy slit from back to font. She bucked up, pressing her pussy into my mouth, unable to control her body’s automatic response. I slid one arm around her hip, settling my hand on her abdomen to hold her steady, and set to work on breaking her control.
The torture started with light licks and puffs of cool air on her pussy. I progressed slowly to sucking and nibbling her clit, worrying it with unrelenting attention. Shae’s moans grew over time to pleading as I clamped my teeth firmly around her swollen bud and heated it with the constant friction of my tongue. Her legs began to tremble. I knew she was close to her climax, so I pulled my mouth from her pulsing flesh and kissed the inside of her thighs, first one then the other. Shae squeezed her knees to the sides of my head, her hands finding purchase in my hair. If she had her way, I would go nowhere until I satisfied her, and I could not allow her that control.
“Grip the sides of the table, pet, and do not let go.” I growled my command, letting her know she was pushing her boundaries. She reluctantly loosened her grasp on my hair, my scalp stinging as the blood rushed to the assaulted area. Shae’s breath sawed in and out of her chest, and her words tumbled over one another as she begged for a reprieve.
“Please, sir, please! Let me rest or please let me come! I’m losing my mind! I need… I need to come please, sir, please!”
I grinned. She had played right into my hands. “Shae, Jon’s outfitted his dungeon with a spanking bench. It has your name on it if you so much as twitch in the next five minutes. I suggest you get a grip on your control. Now.”
“You’re being completely unreasonable, sir! You’ve been torturing and teasing me for the past hour without a break! Your demands are impossible, and you well know it!”
Her outburst sparked a flame of irritation in me the likes of which I had not felt in quite some time.
“Would you care to rephrase that, Shae?”
I pinned her with a harsh look of derision though I knew she was right. My demands were unreasonable, but I wanted her to fail to meet them in the most spectacular way possible.
When no response was immediately forthcoming, I stood, gripped Shae around her waist, and tossed her over my shoulder. Navigating the table, I strode out of the dining room and made my way to the top of the stairs leading to Jon’s dungeon.