October 9, 2011

THE HELL BOUND TRAIN

A Texas cowboy lay down on a barroom floor, Having drunk so much he could drink no more; So he fell asleep with a troubled brain To dream that he rode on a hell-bound train. The engine with murderous blood was damp And was brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp; An imp, for fuel, was shoveling bones, While the furnace rang with a thousand groans. The boiler was filled with lager beer And the devil himself was the engineer; The passengers were a most motley crew- Church member, atheist, Gentile, and Jew, Rich men in broad cloth, beggars in rags, Handsome young ladies, and withered old hags, Yellow and black men, red, brown, and white, All chained together-O God, what a sight! While the train rushed on at an awful pace- The sulphurous fumes scorched their hands and face; Wider and wider the country grew, As faster and faster the engine flew. Louder and louder the thunder crashed And brighter and brighter the lightning flashed; Hotter and hotter the air became Till the clothes were burned from each quivering frame. And out of the distance there arose a yell, “Ha, ha,” said the devil, “we’re nearing hell” Then oh, how the passengers all shrieked with pain And begged the devil to stop the train. But he capered about and danced for glee, And laughed and joked at their misery. “My faithful friends, you have done the work And the devil never can a payday shirk. “You’ve bullied the weak, you’ve robbed the poor, The starving brother you’ve turned from the door; You’ve laid up gold where the canker rust, And have given free vent to your beastly lust. “You’ve justice scorned, and corruption sown, And trampled the laws of nature down. You have drunk, rioted, cheated, plundered, and lied, And mocked at God in your hell-born pride. “You have paid full fare, so I’ll carry you through, For it’s only right you should have your due. Why, the laborer always expects his hire, So I’ll land you safe in the lake of fire, “Where your flesh will waste in the flames that roar, And my imps torment you forevermore.” Then the cowboy awoke with an anguished cry, His clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high. Then he prayed as he never had prayed till that hour To be saved from his sin and the demon’s power; And his prayers and his vows were not in vain, For he never rode the hell-bound train. Lily
July 16, 2011

Spanking Roleplay

Who says big boys don’t cry?  I’m a firm believer that no matter how old men get they are always little whiny abies who need a mommy to discipline them.    The best way to do this is a good old fashioned over the knee spanking with my bare hands and when my hands start to sting and burn I have the nanny take over and we go back and forth for hours…. Mommy Star 888-430-2010
July 8, 2011

TO SPANK OR NOT?

Naughty Abies! Seems that you are all acting up these days. Coloring on the walls… Splashes in the bath… Throwing food… Nanny Ella has had enough! Here are the rules: Be Good Listen to Nanny Ella Behave Pretty simple, don’t you think? I will consider any abie that doesn’t follow these rules as naughty as the rest and you know what happens to naughty boys? They are laid across Nanny’s knee, bare-ass and all, and spanked till they cry for mercy. Sometimes further measures are required and Nanny Ella doesn’t hesitate to bring out her special “thermometer” and stick it in up that naughty ones little bottom; or perhaps a nice, strong enema then put into a diaper so I can watch you fill it… imagine, a tight thick diaper over your sore, swollen bottom as you empty your enema into it. Bottom line: Misbehave, and Nanny’s going to have to teach you a lesson, be it an over the knee spanking, or diaper punishment, forcing you to make a messy diaper. Nanny Ella
June 27, 2011

Mr. Mousy’s Encounter

Twas a warm spring night and all through the house. Not a creature was stirring with the exception of “Mr. Mouse!” Biggio the cat was all snuggled up in his bed. Dreams of a fat juicy mouse most likely running through his head. Up pops Mr. Mousy through a tiny hole in the floor. He scampers right past that cat making it to the cabinet door… Hops into a drawer and begins to rummage around. The slumbering cat doesn’t even hear a sound. Now, Mr. Mousy is having a blast playing about. That is until the drawer is quickly pulled out! There’s a scream and suddenly Mr. Mousy hits the floor… Too close for comfort… by the cat’s bed on the floor. All too quickly the cat is set into motion, as he stirs from slumber having heard all the commotion! What??? …is someone tap dancing on MY kitchen floor? Gaining his composure he pounces upon Mr. Mousy over by the cabinet door. Now, Mr. Mousy rolls over and begins to play dead… The cat soon tires and considers going back to his bed. Mr. Mousy seizing the moment, recovers in a flash. Taking off in a most frenzied dash! The cat is left standing in utter confusion. Could this be a bad dream or possibly an optical illusion? “NO, this has to be real,” his nose once again catches Mr. Mousy’s scent… “How dare that disorderly mouse leave without MY consent!” The cat is not finished with this unwelcome guest… He has just entered into a “mouse hunting quest!” He can be found most often over by that cabinet door. Or lying with his nose real close to that tiny hole in the floor. So Mr. Mousy you better “beware”… Mr. Biggio’s watching for ya to come sneaking around there!!! Martha Franks April 12, 2000
June 13, 2011

The Dusky Duck

September nights have scarcely felt The first cool breath of autumn time, Ere high the black duck pinions fan Our shore-line, in their flight sublime. At first these swift fowl skim the cloud, And high in lessening circles sweep; Then slow to lonely bays descend, Glad to repose their wings in sleep. And so for passing weeks they haunt The inland marsh and muddy creek, Where in the shallows or the grass, Their pastime or their food they seek. Most shy, at midday they disport In ocean surf or ample bay; But when the evening shades pervade And fades the twilight of the day, Then with a soaring flight they rise And seek some lonely marsh remote, Some salt-pool in the meadow scoop’d; And here their quacking numbers float, And here the watchful fowler lies In ambush for the dusky prize. Isaac McLellan (1806-1899) Lorraine Mommy Lorraine is always here for all of her babies needs no matter what they might be sexual,sensual or baby related she is here 1-888-430-2010
April 18, 2011

The Easter Bunny

There’s a story quite funny, About a toy bunny, And the wonderful things she can do; Every bright Easter morning, Without warning, She colors eggs, red, green, or blue. Some she covers with spots, Some with quaint little dots, And some with strange mixed colors, too — Red and green, blue and yellow, But each unlike his fellow Are eggs of every hue. And it’s odd, as folks say, That on no other day In all of the whole year through, Does this wonderful bunny, So busy and funny, Color eggs of every hue. If this story you doubt She will soon find you out, And what do you think she will do? On the next Easter morning She’ll bring you without warning, Those eggs of every hue. by M. Josephine Todd, 1909 Lily
Call Now ButtonClick to Call