Powered by Bravenet Bravenet Blog

Tag Board

model jaket korea: Hello! I realize this is somewhat off-topic however I needed to ask.Does operating a well-established website such as yours take a massive amount work? I am completely new to writing a blog however I do write in my diary daily. I'd like to start a blog so I can easily share my personal experience and feelings online. Please let me know if you have any kind of ideas or tips for brand new aspiring bloggers. Thankyou!

Please type in the four characters shown in the black box.

Sunday, July 22nd 2012

5:11 PM

Model preteen boys


Related article: Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 15:08:49 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor
Subject: The Dahran Way - Chapter 21 - Gay - AuthoritarianThis is the twenty first chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery
and gay sex.Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training,
submission, gay, sexThis story is entirely preteen uk girls
a work of fiction and all rights to it and its
characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No
reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.If you are underage to read this kind of material or if this material is
unlawful for you to read where you live, please leave this webpage now.Contact points:e: gerrytaylor78hotmail.com
w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/
w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories
Yahoo! Messenger : gerrytaylor_78The Dahran WayChapter 21 The importance of business Mustafa ben-Mustafa The owner of the slave auction rooms at al-Mera was Mustafa
ben-Mustafa, the twenty-eighth generation of his family to be in Dahra's
slave trade. I got on quite well with him and with his counterpart in
al-Qatim and to tell the truth, over the years had come to rely on him.
He was a quiet man in many ways, smallish, but not overweight, always
impeccably dressed in the spotless white gallabiya or thoub of the
country and almost always wearing, a plain unadorned black ogal headband,
which so many professionals seemed to prefer. Although his nephew of the same name, Mustafa, had said to me on one
occasion that his uncle had a temper, I have never seen it, though I had
seen him upset at the mistreatment of what was now one of my best and
most hard working of slaves -- Dieter Schaffer. I met Mustafa and his counterpart at a financial services trade show in
the capital city in early to mid-July. Gustav Ahlson and I and now that
Colin Bowman, now that he was with us as a junior partner, took turns
with the trade shows, illegal photos preteen which were now one at least every two weeks and
partly the fault of Deckhams, tinymodel princess preteen my bank, which through the management of
the almost one third of the Sheikdom's financial resources, had put
Dahra on the map as a financial services centre. I walked into the Financial Services Trade Show and saw a mass of heads
and bodies. It was like Piccadilly at rush hour! I was just thinking that
it was going to be one of those days, when I heard a voice model preteen boys
at my elbow,
say `Sir Jonathan, delighted to see you.' It was Mustafa ben-Mustafa. I tend to say `any port models preteen sites in a storm,' `any piece of driftwood when
you're drowning' and I was drowning before I was even three feet into
the shark-infested waters of the trade show. `Mustafa, delighted to see you as well! Delighted! Where are these
crowds of people coming from? What is being offered in financial services
that all these people need? There was not this crowd here last year.' `Ah, Sir Jonathan, business is prospering in Dahra. That is the simple
reason. But perhaps, we should avoid the throng entirely. Let me invite
you to our private suite.' I readily agreed and was pleasantly surprised to find myself whisked up
a floor and into a carpeted and batik-lined suite with comfortable chairs
and two servants, already picking up trays of drinks as we entered
through the door. My eye automatically flicked to their bare feet and
right ankles where there was the slave bracelet of titanium. The flute of a light sparkling white wine -- Italian Asti -- I thought,
was just perfect. shocking preteen nudity I had kept my hand on the arm of the serving slave
while I tasted it. He was a pleasant looking tanned individual in his
late twenties to early thirties. I tasted the wine again and breathed in
its light aroma. `Thank you. That is perfect,' I said with a smile to the slave. `You
serve a perfect glass of wine.' `Thank you, Master,' was the very accented reply in Arabic. Mustafa was watching the little performance and smiled to me knowingly. `You still say `thank you' to slaves, Sir Jonathan, I see.' `It pays dividends at my Palaces, Mustafa, my friend. Well, perhaps
that and giving each slave a gold necklace when they are out of
training.' `Ah, yes, I have heard of this. That not make you the target of that
terrible raid by bandits, did it not? At least, that is what rumour
suggested. All I give the slave by way of decoration is the titanium GPS
bracelet.' `I have always meant to ask. How good is the GPS bracelet?' preteen porn links `I am not a computer person, Sir Jonathan, I would have to ask my
nephew Mustafa for details, but I know that the bracelet itself nymphet real preteen
sets off alarms at the police headquarters in the capital city and at the
nearest police station if it goes outside the specific given radius coded
into the computer and also when any of Dahra's borders are approached
within three miles.' `There is a two-mile prohibited zone around the airport. Any Master,
who wishes his chauffeur to drive him there has to apply for preteens foto free a special
permit, but the slave is not allowed to enter the building and would be
intercepted at any attempt to do so. sexy nymphet preteens The airport police monitor every
authorized signal entering the zone. Anyway, no slave bracelet could ever
pass the airport security check undetected.' `It is the same with the harbour police and the coastguard. You know
that our establishment is situated more than two miles from the docks.
When the satellite surveillance system was introduced, my family gave up
our old auction rooms in the harbour area, which are now used for cargo
delivery only and built the new auction rooms. A considerable investment,
but one that offers space and comfort to our clients -- or so I hope.' `It is always a pleasure to enjoy your nonnude model preteen
hospitality, Mustafa. And when
was the last time a slave escaped from preteen models african Dahra?' `Not in modern memory. Each year some three or four try to maxwel model preteen escape by
sea or air -- over the deserts is impossible -- and they are executed.
Also some five or so slaves simply disappear into the desert and are
never found again, at least, that is what their owners claim.' `But, Mustafa, should the satellite not be able to locate the bracelet
even in the desert.' `Sometimes that does fail. Bracelets have been found but not on legs,
which means that feet have been cut off. By whom, I would not know. Also
the bracelets do not work when too far underground and I am told that
there are deep caves in some of the mountains.' `What did you mean by executed?' `The slaves, who try to escape from Masters within the country are
merely brought before a court, if the Master so decides, or simply back
to the Master for the Master to administer any punishment he thinks
fit.' I nodded remembering the case of my slave Frank Kovacs, who turned up
in my outhouses having run away from Ahmed al-Karim, his former Master. `But those, who try to pass the borders or board ships or planes are
executed, as the slaves are told after their arrival.' `After their arrival?' `Every slave, Sir Jonathan, is shown at least one video of an
execution. It requires little or no explanation and is the greatest
deterrent that I know of for not running away. If you like I shall send
you a video or two of what happens.' I half-nodded in agreement, but I really felt like another drink after
that piece of information and finished off the remaining half of my
glass. Quick as a flash, the slave, who had served me earlier on was over
with an open bottle to refill my glass. I motioned to the slave to hunker beside my seat and as he sat on his
heels, I started to massage the back of his neck. His skin was absolutely
smooth and unblemished. `Your own private stock, eh, Mustafa?' `Zoran is yours, Sir Jonathan, for any price you offer.' Zoran had not batted an eyelid as this conversation was taking place,
though he could clearly understand what was being said and was, if
anything, leaning back into my fingers as they touched and massaged his
neck muscles. `You would not mind loosing him, Mustafa?' `I never ever get attached to any of my slaves, Sir Jonathan They are
my business. I buy them. I sell them. That is all. Zoran here is very
well trained and has been owned by me for two years and he has never
given any trouble. Have you, Zoran?' `No, preteen pantys photos Master,' was the quiet reply. `By the way, Sir Jonathan, do you know you have started a new
fashion?' `Fashion?' I said alarmed. `Yes. The in-thing now is for slaves without any body ornamentation.
No tattoos, no rings, no metal. They are calling it the JM look.' `What? Who?' -- now I was quite alarmed. It is quite one thing to own
and retrain slaves without being regarded as some sort of fashion guru
with ornamentation statements to make. `Very simply, many slaves when bought now for household duties have to
have all their tattoos and metallic ornamentation removed like Zoran. It
is quite a side-line of the house.' Addressing the slave, Mustafa said, `Zoran, stand up and let Sir
Jonathan see you. Take off those clothes.' Without the slightest hesitation, the slave stood up pulled off his
open-necked shirt and shucked down his cream coloured shorts. He was
indeed a beautiful specimen of slavehood. I knew that Mustafa was
actually at that moment trying to sell him to me, as with one hand, he
motioned the slave to turn round slowly. Zoran's back and hips were just as beautiful as his front and the
penis, which was coming out of a small forest of darkest black hair,
curving out for about three inches and the dropping down another three.
Beautifully proportioned, not just in his cock, but in his legs and
thighs as well! `State your price, Mustafa. You are the perennial salesman.' `Shall we agree on thirty, Sir Jonathan,' `A bit dear for a wine server, wouldn't you say, Mustafa? `He could have many uses, my friend, free preteen bikinis many uses. Day or night or any
time in between as I can attest myself. Just tickle him at the back of
his balls.' I looked up at Zoran, who was standing stock still. I slipped my
fingers just behind his balls and gently stroked. His cock rose, as if on
command from the curved to the right-angled to the perpendicular of his
body, something, which is certainly possible in well trained hetero jocks
in their early twenties seeing someone of the opposite sex, but hard to
achieve in those in their early thirties as I would now more correctly be
judging his age. `I was going to say, twenty five, Mustafa, but after that erection
maybe twenty six.' `Let us split the difference and say twenty eight, Sir Jonathan.' I started to laugh. Mustafa had me well and truly hooked and I could
see that he loved nothing better than making a sale. `Twenty eight it is.' And that was how I came to own Zoran Stepkov, a former Macedonian
accounts manager in a hotel. As he shocking preteen nudity slipped back into his clothes and
again knelt down beside me, hunkered down on the calves of his legs and
heels, he whispered `Thank you, Master' and kept his eyes firmly on the
ground ahead of him, when they were not on my glass of Asti. Truly a
well-trained slave! Mustafa ben-Mustafa was true to his word. Along with Zoran's delivery
the next day, there came two short videotapes of the type routinely shown
to new slaves after their GPS bracelets are put on. I retired to watch
them alone in the video room. They were not examples of cinematographic
finesse. They were the Dahran way preteen models african of saying `No one here gets out
alive.' The initial sequence was a short animation showing a titanium bracelet
spinning in front of a dark background. Abruptly, the image changed to a
slave's bare legs. The camera zoomed in on his right ankle and free preteens sexe a tool
resembling a bolt cutter appeared, closing the bracelet with a `pop'
that would still be ringing in the listeners' ears. An image of the geosynchronous satellite ArabSAT IV serenely pursuing
its orbit in tune with the rotation of the Earth appeared on the screen
for several seconds. The next cut was to a close-up of a pair of naked feet walking on sand.
On the right ankle was the unmistakeable gleam of a titanium bracelet.
The pace of the moving feet increased. The slave had started running
across the desert. The brightness of the bracelet increased, while the
rest of the image faded out. Soon only the shining circle remained
visible. nymphet real preteen It shrunk and turned into a tiny lucent spot, moving very slowly
across the screen. preteen young com In the background, a satellite image of what must have been Dahran
desert landscape faded in. A great number of other preteen pussy cock
bright spots appeared
close to the first one. russian preteen 15 All were inside a green circle, some stationary,
some slowly moving around, obviously indicating signals of slaves working
on an extensive property. Farther away, part of the country's coastline was visible, with an
adjoining corridor on the inland side marked in red, which I took to be
the three-mile exclusion zone. As the original gleaming spot moved
towards the periphery of the green circle and crossed it, the sudden and
very loud sound of an alarm bell startled me, making me jump. The spot indicating the fugitive moved towards the coast and I steeled
myself for further preteen pantys photos auditory stress, being proved right when the satellite
signal got into the red corridor and promptly set off the sound of a
siren. The satellite image faded out. Only the luminous signal remained and
turned into a bracelet again. It encircled the ankle of the distant naked
figure kneeling in the middle of an otherwise empty courtyard. Very
slowly, the camera approached. The slave's hands were cuffed behind his
back. The camera zoomed in on his upper body. preteen porn links The face was invisible, his
head resting on a wooden block. Suddenly with a whoosh out of nowhere a gleaming blade appeared and
severed the head from the shoulders in one powerful stroke. A fountain of
blood rose from the arteries. The head fell down with a thump and rolled
away, while the body slumped and came to lie on the ground beside the
execution block. Two more images followed in rapid succession: A close-up of the
bloodied scimitar. A close-up of the bracelet on the dead slave's ankle.
Then it was over. The second video Mustafa had sent me was identical at the beginning,
but the beheading was of a different slave in the same courtyard. I realised now why there had been a shiver in the courtroom the day of
my raiders' trial, when the Royal Scimitar of the Sheikdom had been
placed on its dais. It had not been there as an ornament and although I
would not swear to it, the scimitar in the executions looked remarkably
like move sexo preteens the one on the dais that day. I also for the first time realised what was behind Jess Tollman's look
when he was told the radius of his GPS bracelet would be changed on
becoming Fiona Tuttle's driver. On the evening of Zoran's delivery, his folder had said all his maxwel model preteen blood
tests done only a week previously were back clear. I was still stunned
after watching the two execution videos. My new slave was standing ready
for me beside the bed next to Komil, whom I told that if he wanted to get
another buddy for the night I he wished. Zoran Stepkov was a delight preteen xxx extreme
in bed and out of it. The first night we
retired I had been quite tired after the day and merely mentioned that to
the slave. There is no second agenda ever with Komil and giving Zoran a sharp
smack on the buttocks told him to `Look after the Master well tonight or
this goes down your throat in the morning' and he held his humungous
cock up towards Zoran's face. The new slave's eyes just widened, not
knowing what was going on. I knew Komil and trusted his judgement to leave the new slave on his
own with me for the night as being capable of giving me more enjoyment on
his own than being monitored by another as well. `Komil, don't models preteen sites
frighten the new slave. I shall see you in the
morning.' `Good night, Master. May you sleep well after midnight,' he said with
a smile to me and a narrowing of the eyes to Zoran. We were standing beside the windows. The sun had sunk long ago into the
desert, but its ray still caused those purple streaks in the far west,
which is so typical of the Dahran skyline. I let my arms rest around Zoran's shoulders to help him relax. I find
that with new slaves, as indeed with skittish animals, touch is the great
comforter and calmer of the spirit. Zoran has a most beautiful body, which is gifted to the Mediterranean
type with dark body hair that preteen hot box sits like a little crown over his cock,
which is almost invariably at half-mast when their body is naked. `When did you last ejaculate, Zoran?' `Not for the past two weeks, Master?' `Two weeks?' `My former Master would not allow it. I had to be easily aroused for
any new Master.' While speaking, his eyes were downcast. I lifted his chin. `In my household, Zoran, when you speak to me, or to my overseers you
always look me or them in the eyes.' `Yes, Master.' `And you are allowed smile at least once a week.' He looked confused and smiled a little as my weak joke took effect. `Come closer and let me see your nipples and armpits.' Zoran moved so that his right nipple was at my mouth and I licked it
and sucked his small brown nub. I let my teeth touch and nip ever so
lightly its brown skin. He shuddered. `Sensitive?' `Yes, Master, very sensitive since they were trained.' `Trained?' `Yes, Master, trained to be sensitive to serve a Master. You can bite
them very hard if that pleases you, Master.' I bit down on the nub of the right nipple and Zoran's back arched and
his penis went to full erection. I had merely been playing gently with
his left nipple between my thumb and nonnude model preteen
forefinger. Now having released my
bite on his right nipple, with my nails I squeezed hard. Zoran gasped as
his body went rigid. My hand was on his erection whose cock head was now
moist with the first drops of his natural precum lubricant. It was thick
and viscous as I love it and with the side of my thumb I smoothed it over
the skinned knob of his cock head and to the back of his corona. My nails
were scraping the rough skin at the back of his cock ridge and he cried
out. As I had not got back the results of the blood tests, which Yves
Fournier would have done, there would be no penetrative sex that night. I think had Zoran known me better that he would have tried to kiss me.
I was just observing his pre-orgasmic tension. I found an ear and blew
into it. He was looking at me and blinking. He wet his lips and I smiled
at him as my fingers found their own way home and down to his smooth and
totally hairless balls. As I stroked them with the tips of my fingers and
let a finger wander back towards his perineum, Zoran brought his head
closer to mine preteen euro and closing his eyes, his lips came forward and forward
until they touched mine like a hummingbird floating in the air. The touch of Zoran's lips was more erotic than many another sexual
act. They conveyed sensuality, sexuality, emotion and the sensations,
which were flowing through his body on a path of no return. `Do you know the punishment for kissing a Master without permission?' His eyes flew open, a touch of fear at their edges. `Close your eyes, Zoran.' He obeyed, his eyelids fluttering, his breath held. I answered my own question, `Two kisses at least from the Master' And I kissed each preteen models african of his eyelids. `Open your eyes.' The fear in his eyes had disappeared, but the apprehension was still
there. Zoran was desperately trying to please a new Master and did not know
yet where the limits were. I kissed each of his eyelids again. `What has been the most difficult thing you have learned to do as a
slave, Zoran?' He swallowed. His eyes darted away. I put a finger on his chin and
brought his eyes into range with my own. He swallowed again. `To kiss a Master between the cheeks of his backside, Master.' `You mean rimming is the most difficult sexual act for you?' `Yes, Master.' `Why?' `Because it makes me feel less a man, Master.' `Zoran, you are now a slave. Forget about what you felt as a freeman.
That life is over. How long have you been a slave?' I knew the answer already from his folder, but I wanted him to say it. `About two and a half years, Master.' `I have over six hundred slaves. I like to keep my slaves sexually
fulfilled and happy. What would you say if your job at my Palaces was to
please my slaves each night that way? To rim any slave, who asked to be
rimmed?' `If that is what the Master wants,' he replied having difficulty
keeping his eyes on mine. The reply was not said with any degree teen angel preteen
enthusiasm. `Your job here Zoran is to do what I want, to please me. When I am not
here to be pleased, your job is to please my overseers. Work as a
wine-server is very limited in my Palaces. Now let me feel you kiss my
back and down my spine.' I turned over and let Zoran start kissing my shoulders. I told him how
to kiss with his lips, the flat of his tongue, the tips of his tongue. I
told him how to kiss with dry lips and with wet lips. I explained the
difference of sensations to him. When he had covered all of my shoulder
blades with his kisses. I asked him the question. `Tell me, Zoran, does that make you feel less a man, kissing my
shoulders?' `No, Master. Not at all.' `You have no difficulty kissing the skin of my back?' `No, Master. Not in the least.' `Now do precisely the same to both of my buttocks.' Twenty minutes or so later, I half-turned resting on an elbow and asked
`Are you having any difficulty in kissing my bums?' `No, Master.' `Not at all?' `No, Master, not at all.' `Now, raise my hips, separate the cheeks of my bum and tell me what
you want to do.' `What I want to do?' `Yes.' There was silence from behind me and I waited. I saw preteen pics cp one of the pillows
being pulled down and felt it being slipped under my hips, my legs being
gently separated. `Master, I would like to kiss you between your legs.' `Proceed.' I drifted off into that realm of relaxation, which is arrived at in the
hands of a good masseur, or at the side of a lover whose warm body is a
sexual stimulant and a relaxing comforter at one and the same time. Then I felt dry lips kiss each centimetre of my crack from coccyx down
to my anus preteen angels links and nymphet real preteen
down my perineum to the back of my balls. On the way up,
it was a wet kiss and on reaching my anus, the kiss transformed itself
into preteen models african the touch of a tongue, which circled my tightness and worked its way
in towards the centre of my clenched sphincter muscle. I just lay there
and soaked up the sensations. When the tongue had finished its magic, I felt air blowing on the same
spots, which had been kissed. There is a moment in all sexual
interaction, which constitutes a natural pause. When it came I rolled
over on my back and pulled Zoran toward me. `Do you feel less a man now, Zoran?' `No, Master, not with you.' `Are you sure?' `Yes, Master. I am sure.' `One nonnude model preteen down, six hundred more to darkside bbs preteen go!' There was a flash of panic in Zoran's eyes and I could not help but
burst out laughing at his natural reaction. For the first time, he really
smiled himself. I could only shake my head. I tell jokes so badly. `Zoran, you are a valuable slave of my Palace. I am not going to have
you waste your time kissing the backsides of slaves. The kisses you have
given me this evening are the worst things I shall ask you to do
sexually. You will have been told that you are to have a buddy for sex.
Over the next month, see if you can find one here at the Palace. If not I
shall find you one, but for the moment Komil will be your preteen japan foto buddy each
morning in the shower after I have taken my shower and I am assigning you
to look after the care of part of this floor of the Palace.' `Yes, Master. Thank you.' There was a look of relief in his eyes `Zoran, I am very tired, so I am just going to pull you off.' He looked at me, not sure of what to say or do. `Lie back, spread your legs so that I can tickle your balls as you
like,,' which I started to do there and then. `Master, I am confused. What do you want me to do?' `Just lie back.' `Master, you are going preteen xxx extreme to pleasure me?' `Yes. Now, stop talking.' After two weeks' of sexual abstinence Zoran was in no way able to hold
back on my stroking of his cock and in less than two minutes, his back
was as arched as the Bridge of Sighs in Venice. By this stage, I was
between his legs, my knees and nonnude model preteen thighs were under his body keeping it
aloft whenever it dropped toward the bed. His cry of ejaculation started like the whispering noise of a train in
the distance and as it approached his body went into near paroxysm and
the guttural noise of approaching release continued like a long operatic
final note, enthralling, captivating. Zoran's spunk was abundant, as he shot and shot and shot up the length
of his body, even onto his face. When his paroxysm, as I would term it,
had finished, there was a sheen of perspiration all over his body. He focused his eyes on me. `Master, I thought I was here to please you, not the other way round.
No one, absolutely no Master, has ever, ever done that to me the way you
have made me come.' `Zoran, can we take up this conversation in the morning.' `Yes, Master.' The last I remember of that night was Zoran Stepkov's warm body up
against me and his lips on my neck. I preteen teen porno felt that, in time, he would adjust well to Palace life and I was not
mistaken. Zoran had been a good buy that day and simply proved the
importance of having a good and solid search sex preteen
business relationship with your
slave-dealer.End of chapter 21To be continued...
Related post: bikini razor burns, natural preteens world, sites young lolitas nudes, Little Lolita Bbs, top lolita models nude, Astral Nymphets, lola young pre teen, Links To Hussyfan Pics Blogs, pthc rompel, real nude lolita pictures, lina preteen tgp, prelolita alfa nn models, Pthc Sex, preteen hardcore lolita links, Cp Bbs, lolita tgp thumbnails, top 100 nn model list, lolita underwear models underage, young lolita teenie girls, top peitete models
View Entry

Saturday, July 21st 2012

12:00 AM

Welcome to your new Bravenet Blog.

  • Mood: Excited!
You can maintain your blog by logging in to your Bravenet account. Once you are logged in you can customize the layout, colors, and features. In addition, you can add your own links, edit your profile, add your friends, and change many other options to personalize your blog.

Once you begin using your blog, you can view statistics in your members area to see how many people are reading your blog as well as where they come from.

We hope you enjoy your Blog. Be sure to tell all your friends about this great new service from Bravenet!
0 Comment(s) / Post Comment