Monday, September 17, 2012

The Muse Is Thy Master 2

click here for part 1

"Milady? Milady?"

The young lady awakens to the sound of an elderly gentleman's voice bathing her ears with a softness that defies description. She looks around at her surrounding and finds to her surprise that she is no longer sitting on the beach.

"Milady? Milady?"

Instead, she finds herself laying on a soft grassy knoll surrounded by waves of wildflowers. She also finds to her surprise that she's completely nude.

"I'll be damned. That little peon stuck me somewhere in the past," says the young lady to herself.

'I strongly suggest you answer your footman, as he's turning a major shade of red.'

The young lady momentarily narrows her eyes, then in her chirpiest voice says, "Yes?"

The footman quickly faces the other direction and says, "Milady,  you wanted me to remind you when yo had a half hour left to your sunbath."


"Gerald, milady," answers the footman.

"Thank you, Gerald," says the young lady as she sits up.

"Will there be anything else, milady?"

The young lady looks around for a moment, then asks, "Clothes?"

Gerald points to a rock some twenty feet away and says, "Over there, milady."

"Thank you again, Gerald. That will be all."

"As you wish, milady," says Gerald as he walks slowly back to the carriage.

The young lady waits until Gerald is out of sight, then collapses back on the grassy knoll and happily rolls herself into the bank of wildflowers. When she sits up some several minutes later, her hair is completely festooned with brightly colored wildflowers. She crawls over to the rock and starts going through her clothes. A minute later, she pulls out a small handheld mirror and crawls back to the grassy knoll.

When she looks into it, the mirror jumps out of her hand and impales itself in the ground. The young lady squats to pick it up, but the mirror takes root and rapidly grows into a full length mirror made of dark cypress and edged with honeysuckle.

Taken aback, the young lady peers around the back side and spies a rather large snow white owl. The owl hisses its displeasure at being looked at, and quickly takes flight. It zooms so close to the young lady that she is momentarily knocked from her feet. Before she can touch the ground, a honeysuckle vine shoots out and wraps itself around her toned stomach to keep her upright.

A peaceful feeling comes over the young lady as the honeysuckle vine pulsates vibes through its leaves and coats her skin with an intoxicating scent. A few minutes later, a soft whistle breaks through her psychedelic haze and the young lady suddenly finds herself not on the grassy knoll, but on the veranda of a medium sized English country house.

She starts to walk around but a sharp voice from behind stops her cold.

"Please don't move. The sun is finally in the perfect position for me to paint."

The young lady turns around and finds herself staring into a pair of the darkest hazel eyes she's ever seen. For the next minute, her heart literally melts as those eyes carefully and passionately bore a hole straight into her heart. A snap of the fingers makes her blink and when she refocuses again, the painter's muscular physique comes to the forefront and brings her to her knees.

A yearning to be hungrily ravished slowly comes over the young lady, and every key component of her body becomes so overly sensitive that if the painter exhaled in her direction, the result would be orgasmic.

With her heart racing and her body aching to be touched, the young lady slowly walks towards the painter. When he turns around to pick up his palette, she is right there in front of him. He sighs for a moment and waits for her to make the first move. When she touches his cheek, he holds it there for several seconds, then removes it and sensually kisses her fingers.

He stands up and walks her back to the railing. Caressing her cheek for a moment, he clears his throat and takes a couple of steps backwards.

"If I was that kind of man, I would give you such a day of passion that I daresay would take you forever to recover from. However milady, I am not that kind of man. I do keep my body in superior condition for my lover, and not only does he appreciate it, but so do the other discreet members of the same circle that milady travels in. Which is why my nudes are of the highest quality and of the highest demand on the continent."

To be continued...

(c) 2012 by G.B. Miller. All rights reserved.

Monday, September 3, 2012

The Muse Is Thy Master

The young lady spends several minutes walking along the beach, zig zagging this way and that, before finding what she feels to be the perfect spot to relax and get in touch with her inner self. She plops the chair at the edge of the shoreline and carefully sits down. She quickly unties her braid and after spending a few seconds shaking it loose, stretches out her legs, drops her shades and allows the ocean spray to caress her body and ticker her spirit.

As the spray coats her carmel skin, the sun beats down to gently break down her resistance and before long, she is dropping the back of the chair to full embrace the sun God.

A young man, dressed in bermuda shorts and down nip bottles of tequila, is staggering down the beach. Oblivious to his surroundings, he starts singing a few dirty songs at the top of his lungs, and a few minutes later spies a delectable looking woman about one hundred yards just off to his left.

With a spring in his step, he quickens his pace and in no time at all is standing next to what had t be the hottest looking babe he's ever seen. With the incessant hammer of "booty call" permeating his brain, he sits down next to the babe and taps her on the shoulder.

She turns and to his horror he recognizes her. Almost instantly he starts blubbering, but she quickly puts a finger to a his mouth. Flashing a ambiguous smile, she delivers a vicious open hand slap that sends him tumbling head over heels.

It takes him a few seconds to recover and when he does, he sees the young lady tapping his recently vacated spot. Reluctantly, he crawls back and gingerly takes a seat. He turns to speak but is instantly removed with another vicious slap to the head. Again after coming around, he reluctantly crawls back and sits down.

He turns to speak but thinks better of it and instead holds his tongue.

"I'm not happy with you," says the young lady in a voice dripping with anger.

"What do you mean?"

"Excuse me?" says the young lady as she sits up.

"Let me rephrase that. Why aren't you happy? You're working again, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I expected to be used in the same vein as your other stories. Not like this."

"Like what?"

She grabs hold of his neck and forcibly shoves him down in her lap. Squeezing his face, she repeats, "Not like this."

The young man looks and is horrified by what he sees staring back at him. Gulping hard, he reaches up to touch her face, but she grabs his wrist. Flashing a tight smile, she bends his wrist back while pulling him up at the same time.

She stares at him for a moment, then quietly asks, "What are you going to do about it?"

"About it?"

"Yes. What are you going to do about it?"

The young man pauses for a moment, then spins around until he is standing behind her. He gently removes her hand from his wrist, then kneels down and whispers, "Not a damn thing."

She turns around, locks eyes and says, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You needed to get back to work and I needed to write, so this is the best of both worlds. I have a story that is chomping at the bit and oozing out of my pen, and you have a starring role in it. What more could you ask for?"

She reaches up and embraces him. Caught off-guard, he goes to return the favor but suddenly finds himself being flipped over onto his ass. Before he can respond, the young lady tightens her grip and nuzzles his ear for a moment. After giving it a light nibble, which unnerved the young man, she answers his question.

"I could ask for respect. I could ask for to be treated in the manner that I'm accustomed to and deserve. I could ask for a story that better suits my talents." After that last sentence, the young lady stands up, drops the young man in the surf before sitting down and pinning his shoulders with her knees.

With the water crashing the beach at leisurely intervals, the young lady unties her bikini top and arches her back for a moment, before readjusting her position. She sits cross-legged in such a way that the young man's head is now resting semi-comfortably in her lap. For the next couple of minutes not a word is exchanged. The young lady, using the young man's waist as a prop, is busy taking an impromptu sunbath, while the young man, with a view that most others would die for, tries to wait out the impending shit storm that he finds himself in.

The young lady finally sits up, and after shaking some of the water off, puts her bikini top back on. She stretches out her legs for a moment, then stands up and returns to her chair. The young man waits for a minute, before getting up and walking over to the young lady. Squatting in front of her, he moves a few strands of hair out of her face and gives her a light kiss on the cheek.

She quietly nuzzles his face and gives him a light one as well. Smiling, he takes a seat next to her and for the next few minutes stares out at the horizon, letting the warm breeze and cool spray bathe his spirit. Eventually he comes to a decision, so after squeezing her neck for a moment, leans in and says very quietly, "I'll see what I can do."

She doesn't say anything but gives his thigh a gentle squeeze, before clearing her throat and shooing him away. the young man takes his leave and within a few minutes, disappears from the beach, leaving behind a thoroughly contented muse, who drops the back of her chair to work on her tan and gradually falls asleep.

When she wakes up.......

(c) 2012 by G.B. Miller. All rights reserved