[F4M] [Smooth] A Heart of Stone

The garden was overgrown, tendrils snaking across the path, clawing their way out of the dense thicket searching for their moment in the sun. It still retained traces of its former majesty. The fountains still flowed, although their murky waters moved sluggishly. The roses still bloomed, but now in an orgy of hues rather than the neat orderly rows of colors as designed by the master gardener. And, of course, the inhabitants of the garden remained: the incredible statuary, ranging from piles of geometrics shapes to lifelike figures.

I know them like friends, and greet them by name. “Lollipop,” I call in a soft lilt to the the vicious snarling dog, teeth made of ragged shards of glass. “Good evening, Percival, Rupert, and Nigel,” I curtsey to the trio of humanoid rats, paws draped around each other like a band of drunken revelers. I can see my well worn path in the way the fallen leaves are swept to the sides of the walkway. But tonight, I feel a little out of sorts. Like I’m in need of new perspectives. I turn left, instead of circling around the large pond and greeting the frozen nymph who lives out her perpetuity awaiting to dive in.

Most of the time I avoid this corner, close to the labyrinth’s entrance. The figure that waits here, veiled in shadows, is intimidating. But there are times that I enjoy that sensation of a shiver of fear coursing through me. Occasions where I want to be off balance.

I’ve been wandering these gardens for years, admiring the sculptural artistry that have become fast friends. They serve as a counterpoint to a life often spent in lengthy solitude, interrupted only by bursts of platitudes and and lectures from insipid, uninspiring individuals. I cross into the early evening shadows of the willow tree, dropping my eyes and murmuring, “Baron.” It’s not like any of the pieces of art have placards to indicate titles or credit creators. But I know this one's true title nonetheless.

A man made of stone. He has always called to me. Was it merely that gloriously rigid, turgid erection protruding obscenely from between his thighs? You’d have to be rather wrapped up in your own miserable life to miss it, after all. But it wasn’t that alone which whet my appetite. For me, it was in the empty, hollow eyes. The statue’s countenance. Aloof, without being haughty. A quiet…because of course, he’s made of solid stone…demanding confidence. It was in the tilt of his head, the straightness in his back, and the force of his clasped fist.

The sculptor managed to capture the tension in his shoulders perfectly, like a predator readying itself to pounce. I’ve never touched him before, never even ventured this close. But the magnetic pull tonight, the smooth gleam of his nude form frozen in stone in the twilight, is undeniable. I reach out and hold a tentative finger out towards the statue’s chest. I pause there, imagining that he must feel cool and immovable. Picturing myself taking that hand, caressing the stone, then trailing it ever downwards. Tonight seems like a good night to be prey.

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Hi wonderful, wicked minds of DPP. I am usually a lurker, a responder-to-posts, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of getting my own, bespoke flair, so here I am submitting myself upon your pedestal.

I like letting stories meander and take on their own lives, so I don’t have any plans for this set in stone, so to speak. I enjoy the surreal, bizarre, unusual, quirky, and playful, and I prefer to experience those while bound, on my knees, submitting in mind even when I’m not doing so in body. I write in excess, and at a glacial pace, so please know what you’re getting yourself into. I will respond to every single message that shows effort, because I think it’s entirely unfair to leave anyone hanging. But I will do it agonizingly slowly. Much like I like to be teased.

Kinks: Convivial sadists, orgasm control & denial, puns, BDSM in most of its wild and wonderful flavors, creative pain, slow burns, evil geniuses, toys and being toyed with, mindfuckery, linguistic acrobatics, matching wits, and providing deep and meaningful pleasure.

Limits: Underage, animals, bathroom play, impregnation/lactation, incest, extreme pain/permanent damage/blood/needles.