Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
please allow me to WAX on ..................
13 November, 2006
slave decorating tip #1
Just as a slave should be decorated, so too should be the home!
my first little home-decorating tip is one i learned from a dear friend, a trooper, a survivor, my girlfriend shannon who can decorate a palace on a shoe string ... who can be dirt poor or in crisis and still manage to light a candle and laugh and toast to her God -- life itself.
Here is what she taught me ...
Candles in the home should ALWAYS have burnt wicks. If you dare to have brand new candles in candle holders ANYWHERE IN THE HOUSE -- in and about the living room, gracing your dining room table, lining your bathroom tub, inserted in your slave's pussy, it matters not how pretty, how fragrant, how expensive -- if you've never LIT them, it is a serious faux pas.
Here's why ...
1) It means its all show and nothing more and something just for show just ain't real. Its like owning a bicycle and never riding it or owning a slave and never using it. What's the point?
2) It means you are not living. WHAT are you saving the candles for? i read about a woman who died and it was discovered that a very special scarf was still in her lingerie top drawer, tags on, a little note to herself tucked inside. "SAVE this for our next anniversary." she died only days before the anniversary. What a waste ... of a scarf, of a life.
WHY? Why save anything? Use it today because there may not be a tomorrow. Live for the moment and celebrate each day as if its your last.
LIGHT your candles, people, DARNIT -- LIGHT up and LIVE!! And if you happen to get the dripless candles, just remember that slaves DO enjoy hot wax so each type has its purpose. Dripless for the table, DRIPPING HOT for the dungeon. ~wink~
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Photograph from www.abond.com.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Ugly Men
5 October, 2006i've screwed a few ugly men.
More in character would be to say, "a few ugly men have screwed me".
The good news is that at least i can count the ugly men just as i can count the platonic ones, too. All the others have been lovers or else they used me as a sex object ... or just plain used me. (Who knew! i always confused sex with love.)
i talked to an old friend of mine today -- i went to college with Him. He did a great thing for four years straight. He eyed me over in a most lecherous fashion CONSTANTLY and i paid Him no attention. i was not doing a Mistress thing -- i just honestly didn't notice Him, the person, but i did enjoy His leering and His remarks. All i really ever felt was that He seemed to be undressing me with His eyes ALL THE TIME ... or insinuating something like "I know you -- I know what you want" -- and He managed to do it without more than a few Brooklynese utterances like "uh-huh" or "yeah". THAT i definitely noticed.
Four years later i permitted Him access. Not that i "allowed" it per se because again, i didn't see things that way. It just goes to show you how surface interpretations are just that -- SURFACE. What really happened was that the guy was hungry enough that He watched me for four years like a friendly-non-threatening stalker and then, in an opportune moment, He picked me off when i least expected it.
He was not a stalker but He was a friend and He wanted me and i liked playing with Him -- dangling myself around like a catnip feather toy. i darted in and out and taunted Him relentlessly. i kept the distance because He didn't follow through to show me He wasn't soft.
The only way i finally did really notice Him, the person, the Man, was not when He sent me roses after the first kiss, nor was it after O/our first dinner or full interlude, but instead it was when W/we were out with friends at a German bar dining on Happy Hour liverwurst and egg sandwiches (free, free, free and two drinks for one!). He was so perturbed with my being pre-occupied that He got up out of the blue, came over to where i was either flirting or gyrating with friends, and grabbed me and planted a HARD DEEP kiss in me and said goodbye ... forever.
i took notice. He got firm ... and so too did i (if i were a Man). i felt myself with a rock hard erection.
But He was not ugly. He was not one of them ... at least not after that kiss.
When i talked to Him today, after quite some time, W/we attempted to get caught up on who is where and who got fat and who died. He asked if i remembered the Italian guy i went out with. i threw out a variety of names but they did not register as the correct Italian guy. i did NOT "go out" with the Italian guy to whom He was referring. He said, "well, I don't know if you'll own up to it" ... and i didn't ... and then He proceeded to tell me that he is now a big time director in Hollywood.
Okay -- i can now own up!
i'm really just kidding a bit here. i was friends with the guy, i did get put into a position of having to give him a blowjob one night ... BUT ... the whole point of this blog is to say that wow -- isn't it strange how a girl will profess ignorance or denial UNTIL there is something that gives her permission?
Yeah, its okay for a cute tart to marry a big old ugly executive IF he has money.
Its okay for shalanna or whatever her name is to marry Donald Quack with the duck-tail hair-do.
Its okay if, if, if ........................... if Angelica Houston is married to an artist and Christina Aguilera is married to a record producer ... and Julia did Lyle and Paulina is STILL with Rick Ocasek ...
and so, when will i get my justification for the other ugly men?
A girl has to justify being used by an ugly man or else she feels cheap and violated. Or tainted. Dirtied.
Today i decided that i would actually make Master proud. i used to deplore the label, "slut". Today i can actually cop to it in order to feel vindicated.
And still, this entire post makes me feel ugly ... but it makes me feel cleansed, as well.
Illustration: Farrell
GEOLOGY for MASTERS & sLAVES !!
17 October, 2006Here i was so proud of myself. i thought i had possibly coined a new word! i thought of how much i love seduction and i thought about abduction (taken against will) and submission (my glory) and how when they all came together, i'd have a catchy name for a new website. i thought FOR SURE this would be a brilliant discovery, that is, until i learned it already exists! BUT, the great news is that it is still a GREAT word for a GREAT process and it is completely relevant! Check it out:
SUBDUCTION
A subduction zone is an area on Earth where two tectonic plates meet and move towards one another, with one sliding underneath the other and moving down into the mantel.
That's pretty clear. Master and slave meet and move towards one another ... One sliding underneath the other and moving DOWN INTO the mantel. Okay, but read on! It gets better!
An Oceanic plates slides underneath a continental plate and this often creates a zone with many volcanoes and earthquakes.
That would explain the type or orgasms i have.
In a sense, subduction zones are the opposite of divergent boundaries.
Well, of course! Masters and slaves are convergent not divergent! This makes perfect sense.
Earth is the only planet where subduction is known to occur. Without subduction, plate tectonics could not exist and Earth would be a very different planet; Earth's crust would not have differentiated into continents and oceans and all of the solid Earth would lie beneath the global ocean.
Okay. Interesting. Without Masters and slaves uniting, W/we'd all be missing out on deep mantel movement and eruptions and that would mean W/we'd not have any land on which to rest, mountains on which to climb, horizons on which to dream. It would mean no tectonic penises, no cushy mantels to penetrate.
(Sidenote: tectonic means having a strong widespread impact -- clearly they were using Master as their tectonic plate model when writing the definition of subduction. ~wink~ )
The presence of large areas of flood basalt that are called large igneous provinces, which result in EXTREME THICKENING of the oceanic crust, can cause some sections of older oceanic lithosphere to be too buoyant to subduct.
This sounds confusing but i can help decipher it. Basically, this means that if a submissive is older and with a thick crust, she is harder to penetrate. If however, she is older but has remained OPEN and not jaded to the point of thickness, she can be subducted.
Where the lithosphere is too dense to subduct, a collision occurs, hence the adage, "subduction leads to orogeny".
Well, here again, of course! If a submissive resists and the subduction cannot occur, she flies off the handle and naturally, the Master and the submissive collide! Then you've got that divergent something-or-other rather than convergence. Divergence, just like a strong force attempting to penetrate a closed resistant mind, would bring about a collision of wills. The tectonic plate has to get UNDERNEATH the other plate in order to get into the mantel, so if she's busy resisting, it isn't going to work!
As far as the adage, "subduction leads to orogeny", i've never heard of it, although i'm trying to remember ...
When it rains it pours.
Slow and steady wins the race.
A rich man's prank is a poor man's felony.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
A drink precedes a story.
Subduction leads to orogeny.
Ahh -- okay, there it is!
Orogeny means the process of building mountains. Here again, right on target! Subduction leads to the building of mountains! The infinite climb toward higher ground! A Master without slaves and a slave without a Master ... T/they'd probably be beneath the global ocean if not for subduction.
Subduction zones are associated with the deepest earthquakes on the planet. Earthquakes are generally restricted to the shallow parts of the crust, generally at depths of less than 20km. In subduction zones, earthquakes are at depths as great as 700km.
There we go! Finally -- the proof! i've been telling everyone this for a few years now. my orgasms used to be those little clitoral ones and now they are EXPLOSIVE!! Seismic! EARTH-SHATTERING! i'm quite certain the tremors can be felt clear around the world, all the way to Tokyo. Now i know the name for them, too! They're Wadati-Benioff zones. They are named after the scientists who discovered them and wow that must have been a fun research project for them!
Some subducted slabs cannot penetrate the mantle whereas other subducted oceanic plates can penetrate all the way to the core-mantel boundary. Seismic discontinuities in the mantle are disrupted by the descent of cold slabs in deep subduction zones.
Okay -- now THIS should be familiar to all deeply enslaved slaves. The deeper the subduction zone, the more likely you are to fall victim to bouts of descent. The great seismic activity brings about exaltation from those great explosions but it also makes you realize HOW much power and strength is being bestowed upon you from the tectonic plate. A slave is prone to the cold of missing her Master and that creates a little discontinuity in the mantel from time to time. As to the core-mantel boundary, i'm guessing that means the g-spot.
Subduction causes oceanic trenches, such as the Mariana trench. Trenches occur when one plate begins its descent beneath another.
There ya go -- that would be it. Trenches: melancholy or depression. i was in a Mariana trench over the weekend.
Volcanoes that occur directly above subduction zones, such as Mount St. Helens and Mount Fuji, often occur in arcuate chains, hence the term volcanic arc or island arc.
i'm guessing that this has to do with being multi-orgasmic. Little island chains are formed rather than just one big island. Its a whole string of them, one after the other after the other. mine are called the Wadati-Benioff Islands.
Now for a little summary:
Subduction Zone Physics: Sinking the mantel lithosphere (lithosphere meaning the solid part of a celestial body -- just think of this as the human being and in this case, the slave) provides most of the force needed to drive plate motion and is the Dominant mode of mantel convection.
Now THIS is great! It is the best description yet! The slave's reduction provides most of the force -- it is the Dominant mode for the transfer of heat (TPE -- total power exchange) and the "cooking" of two Yin/yang souls. This is to confirm what many say about what really drives a Master/slave relationship -- sure, the Master and His tectonic action drives the relationship in one sense, but it is her reduction that actually determines the course. Without it, it would only be control, not convection.
Plus, its that beautiful paradox, the "sinking the mantel" (her submitting to His taking her down into the gutter) is actually a catalyst to His power. Notice they don't say that the tectonic plate's penetration of the mantel is the Dominant force but instead her sinking is the force -- hence, T/their interaction is essential!
Subduction Zone Chemistry: The cold material sinking in subduction zones releases water into the overlying mantle, causing mantle melting and fractionating elements.
Here we go again! Something else i've been saying forever! Darn i should have been part of that Wadati-Benioff research team!!
The cold material is the baggage, the responsibilities, the struggles ... its all released, BOOM -- one big GIANT GUSH -- the slave finds RELEASE through her Master, through her enslavement, through subduction! His taking of her and His plate sliding up underneath her plate is His getting inside UNDERNEATH and carrying her ... it causes her to erupt! To SQUIRT BUCKETS all over the place! she MELTS ... she becomes WHOLE through those fractionating elements -- she becomes MORE ... more able, more confident, more open, more loving.
Subduction Zone Biology: Because subduction zones are the coldest parts of the Earth's interior and life cannot exist at temperatures of below 150 degrees C, subduction zones are almost certainly with the DEEPEST, HIGHEST pressure biosphere.
No surprise -- not all life can live there. Its not for everyone. But if you do live there, it is the deepest place and the highest place. There is a certain difficulty that can come with high pressure zones -- learning to find the balance ... learning to not get the bends when you come up too fast. Things like that. You must decompress properly when coming up. Sure, it also may SEEM cold -- the dungeon and all -- but that is the beauty of a biosphere -- it is where life CAN exist in harmony together with its environment.
Final summation:
Learning more about the physics, chemistry, and biology of BDSM -- oops, i mean subduction ha ha, requires efforts that are increasingly interdisciplinary and international.
Ya see!! i SHOULD have been a scientist! i knew this, too, all along! Every single thing in life can be traced or paralleled. It just depends on how you want to look at the world. Discipline, if applied correctly, should consider all sorts of interdisciplinary study. A Master studies His slave's physiology as much as He studies her psychology as much as He studies science and history and human foibles, also called feminine delicacies. He understands her ascents and her descents.
i too like my kaleidoscope vision -- i know that everything in life relates to my life as Master's slave. i know too that the subduction zone is where i was born and where i was meant to remain.
The Submissive Splinter Group
20 October, 2006i just realized what has happened! i just figured it out!
It used to be that all slaves were submissives but not all submissives were slaves. All dogs are mammals but not all mammals are dogs.
But, all this commotion and arguing that has ensued over whom is whom and whom is what is REALLY because there is a new splinter group! Its the sub-set of submissives who are really too big for their britches ... and britches they are -- they're busy wearing the pants when they ought to be dropping their skirts. They are a rights-minded organization. They hand out alot of literature and propaganda. Their world is their podium.
Here everyone is up in arms about their behavior but they are like any extremist off-shoot group or sect. They are actually women who believe themselves entitled -- they are TOO interested in their rights and not their responsibilities. They are VERY busy trying to run the show and they might even be latent Mistresses. Isn't it funny how the far left becomes right wing? Its really no different -- they are so onto demanding respect yet they don't show how they've earned it -- they basically have taken submissiveness and spun it into Dominance and female superiority! Don't they know its safe to come out of the closet?
Actually -- i take that back. Its not safe! Who wants a fundamentalist or a militant women's libber to be out on the prowl? They get out and then they INTRUDE on everyone else who is peacefully enjoying their life. If you pose a question to them, they'll read you the Declaration of (their) Independence. Hey, i only asked if you liked watersports! i didn't ask how many lifeguards are required BY SUBMISSIVE LAW, if floatation rescue devices will be present BY SUBMISSIVE CODE, if ALL women are entitled to lifeguards and floatation rescue devices, if you'll only drink piss on the condition that your Master drinks herbal tea and doesn't take vitamins and you get to spit it out -- and besides, i haven't even invited you into my pool yet! They are presumptuous and premature because they have a pent-up put-upon rage. They haven't learned to let go and open up.
The reason you see it with submissive females and not submissive males is because women are fighting a historical battle. They are indoctrinated with societal rules from having been exposed to oppression rather than Dominance. They're conflicted. Their biology wants them to submit but their mother and their mother's mother told them to hold out.
Cautious then becomes CAUSTIC!
You could say they're uppity. They're more like attack dogs than they are like pets. They'd take more pleasure in biting your head off than wagging their tail.
You could say they're controlling. They have to CONTROL a Dominant's control of them. Okay ... i'm ready Master ... WAIT WAIT WAIT A MINUTE, SIR -- i don't like the way You tied that knot, Master. Kindly do it over. No i will not show Your neighbor my twat and no, i won't use a litter box! They really don't WANT to be controlled at all! They don't want a journey of unknowns, they don't even want evolution. They want CONTROL and that's about it. Sure, an initial reaction of resistance is natural (like when Master insisted i wear some shoes once that i deemed NOT flattering -- i did not get my way and although i HATED wearing those shoes that night, i was happier the next day knowing that Master proved Himself in charge).
You could say they're self righteous. Hey, wait a minute! i just realized something else! Its more that the self righteous infiltrated the submissive set and they armed them with Uzies rather than pumping them with cum! Why that is exactly what happened! Had they been pumped with cum enough, they probably would be genuinely submissive. In fact, that is the best come back line around -- if you ever find yourself with some uptight b____ (rhymes with witch) telling you off, just tell her you are really sorry to see that she clearly doesn't get laid enough. Its the same way you tell a puffed up man (who isn't really a Man) that you feel sorry for him since his penis is so small.
But you see, THAT is precisely it -- its that self-righteous ATTACK mode and that little soap box they carry around -- its not that they are phony submissives, its that they are self-righteous people. Submissiveness has nothing to do with it. Self-righteousness comes in all colours. They're never humble, they're never with respect for others, they're usually ill-mannered, and they run the gamut -- they wear name tags like submissive or macho or intellectual, however you need to look not at the tag, but the tattoo. The tattoo reads: "self-important entitlement snob" or "contentious authority" but they themselves are pretty confused as to who they are. They fight you, they fight others, they fight their own desires.
Illustration: Aigando.
girls will be girls
21 October, 2006Sometimes i witness an audacious flirting episode and i think, wow, that was REALLY forward! i forget how forward i've been!
girls will be girls and thank God for girls ... and their teasing and taunting. Sex is MORE than alive and well in life and the next time you take a trip to the grocery store, contemplate the fact that every other person you see probably has lustful secrets tucked under the eggs, the gallon of 2% milk, the tater-tots.
The other night, i was out with friends and usually i don't do this too much. Its dangerous. It always results in too much drinking, fighting off guys, fighting off urges, hence, wasted time. i'd much rather be with Master. i'm like the virgin holding out for her wedding day. Time with Master is matrimony!
Nonetheless, i love being exposed to the world (don't we all know it by now? ~wink~) and i love observing. When i see Master later today, i sure hope He won't mind if i could have a two hour chat with Him just to update Him on all i said and felt when out with friends. (That should be fun for Master! )
my one friend's boyfriend was out of town so she held court. She is the kind of woman who probably loves her friends more than her guy. She organized the get-together. As is usually the case, it was a mixed group of lots of girls with little in common, and a scattering of Male studs. They're not really guys -- they're Males who serve as eye-candy. They're guys from the gym and they're built but they're not yet Men. For instance, were a Man to be present, i probably would have had a completely different body language! Men NOTICE women, boys don't. Boys haven't yet learned how to penetrate a woman except for with their dick. They don't understand that you can f. a woman DEEPLY with all her clothes on.
One of the girls at the table was beside herself with horniness. She passed around a cell phone to show a picture of a guy she met in Vegas. From what i could tell, ALL i can tell is that He is a fairly big black penis. It was a close-up shot. She went on to tell me what she does ... she does manicures and waxing and permanent make-up and semi-permanent eyelashes and she does Him and WANTS to do Him (she pointed to the waiter). She showed us her newest discovery -- a vibrator that attaches to a condom.
The boys at the table stared off into space.
my friend of course is a delight because she brings together this assortment of people and they all come! She asked me later about the vibrator contraption -- she said, "I guess that's baby stuff to you, huh?". W/we laughed a good laugh. i told her i could teach her a few things. ~wink~
But you see, its the flirting and the sexual innuendo that is so much more blatant than anyone realizes. There is all this interconnection and My good Dom friend told me that He has a video of the owner of the bar getting f.ed up the whazoo. Yep -- the bar i was just at with friends! Small world! Its like cross-platform social intercourse! You find out that the chick at the doctor's office is a slave, the babe at the auto supply store is a stripper, and the barber is into diapers. The librarian is an underground porn star! (Okay -- that's a stretch.)
i then thought more of the bar owner ... she likes it up the back ... just like me! How many other of my neighbors like it that way? How much do i actually have in common with others while i'm busy feeling like such an outcast (a happy outcast all the same)?
Here i think there are prudes running around all over the place and wow would you be surprised! When Master goes out with friends from work, all sorts of things happen. i always worry, not about Master, but about some tasty dish flaunting herself in front of His eyes. Master is a Man, not a boy -- He notices. He also has self-control (she reminds herself ~wink~). But you see, social intercourse -- a Man penetrating a woman's head and soul leads to a libido that is DOUSED in desire, much more than anything physical. i can guarantee that a schtooping in the bathroom or a feel up (and IN) under a girl's skirt are something, but a Man showing desire with His eyes is far more dangerous.
girls are really brassy -- they think nothing of coming up to a Man and saying, "i know You want me" and they'll pull down their top, they'll swoosh around their tail and they'll give blow jobs for free in the bathroom. girls love being noticed and sure, telling her she's smart is the smartest place to start with seduction, but make sure she's equally revered for her sexuality. Smart and sexy -- now You're IN. But you see? she's got the upper hand in these moments. girls are notorious for exposing a Man as a penis. As a dick-tease, she basically has collared Them to follow her cunt like a sniffing salivating dog.
But then girls FORTUNATELY are taught their lesson. The dog humps, the dog leaves, the dog moves onto the next bitch in heat. The girl starts a game she can't finish. she is prone to falling in love no matter how she attempts to play a Man's game.
~~~ + ~~~
i was thinking back to my shameless display on the beach one night. A few years ago in the Caribbean -- a setting where nakedness and purity and primal pursuits are in the air. i was enjoying it all but i was very horny for attention more than sex. The aching escalated. By the end of the trip, i was calling a former Master asking if He could visit and i was setting up dates with a local waiter, neither of which panned out, thankfully.
i had eyed two Men for the entire week -- They noticed me from afar -- They were there with Their wives and families. That made me feel REALLY lonely. i don't mind alone, but i really mind lonely.
One night at sunset, the two Men were alone on beach chairs having a cocktail before dinner. It was quiet and filmic. The crystal clear water, my crystal clear disposition of feeling like a sex object -- i felt SERIOUSLY ALIVE. i did my usual ... i walked down to the beautiful water, with the beautiful light, and sashayed in Their peripheral vision. i dove in gracefully and then did my little dolphin dives, and made sure my bottom was always positioned in Their line of vision. i lingered. i was Their ballet to view in the near distance. i really wanted Them to enjoy Their cocktails and Their view -- i wanted to be the scenery, the entertainment, and a primary part of Their enjoyment. i continued splashing gently and frolicking by myself ... completely in my own little world but fully aware of Their eyes. i did that thing of coming up from underwater and then throwing my head back to let my hair drip as long as possible down my back. girls have all sorts of little moves that they master. they understand how to display pulchritude and how to communicate their ripeness.
i got out and i LOVE when i get out of the water. i walk up the white sand slowly -- again filmically -- slow motion like i'm some siren making her debut. my itty bitty bikini is just great because its a Wicked Weasel bikini -- its tinier than tiny, the thong is basically dental floss and it is see-through when wet. i also think that coming out of the water SOAKING WET DRENCHED is intensely sexy -- i actually become aroused by myself!
I dabbed myself a bit with the towel and then prepared for a fine slow walk across the beach to the Tiki Bar pier and CLICK -- engagement. Both of the Men asked if i'd like to join Them ... "no, but thanks anyway" ... how about later, after dinner? ... "we'll see ... maybe" and i gave them that winking kind of smile -- my impish sort of grin and i continued to mosey along. Slowly. With very deliberate intent. my bottom now glistened in Heaven more than from the water droplets! Their eyes were attached for the ride.
What can i say? girls will be girls and thank God for girls.
Yeah, well, they lied.
22 October, 2006Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will DESTROY me!
i thought about it the other day. Statements that were made that i can remember VERBATIM as if they were yesterday. Oh, i'm over them -- but i remember them. i'm not sure why they hurt so much. i mean, really, anyone else would have shrugged them off like lint or swatted them away like an irritating fly -- like a pest with no worth. They would have just gotten rid of the statements and dismissed them as meaningless.
React and you are giving creedence. But its so hard to NOT react! Hey, they're nobodies, they're losers, but still, they're WRONG and i've a mission to correct them if they're talking about me! i'll use honey first but i have no qualms about employing a Sadism that stretches WAY beyond a Sadist's Sadism.
i have my honor to defend ... don't i?
Try as i might to not care, i'm effected. i'd be better off laughing it off. But i think it reminds me too much of having been the designated scapegoat on a few occasions (occasions that became a way of life). There is nothing worse than being blamed for something you didn't create! Or being accused of the VERY traits owned and epitomized by an attacker. It makes me vicious actually -- intent on correcting their ill. i want to take the liars and the downpressers and MAKE them kiss themselves. THAT would be repulsive and i want them to FEEL repulsed by their repulsiveness.
Hell hath no fury like an ambassador of peace being misunderstood! my girl, Fiona, sings it perfectly in the song "Limp" -- "fondle my trigger then blame my gun". Yeah, well, i react. Sometimes i feel violent if violated -- for instance, i don't like someone stealing anything from my world (that includes my pretty vision of it). i'd rather fight than ignore. That's probably why i'm still here! i didn't succumb to the words.
Other times i tuck it away but that doesn't really work for me -- word assaults undefended become hauntings. i'd rather say something and wished i hadn't said it than say nothing and regret not saying something.
Take the simplest of negative statements -- they really have nothing to do with even the negative words. They are words buried underneath words. Innuendo is the worst of it because all i really want to do is expose the phony and make 'em 'fess up. i'd like to use electricity -- really MAKE them confess to what i see that others may not. Sarcasm -- that too -- that deserves a slow painful death and LOTS of blood.
A gun to the face is SO MUCH more honest than a coward's indirect knife to the back disguised as some esoteric humor.
Taunt me or menace me and just WATCH -- in the next breath you'll be blaming me for having called you out on your motivation to spew your putrid misery.
But that is about hateful people -- they're out there but this post is about the lighter fare. Let's just talk about the incidental -- the casual passing comments that inflict itches rather than pain. The problem is, the itches remain as a hidden rash. You learn to watch for it in the future just as you would look to avoid poison ivy. AVOID it as best you can! Try not to do anything that would allow the old rash to appear again.
"What did you do to your eyes? They look black and blue."
That was when i tried new eye-shadow and thought i had done well with the smokey effect.
"Those shoes are just like the ones the girls in the ghetto wear."
Platforms? i had just bought my first pair of sandals on lay-away, age 16 -- i thought they were all the rage!
"What costume did you wear THIS time?"
Do you mean Halloween? (No.) But wait a minute!! i thought i had a great sense of style! Flashy, sure, but quirky enough to blend sexy with arty, no? Didn't you think so?
"Oh. Nice. Nice stewardess outfit."
That was when i tried to dress with my own personal flare but more conservatively for a family event. i guess i'm really not meant to wear conservative.
Even today, if someone hurts my feelings simply through misreading me with a warped vision, i still attempt to vindicate myself AS IF i somehow erred. When will i finally see that twisted perceptions are formed through twisted minds and it has nothing to do with the subjects they condemn, but the insides they loathe in themselves?
Sticks and stones may break my bones and words will surely haunt me, but i finally learned how to block and strike and that means ......................... nothing! Words still hurt me sometimes!
Actually, i guess it really isn't so bad. Its the price you pay in order to know the other more positive side of it, that being PENETRATION. At least i have the pleasure of being receptive to penetration. i'm pliable, i'm easily hurt, i'm WIDE OPEN, and i get filled up. i know the utopia -- the place where i am putty and i FLOAT there above the world, above my self. Were i to be stone cold, nothing would enter, i'd never know the sensations i know. i'd never know the joy of pleasing another. i'd never know the inner recesses and without them, i'd be nothing but angry.
The next time they throw stones, i'll duck, i'll throw them back, and i'll walk forward ... step by step ... strong ... my eyes stronger than their will, and i will know strength in admitting hurt. They hurt others because they can't cope with their pain. i feel no pain from my scars. mine are battle scars and scars are sexy as along as they don't form hardened scar tissue.
i'll still smile while they snarl at my having figured out how to smile even through hurts deeper than their own.
my lining is just a tissue. Its filmy. It is protective but only to a degree. i still need to allow light to come in. With that come other things like undesirables ... sentiments that really try to undermine or destroy. i keep trying to tell them i'm on their side! But they are too thick and too dense and too consumed with their mass to see what i see. When you're made of an impenetrable repelling material, you resent the resilient materials ... and you'll resent someone like me.
Photograph: self portrait.
property repairs
22 October, 2006
i'm pretty disappointed in myself. i'm out of breath! my stamina concerns me. i so worry that i might one day be crippled by age.
Last week, during one of my kickbox classes, i saw stars and had to excuse myself to splash cold water on my face. i really thought i was going to pass out and more than worrying about passing out, i was worried about making a scene whereby the class would have to stop and revive me. (Odd, huh? Usually i enjoy attention.)
Today i felt dizzy when Master taught me some new martial arts moves.
Now i feel so sore that i can only think i ought to be grateful that 1) i have a merciful Master and 2) i get to LEAVE Master's presence to retreat to a salve of a HOT bath for my poor aching 2nd cunt.
Master used my 2nd cunt and my mouth exclusively this weekend. No pussy use. my pussy, as a result, feels like a big open vessel with too much space and not enough containment. Its all over the place with need! my 2nd cunt feels raw. Like fissures have made it susceptible to air as an irritant. i SEE rug burns in my mind.
my eye is also bloodshot from having been globbed up with cum and although i thought i had not opened my one eye, Master's cum is apparently very strong stuff. It penetrated my eyelashes, mascara and all. God how i LOVED Master yanking my hair as if my pony-tail were just a knot of rope. i was really just a doll's face pushed into His shaft and pulled to the side like a wipe. Master used my head as a jacking off inflatable and a mop-up rag afterward.
i'm a really sad sight. i'm huffing and puffing even if just to use the keyboard to type this blog.
i'm a really disheveled sight. i'm clearly spent and i like the look because beyond the bedroom-just-laid-look, i don't care! Nothing matters after i've been used thoroughly by Master. i'm free. i'm light. i'm easy.
i'm a really happy sight. i'm almost to the point of blubbering ga-ga-goo-goo.s. i'm inebriated from exertion. i could wear a full diaper right now and not even care! i'm in Heaven. my Master used me for His pleasure. my Master cared enough to take care of me and not ruin me. my Master has decided to plant new grass seed. The weeds were plucked, the new seed was laid. i am rubble. He renovates in order to make property improvements. i'm on the road to repair. Repair began with demolition. It segued to reconstruction. It resulted in resurrection.
(Thank You, Master. Please never stop!)
a masochist's process
23 October, 2006i've gotten more accepting of it -- that being, my process of thought. There are two steps. The second counters the first. i think i was trained to think the first way and then i developed the second way to offset the first.
Step 1: Hear something, process it -- default: if its not glorifying me, it must mean i've failed! If i've failed, i either must defend my actions or apologize for them or clarify them. i must find approval! i must please! If i haven't, i beat myself up and obsess on how to make amends, how to find accord -- how to get the ego food that keeps me from destroying myself.
Example: last week, Master said something to the effect of, "Yes, you will have plenty of time with Me this weekend. Although, I am always disappointed that it is not enough. That cage awaits you and it is always a sad sight to see it empty."
i didn't get past the alarms, "always disappointed". That is ALL i saw! Immediately i thought it was to say that i am never satisfied -- that i am greedy, always wanting more -- that i am disappointing my Master by being insatiable. The words, "not enough" latched onto "always disappointed". my first reaction was to say, "wait a minute Master -- but aren't there good things about Your slave being insatiable?!". The masochist jumps to thinking the worst of herself. Read again, little girl. Read again. Then she re-read the words through Master's eyes rather than masochistic eyes and it took on an entirely different meaning.
Masochistic thinking means taking everything out of context and looking, often subconsciously, for reasons to verify that you are inferior or inadequate. When you are not doing that, you are looking for statements to bolster you. you basically just go through life, day to day, waiting for people to tell you if you have value. Self worth can be slammed and shattered easily just as it can be based on cheap expressions from strangers. A compliment means you're great, a beratement means you are nothing.
Now, here is the little thing i developed in myself in order to survive such distorted thinking!
Step 2: Look for SOMETHING -- one little spec of something -- ANYTHING on which to find merit in another's argument. If i can do that, i don't have to feel so intent on proving myself. If i can see that i DID err in some way, then i don't have to be on my mission to ... defend, apologize, clarify. i can better let it go.
NOW, what did i learn about this? Step 2 is ALSO the process of a masochist! Hey -- let's make sure the enemy IS right so i can let go of what feels like an injustice! Better to blame myself than another. Its easier that way. Self-flagellation. Its weird. But i feel better now in understanding that even my remedies and cures are steeped in masochism. Maybe i can now better accept that term? It used to have a creepy connotation. Masochists love pain. But i don't like certain kinds of pain! But, wait a minute!! Look at what i'm doing now?! Defending, apologizing, clarifying.
Training the Impressionable
14 November, 2006"Impressionable. That's what you are."
"Impressionable. Though near and far."
Or is that "Forgettable"? What's that Nat King Cole song?
Well, whatever.
Today i decided that i'm VERY impressionable. Tonight it is pouring rain and i love it. i have the window open and it sounds like hail. All i can think is GREAT -- just wait until i have my big boobs! WHAT will it feel like then? Then, when i have my big boobs to keep me warm -- how much MORE cozy and tidy in myself will i feel?
i drive in the car, soak in the tub, walk over to the I.T. guys' office at work ... all the while wondering what it will feel like next week when i have my big boobs. That shelf. That cleavage! That pulchritude spilling out over the top and into their faces, into my hands.
i'm going to be shy about it at work. At first anyway. i'll have to ease them into it. Gradually. Gradually i'll introduce my new breasts so that one day they'll all just happen to take a double take and say, "hmm -- how do ya like that? i never realized she had such a great rack".
The thing that gets me is that although i already know i sublimate myself into anOther, i just cannot believe the drama! Raggamuffin to Beauty Queen! (i wasn't a raggamuffin really, but Master's transformation of me FEELS that pronounced! )
Here i was, age 14, having purchased one of those back of the magazine breast enlargement gimmicks with my friend -- we split the cost with our minimum wage underage working pay to fund the thing and then traded it off to each other back and forth for a whole whopping one week. It looked like the Suzanne Somers thigh-master contraption and was tossed in the trash just as readily. (And gee, that's funny -- i remember Suzanne Somers for the failed thigh-master as opposed to the successful bust. Why didn't she just make the most of what she had? Let's not ask! Never mind! That goes completely against the gist of my post! )
Then i let it go for my entire life until now ... the Big Breast Quest ... all the while still lusting for big tits to ogle and suckle and FONDLE to the point of MOLESTATION ... and now here i am, about to be fully endowed!
And THAT is when it hits me. Suddenly i don't even feel attractive! Here i usually feel fairly sexy or VERY sexy, rarely not sexy ... and yet here i am feeling dowdy. i actually think i'm hunching my shoulders. (BAD sign. Any girl hunching her shoulders should be scolded and corrected immediately! )
In four days i'm likely to feel a pain i won't enjoy.
In five days i'll feel pain but hopefully a worthwhile pain.
In six days, i'll begin to wonder.
In seven days, i'm going to promise to write a blog about what i'm feeling!
my life is about to change.
Again.
i'm impressionable. Though near and far. i wanted it then but i resigned myself to God's making until now. i figure that God's making is what you want to make of yourself. If i'm dying to masturbate with big tits all the time, why NOT? Why wait for another life that may not come, why wonder when you can know?
Master says that my being impressionable is about wanting to be trained THAT BADLY. All i know is that planting a seed results in a gigantic tree. Master said he wanted me with big tits and i now want gargantuan tits. ------------------ Oh! NOW i know!! i know now! Is that song called, "Obsessionable"? Though near and far?
Obsessionable.
In every way,
And forever more
That's how you'll stay.
And actually, that must be the song! Why, look at the picture of Nat King Cole! i think its a good omen! Its a sign that something is in line with His hands, positioned as they are, and that something is the fruit of my obsession planted by the seed of my Master.
17 INCHES ------------- YOWZA !!
EXCITEMENT!! 17 inches!! PRECIOUS!! Meet Thumbelina, the world's smallest horse
by ARTHUR MARTIN Last updated at
Thumbelina
Littlest pony: Thumbelina.
Standing just 17 inches tall, she is never going to be a champion show-jumper.
In fact, the tiny mare is so small she would struggle to leap over a bucket.
But such things are of little concern for feisty Thumbelina who has just been officially recognised as the world's smallest horse.
The five-year-old received the title from the Guinness Book of Records after her astonished owners realised she was never going to grow any bigger.
She was born on a farm in
These popular show horses usually weigh about 250lb and reach a height of 34 inches when they are fully grown.
But when Thumbelina was born, it was immediately clear she would never grow to this size.
At birth she weighed 8lb - the weight of many new-born babies - and eventually she grew to a mere 60lb.
Thumbelina's extraordinary size has been put down to dwarfism, which makes her a miniature of a miniature.
But despite this massive difference in size, it is feisty Thumbelina who rules the roost over the stallions and racehorses on her 150-acre farm.
Ahh -- topping from the bottom, a? ~wink~ So CUTE!!
How to cure a headache, a bleeding heart & a gaping open hole!
14 November, 2006There i was with a headache. i was nauseous. i'm sure you all know where this is going, right? ~wink~
Well, its true. It cures lots of ailments. Headaches, heart-aches, pussy-aches. Triple H Strength -- head/heart/hole. It relieves stress. It relaxes, it energizes. i'm convinced that sex is the best medicine, but use (as opposed to just sex) is holistic medicine -- it requires no chemicals, just natural biology of the organic homeopathic variety. Cure pain with pain, cure a past of humiliation with humiliation, cure the victimization of being demeaned with demeaning assaults. Cured!
In all cases, a big fat hot penis is the probe. Shove it in its sleeve -- voila! Functionality. Use. Ease of use. Cure!
Master was getting ready to leave. It was the end of O/our weekend. There was basketball, monopoly, my little show & tell show, sushi of the sort you've NEVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE (unless you've been to New York, sorry Tokyo), sleeping in my collar of course and resting at Master's feet ... but the time had come for O/our romantic goodbye.
Master said He needed to use a hole. i had that dreadful headache. i can't be honest and say, well, i felt rotten but i obliged. Nope. i didn't just oblige Him ... nor did i comply, nor did i obey. i JUMPED at the opportunity.
This is O/our love-making! This is O/our time. i need to be His slave.
Master walked me upstairs and instructed me to take Him out and suck on Him. Master began to open me up -- my second-cunt again. That is all He's been using lately. This time it was uncomfortable. He just reached inside and i could have sworn it was His entire hand. He narrated the insertion. He told me when each knuckle had passed through the opening. He then pulled His fingers out, lubed up His cock and directed me to lie on my tummy.
It was very medical. Very methodical. What could be more arousing? i'm CRAZY for this type of use!
All i know is that when i then see that cock in that position, it makes me SICK EXCITED!!!!!!!! i become a dog -- i slobber and i writhe around with not a single concern of how unladylike i've become. Master's cock is never aiming straight up vertical like some eager boy. His is ALL Man. It has that engorged FULL HEAVY appearance and all i can ever think is good God, THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! And PLEASE. Thank You and please, PLEASE F. mE!!!!!!!!!!!!! i want it THAT badly and i want to feel HIM that badly. i don't want to just be f-ed, i want to feel THAT cock doing what THAT Man knows how to do.
His cock just always looks ready to take. Its got that heft to it -- that weight that means it sways like a pendulum. Its VERY mature like its been growing all its life. Its full with blood just the way my pussy is ripe with womanliness. But now my second cunt is the primary pussy. i have become the ultimate anal whore -- that's because its not even anal anymore. Its convention!
Master did allow me a taste of pussy f-ing though ... He gave me just but a taste of the hard pumping in a classic missionary position which for some reason feels VERY taboo. i do know He did this for me -- it was a treat -- He knows how desperate i am for being f-ed that way again and how much i LOVE being able to look directly at Him when He's using me.
i am menstruating and for some reason, there is more bright red blood than usual. He pumped the hole and it was to HEAR it rather than feel it. It was sloppy. i guess you could say He wasn't healing a bleeding heart this time, He was healing a bleeding hole. He pulled out and had me clean Him and i must confess, i grimaced a little. i felt my chin crinkling up as i neared His bloody cock ... but i do it for Him. i do this for Him. i lick Him clean because He loves the blood smeared all over my face.
One day i suppose it would be nice to have some really low slave, more lowly than me, around for the purpose of ONLY use. W/we could rub menstrual blood into her cheeks like rouge and darken her lips in that way that used to be all the rage: "stained". "Hey Cosmo girls, have you tried the berry stain yet? Well, shouldn't you?" she'd be a disgrace and she'd have to show everyone her make-up. W/we'd be proud of her though -- that's that beautiful irony again -- W/we'd know her to be beautiful for subjecting herself to such degradation.
Only if you've ever felt exhilaration can you understand the appreciation involved! Mountaineers UNDERSTAND mountaineers whereas no one else on the planet can understand why a person would suffer frost bite, starvation, and near-death suffering! W/we'd appreciate the lowly little thing, though. W/we'd love making her apply her own menstrual make-up herself, too!
Yes, well, i'm a little sick. i can get really sick! ~impish giggles~
~~~ + ~~~
Thankfully i found my match. Master is sick AND dangerous. (Just like we like it. ~wink~) Master took His one entire hand to press down on my face and i LOVE the disregard of the gesture. His entire palm covered my little face -- the little face that felt sultry to the point of cheap porn and upping the contrast so that i became a picture of explicit graphic design rather than an artful photograph. i could swear that my lips were glistening a slick wet pout, that my eyelashes were weighted with lust to the point that they were encased in lead and half closed. With that initial plunge of His shaft all the way into my rectum, "filthy-slut" instantly became my stage name. my ID was registered!
i cannot get dirty enough! i cannot open up deeply enough! i want to feel Him ripping through my core so that i basically just dangle like meat on a spit. His meat on His spit. Oh will the juices flow then!
He pumped me. Master pumped me. He f-ed me until i convulsed ... time and time again. All the while, He steadied Himself by pushing my face down into the mattress. He removed me! He removed me from myself and removed me from Him. i got to be my favorite thing to be. A receptacle. He removed my face so that only my hole was of use and He used it no differently than the way He f.s my front hole -- with a vengeance and with no intention of stopping.
Oh i know that i would be remiss in not mentioning that i think i had four orgasms. Or five. i just don't really know. Master likes knowing this sort of stuff whereas all i wish to know is that i made love to my Master. Sure, He is the one doing something to me -- i should probably say He made love to me. But you see, its my perverted little mind that compliments His. W/we're both demented! He f.s me savagely, i love Him savagely.
There on my side ... my head in a vice, Master had turned me to use me in that other way. That's when it feels like the soothing of bedtime -- when i get to be tucked in and tucked under His arm safely. That's when i want to breath deeply the moment.
Reflecting turns to present tense ... i do this all the time ... i recount it and then i live it again ...
Master turns me on my side and sidles up behind me. i do everything possible to have every single bit of surface area of my skin touch His. i reach my cheek out like a cat marking a leg, i rub my head against His neck and His strong arms. i purr and coo and grunt, i intertwine each limb in His.
i breathe. i savor every single slight touch or brushing of the flesh. Master yanks back on my head or my hair or my throat and my chin juts forward allowing me to arch my back and feel more prone. my cunt swoons. my second-cunt mimics the front one. GOD how i am crazy for His turning me inside out. i would like to be splayed out like this in public so that all the world could see that Master tore away my layers -- that He exposed EVERYTHING and marked this territory as His own.
The headache was gone. i was used. i was relieved. The head of His cock pushed all the way to the very back where that ridge rubs the border of rectum and g-spot. These are neighboring countries! They share the border! He penetrates deeply. He moves in FURTHER. i can feel every nuance. i can FEEL the shiny smooth head and that ridge ------------ GOD how i am CRAZY when i can feel the definition of His head atop the shaft! i LOVE that indentation especially when i feel it wedged way up there in my bowels.
There are cannons in there ... there at the border -- explosions! ... and cures that only the medicine Man can bring. He's a tactical agent ... He's all over me and i'm climbing the walls until He can climb on top of me again and make me whole ... no headache, no heartache, only big wide open gaping holes plugged up and oozing that magic medicine ... the liquid medicine and the gassy ethers that lull me into surrender. i'm all His. He claimed me, i'm His.
Headaches, heartache, gaping wide open holes ... who knew? They're all mended. i'm cured.
BANG-BANG -- Bangin' 'em BIG Time
16 November, 2006 (day before surgery)i was hoping to go out on a bang, loving bangs as i do -- gangbangs, Master's BIG BANG, and the fact that Gwyneth, Mena, and Penelope ALL look better with bangs.
i wanted to just write up my little "how to cure a headache" post and leave it there to linger and waft around -- there's nothing like leaving people with your best signature when you think you'll be out of touch for awhile. Its nice to know someone will wear your essence when you're out of sight -- the RIGHT essence of you -- the one you like best about yourself. God forbid they remember your sweat when you want them remembering your musk!
But here i am to say GOD i was up all night starting at 2am. i have serious anxiety! i feel depressed from the wine i drank last night thinking it would relax me. i'm sore from that serious leg workout i did yesterday thinking it would be a good send off for the six weeks i'll need to stay out of the gym.
But, i did get my house neat and tidy. Everyone will be fed. Everyone's schedule is outlined meticulously ... and oh, that's right! We're out of cat food! One more errand, OH! And he lost his collar! Make that two more errands -- i'll need to get his little ID tag made up, too. You CANNOT ignore a collared animal without a collar! Imagine it! i'd be lost before even getting lost!
i'm scared and i'm excited ... i'm full with nervous energy and i think my anxiety is more about the fact that Master will have to play mommy. THAT scares me! i like the concept of "let's just get this over with" -- i want to fast forward to next week. i saw the doctor on Tuesday and i asked a few questions and almost started crying! Wow do i crumble when anxious.
my cat knows. He climbed up on my back this morning and OH how i LOVE his paws and his purr. Wow do i love sleeping on my tummy! i'll figure it out ... when there is a will, there is a way.
And wow do i LOVE pics of breast suspension and those rope bondage bras and SEVERE tit torture. i'll figure it out ... when there is a will, there is a way. Besides, there's always nipple torture and there are always other girls whose giant tits W/we can torment with exacting EXCRUCIATING evil and depravity!
i wish i were not writing this post. i am afraid to see Master!
i'm also deep breathing!
i don't understand the radio. i don't understand waking up to my music alarm to have to hear absolutely mindless music like the newest top ten that is one single line repeated the whole time "all she wants is another baby" and the music itself sounds like a Casio programmed tune. Its weird! i don't live here! Where am i?
Well, at least i figured out another travel destination for my list. i have no desire to see China but i MUST climb the Great Wall! i MUST!
Okay. Get a grip, little girl. Nothing has changed. Master is still here. you are starting to panic.
Okay and your candles arrived on time, didn't they? That's a good thing. i've got the Havana downstairs and the Madagascar in my bedroom -- scents ... i LOVE scents! Aromatherapy and Master's. And my own! Maybe that's what i ought to do -- do my usual. Wedge my fingers in between my lips and then between my cheeks. Maybe that will calm me down.
Okay, and so the Marc Anthony cd isn't all i hoped it to be. They said it was His best! But at least it arrived and its something new to listen to and well, i NEEDED TO KNOW! But that song isn't on this one, darnit!
Maybe i ought to go run even though i'm not one for running. Kickbox? DARE i do my kickboxing TODAY? Today before tomorrow? Decisions! SOS!
i think i'm out of sorts because i don't want Master to see me without my make-up on. That must be it.
Illustration by (my genius hero! or rather my 2nd genius hero!) Simon Benson.
Yet another good reason to be owned by a Master ...
17 November, 2006
my fears are now allayed.
my anxiety has been put to rest.
i was put to bed by Master last night.
Sleeping with Master makes me happy, peaceful, ... and HORNY (or rather, hornier ~wink~).
my fears are now allayed.
my anxiety has been put to rest.
i was put to bed by Master last night.
Sleeping with Master makes me happy, peaceful, ... and HORNY (or rather, hornier ~wink~).
A few words from Master
20 November, 2006
I own a world-class slave. Truly. she revels in her submission. she responds to My touch, My desires, My commands and suffers terribly if she can't satiate My every need. But she always does, even when she thinks she hasn't.
Now I have pushed her further than ever before. she has completed another step in her transformation. And she has accomplished her task in her usual regal style.
My baby underwent surgery last Friday. And let Me just say the results are stunning. she was always a beautiful little girl, but now she has a figure that would make a Playboy bunny melt with jealousy.
she has been in bed the last couple of days recouperating, so she has not been able to get to her blogs. I know how much she treasures many of the relationships she has formed here on Alt.
I just want all of you to know that My beautiful slave is doing well and that you will hear from her soon.
I would like to extend My gratitude to all of you who are her friends and support her through your correspondences.
I own a world-class slave. Truly. she revels in her submission. she responds to My touch, My desires, My commands and suffers terribly if she can't satiate My every need. But she always does, even when she thinks she hasn't.
Now I have pushed her further than ever before. she has completed another step in her transformation. And she has accomplished her task in her usual regal style.
My baby underwent surgery last Friday. And let Me just say the results are stunning. she was always a beautiful little girl, but now she has a figure that would make a Playboy bunny melt with jealousy.
she has been in bed the last couple of days recouperating, so she has not been able to get to her blogs. I know how much she treasures many of the relationships she has formed here on Alt.
I just want all of you to know that My beautiful slave is doing well and that you will hear from her soon.
I would like to extend My gratitude to all of you who are her friends and support her through your correspondences.
There's a reason ...
21 November, 2006
HOLY COW!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's how i'll start my blog about the breast implants. Apropos, right? Let's all moo for big udders! ~wink~ i can't wait to write one of my usual sap-fests but for now, i'm a little limited. i'd also like to address each of Y/you who expressed support but for now, i'm a little limited. SEE?? LIMITS inhibit a person! (Take note slaves. ~wink~)
Just a few little anecdotes for now ...
There's a reason that they don't tell you about the pain.
Its like childbirth. They don't go into too much detail about the think-yer-gonna-die excruciations of labor and birth because they're too busy honoring the outcome. Kids! Look at all the little rewards running rampant all over the planet -- you don't hear a single mother cooing over her newborn, not even berating her teenager, while tagging on some memory of the pain in delivering the blessing. The pain is forgotten. We're all proclaiming the fruit (whether it be delectable, ripe or rotten).
Its just like these big boobs! They're flip-floppin' all over the planet, bouncing around in everyone's face -- they're dancing while everyone sings their praises and we're all too preoccupied with the big-fun results to take note of the pain in obtaining them.
All i kept thinking during the first two days of agony is, "if i'm going through all this, they just better be big enough!". Think of the disappointment if submitting to all this only to find out i'll be modest? i'm happy to report, from what i can see so far, i did push the envelope! i wanted big so that it meant correct proportion but then PUSHING it a bit over the edge -- i really like the idea of leaving an impression that says,, "oh, nice, but she's actually a bit top heavy". i was after a ROBUST plumage, not just pretty colours. Think: PRONOUNCED hourglass! An abstract, or SURREAL cello! Dali's extreme melting whereby curves are dripping rather than just moving. Like everything else, if i'm going to do something in life, i'm going to attempt to do it MORE than 100%.
Okay, well, today is the unveiling! my bandages and the tape will be removed. Thank goodness -- this semi-rig is constriction on par with a Boa and i can hardly breathe. (Details in another blog in the coming days.)
There's a reason i don't watch television.
i've been in bed most of the time. i've been given the clicker. i've landed on Food Network's Top Chef and i've now seen about 28 episodes. That's okay but then i was reminded WHY i don't watch t.v.
i tried the news. Fox, CNN, and the local news. God, how can ANYONE stand watching the news? There isn't one bit of good news anywhere! Dead babies, raped and beaten children, dead wives and girlfriends, sexual molestation of an 80 year old woman, drive-by shootings, drunk driving murders, the vile representative of scum, OJ Simpson getting ANY air time at all !!, plummeting schoolbuses, plummeting stocks, Iraq/Iraq, Iraq/Iraq (didn't Stevie Wonder make mention of this 33 years ago in the prelude of "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing" ? Oh -- that was "Iraq/IRAN, ... Paris, Peru, ..." ), tragedy, despair, ... its one reminder after another of WHY watching the news too often can give you the wrong idea about life.
i tried some lighter fare.
Tyra Banks (really unattractive but for her body) had Janet Jackson on her show as a guest. She told the audience to stay tuned because after the commercial break, she was going to ask Janet a question that no one else has EVER asked her before! The question? Get ready -- its pretty provocative. A first! She wanted to know what Janet would do if she were to "fart" in a room (and she proceeded to describe the event -- she didn't even say "passing gas" -- she actually said "fart" and elaborated with adjectives) and would she confess to having done it or would she deny it. Wow, Tyra -- you are too profound for us, girlfriend! -- you and your jive self!
i went back to the Food Network for Top Chef, episode 29.
There's a reason ...
There's a reason i'm writing this blog while standing rather than sitting. (Arm movement is limited right now -- darn those limits again! See how they IMPEDE?!! ) There's a reason i love writing blogs. There's a reason i'm in love with my Master. There's a reason i'm happy despite the current SERIOUS pain! There's a reason i'm in love with life. There's a reason i'm smiling. i think it has to do with Master making me two lobster dinners in a row even though i wasn't wearing make-up. Well, either that or being grateful that i am nothing like Tyra Banks ... aside from having big boobs. ~big smile verging on impish grin~
HOLY COW!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's how i'll start my blog about the breast implants. Apropos, right? Let's all moo for big udders! ~wink~ i can't wait to write one of my usual sap-fests but for now, i'm a little limited. i'd also like to address each of Y/you who expressed support but for now, i'm a little limited. SEE?? LIMITS inhibit a person! (Take note slaves. ~wink~)
Just a few little anecdotes for now ...
There's a reason that they don't tell you about the pain.
Its like childbirth. They don't go into too much detail about the think-yer-gonna-die excruciations of labor and birth because they're too busy honoring the outcome. Kids! Look at all the little rewards running rampant all over the planet -- you don't hear a single mother cooing over her newborn, not even berating her teenager, while tagging on some memory of the pain in delivering the blessing. The pain is forgotten. We're all proclaiming the fruit (whether it be delectable, ripe or rotten).
Its just like these big boobs! They're flip-floppin' all over the planet, bouncing around in everyone's face -- they're dancing while everyone sings their praises and we're all too preoccupied with the big-fun results to take note of the pain in obtaining them.
All i kept thinking during the first two days of agony is, "if i'm going through all this, they just better be big enough!". Think of the disappointment if submitting to all this only to find out i'll be modest? i'm happy to report, from what i can see so far, i did push the envelope! i wanted big so that it meant correct proportion but then PUSHING it a bit over the edge -- i really like the idea of leaving an impression that says,, "oh, nice, but she's actually a bit top heavy". i was after a ROBUST plumage, not just pretty colours. Think: PRONOUNCED hourglass! An abstract, or SURREAL cello! Dali's extreme melting whereby curves are dripping rather than just moving. Like everything else, if i'm going to do something in life, i'm going to attempt to do it MORE than 100%.
Okay, well, today is the unveiling! my bandages and the tape will be removed. Thank goodness -- this semi-rig is constriction on par with a Boa and i can hardly breathe. (Details in another blog in the coming days.)
There's a reason i don't watch television.
i've been in bed most of the time. i've been given the clicker. i've landed on Food Network's Top Chef and i've now seen about 28 episodes. That's okay but then i was reminded WHY i don't watch t.v.
i tried the news. Fox, CNN, and the local news. God, how can ANYONE stand watching the news? There isn't one bit of good news anywhere! Dead babies, raped and beaten children, dead wives and girlfriends, sexual molestation of an 80 year old woman, drive-by shootings, drunk driving murders, the vile representative of scum, OJ Simpson getting ANY air time at all !!, plummeting schoolbuses, plummeting stocks, Iraq/Iraq, Iraq/Iraq (didn't Stevie Wonder make mention of this 33 years ago in the prelude of "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing" ? Oh -- that was "Iraq/IRAN, ... Paris, Peru, ..." ), tragedy, despair, ... its one reminder after another of WHY watching the news too often can give you the wrong idea about life.
i tried some lighter fare.
Tyra Banks (really unattractive but for her body) had Janet Jackson on her show as a guest. She told the audience to stay tuned because after the commercial break, she was going to ask Janet a question that no one else has EVER asked her before! The question? Get ready -- its pretty provocative. A first! She wanted to know what Janet would do if she were to "fart" in a room (and she proceeded to describe the event -- she didn't even say "passing gas" -- she actually said "fart" and elaborated with adjectives) and would she confess to having done it or would she deny it. Wow, Tyra -- you are too profound for us, girlfriend! -- you and your jive self!
i went back to the Food Network for Top Chef, episode 29.
There's a reason ...
There's a reason i'm writing this blog while standing rather than sitting. (Arm movement is limited right now -- darn those limits again! See how they IMPEDE?!! ) There's a reason i love writing blogs. There's a reason i'm in love with my Master. There's a reason i'm happy despite the current SERIOUS pain! There's a reason i'm in love with life. There's a reason i'm smiling. i think it has to do with Master making me two lobster dinners in a row even though i wasn't wearing make-up. Well, either that or being grateful that i am nothing like Tyra Banks ... aside from having big boobs. ~big smile verging on impish grin~
Day 6 with my NEW BIG BOOBS !!
22 November, 2006
i don't know how women can go back to work after only 5 days! Its beyond me. i may as well be shuffling along in a full body cast. my ribs and shoulder blades are even killing me now. i can't drive and i'm light headed after a little exertion. Yesterday i had a driver! It reminded me of The Driver and Miss Daisy (or whatever its called) although i'm not Daisy, i don't feel bright and springy like a Daisy, i'm not rich and i'm not old and my driver was not a chauffeur but instead the same cab driver who brought me medicine and soup the day before. He brought me my favorite butternut squash soup from my favorite soup shop in town, twenty dollars later. i drank the entire quart through a straw! Some things are worth their price.
Like these boobs! Wow, i'm still in a stupor.
Maybe its that i went big and i'm so little. The doctor did say that although i'm not technically petite, i am little. i know what he means. i'm not tiny-tiny, but i am tiny. my long limbs mean i'm not consistently petite.
Okay -- that was yesterday -- Day 5. Once the doctor told me that i should stop worrying about ripping apart stitches and that i should move around, i stopped fretting about every aching move. Afterall, my muscles have been THROBBING and DYING for release! You could say i've had blue balls! Now that i am stretching my muscles, it is helping. Gosh, even my shoulders feel more weight than they used to -- before it was metaphorical, now its LITERAL! God i need RELEASE from the pain!
~~~ + ~~~
Okay, so i moved around more. Last night was the first night without painkillers. i'm in PAIN! i probably did too much after the doctor told me i should start moving around. i took this to mean i could clean my house. i'm nauseous! i've got a splitting headache! my shoulders, my back, my ribs!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sleeping on my side is impossible. The weight of these tits is MASSIVE! It reminds me of nursing -- its like these things are filling up with milk to the point that they might burst! i don't know whether to wear a bra or not! i want the freedom but the freedom is HEAVY!
Master gave me the privilege of unlimited orgasms through Wednesday (today). Since the doctor said i could now move around more and stretch the pained muscles, i decided that upon going to bed last night, i'd try out an orgasm.
i reached my fingers to my twat -- twitching arm muscles and all. i came in less than three minutes. Thank God (or rather, Master) for all that orgasm control over the past two years! It used to be that it would take me 30 minutes minimum to orgasm and that's because i was masturbating every 30 minutes!
The three minute orgasm was GRAND but now i know for sure that my clit is attached to my nipples. Right upon climax, a piercing pain shot through my nipples and it remained as a repeated stabbing needle like that of a sewing machine! i saw in my mind, one of those delicate little chains with clamps -- it formed a triangle -- one nipple to the other nipple to the clit and back to the nipple again. So much for privileges -- i'm not going to have any more orgasms until i am fully recuperated!
~~~ + ~~~
They gave me some panties on the day of the operation. The nurse said they were for privacy. (Who cares about privacy under the circumstances?!) Master and i both agreed that for surgical issue panties, they weren't bad. W/we expected granny briefs but instead, they were silky pale blue bikinis.
i guess they were okay enough because i wore them for 5 days straight! i couldn't help it. Sometimes being a slob has its merit. my hair was unkempt, my pussy was wafting a sweet pungency. Master said it would be wise to take a washcloth to my twat before going to the doctor's office yesterday which i did end up doing. Had i not, i'm certain the dogs would have broken out of the pound to find me through scent alone.
i myself am a dog! i can't help it -- the scent is intoxicating. i could sniff my way through anything. i can find my way all around Master's body by scent. i'd be perfectly content to nuzzle up under His armpit or at His groin right between the ball sack and His muscular thighs. i often wedge my nose up there just to take a nap. i love His scent, my scent, scented candles, the smell of rain and chimney smoke hitting cool air. A delicate fragrance, a heavy odor -- i'm your olfactory girl!
i took off the panties and rather than throwing them in the wash, i folded them up into a neat little square and placed them at my vanity. i want to show Master! i may even save them this way for posterity! The scent is strong but it is delicious as in a toxic sweet! i could put this to my nose just as i might put a blindfold to my eyes and i'd sleep a sound slumber from the sensory caresses.
i'm completely off track here! Point is, i did finally take off the panties.
As to more of the slob thing -- well, i had saltine cracker crumbs littering my bed and the floor. i didn't care! i had either been nibbling at them and dropping crumbs like a squirrel with a nut or i had been crushing them against my lips like a hungry drunkard. In each case, i appeared to have cracker crumb dandruff on the large zip up top of 5 days. i didn't much care! i still felt pretty.
What does get me though, EVERY SINGLE TIME, is aesthetics. At least if the crumbs are consistent -- at least if they are the only thing scattered, i can accept them. For instance, i had my two favorite little people scurrying around to align piles of paper and mail and magazines. At least if the piles of stuff everywhere LOOKED perpendicular or parallel and tidy, i wouldn't feel so off-kilter or out of control. At least if disarray looks deliberate and arranged in a pleasing composition (like the dirty dishes contained to ONE sink rather than two or the conglomeration of pillows in one lofty still-life per room), i'll sink into it all rather than cringe.
So i let go ......................... and i drifted through Days 1, 2, 3, and 4. The painkillers helped.
~~~ + ~~~
Funny things feel soothing. Having people wait on me is welcome. The sound of motorcycles and skateboards tearing up my property sounds like a lullaby. i'm relaxed. i'm at home. All i kept thinking was ... i'm at home, i'm at home, i'm with the people who mean THE MOST to me ... i'm in love, i'm at home, i NOW HAVE BIG TITS AND i CAN'T WAIT TO HIT THE BEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my cat was CONSTANTLY at my feet keeping me warm. i think this must be how Master relates to me! my cat is a good cuddly affectionate KNOWING slave. Last night when i was so out of sorts and unable to sleep, my cat moved from my ankles to my knees. He came closer but at a respectful distance -- he didn't want to be presumptuous, i suppose, but he wanted me to know he was there and that he would stay there. i LOVE this cat's mentality! We're kin!
~~~ + ~~~
i can't wait to write about Day 1 ! i told my doctor that not only am i thrilled with everything (but for the feeling ill and immobile and fat due to eating and not working out), but that i am equally happy with the experience itself. i'd like to write personal thank you notes to the staff! i told him that the experience itself will be a memory to add to my collection box. It is another keepsake. i almost cried when relating this to him!
i can't wait to write about Day 1 because it is romantic. i can't wait to articulate all the idiosyncrasy that finally now is an accepted trait, a welcome and most perfect flaw. i can't believe that i'm loving myself even without wearing make-up! i think its because i feel Master's pride in me and that makes a complexion glow ... even more than my Chanel Double Perfection matte reflecting foundation. ~wink~
i don't know how women can go back to work after only 5 days! Its beyond me. i may as well be shuffling along in a full body cast. my ribs and shoulder blades are even killing me now. i can't drive and i'm light headed after a little exertion. Yesterday i had a driver! It reminded me of The Driver and Miss Daisy (or whatever its called) although i'm not Daisy, i don't feel bright and springy like a Daisy, i'm not rich and i'm not old and my driver was not a chauffeur but instead the same cab driver who brought me medicine and soup the day before. He brought me my favorite butternut squash soup from my favorite soup shop in town, twenty dollars later. i drank the entire quart through a straw! Some things are worth their price.
Like these boobs! Wow, i'm still in a stupor.
Maybe its that i went big and i'm so little. The doctor did say that although i'm not technically petite, i am little. i know what he means. i'm not tiny-tiny, but i am tiny. my long limbs mean i'm not consistently petite.
Okay -- that was yesterday -- Day 5. Once the doctor told me that i should stop worrying about ripping apart stitches and that i should move around, i stopped fretting about every aching move. Afterall, my muscles have been THROBBING and DYING for release! You could say i've had blue balls! Now that i am stretching my muscles, it is helping. Gosh, even my shoulders feel more weight than they used to -- before it was metaphorical, now its LITERAL! God i need RELEASE from the pain!
~~~ + ~~~
Okay, so i moved around more. Last night was the first night without painkillers. i'm in PAIN! i probably did too much after the doctor told me i should start moving around. i took this to mean i could clean my house. i'm nauseous! i've got a splitting headache! my shoulders, my back, my ribs!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sleeping on my side is impossible. The weight of these tits is MASSIVE! It reminds me of nursing -- its like these things are filling up with milk to the point that they might burst! i don't know whether to wear a bra or not! i want the freedom but the freedom is HEAVY!
Master gave me the privilege of unlimited orgasms through Wednesday (today). Since the doctor said i could now move around more and stretch the pained muscles, i decided that upon going to bed last night, i'd try out an orgasm.
i reached my fingers to my twat -- twitching arm muscles and all. i came in less than three minutes. Thank God (or rather, Master) for all that orgasm control over the past two years! It used to be that it would take me 30 minutes minimum to orgasm and that's because i was masturbating every 30 minutes!
The three minute orgasm was GRAND but now i know for sure that my clit is attached to my nipples. Right upon climax, a piercing pain shot through my nipples and it remained as a repeated stabbing needle like that of a sewing machine! i saw in my mind, one of those delicate little chains with clamps -- it formed a triangle -- one nipple to the other nipple to the clit and back to the nipple again. So much for privileges -- i'm not going to have any more orgasms until i am fully recuperated!
~~~ + ~~~
They gave me some panties on the day of the operation. The nurse said they were for privacy. (Who cares about privacy under the circumstances?!) Master and i both agreed that for surgical issue panties, they weren't bad. W/we expected granny briefs but instead, they were silky pale blue bikinis.
i guess they were okay enough because i wore them for 5 days straight! i couldn't help it. Sometimes being a slob has its merit. my hair was unkempt, my pussy was wafting a sweet pungency. Master said it would be wise to take a washcloth to my twat before going to the doctor's office yesterday which i did end up doing. Had i not, i'm certain the dogs would have broken out of the pound to find me through scent alone.
i myself am a dog! i can't help it -- the scent is intoxicating. i could sniff my way through anything. i can find my way all around Master's body by scent. i'd be perfectly content to nuzzle up under His armpit or at His groin right between the ball sack and His muscular thighs. i often wedge my nose up there just to take a nap. i love His scent, my scent, scented candles, the smell of rain and chimney smoke hitting cool air. A delicate fragrance, a heavy odor -- i'm your olfactory girl!
i took off the panties and rather than throwing them in the wash, i folded them up into a neat little square and placed them at my vanity. i want to show Master! i may even save them this way for posterity! The scent is strong but it is delicious as in a toxic sweet! i could put this to my nose just as i might put a blindfold to my eyes and i'd sleep a sound slumber from the sensory caresses.
i'm completely off track here! Point is, i did finally take off the panties.
As to more of the slob thing -- well, i had saltine cracker crumbs littering my bed and the floor. i didn't care! i had either been nibbling at them and dropping crumbs like a squirrel with a nut or i had been crushing them against my lips like a hungry drunkard. In each case, i appeared to have cracker crumb dandruff on the large zip up top of 5 days. i didn't much care! i still felt pretty.
What does get me though, EVERY SINGLE TIME, is aesthetics. At least if the crumbs are consistent -- at least if they are the only thing scattered, i can accept them. For instance, i had my two favorite little people scurrying around to align piles of paper and mail and magazines. At least if the piles of stuff everywhere LOOKED perpendicular or parallel and tidy, i wouldn't feel so off-kilter or out of control. At least if disarray looks deliberate and arranged in a pleasing composition (like the dirty dishes contained to ONE sink rather than two or the conglomeration of pillows in one lofty still-life per room), i'll sink into it all rather than cringe.
So i let go ......................... and i drifted through Days 1, 2, 3, and 4. The painkillers helped.
~~~ + ~~~
Funny things feel soothing. Having people wait on me is welcome. The sound of motorcycles and skateboards tearing up my property sounds like a lullaby. i'm relaxed. i'm at home. All i kept thinking was ... i'm at home, i'm at home, i'm with the people who mean THE MOST to me ... i'm in love, i'm at home, i NOW HAVE BIG TITS AND i CAN'T WAIT TO HIT THE BEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my cat was CONSTANTLY at my feet keeping me warm. i think this must be how Master relates to me! my cat is a good cuddly affectionate KNOWING slave. Last night when i was so out of sorts and unable to sleep, my cat moved from my ankles to my knees. He came closer but at a respectful distance -- he didn't want to be presumptuous, i suppose, but he wanted me to know he was there and that he would stay there. i LOVE this cat's mentality! We're kin!
~~~ + ~~~
i can't wait to write about Day 1 ! i told my doctor that not only am i thrilled with everything (but for the feeling ill and immobile and fat due to eating and not working out), but that i am equally happy with the experience itself. i'd like to write personal thank you notes to the staff! i told him that the experience itself will be a memory to add to my collection box. It is another keepsake. i almost cried when relating this to him!
i can't wait to write about Day 1 because it is romantic. i can't wait to articulate all the idiosyncrasy that finally now is an accepted trait, a welcome and most perfect flaw. i can't believe that i'm loving myself even without wearing make-up! i think its because i feel Master's pride in me and that makes a complexion glow ... even more than my Chanel Double Perfection matte reflecting foundation. ~wink~
Once again, ALL i KNOW ... ( my 829th post about ANAL use !! )
25 November, 2006
Once again, ALL i know is that i LOVE the way Master handles me. Here i go through such trials and reports -- i think i come to some magnificent conclusion about why i love being Master's slave, and then there are these moments when the entire thesis is erased!
You could elaborate on every angle of every nuance of every association and still, sometimes a biological simplicity requires no explanation, no research, no analysis.
i come to this place, as i did yesterday morning, whereby i know ONLY ONE SINGLE sensation. It is so singular, so only emotional. Its SO SENSUAL. This morning, i said to myself, "i LOVE the WAY Master uses me". i know, i know -- i think i must probably say this everyday and have said it everyday for over 2 1/2 years! But, feeling used is INSANELY arousing! Here i write about it all the time and yet i feel like i just discovered the sensation for the very first time!
~~~ + ~~~
The day before yesterday, when Master arrived for the Thanksgiving weekend, He first saw me and assessed my new big breasts. i think He loves them more than i do! In fact, you'd think He was the one with the new big boobs ------------ and well, He is! They do belong to Him, afterall. He bought them and interestingly, sometimes i have even thought its no different from Him having purchased a new toy. Oh will W/we have fun! Dildos, the cupping set, clamps, baby's new big TITS! Alright! (This reminds me that i'll have to learn that cleavage f-ing thing.)
Master led me to the bathroom mirror so that W/we could look at the new big tits together. He bent me over the bathroom sink and told me that He needs to use my a-hole. (That is not a word that i ever use (a-hole) -- Master said it and for some reason, i LOVE that He said it THAT way THIS time.)
He did that thing that is and will always make me CRAZY WILD MANIACAL and that is, He inserted fingers, one at a time and opened up my 2nd-cunt. i know it fully -- i am an anal whore and i can't help it. i LOVE the methodical preparation! It is the most beautiful thing in the world when Master uses me anally because part of me wants to reject it. Its that odd segue back and forth between debauchery and love-making. The severity makes me affectionate, the sodomy makes me fall deeper in love with Him, the person, the Master.
Meanwhile, i had pretty much relegated my condition after surgery to temporary non-use but i was wrong. Master wanted to use a hole and i would naturally, oblige. i love that i have that privilege! i'm a chosen one! To be the one to take care of His cock -- my Lord, it is the best position a woman could ever hope for. Take care of a Man's cock and you are close.
Master brought me to the bed and He was gentle but matter-of-fact and that, of course, gets me everytime. He knew my arms were regaining strength so He did not hammer into me as per the usual -- instead, He entered and there is only one word to describe it:
Penetration.
Not all capital letters, not even a single exclamation point.
Sheer, PURE, unadulterated penetration.
Penetration.
P e n e t r a t i o n .
Say it with as little drama as possible and then you will know the ethereal quality of penetration to which i'm referring.
God, i could say that word over and over again and i'm still repeatedly transported to the Heavens as if its my first trip.
He leaned over and His mouth was right at my ear. He told me all sorts of things and He humped me. He was a dog. i was a dog. The humping was canine! CARNAL biology! What animals are supposed to do -- the Male is supposed to take down the female in order to plant sperm. Its supposed to hurt. she's supposed to let out moans when He bites her neck to hold her steady. And meanwhile, THAT means it never hurts! It only feels like something i was born to feel and something i looked for for an entire life-time to find.
i begged Master to not let me come! i cannot yet bear the tensing of my body that way -- i'm a lunatic, remember? When i come, i break chains! i have! i really have! i could not bear any convulsions and so, i pleaded ... and Master went easy on me. i am His slave but i am also His little baby girl.
Master always uses me when He comes to bed at night. i am always in bed before Him -- He tucks me in and kisses me goodnight. i know that my Prince will come! And oh does He! Oh how i love that Master has His time with me for purely His own pleasure ................ i love how He will move me into position and use my holes no matter if i'm asleep or not -- it is beyond romantic to be used as just a masturbation device.
Currently, i'm still sleeping on my back. i can't sleep on my side at all yet. Master commented as if commenting just to Himself but aloud, "how am I going to use your a-hole"? Usually, Master turns me on my side and enters from behind in these after-midnight interludes. GOD i never thought in a million years i would LOVE anything remotely related to the word "routine"! GOD how i LOVE that a particular comfort has been established and cultivated and has become something to expect as if by rote.
Yesterday morning, i awakened next to my Master and that thesis -- the one now erased -- the one with all my understandings as to how i arrived here -- was replaced by elementary wonder. Maybe that happens? Maybe once you've just figured everything out, God comes along to zap it out of you so that you can experience the epiphany all over again? All i know is that i was writhing around JUST from the sound of Master's breath ... just from the feel of His thigh draped over mine ... just from His warm hard cock in the palm of my hand ....................... i had only that one thing on my mind. The magic -- the amazement at how nothing really matters when you are caught up in something intensely moving. Waking up to Master is intensely moving! Being f-ed by Master is intensely moving! Being near Master is intensely moving!
How is it so? i asked myself to concentrate on the ONE single thought ............. that one single component that symbolizes EVERYTHING i love, whether i am Master's little girl, His pet, His service-only-slave, His whore ... i love it ALL and it all comes down to that ONE single thought ...............
ALL i know is that when Master uses my 2nd cunt JUST because His penis needs to f. a hole, i am the slave i love to be. When i am with this privilege of JUST being His property, i feel more special than i have ever felt before in my life!
~~~ + ~~~
Master put me to bed last night and He pumped my 2nd cunt for awhile before kissing me on the forehead, before allowing me to kiss Him, and before tucking me in for the night. He used it in the missionary position. Later at 2am, i awakened the moment He opened the door to come to bed. There was no discussion and only His instruction to go back to sleep. He was going to masturbate. He screwed my rectum for a very long time and ALL i felt was that sensation -- that ONE SINGULAR sensation. Use integrated with being in love and being in love partly BECAUSE He uses me in JUST the way i love being used! ~wink~
Master raised my thigh up high enough so that He could enter the back hole sideways while i remained on my back. W/we were detached while connected -- this emphasizes the delirium for me! He's using me! He's using me! i'm not here! i'm not even a part of this! He is JUST using my 2nd cunt and that is my purpose. i am MAD OUT OF mY MIND for having that purpose!
i am Master's very own personal receptacle. It is everything i love to be! It is to rise in status as a slave -- i have the position with a very important function. i am Master's regular cum-dump. His repository whether He is cumming, spitting or pissing and i love every subtle nuance of being with such prominence. If you can manage to BE in that position of tending to a Man's cock on a regular basis -- of being your Master's dick-servant -- a sort of slave to His cock, you actually are more fortunate than anyone else. Its exactly the reason Men keep sluts around even if they're not girl-friend material. i am so lucky! i am Master's TRAVELING COMPANION cum-dump and not just a service-station! i get to tend to Him ALL the time! i get to be everything all rolled into one and i contemplated my joy in this ...
... could i ever be as happy with just one identity as Master's slave? Could i, for instance, just be an anal whore? Just be a caged piece of f.meat? A masochist only, a servant only, a little girl only? No. i am whatever Master wants me to be whenever He wants me to be it and that's the beauty of being a receptacle -- my luxury is that of being open and accommodating.
Once again, ALL i know is that i fall deeper and deeper in love -- Master's use of my 2nd-cunt not being impeded due to surgery 8 days ago means i have remained being a masturbation object for Him in the middle of the night. ALL i know is that for whatever reason, THAT makes me more in love, more connected, and more secure in the world all around me.
Photograph from sexylabia.com.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The Hand That Feeds
 | 26 November, 2006 i relaxed in the bathtub the morning of the surgery. Master sat there with me. i contemplated. i meditated (even though i don't meditate). i cried! Master said i really am the little girl. Previously, i looked in the mirror -- i placed my hands out in front of me as if to assess two large honeydews, one in each hand. i had been doing this for weeks! i eyed my hips -- the hips that are designed for swaying and giving birth and as handles for serious HARD ROUGH f-ing. Its kind of nice that i got to learn about life pre-big boobs. Just ask the girls with naturally big boobs -- they want to be seen for their insides FIRST. They tire of all those divergent, clumsy-and-rarely-discreet eyes. All girls want to be noticed for their persona -- the difference here is that i proved to myself already that my insides are big attractive mahatmas! NOW i'll get to savor all the looks from the curious ones and the admirers -- the stares and the darting eyes that attempt to stay focused on mine while my cleavage steers them into the cavern! There will also be the predators, competitors, and deviants and i will just love it all! my insides will now be the dessert since i've already known my soul as the main course meal. i'll now know big boobs as a fun peripheral rather than as an obstruction to the satiated desire of being known and seen for talent and wits. When you're born buxom, you crave to be seen without it. When you're born without it, you crave it for exactly the reason the naturally endowed don't want it. And still ... There i was in the bathtub ... the morning of surgery ... Master reminded me how i am a pretty girl and how now i'll be prettier. He enumerated my physical attributes and it reminded me of the card i sent Him a few weeks ago. The illustration shows a woman looking up to a Man and her think caption reads, "my hero" while His reads, "nice body". i love gender differences! THAT should have been my major! Gender Studies. Master told me that now i'll be even better ... even hotter ... that i've got a nice compactness, a perfect heart-shaped bottom, the little waist, the nice rocking hips, and that this now will make me a luscious hour-glass. i'll be the epitome of woman, inciting drools, provoking envy. And still, i apologized and asked if i could fish. He allowed it, but only after first offering up the fish to the bait. "Yes, little girl, you are the BEST f. of My life, the most beautiful, the most devoted slave, the smartest, the quickest, the most clever ..." ---------------- (oh how superlatives soothe little girls ~wink~) ------ ----- "But Master, ... Master ... well, she's sorry to ask, but what about this slave's blogs? Do You really like them?" Poor, poor, pitiful slave. ~smile~ Y/you see? my insides will always be the thing i'll want savored most of all. Master held my hand. And then He held it tighter still. He offered a few more bones in the form of positive reactions to a few particulars in my blogs and then my tail wagged, my nerves were set at ease. ~~~ + ~~~ Once at the doctor's office, W/we entered the examining room to do the pre-op with the nurse. Master pulled a chair right along side the exam table and as i sat there, He held my hand the whole time. my Master is INSANE this way. i LOVE how He babies me. He again told me how proud He is of me and again, i reminded Him, "oh yes, but Master, You really do love this slave's soul, right? i mean, without a soul, a body is nothing, right? i mean, sure -- a great body is GREAT but it wouldn't mean anything if there weren't a soul contained within it, right?". And He smiled. Wow did i feel coy. Wow did bold feel sweet and permittable. Masters don't go around pronouncing love proclamations. They smile. They hold your hand and They let you know in some telepathic way that They love your heart just as much as your ability to take every bit of f-ing They can inflict. And in this case, with this Master, my beautiful Master, i AM superwoman! i can take EVERY bit of Kryptonite He hurls and pumps ... and that's alot of Kryptonite. He's a maniac, He's all Male, and He is my Daddy even though you'd never know it. There is nothing like a superhero expressing tenderness! Master held my hand. This should be my very own concocted proverb. When the pre-op nurse was finished, the anaesthialogist had His turn. i cried. Master held my hand. When the doctor came in ... i cried. Master held my hand. When i was called to then follow the nurse into the operating room, i felt okay ... light and happy. Master kissed me goodbye and i started down the hallway on tippy toes. i turned to look over my shoulder not really quite sure if i did it by rote or if Master had said something to have me turn and look at Him again. It all felt like slow motion. Filmic. i blew Him my usual air-kiss. Smiled. And continued. i entered the operating room. i cried. Master was still holding my hand even though He was in the waiting room. Once situated on the operating table, i was amazed at how comfortable! i even said so. They all knew i was nervous -- i was crying! A few small talk questions were asked, and then i woke up. Master later told me that He knew precisely when i had come out of recovery because He heard only my high pitched recicitation: "oh God oh God oh God". That's when i was moved from asleep in the bed to awake in the chair. i asked the nurse if she was really sure i was ready to go home. i was certain she was disposing of me too quickly! i was in limbo! And in pain! Master took me by the hand, but this time, it was not because i was crying. Master held my hand as if He had just picked up His pet from the Veterinarian Hospital. He carried me home. He holds my hand but you see, its really that He is holding my leash. He is forever allowing me the most sublime pleasure of all -- the one that is just like the superlatives i aspire to be -- i get to be the loyal obedient pet and i have the supreme comfort and pleasure of being owned. Master holds my hand. i'm claimed. i'm secured. i'm improved, first emotionally, now physically. i'm with added value ... and still, i always look for His hand. |
Say what you mean; mean what you say.
 | 28 November, 2006 Alright -- i'm guilty. i beat around more bushes than anyone on the planet -- so, okay, lash my bush for beating around the bush -- preferably HARD with a single tail ~wink~ (and well, so much for that as i don't have a bush! -- so there!). Point is, i should get to the point more readily. But i'm learning. i'm learning. i'm getting better. MEANWHILE ... The other day i endured one of those disapprovals from a relative (whom i do love dearly, yes, yes, we know, now go ahead and tell us how much you CAN'T STAND when she does that passive-aggressive thing of couching what she really means to sling). She offered me that kind of direction that makes me want to stop her in her tracks and make her ADMIT to what she's REALLY saying. my mind silently screams, "Don't play games with me! i'm too smart!". i was advised that the country i'll be visiting next year is a country where the women really do not wear "heavy eye make-up". She wanted to make sure i knew to tone down the make-up because, you know, women don't wear much make-up over there at all. And when i dress, i best be sure to not wear any of "those" short skirts. You know, they don't like that sort of thing over there. i'll want to be sure to present myself as a "nice" person. "Over there", which really means, 'God i WISH you'd STOP wearing that heavy dark eye make-up ALTOGETHER!'. Is she suggesting that my smokey eye look makes me look "not nice"? If she says that not wearing it makes me look "nice", well, then, doesn't it stand to reason that, hey, if you've got that look and you're wearing those skirts, you sure ain't depicting "nice"? Other unsolicited advice included the instruction to make sure i don't look like some American flashy movie-star, about eighteen additional mentions of the heavy eye make-up issue, and some vague inference that i might change my style to look more "respectable". Note that i said INFERENCE. Sure, she didn't say i don't look respectable, but she implied it. In my opinion, she just shot me down royally! Now, now, little girl -- you're over-reacting. you're just too sensitive and you are reading into things. Well, FINALLY, i am happy to report that my sensitivity has too often allowed me to think (but not say) "i told you so". This has nothing to do with visiting a third world country. i'll be visiting a metropolitan city within a third world country and besides, i MIGHT mingle with a movie-star, i MIGHT want to be seen as a movie-star ... and doesn't she think i'm smart enough to NOT wear stilettos while trekking in the desert? i don't take well to such round-about innuendo! i want to call her out! Make her confess! i'm too bothered by approval. i don't like disapproval. i love approval. i've sought it forever! Disapproval reminds me of criticism and criticism is rarely constructive UNLESS its sought out. Unsolicited is almost always meddlesome and meddlesome is almost always unwelcome. If you can't approve, if you can't cheer me on, if i didn't ask for input, PLEASE don't crush me with specifications that don't fit my chassis! Master is my driver, Master is my guide. If i'm happy having found my place and if i feel more sexy and more alive than ever before, why do you want to kill something that is finally living? Wow! i just thought of something! What will i do with these new big tits? Leave them at home with the caviar eyeliner and micro-short skirts? Never! A smart girl is always prepared. Never leave home without essentials and contingencies. Whether i'm under the sun, beneath the stars, or at my Master's mercy, (OR under some other person's SCRUTINY !! ), i'm ready, willing and able. And i'll say what i mean and mean what i say ... even if it takes me a long time to do so. And you can be sure that i'll remain under the thumb and on top of the world ... sex appeal and all ... impoverished or old. It won't matter. Your style will define you, your soul will carry you ... as too will Master. |
logic + emotion = CONFUSION & CONFLICT
 | 30 November, 2006 The other day i was doing my usual and attempting to find reason within someone's thinking (or lack of it as the case may be). Master asked why i was attempting to apply logic to that of a deranged mind. i guess it makes me feel better. When i can reconcile something to a legitimate point of view, even if differing from my own, i can put it away and not feel the itch (or NAGGING irritation) of wanting to SLAM the person down and get them to see things my way. i really like to put myself in someone else's shoes, NOT because i'm Saintly, but because i'm selfish. i want everything to have a slot or cubby in which to reside. i like order and peace. i do not like to feel that anything is unresolved. i hate confrontation! Disagreement is confrontation, so imagine a fight -- a fight is WAR and my life is surely on the line. When Master told me that my applying logic was futile, i got riled. Then emotion kicked in. When logic doesn't work, emotion steps in. Master asked why i was again with the emotion when i, by now, have figured out that some people will NEVER cooperate and it is pointless to get bothered by it. Well, the voice of reason, the voice of the heart -- they both lose (but hopefully win). Either way, i can't quite get it right! i'm just not one to roll over and play dead. When something is wrong, i either must find a way to prove that i'm wrong OR find a way to prove them wrong. Its pretty infuriating actually. i just need to reconcile it all by knowing that SOMEONE is right -- if its them, please may i come around to seeing it, and if its me, please may they come around to seeing it. Now i'm going to try something brand new. Now i'm going to use the voice of a prevailing EMINENT prophet! There are some people who are ALL about the knife. They fight for the sake of fighting. They only are content if inflicting the pain that they themselves feel all the the time. Even when they stand to benefit, they can't even be smart enough to accept it UNLESS they first make certain that no one else benefits at all. They'll cut off their nose to spite their face. Its not greed really at all. You could give them the multi-million dollar jackpot and that would not appease them UNLESS they first knew that it cost you your blood. They only want to win at someone else's suffering. Your suffering is their prize, nothing else. If only they had a self-awareness! They're megalomaniacs! They don't think except to scheme and connive in order to punish everyone -- the everyones who know the happiness they wish they could know. But they don't even know to miss it or wish for it! Megalomaniacs know nothing. So ... that wasn't prophetic, that was logical. Non-emotional. i said it well -- i just did my little essay and i should now feel better that i've explained it. Yet why do i still succumb to the emotion of injustice? Why do i look for the rationale and then still fall victim to anger and tears? Today i opened one of those letters -- the kind that i usually DON'T read at night. i am incapable of receiving anything that will make me anxious if its at night before bedtime. i read the personal attack. Some people think they're really clever with words. They hurl them with fancy biting vocabulary -- they douse them first in the sewer and paint it with scum -- then they deliver it with calisthenics of the tongue because everywhere else, they're pitifully inferior. Funny. They tell everyone else ALL the time, without fail, that you, you, and you are inferior. Their finger is perpetually erect because nothing else is. i keep telling myself this. i keep telling myself that they THINK they're smart. They're completely driven by an inadequate ego. i tell myself this and i know that the meek are often with a greater inner strength -- we don't feel the NEED to slam others so that we look good. But still ... i attempt logic. When that fails, when logic doesn't prevail -- when its clear that attackers and abusers ONLY thrive on attacking and abusing, i react with emotion. No matter how hard i try, if it surfaces, i react. When its out of sight, its truly out of mind. Please may it go away forever soon! Please may i bury the aftermath of my dead family and the one puny devil incarnate FOREVER AND SOON! Please may it, the devil incarnate, one day have consciousness so that it can really suffer through its wrath. |
Has anyone seen my Serotonin?
 | 3 December, 2006 Master told me early on that He believed me to have more sensory receptors than the average person -- something about an abundance of extra sensitive open nerve endings . i think He's right! i think its why my orgasms are felt in Siberia and why flooding occurs in the Sahara -- i basically shake the world with my own release. Its also why, each day of last week, i went to work and envisioned the FEELING the glory in coming home from work to change into something comfortable. On the commute TO work, all i could do was think of the commute going home! i left work each day, did the multitudes of errands and shuttling and shopping and cooking ... and then INSTANTLY upon entering my house, changed into my new pink flannel pajamas. They are not flattering and they are not even cute or pretty. They're just soft -- REALLY soft. Its pathetic really -- i actually am still daydreaming about how great it feels. i get so anxious for it that my skin gets wet. i'm a VERY tactile person. i'll do anything to FEEL textures ... even brand new trade paperbacks at Borders. i don't go looking to read any new bestsellers -- i just feel them up! Its like aftercare -- after a severe session, i crave the babying so much and i slink down into the luxury of it all that i float for a very long time ... even a few days sometimes. Its like a long-lasting Valium. Or rather Quaalude. i LOVE the tranquility and i'm dying for it right now. i'm quiet right now but i'm not tranquil. i miss my slave self. Lately she's been consumed with the others residing within her. (Note my "streamlining" blog and you'll know exactly what i'm talking about.) i'm getting so far away from my slave self and that really disappoints me. To the point of tears actually. i cried a little while ago but it wasn't a big cry -- just an impromptu weep, over and done with in about 20 minutes. i'm just prone to it, i think. It must be those receptors. That and the fact that Serotonin has up and ran off again. Actually, i think i know exactly what is going on. i didn't do what makes me most happy -- i didn't provide Master with His release. O/our time together was limited this weekend even though W/we spent a good amount of time together -- W/we didn't have our intimate time together. i didn't even get to wear my steel collar, only my day collar and ... well, okay -- this makes sense. This is why i feel the quiet and the distance -- i feel that i disappointed by not living up to my fullest potential, that of being used extensively. That of being JUST a sexual creature. Add to this the comforts and something feels off. i only enjoy tenderness and pampering IF i've earned it. Hence, i think i'm feeling WAY FAR AWAY from my slave world and that usually is not at issue. Usually its all incorporated -- i never abandon one world for another ... and yet today i sit here in this very perplexing mood. i'm not sure where i am. The receptors either have me euphoric or downtrodden -- elated or down in the dumps. Where is the middle ground? Well, i guess its a good thing -- at least i'll never stagnate like the millions of complacent people in the world. i'll either be laughing my head off with glee (from life and love and sexual deviance) or i'll be deep in depression and fighting like heck to get out of it! There's the happy hysteria and the day-to-day delirium -- right now i'm looking for them as it seems that Serotonin not only took off -- it abducted my life, too! -- 2 -- These new tits are HEAVY. They're coming out on the sides now. my biceps keep rubbing the roundness and i like it. But the sensation is what drove me to have bought those new very UNsexy pajamas. One day i won't be able to wear those jammies again EVER. i get away with lots of forbidden comforts right now but once i live with Master, i'll be mostly naked or dressed in whorish attire. Oh, i say whoreish but really its just sexy -- sometimes its over the top, but sexy is whorish if you do it well -- it doesn't have to mean hot pants outside the Lincoln Tunnel. Which reminds me how much i used to LOVE circling the tunnel in the wee hours after leaving the clubs. If its intriguing and dark, a phenomenon to behold, you can bet i'll take up first row center until i'm ready to try it out, that is, IF its something that can't be passed up. Passing up the Lincoln Tunnel whores is a VERY GOOD idea! But watching will allow you a glimpse of a subculture that reminds you you are darn lucky to know a DIFFERENT subculture! i'm lucky to know the pleasure of full immersion in the gutter and too, the delicacy of being cared for. i'm a whore but i'm Master's whore. i'll serve Master's friends or even strangers when Master directs it. Those other whores have no Master. i FEEL their pain! i do! Its the receptors again. Those dirty busting-out-at-the-seams whores -- they have to suck off every Tom, Dick, and Harry with every disease and every bit of bad-hygiene or fear being beat up later and NOT because its some beautiful ritual in the dungeon. Rather than dismiss their life, i need to smoke it for awhile so that i can really understand what they feel. i'm lucky for all i get to know! i'm lucky that i get to really LIVE AND BREATHE emotion but i really didn't used to feel this way. i used to numb it. It was too busy killing me all the time or getting me into trouble, so i attempted to disguise it while wishing that in my next life, i'd come back not needing anyone or anything. i didn't want the receptors. i didn't want to FEEL everything. For the very same reasons that i can FEEL softness and searing pain turned soft, even before my flesh gets a real hint of it and for the same reasons i'm walking around like i'm reading Braille, touching everything in sight, i also feel the penetration deeply. i think i wasn't born with enough insulation. You NEED insulation! You cannot be exposed to the elements or you'll have hypothermia of the soul and that can kill a person, you know. The incision of disapproval, displeasure from another, my disappointing someone -- all those 'dis' words (discount, disgust!) gets through -- it SCREAMS failure at me. It cuts straight away to my vital organs. Heart and cunt. That could be why my cunt took over! To ameliorate my heart! The strangest things used to happen! i went on a subconscious quest to make sure the world was happy! i would never say "no". i'd thank the kind Men Who took me to dinner by not refusing Their advances. Surely, it was way too risky a proposition to CHANCE someone's NOT liking of me? i attempted to be agreeable at great cost. And even when agreeing, i'd be dismissed and THAT is when i grew the ultimate love-hate relationship, not just with my father and anyone remotely like him, but myself! Its those receptors -- i'm telling you its the receptors. -- 3 -- One day Master and i were taking O/our SCUBA certification course and i got panicked. It had happened previously many years ago. i had to sit out. Never mind that i was a competitive swimmer. The Dive Master (or Mistress in this case -- wow did i love her German-ness! ) parked me on some dock steps where the waves were throwing me off kilter. The equipment is of no consequence underwater but the weight of it is felt when you attempt to sit in shallow water with half of your body exposed and shivering. The other Dive Master approached and said, "oh, I see -- you think you're special, don't you?" and it was a chiding of course but wow did it sting to the point that even today and probably forever, i will associate that with the one thing that always hurts. i know i like to be thought of as "special" but wow, do i really think i'm entitled to some special sort of treatment? The receptors -- they cloud your vision, too! Well, i hope not -- i hope i never feel entitled. Deserving, okay, but that would mean i earned something. Entitled just means something along the lines of ... "entitled to a fair trial" and well, don't get me started! Basically there is no such thing as a fair trial unless you are one of the entitlement types with alot of money and then that doesn't mean "fair" anyway. That aside, dear God, if there is even ONE spec of me that is self-absorbed, please, may i change it NOW BEFORE my next life!! Now please let me get back to writing about myself. ~wink~ Maybe this is the receptor issue again -- maybe they cause me to reflect alot on motivations and such because afterall, i'm using less energy to deflect things -- the energy has to go somewhere. Wait a minute! -- i know!! -- Serotonin is just like a runaway kid whose family berates itself asking where they went wrong. Serotonin's temporary disappearance makes me ask, why? What happened? What did i do wrong? How can i get it BACK and FAST and ensure that it stays put? -- 4 -- The other day in the office, a woman said she was going to the funeral of a three year old boy. She was telling this to someone else and this time i decided that overhearing and responding when not addressed was perfectly within my right (yikes -- "within my right" -- that expression sounds like an entitlement expression). Everyone else was silent. No one expressed anything other than a sympathetic look, as in, "oh, that's too bad". They could have been talking about their own kid's disappointment at that horrific Giants/Jaguars game last week and well, that actually stirred MORE reaction at the office than the news of the three year old boy. Now i'm here, several days later, me and my receptors, still thinking of the three year old boy. i just applied for the Make A Wish credit card! With every single purchase, money is contributed to the organization. Its free -- it costs NOTHING! Why wouldn't anyone trade in their credit card for THIS credit card? -- 5 -- BOTTOM LINE: i'm really drifting far away right now ... i've been back in the vanilla landscape alot lately and yeah, okay, sure, it might be Tahitian Vanilla -- its still exotic and rich because i travel all lands as Master's slave. But at this very moment, i am so removed from Master and O/our world what with things that have come up and the bit of time to recuperate from surgery and ... and an array of other obligations and -------------- and and and -- well, things have gotten in the way of my being Master's slave even to the point that Master feels it -- and He doesn't even have those receptors!! Okay -- life is great but i'm just quiet and less exuberant today. Contemplative. Oh, if only to give into vapidness! How nice that might feel once and awhile. i'm not nearly that special as the little three year old boy, i'm definitely not AS dirty as the whores at the Lincoln Tunnel, and i'm so much better than i used to be. i'm enjoying the softness in me now whereas before i had to protect it or hide it and find disguises. i can deal with this quiet now and i can admit to not liking it whereas before, it would tear me apart and i'd either thrill-seek or self-destruct. Now i'm feeling the flannel and the flame inside and i have never felt anything more sensual in my life! You do know its ignitable, right? Its precisely the reason i'm misunderstood lots of times -- its exactly why i'm blamed as a culprit when often i'm stating my defense. Someone slight screaming LOUD is always misconstrued. And that of course just breeds and grows the receptors. i've said it only a million times -- Fiona Apple wrote my anthem, "fondle my trigger then blame my gun". The combination -- the sensitivity and the passion -- they are combustible. There is nothing about me that is flame-retardant -- nothing. i now have embraced it but the only problem at the moment is that it is just a little steady pilot light rather than the usual roaring inferno. i'm far away. The receptors feel numbed -- exactly the effect i used to try to achieve -- but now i've changed. i want them back! The receptors. i've learned to appreciate them. Well, they'll return. They'll heat up again. The good news is that, at least now, the light doesn't ever go out anymore. Change of temperature is acceptable now because the flame is perpetually aglow. |
Friday, March 2, 2007
Forced Oral
3 December, 2006i almost got sick. Sick as in throwing up sick. No, no, silly -- not THAT. i have swallowed since the day i learned to walk ... well, learned to walk as a tart, that is. ~wink~
Tonight i turned on the kitchen television -- i like the kitchen television -- it is a nice background when you aren't with the music. Some Christian fundamentalist was shouting something about "SEND US YOUR PRAYER" and we'll put it on the altar and then send you a prayer blanket after you send us ... um ... your life's savings. The guy obviously gives really bad oral. Oh sure, he gives it ALL the time -- that's what those spermons (i mean sermons!) are all about -- lots of oratory and attempts at planting some seed.
The second i heard the voice, i registered repulsion and i wanted to QUICK turn it off but couldn't or else the turkey burgers would burn. my reaction was rapid fire, EWW! -- CRINGE! -- GROSS!! You can NEVER get me to swallow THAT! i love force but there is force and there is force. Don't shove a lecturer down my throat EVER!!
The obvious annoyance led me to amusement. What idiots! What person would cook dinner and actually maybe intentionally turn it on routinely at that hour? That's all i could think! Imagine the poor souls who NEED that badly and so, they think that an hour of the preacher and sending him some money will be their Salvation.
It made me about as sick as when i read about those bags of letters found on the Jersey shore. The ones that washed up on the beach one day. The ones that were never opened. The ones that were sent to the Priest. The ones the Priest never opened. The letters asked for things like healing and cures and forgiveness. Yeah, well, F. the priest who didn't open those letters!! He wasn't a priest. He blew everyone but never swallowed -- never delivered what he promised. He spit it all out.
Once the turkey burgers weren't an issue, i turned the station and landed on canyon climbing with the Andes Mountain pan pipe soundtrack. i think its called "bouldering". It was on PBS. i never watch PBS! They were begging. Asking for contributions -- no different from the preacher sending out prayer blankets to the hopeless. But THIS was worth any and every contribution! The Man featured does ballet in Yosemite -- He is at one with nature and in harmony with peace and He climbs rocks and scales heights that would only bring you closer to REAL Heaven and REAL Priests.
Funny. They interviewed the guy. He didn't say much at all. He was humble. Honest. An artist. Funny indeed -- no commentary and yet i was moved and satisfied. Now, THAT's a good blow-job.
NEW IMPROVED sLAVE
5 December, 2006
Coming Soon ...
Soon, baby girl. Soon.
Learn patience! Be practical!
i'm getting there ... one day betters the previous one. i'm now able to sleep on my side and soon, hopefully soon, W/we'll be able to squeeze my new big tits. But i can't wait! i can't wait to be completely healed so that Master can throw me around with no mercy again. It would be nice to slap these tits at some point -- gosh i sure hope they are REALLY durable because part of the fun will be watching them jiggle and sway and well, just imagine when they're hanging there in your face -- how could you NOT want to slap them and get sinister (as in a real MEAN SICK sinister)?
i'm anxious to get there already. i'm not myself. i feel like a 600lb sloth. Everything is labored! my thighs are actually touching together and i could swear i have a double chin. i remember an old aunt of mine. she was short and fat. she had fat on her back! she huffed and puffed just to go up and down the stairs or to bend over and get the pastries out of the oven. i hear myself with no stamina at the moment -- the loud breathing if i exert myself -- i can't stand it! i need the gym!!!!!!!!!!!!! i can't wait!!!!!!!!!!!!
Over the weekend, at the middle school basketball game, i counted the spectators sitting on the sidelines. 21 adults. 19 of them were out of shape. 19 of them were out of shape AND overweight. 17 of them were outright FAT. 17 of them had no shame and no cares that their blubber was hanging out over the top of their pants or making rolls that looked like an extreme ski mogul track. All i could think was, GOD, i would be so uncomfortable. There is nothing like feeling the stealth and prowess of a lean wildcat! It changes your life and your energy and your head. i'm not a fitness fanatic -- i'm just a sick glutton for feeling good. And okay, looking good. Look good and you feel good -- its that simple -- its not the cliched joke but REALITY.
i look around and say, wow, more than EVER, i want to be in phenomenal shape. i'll swim with the fish and climb with the billygoats ... and run circles around the other ponies in the stable. i'll be exhilarated to the point of sleep being the grandest luxury in the world. i'll get to feel every single aching muscle as my very own personal Divinity. Yes -- Divinity! i go way up high when i push further at the gym, when i go beyond limits in the dungeon ... when i go way far down in order to belly crawl in the stench of the gutter. Ahh, life is beautiful when you exert yourself!
I need to know that i can RUN fast and never look back. i need to think i can obtain Jackie Chan status when flying through the air. i need to climb mountains and NEVER look down (wise idea).
i like the idea that if i FEEL in tip-top condition, i can weather all storms, no umbrellas, no slickers, no cute little red shiny galoshas. i LOVE being naked! So i HAVE to be fit in all realms. If i'm going to display my insides, i'd like the packaging to cause me no inhibition at all.
So here i am, a little frustrated that i can't work out yet. Here i am still being gingerly about my new boobs. Please, SOON, SOON-God-SOON, may i get back to things because otherwise, all that kickboxing is going to go to pot. i already feel that my bottom isn't quite as tight and round. The heart-shape is in place but i can tell you honestly that a conditioned bottom is a whole lot more luscious than just a naturally nice one. In my 20s, my bottom was cute. In my 40s, its now something to REALLY grab. Its like the difference between tasty and something to devour with INSANE GUSTO.
i'm not really THAT much of an A-type. i mean, you CAN keep me down. i CAN enjoy the rest. i'm all for relaxation just as much as for accomplishment. i can swallow leisure like the best of the primadonnas. But i really like to know i did something first to receive the reward. Right now, i'm soaking up lethargy, not relaxation. Its making me sick!
i NEED to get back to my slave self entirely. i've been given too many little indulgences that verge on suburban female independence. i've been lax -- complacent in my motivation. i'm not working hard! i'm not playing hard! i'm not challenging my mind or doing my cranium stretches. Its making my heart slouch! i'm not expanding myself other than in ways i don't like -- namely eating without exercise.
i want my life back soon!
The dungeon!
The torture!
The beatings!
The gym!
The kickboxing!
The endorphins!
The squirting buckets all over Master's living room!
A romantic night at home in my doggy bed at Master's feet.
The routine and the structure -- Master's discipline and my being more diligent.
i have to be BETTER!
i've been getting WAY off track!
Start today, baby girl, TODAY ... i promise to correct myself with my own self-imposed will ...
i will not be negligent about my slave journal entries.
i will get back to my filthy mind and dripping wet pussy.
i will get back to my dreaminess.
i will get back to my purpose and my reason.
Maybe when Master takes me out on the town again next week (for the first time since the acquiring of my new big boobs), that will give me a good jump start. Maybe once i squeeze into one of those dresses He gets me, i'll be that much closer to the person i love to be. Once i have that privilege again and once i then get to be everything Master needs me to be, i will be back on track and i won't feel so far away from myself.
If outwardly i get to project what i know inside my cage, THEN i am true and whole. This compartmentalizing is stifling! Its maddening! Its like i have abandoned the wanton slut in exchange for the 'get-whatever-she-wants' woman and i want no part of it! (Okay -- a semi-part in it will do. i do like to receive.) i'm a creature of SEX and i want my genes on display again -- i want the world to see me as Master's pet and then when they do, i can answer all their questions if they're ready to convert. i'll hand out literature and promotions and i'll be the model and spokesperson for slaves all around the world!
THESE things will get me back closer to where i need to be. my heady state of mind will be reawakened and i'll then BOUNCE through life as i do. Then i'll inherit the earth again! Being away from it, being relegated to singular use as opposed to multi-use, well, i'm determined to come back with a vengeance. Watch out, Master, here she comes! ~sexy wink to Master~
Monday, February 26, 2007
i have a new Master !!
8 December, 2006i have a new Master!
Hegel! Hegel, the great philosopher. Okay, funny -- cute. i liked the title -- i figured it would titillate. Had i not cared about luring you in by way of a provocative title, i might have started like this ...
NOW i finally understand it !!!!!!!!! Finally!!
No -- it wasn't because a beating or punishment got me to finally learn some lesson. Yes -- that is often a very good way of instilling knowledge, contrary to the new lore that that's just an old fashioned approach bordering on the barbaric. W/we all know its alive and well here -- here in the world of Darwinistic pragmatism and infinite journeys.
But this is different. i learned FINALLY what i was trying to grasp and it happened because of a realization after writing my previous post.
i kept having this collision with a wall. It only took me about a year. Hegel! The Master/slave theory! i think i NOW really get it! i mean, i understood all of it but for one integral component -- i could not understand one particular part no matter how hard i tried.
i kept thinking, okay, okay, sure -- i understand paradox as the great qualifier. i understood the part about dependency. Dependency in that the slave ironically becomes more independent in that the fruit of her labor -- that which she creates FOR her Master, actually makes her independent in its creation whereas the Master's fruits are created dependent upon the slave's compliance.
The slave can formulate and create independently because she does it FOR her Master. The Master can formulate and create but His fruits are not achieved without the slave as conduit. she must carry out His wishes in order that He be successful in procuring such fruit. Oh sure, i know this is forward of me and even presumptuous, but i didn't figure it out! Blame Hegel! i'm just translating.
she has the INCENTIVE of her Master and the outcome is that of her own handiwork. Whatever task she performs, the finished result means she achieved it on her own with her Master as her motivation. her Master may want something achieved through the union but the end result has involved the slave's participation. Let's say, He as the Master wants fresh homemade WARM rosemary olive-oil bread (and who wouldn't?!) ... the slave bakes it per Her Master's will or whim, whatever, and she in turn becomes ace baker in her own right and He has His bread because of His slave. His bread is contingent upon her -- her life may be contingent upon His, but her abilities and talents make her extraordinarily independent.
Oh, i could argue too that without incentive, without her Master as her motivation, the task could not be accomplished. Think how miserable i was when without a Master! i could barely function! i was nowhere.
But a King can't be a King if there is no one to rule -- the villagers and the disciples are necessary because the High Priest's position is dependent upon worship. Worshipers learn to make do independently while seeking a King because they have no followers to rely upon, only themselves.
Here is a quote from the great Master of the Master/slave Theory, Hegel:
"... although it appears that the Master has the advantage in having the slave labor on material things for the Master's benefit, the long-run advantage of this is in fact for the slave. For in laboring, in shaping and making things, the slave will find (herself) in what (she) makes. she will have objectified herself in His work, she will come to recognize that the object which she has crafted .......... is her own product, the work of her hands, and that she is the independent self who crafted it. .......... thus, (she) carries out the will of the Master, (but) nevertheless discovers that she is not a thing, not a slave. she discovers her own independent existence as a consciousness with a mind and will and power of her own."
Wow! Impressive! i have chills and hard nipples just from typing that. i'm serious!
i understand this independent/dependent thing but part of me feels sad in understanding it. i'm not one of those slaves who finds strength through some ironic power. i really want to honor and worship my Master because i love seeing Him happy -- both in general and with my performance as His slave. i'm not a person who gets off on undermining. It may be true that a Master actually serves His slave, but i don't want to subscribe to it. i'd rather pretend things are the way the doctrine reads, that being, "slave is nothing without Master". This is one instance where the depth and what lurks underneath has me swimming to the surface. Its the one time when rhetoric is easier to swallow than truth.
But here is the greatest part of all! The part i never quite understood.
According to Hegel, the slave secretly covets the Master's position.
The slave secretly covets the Master's position?
No -- can't be. i wouldn't trade being submissive for being Dominant at all (although i used to say i would like to come back in another life as a Dominant just so i wouldn't have all this emotion and neediness).
i must have pored over that theory a million times trying to understand what He meant by it. i didn't agree but i was willing to agree because everything else Hegel says makes perfect sense.
Last night it started to come to me. i had written about this idea of purpose and reason ... and how a woman at the office wanted me to acknowledge her good work. The woman hadn't even been fishing -- this woman is a humble beautiful soul -- not a thing about her suggests ego or insecurity. (And we all know that the bigger the ego, the greater the insecurity ... just as the greater the insecurity, the more malnourished the ego). This woman is well-balanced but it got me to thinking about me -- me in her shoes -- me in the way i love to be seen.
i love to see myself through Master's eyes. i do for Master because i love to do for Him ................ but WHY? i kept asking myself over and over -- there has to be a reason a slave wants to give. Sure, she receives -- you can't discount that reality -- but, what else? Is anyone really that generous? Is being generous actually a selfish act because you receive a good feeling in your heart? Or you receive accolades? Or you receive repentance in order to forgive yourself? Surely, the act of giving is something to satisfy your own self in some way, right?
And THAT is when it hit me!
Master had posed a question to His slave and He didn't really expect an answer. He was musing but was curious about His slave's input. Immediately after talking, slave went on-line to find the answer. Little Miss Do-er. she sent off two emails to Master with two different charts with answers to the query. she could not wait until morning. she had to do it before He might have asked in more concrete terms.
WHY did i do it? Why does that woman in the office want to do such a good job? Why does a subordinate want to go over and above to do for her Supervisor?
Because she wants to be needed. It sounds almost pathetic. She doesn't really know this consciously though -- or at least, i don't think she does.
i had always just figured it was about obsessiveness (and well, that's a part of it). Or impulsiveness (okay, that's me, too -- that's a definite part of it). i thought i was just being submissive or subservient (here again, okay, that also plays a part).
But, wanting to be "needed"?
"Being needed" is about wanting the Master's position!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Brilliant!
FINALLY, now, i understand!!
i never understood the idea of having power over people and how that could be arousing. But i do understand being needed. A Master is NEEDED. His power is, in part, determined by a person NEEDING Him. There are other components, but this is what Hegel described and now i feel like Hegel's little apprentice in that i want to PREACH Hegel to the world! And, i want to pop corks and have some more of that INSANE 1998 Dom Perignon (~private wink to Master~).
i used to think that that line indicated topping from the bottom. The slave coveting the Master's position -- i read it as her trying to maneuver herself into power by creeping up from underneath. That is why i was rejecting the concept! But i was wrong -- that has nothing to do with it.
i want my Master to need me. The more He needs me, the more certain i feel of my place and my worth. Its like the mother who spoils her kids rotten -- the mother who lets her kids trample her. "Mom, get me this, make me this, fetch mommy, fetch!" She doesn't even know she's being used. She just feels purpose. She's needed. She doesn't even know she's creating monsters.
Thankfully, Masters know that They are creating monsters in Their slaves. Want, want, want ... little sluts become greedy pig-whores. slaves ingratiate themselves -- do, do, do, in order to take, take, take -- take up residence closer and closer to their Master, take what they need in order to give more.
And with this comes what Hegel wrote about. slaves don't really want the Master's position, as it were, they want to be needed. slaves know that their status represents something disposable. they live in fear of being expendable and replaceable. All the while, their attachment deepens which can exacerbate the precariousness and fuel the desire for permanence and commitment (permanent collars, piercings bearing their Master's mark of ownership, brandings).
Of course they covet what the Master owns in His position. A Master's position is primarily the confidence in knowing that He is needed -- He is a vital life-line for the slave. A slave secretly and often unknowingly covets that security -- to be needed in order to ensure that she will not be thrown away -- that is what she seeks even when she doesn't know it herself.
And hey! Look what i did! i finally figured it out ... with inspiration from my Master, with His nurturing, His reassurances, His supervision, His MAD PASSIONATE hands and cock and wicked smart mind ... but i finally figured it out, just like Hegel said, independently and all on my own. Wow i feel strong!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Let me tell you what i don't know so that i can tell you what i do know.
9 December, 2006i don't really know where i was for the first few months of my life. i'm told i was in foster care. i was also told that i lived in an orphanage (and that was told to me with emotional fanfare of the sort with violins and multiple martinis). i think foster care is the accurate version.
i had one name that was a common Irish name. i had another name that was a customized German one. And well, i've a had a few nicknames which are derivatives of the given name ... and of course, now i have some new names of endearment like "baby" (my favorite as given to me by Master), slave, slut, whore, bitch, pig, and cunt. Ahh, life is beautiful when you get to wear alot of hats!
i don't really know the circumstances of my birth. my birth mother tells me she was gang raped at 14. Her other children tell me she is a habitual liar. Her bestfriend tells me my birth father was my birth mother's highschool sweetheart, all Irish, and a gas station attendant. my instinct tells me that the bestfriend is right. my heart tells me to believe whatever makes me feel best and that would be the Irish boy gas station attendant version. i'm also told that He's dead and that's too bad ... but, that's okay -- i'll imagine that He and i would have gotten along famously.
i don't know if my father -- the other father -- my real father -- really tricked me into believing about his final legacy. i don't know if he really played a part in the deed that was done or if some lowlife came along and took advantage of the morphine. The lowlife was dispensing it afterall. The lowlife was more damaged than me -- he had more reason to hate. i'll never know for sure. i'll never know if the deed was at the hands of my own father or someone else. i'll never know if my father betrayed me. my mind has decided it was a joint effort -- both a troubled father and the monster he created stabbing him back and stabbing me as a fine scapegoat. And then, of course, i'm the symbol of all neither one of them could ever be. Its easiest to just not have a total answer at this point, otherwise, i'd have a vendetta to settle and i'm tired of vendettas inspired by the vigilante in me.
i don't know why that other one went and did what he did. But i'm glad he did it. If he hadn't gone and done himself in, my most loved ones would today be in harm's way. i remember the terror we faced -- the terror that meant i was the ultimate mother hen -- i had to protect and balance and provide AND fight off fear and pretend it wasn't there. Instead, he spared us -- he did us a favor. Sometimes the ultimate sins of one are beneficial to others. my soul tells me that sometimes God is wrong about "forgiveness". Criminals and those who abandon children don't need our forgiveness -- i'd say, go ask a Priest for your forgiveness! i don't believe in infinite forgiveness. i believe in resolution and closure. i think this makes me the most religious person in the world. i believe in my own religion -- the one i designed. Besides, as far as ethics go, abandonment is hardly being responsible in handing over a burden to someone else.
For those who have read this far, i am not equating adoption with abandonment. Far from it! Adoption is beautiful. Its abandonment that scars. Abandonment is betrayal. You either fend for your loved ones, make provisions for their well-being or you don't.
i don't' know what went through my own mother's mind in those last years of her young life. For the sake of clarification, i'll say adoptive mother but she was my real mother. i don't know who she was on an adult level, only a canonized level. i do know that she was beautiful. my dreaminess tells me that we would be very close if she were here. i'm told all the time that i'm just like her. my psyche was probably nurtured through her quiet. If not for her, i do know that i wouldn't have lasted.
i don't know how it is that God granted me guardian angels in massive quantity and little good luck fairies. i don't know how its possible that i can feel so exuberant and so dark, both at the same time. i can laugh over nothing and i can brood even when happy. i don't know how it is that i can be grateful for hardship! Its bizarre. But i am. Each trial has brought me to a better place, a higher ground.
i love when i can look at someone else's hardship and keep mine tucked away out of sight. It makes me feel so strong! It makes me smile. When things used to be difficult, i couldn't listen to anyone -- i needed them to listen to me. When they smiled, i cried. Now i cry from smiling! i cry from joy! i am a much better listener (as hard as that is to believe from yours truly, the incessant expressive ~wink~).
Today i heard a girl explain that her hero was her grandfather. He survived a Nazi concentration camp as a teen and then once free and married, His young wife died and He raised four children on his own. Now that is someone to admire. God i LOVE that league of people.
Meanwhile, all the supposed heroes who tell you to worship them ... isn't it funny. i love examining life even if its a matter of looking at blood and guts. The bad bothers me but oddly, the microscope makes looking at it so much easier.
i really don't mind myself anymore. i used to think i was tainted. Too complex no matter that the common ridicule was to see me as stupid. i LOVE that i have never doubted that the things i felt made me smart, but now i LOVE that i have less to prove. i love that i can look at the self-important and the martyrs and now quietly tick off another box on my mental tally pad -- yep, i know so much more about them than they know of themselves but now i can keep quiet about it.
i've talked with people who have never attended a funeral in all of their lives. i've heard people say how they don't visit hospitals. Hospitals are off limits even if their old great granny has only one day left and signed her final greeting card to the little one refusing to visit. i hate hospitals. i hope to never visit another sick person in my life. i wish no one would GET sick or be born sick or be conditioned to be or GET sick. i know that that's a pollyanna statement but i also DON'T know why its such a bad thing to state. Why are pollyanna statements considered insipid?
i am so lucky. i am so happy. That depression i feel sometimes? Thank God those little good luck fairies come along hand in hand with the guardian angels ... i am in love every single second of my life now. A year ago, i was happy, but not this happy. my life is still evolving. i can't pretend that a relationship is not the only way for me. i can't say that i would be happy if not being a collared slave. i am complete now! i can ENJOY all these other magnificent parts of my life now as a result of placing my love with a deserving recipient. i found a home for this burden i had carried.
On a day like today, i am exuberant about all this fantastic time i'm having this weekend even though unfortunately, Master and His slave had to skip one weekend of being together. It didn't used to be like that! i used to face severe separation anxiety -- i used to fall apart. i was so much MORE insecure. Forming deep attachments has its price!
So, here i am, enjoying all my encounters and activities (and yes, even the drudgery of chores) ... and yet only a week ago i asked if anyone had seen my Serotonin in the Lost & Found. i cope better now! Master shot me up with repeated loads of jism and strength! i can be bubbly or angst-ridden or reflective and i'm not so angry at myself anymore.
i love every single difficulty i have ever conquered ... and there have been enough. i have discarded all the possible triggers to anymore difficulty. i've burned a few bridges but they had fallen apart already anyway, so there was nothing to salvage. Now if only i can just get myself to understand that you can't please everyone and not everyone is going to like you and darnit -- it doesn't matter! Life is not high-school!
i think about how i LOVE how i know so much and yet i know nothing. i've been robbed, i've been fired, i've been set-up, i've been scammed, i've fought serious battles without troops and i've stood up when others would have sat down ... and yet, i'm not a prostitute junkie with AIDS. i COULD have been! It would not have been a stretch.
i love that although i know nothing of surviving in the wild, i know about surviving in society and i'd say its a whole lot less civilized than the wild. i'd like to commune with the animals. i'd like to stay pure and LOW and as lascivious as possible. i'd like to remember that i did everything once and great things MORE than twice. i'd like to remember that much of what i did, i did on my own. Then i'd like to put that away in my keepsake box and just lie back naked with my legs spread wide open while Master hunts and gathers. Then i can just savor the fact that i belong to Master.
my reduction feeds me because now i'm connected. You can't be reduced without an umbilical, a tether, a leash. i ached for a tighter leash for a long time. i couldn't say goodbye to Master on a weekend when it meant enemas all over the place, my insides completely crushed and twisted so that humiliation felt like my most precious discovery ever. i couldn't and i can't separate passion from love -- i don't come back up out of it -- i don't leave sub-space. Sub-space just transforms itself into another space -- the "deeper in love" space.
i finally let go of my notions of what i needed -- i let go to let Master hold the leash in whatever fashion HE wanted, whether it be tight or with an ample lead. i became a better slave. i became more secure as a result of the insecurity i feared would worsen.
Oh, i don't know if any of this is making sense. All i know is that the more i let go, the lower Master takes me, the higher i soar, and the greater the view of all the ground i've covered and conquered. i'm lucky because i have the phoenix-eye view up here. That much i know.
OMG, help us Lord !!
10 December, 2006Oh my God, help us Lord! i just re-read my previous post and thought, wow, that's sure heavy. Heavy as in H E A V Y -- a drawn out weight. What happened to vivaciousness?
That's okay. i was reflective. But i want something else. i want my time with Master! At least if He's consumed with pressing matters, i'd like to be His refuge. i'd like to get back to being a sexual creature and Him desiring it without interference.
Too much patience, too much orgasm denial, too little INTIMATE time with Master, makes baby a BIG FAT eunuch! Gosh i need to get back to the gutter. i miss my filthy mind. i'm so darn obedient that i've now gotten to the point of dismissing my easy-arousal before it appears.
It used to be that i had orgasms as a form of procrastination. Its like i snacked on them and escaped to them. Don't feel like doing laundry? Have an orgasm. Bored? Divert with an orgasm. Depressed? Try an orgasm. Stressed out? Swallow an orgasm. Just got home from work? Time for an orgasm! Late to work? What can i say -- i couldn't start the day without one. Then Master instituted orgasm denial and it was a matter of imposed discipline. It required effort to comply.
Now its by rote. Now it has become so ingrained in me, that its automatic. Biological. Its like my libido grew security guards who are stationed at posts way far away from the libido -- its like they are there to prevent me from getting into trouble. They've been on the job for over two years now! They only get time off when i'm with Master -- and wow, its a good thing the guards aren't around then! They'd see all their work shot to heck.
How can i undo biology and conditioning tonight? Channeling Darwin ... Pavlov ... anyone there? How can i undo this conditioning JUST IN mY MIND (not in practice) so that i can just get back to where i thrive and flourish? i think i'm afraid to go to those places of sick base imaginings because although i can easily access them, i know that frustration will be too much to bear right now. i guess i'm protecting myself in a way. If i get into my favorite pig-slop and smut, i'll need to start browsing the internet for it. i do NOT want to do that -- if i start, it will go all night!
A friend of mine said that since i had surgery, it is like having gone through childbirth and a woman has to adjust and get back to "normal" hormonally. That isn't my problem anymore! i'm ready to go!!!!!!!!!!!! i think deprivation DOES incite gluttony.
Its bad enough when there is distance -- its bad enough to have to be someone else right now (rather than the doped up giddy slave) ... but then to feel something as if its real while wanting to TOUCH it ------------------------------ i mean, to start thinking of -------------------- that dog run in the park. How Master will bring me there each week and how some of the owners will be invited to a little secluded area down one of the back paths leading to the dog run. Master will do this each week. Each week i'll know its coming. He'll tell His friends that, oh yeah, well, I have to take her to the park today. It will be implied that what started as some very degrading use has now become something to which i really look forward. There will be a few regulars i must get off. On these days, Master will later, over dinner, ask how it feels to know that today, i got off six of them plus two of the owners. How does it feel to have sucked off so many cocks in one day? And all different kinds? Do they taste different? Do i have a favorite one? Maybe Master can arrange for me to have it more often. i'll be brainwashed. That is the part i love. Master will talk to me about it and stroke me for being such a good girl.
Oh and then those pics i just downloaded the other day ............. i don't know why bigger has to be better. It just is! i feel SICK about it -- i can't help it. i really want to slap those things around and completely dehumanize the girl. When the day comes and i have some big tits in front of me (someone else's rather than my own ~happy wink~), i will probably want to hood the girl. i won't want to see her face at all. i will only want her tits. And i'll want them at my disposal ALL night. i'll severely beat them and then i'll want to suckle myself to sleep, all the while without her even present. i love that she'll become brainwashed. i love that she'll not think twice about the hood and my removal of her nor the marks all over her tits -- she'll want it as much as i do.
Alright --------------------- its working! i'm on my way. That was a very good test. i was getting a little worried.
Deep sigh. And still ...........................
i need to be used soon. i need Master to get into me soon without the world coming in, too.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Caged Bliss
1 December, 2006A dog likes his cage because its safe and he doesn't have to worry about the neighbor's big dog with the massive jaw that will be lurking around the next corner. He gets to rest in his cage. He truly gets to REST.
A slave has for years been out there in the world flopping around, fending for herself, fighting off predators and even vultures on occasion, and she has had to carry around the weight of the world AND that heavy armor ... the shield, the sword, along with the ball and chain. How magnificent when she gets to STRIP it all away -- when her Master yanks it off of her for good ... when she gets to be bare naked exposed and for a change, without her own inadequate protection, but the safety she sought, now delivered from her Master.
This is entirely the ideology behind my cage. But it isn't always with this purpose. Punishment in the cage is horrendous to me -- it means i am separated from my Master.
Now ... let's visit the various cages ... as if we're window shopping!
i remember a few years ago feeling DESPERATE to feel the cage because my libido was wanting it. It was very primal, of course. Things are different now. Experiences are always unique and the Ones guiding you are unique and you grow and you change and so, i can't say i'm turned on by my cage, but i do enjoy it. Master has not trained me to live in the cage but i suppose, had He, i'd be telling a different story.
It used to be that the cage represented another dungeon fixture, no different from say, the cross or the breeding bench. It aroused me. That was its only purpose -- it was not anything used for discipline (and again, i'll remind the world that discipline is NOT a synonym for punishment -- discipline has to do with TEACHING ~exasperated roll of the eyes ... with smile~).
There were a few times, thankfully not many, when Master threw me into the cage and locked it and kept me there because i had done something wrong. There was that time when a lady friend really wanted to use me and there W/we were, the three of U/us awakening in Master's bed and she went to lick my pussy without permission and well, i was my usual swayable self -- too afraid to hurt someone's feelings by saying NO. i did TRY to say no -- i wanted to remind her that she had to ask Master but instead i nudged Master as if to report her -- to get Him to stop her so i didn't have to -- and right at that moment, just as her tongue was about to touch my clit, Master sat up, grabbed me by the hair and then the hand and marched me to my cage. Wow was that a shock to the lady friend.
i felt terrible remorse -- i never want to displease Master -- but even then, in the cage, it meant i was kept. i'd be corrected but i would not be discarded. The cage is a safe place. i'd rather be punished than for Master to not care about correcting me.
Then there was a worse time of punishment -- the time when i felt like i was serving a life sentence! i became restless ... i called out to Master after having been silent for .., who knows? An hour? Two hours? When He didn't answer, i started panicking. But you see, here again, this is a marvelous tool! i never repeated the bad behavior at issue again. i learned. It grew me into a better slave for Master.
Imagine if vanilla couples who quarrel would use such a simple remedy! The submissive one would be thrown in a cage and removed from the environment. she'd still be there, but she would not be able to antagonize -- T/they would disengage and respect each other rather than trying to change each other which basically means no respect at all.
One leader, one follower -- it is an ideal way to succeed in affairs of the heart! Even the leader changing the follower is not change as is known elsewhere -- He can't mold the little one unless He accepts her for who she is and then uses those traits to build what He likes out of her. Hence, she still gets to be herself but a BETTER self! Add here the cage and all it entails -- its versatile function, and well, just imagine it further! "i, helen, take You, Sir Lancelot, to be my Master and Lover and Disciplinarian and i promise to serve 'til death do U/us part or You deem me unworthy ... and i promise to submit to Your whip, Your penis, and Your cage that will contain me forever."
Sometimes the cage becomes a home away from home. Master tells me that His former slave REALLY loved the cage. she'd spend hours in there. she'd awaken in the morning and Master would want to continue to sleep and she'd request to be put in her cage. The cage was in a different room! she'd sit in her cage silent. For hours. Apart from her Master.
i can bet indeed that she was very happy. i'm a different kind of slave so i'm not sure i could find the same pleasure. i think her pleasure of the prolonged amounts of time just sitting in her cage not even interacting with Master was a matter of her desiring THAT much protection. Perhaps her life when leaving Master's physical care was that scary to her that her cage was truly her Sanctuary.
i relate to the cage in similar fashion but i am much too much of a sap to be apart from Master for long. i'd be more happy in His back pocket all the time -- just carried around and at His disposal.
There are romantic times in the cage, too, of course. The times that i get to rest in it after a very intense session when passion feels like Romeo & juliet despair turned poignant ... and then sometimes i even have breakfast in there. Master will pull up a chair and open up the cage so that He can feed me. It feels ethereal and i feel pretty. It really feels like the perfect statement of "Master and slave".
There was the REALLY arousing time when i was confined in my cage and Master pulled up a chair to clean shrimp and He used the top of the cage as a surface. Sometimes W/we are just near each O/other and there is no talking -- it is a sensational tickling of all senses when i just get to FEEL Master's presence while i am incidental. Lots of times, i am like an animated appendage when Master approaches a task. Other times i'm just there. i morph into a fixture, hopefully akin to an object d' art. It is a very interesting feeling. i don't even know how to describe it. All i know is that its arousing.
Its also arousing to think of the day when Master will assess another slave there in the middle of the room while i watch from behind the bars of my cage. i don't' know why that kind of removal of me and the imposed separation from the activity feels so stimulating. i think it must be the masochist in me. Or the voyeur. Probably the masochist more than anything -- for some reason, the aching for Master feels like the beginning of an intoxication -- the onset when the high is one you're attempting to reach.
i LOVE the sensation of looking up, reaching up and knowing that things are just slightly out of my grasp -- i WANT to stretch further than i'm capable. The climb is as invigorating as reaching the peak. i love imagining Master reviewing the other slave's body and turning her around to examine her matter-of-factly, but i OOZE HEAT when envisioning the next step, that being Him lubing up His cock to enter her while i am forced to watch from my cage. If not for the cage, i don't think it would have nearly the effect.
When Master puts me in my cage and goes out of the room, i feel special. This is the more rudimentary version of my cage. It represents the routine and the rhythm of my life as Master's slave. He doesn't allow me to roam around ... EVER! If i am in His home, i am either chained or caged. There is never a time when i'm flipping about on my own, doing my own thing, and the only thing close to it is if W/we are together and He has allowed me to dance or do my make-up and hair or use my litter-box. Otherwise, He makes sure i am secured by chain on my slave rug, in my doggy bed, in His bed, or in my cage.
Ironic as it is, it really is the ultimate Princess treatment. The greatest thing of all, is that i'm always tethered and contained! i don't have to worry about the neighbor's big dog with the massive jaw anymore.
i'm found and brought home and cared for in a way that is completely contrary to general animal regard. i'm the pampered pet like some ugly little Chihuahua with a Gucci collar on Park Avenue. Other times, i'm the playful faithful mutt in the park and other times still, i'm the sleek elegant Borzoi on the dog-show runway. i'm no longer out there in the junk pile having to be scrappy just to hold down my turf. Survival is really not an issue these days. i don't have to fend for myself anymore -- there's now someOne Who will consistently defend me and keep me safe, locked up, and in His cage. my cage is really a palace of grand scale and epic proportion.
T R I N I T Y
Okay, so i love this girl, Trinity. She's a sweetheart from the days when they discovered sliced bread (meaning, she has SIGNIFICANCE that can't be surpassed!). She posed some sentence beginnings and here are my ends.1. I love... LOVE
2. I'm pissed off that... there is not enough time
3. If I could have one wish instantly granted... an unlimited express pass for Nitro Rollercoaster at Six Flags Great Adventure
4. One thing I haven't done that I really want to try is... surfing (waves, that is -- the internet is covered -- i'm ace!)
5. I sincerely miss... here in Blogland? Mistress Savanna's omnipresent wrath and vulnerability Elsewhere? Lauren Hill, D'Angelo, and my mom and my grandma (use reverse order for preferencing).
6. I can't live without... love
7. My worst memory is... when i disappointed a child
8. I'm embarrassed by... my need for attention
9. I crave... rough sex and thorough use
10. My best quality or characteristic is... i'm true-blue
11. My worst quality or characteristic is... my temper ... and well, my neediness ... and maybe too, my naivete which when shocked, jump-starts my temper which triggers my neediness
12. I have a weakness for... muscles and muscle cars
13. My guilty pleasure is... i feel guilty about none of my pleasures
14. My favorite color is... all colours except mustard
15. Three adjectives about the color that made me choose it are that it is... adjectives? how about reasons instead? colourful, all-encompassing, every colour has its unique inherent beauty (aww, so sweet)
16. If I could have any animal for a pet it would be... an iguana
17. Three adjectives about the animal that made me choose it are that it is... WILD, exotic, freaky
18. If I could swim in any body of water it would be... Caribbean, South Pacific and parts of the Indian Ocean
19. Three adjectives about that body of water that made me choose it are... clear, still, mysterious ... may i add a fourth? awe-inspiring
20. And now for my own little complete-the-sentence challenge...
By doing this little survey-Q&A, i learned that... i am pitifully self-absorbed yet not terribly ashamed.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
11 December, 2007i love Frank Sinatra; i love that He's from Hoboken and well, but of course! -- i lived in Hoboken (once upon a time). When i hear New York, NY, i feel ROBUST. i had the greatest day today! In New York, NY.
i probably don't really love Frank Sinatra. i just really like the sound of His voice as a nostalgic thing. i love that it represents the Daddy i saw sometimes. i love that the voice is an era, a martini, a Man owning a woman. i like representations and symbols.
i'm a born and bred New Yorker. i don't care what anyone says -- we're the friendliest people in the world. W/we're used to change! Transients. You HAVE to be friendly if you're going to adapt to change all the time. When i see a person contemplating a map, i usually butt in to offer help. i know Manhattan like the back of my hand. i feel completely safe in NY. Dark streets at 3am -- you can't ask for a safer place (depending on the neighborhood). i could take you on a tour of my career and the places i frequented and it would be every bit as interesting as the double decker tour out of Times Square. Wait until you see Kiehls! Arturos! The Old Town! Sam's Umbrellas! Modern Artificial! State Supply Props! Canal Street Plastics! The funky squater loft in Alphabet City that is now worth a cool eight million -- i was there! i was there! See my initials in the cement, my fingerprints on the bedroom wall?
Okay -- when i lived in the city, i eventually couldn't wait to get out. The only thing i didn't like was all the spit and piss everywhere. Who knew? Who knew that now i'd like it so much? (~wink~ and strong need to say "FROM MASTER THAT IS" ). The stench drove me out of the subways and yet now i gravitate to the gutter. Ironic!
Today, i said my New York prayers. They go something like this: "i love NY. The city is my life-line. ONLY in NY! You can get ANYTHING you want in NY. You can FIND anything and everything you want in NY. Maybe someday i should get a studio apartment in the city just so i always have a place in NY? Well, who knows, ya never know. Maybe after the beachfront property in Honduras. Amen."
After a meeting in the city today, i met Master for lunch. Wow, it felt like eternity since last seeing Him eight days ago. Instantly, Master showed me off to His colleagues (as opposed to just having me make the rounds to say hello) and then He closed His office door to bend me over the chair and use my cunt. All i could do when He pulled out was exclaim, "oh Master, this is GREAT! -- Your slave is completely back to normal now!!". my new boobs are still a little tender and the nipples are now more sensitive (ya-hoo! great!), but otherwise, i am SO READY for the poundings as i used to know them pre-boob-job.
Master took me out for sushi and W/we were back where i LOVE to be. Master directed me to drape my leg over His. i usually do this automatically but the sushi bar didn't leave much room what with Master's long legs ... and oh ---------- dreamy sigh -- i just LOVE being near Master. His handsomeness makes His Sadism look weak.
Oh and there is so much more! Silly stuff but the stuff i enjoy when i'm high. You know how it is -- when you're high, everything is so much more ticklish. i'm high in love all the time but sometimes i'm on the wane until its kick-started again.
After saying goodbye to Master, i walked 37th Street to Sixth Avenue. GOD, i LOVE NY! This is the place where everything has its own designated neighborhood. The Armenian rug neighborhood. The Turkish rug neighborhood. The lighting district. The photo district (no more bye bye gone replaced by retail). The garment district ... the flower district (just below the garment district) ... and the accessories district -- trim and beads and buttons 'til your heart's content.
No one knows it but if you walk 37th Street, all the stores say "wholesale only" and you think to just mosey by (even though you saw a fabulous hobble skirt in the window that you HAD TO HAVE) BUT some places will sell individual pieces. i found a sample sale!! i am ecstatic!! $5 tops, $5 sundresses ... AND can i tell you that they are to-die-for SEXY and SKIN-TIGHT?! These places sell to Bloomies and God knows what high-end boutique in Soho ... and then again, they only buy select lots. i got stuff i've never seen before! Wow, i'm going to be SO decked out!
There were a few Christmas shopping stops, too (lest we not forget the PURPOSE of my shopping spree) ... like for my cat and well, i skipped the new cat collar because that cost more than three of the previously mentioned sundresses. i couldn't justify it.
i did find two vests that are not down vests but, hey, they're a layer and they're a great gift for some paintball people i know and well too, $5 each! Even if i didn't have recipients in mind, i'd find some! Made in Myanmar (formerly? come on ... take a guess ... you got it! Burma) and dropped from the last truck that someone unloaded. Only in NY! Gosh it reminds me of that leather tie Christmas. How embarrassing in retrospect. Leather ties were sold on every street corner during the 80s new wave craze and well, guess what everyone got for Christmas that year? Yep -- even Grandpa.
Eventually i made my way to Bryant Park. THIS is Christmas to me. They now have an ice-skating rink and all sorts of little tents and huts set up for holiday shopping. Crafts and boutique items and a FABULOUS tobacco sweater dress that would hug Salma Hayek (and now me!) just right. There are cafe tables scattered all over the place and that too makes me feel romantic.
Even Grand Central makes me happy. i love the space. i love that Michael Jordan's has become a fixture there -- it speaks to exactly what i love about NY. PURE TALENT acting upon SUPREME FINDS. i've only eaten there once with Master but to sit in that space with mega-high ceilings and gaze out over a most remarkable landmark while being squashed by about eight hundred thousand tons of AIR (ha ha) above your head, is reason enough to try beefsteak tomatoes at $24 a pop.
If you visit NY, visit Grand Central. At rush hour. You'll understand. Even chaos feels tranquil.
Normally rush hour agitates me. Today it didn't. i got two brownie/cheesecakes from Juniors to go (Juniors! Oh i love NY!) ... grabbed another water from the cocktail & beer-to-go vendor at the entrance to the tracks and made my way to the train. Its a pretty neat thing to take in the thoughtfulness of these vendors. They're so considerate! i mean, really -- they have the cocktails for the traders coming home from Wall Street ... they have flowers dirt cheap for the husbands coming home late again and forgetting the milk three nights in a row. And its just really a very human, very real type of relating that goes on. i love these people! They're efficient and they act before you ask. New Yorkers are intuitive.
Wow -- what a really great day! i'm exhausted. i think its from all that talking i did with Master. He wears me out (whether from f-ing my brains out or taking me down or listening to me talk a blue streak). Oh --------------- ! Darn! i forgot to mention the Capezio shop ... and the travel book store that hasn't been the famous travel book store in five years now contrary to my asking the Man at the desk if the shop had decided to now make it a travel & used book store. Wow -- they had a rare Madeline book for $385! Must be pretty rare.
Oh and the geode store!!!!!!!!!!!!! The gems and rocks and minerals and nautiluses and fossils and ----------------- ... gee, those would make good gifts. Gosh you could get me anything in NY and i'd love it for a gift. Even that studio apartment -- that would be a great gift. ~wink~
ORAL FIXATION
12 December, 2006
i guess it all makes sense.
Hand to mouth.
Cock to mouth.
Today, something came up and as per the usual, its one of those unexpected blows. Once you think you're catching up, BOOM, fall out. Maybe living hand to mouth is common for the cock to mouth types? Artists and sensualists -- are they always with flood or famine? Its just another oral fixation -- something out of our control and something that keeps the mouth occupied. Namely, HUNGER.
(Illustration: Loic Dubigeon)
Engineered for Good Living
14 December, 2006The seats on the train are designed to accommodate an average size person fairly comfortably, granted, with no room to spare. For someone like me, i'm very comfortable. For a large framed or chubby or tall person, they fit, albeit, snugly. But, they do fit.
But even the large framed person is a minority, never mind the little people -- they're a micro-minority. i mean, Lebron James being large is a proportionate large -- His height dictates His weight and while He may have a little difficulty fitting into one of the seats, you have to remember that the train is for common folk, not for the transporting of Gods.
The problem is that most people require a seat and a half. They have to walk sideways to move through the aisles.
It isn't that the train interior is designed poorly, its that people don't design their lives very well. They don't seem to mind waddling or huffing and puffing or imposing their blubber and their breath on the world. On top of that, they wear big GIGANTIC puffed out down coats and they carry multiple bags and hot coffee without a sip-top AND a sticky doughnut, the napkin for which they usually leave under the seat. You'll probably find a copy of the NY Post nearby.
One woman had to sit on an angle with her knees blocking the aisle. She had taken a fold-down seat near the door. No arm-rests, thank goodness for her. Everyone had to say, "excuse me" to her as they passed. She said "excuse me" to no one.
Some of the seats face each other. i'm lucky if i sit there -- you wouldn't know it because you'd think you're in for trouble what with having to sit knee-to-knee with someone. But usually only people who fit in such spots will attempt it. These are polite people. They don't intrude. They yank their backpacks and briefcases up on their laps or up to their chests and huddle. They have room to introduce their own baggage into their personal space instead of taking up everyone else's personal or communal space.
The train scares me. It used to excite me. i remember the sleeper cars with my mom from New York to Chicago. Sometimes the train lulls me ... but that is only when i can relax. So long as some people are forcing accommodation to standards that aren't meant to be, i'm uncomfortable there in my comfortable seat.
Its too bad those so-called standards have changed so dramatically. Why do Americans keep getting larger and taking up more space? Why is this a rich nation with fat poor? Other countries have skinny, emaciated poor. Rice and beans are just as cheap as chips and Burger King. i feel wistful really -- not angry or resentful -- i just muse that some of the old ways might be nice here in the modern world. i mean, look at the handwriting in the 1800s! EVERYONE had beautiful handwriting! Just check out an inscription in an old book -- i saw one the other day -- 1871 "for Charles -- this book is presented to you as a reward for good penmanship -- (signed), Miss Lily". i love Charles! i love Miss Lily!
Like the sleeper car with my mom, i miss the other nostalgic, heart-warming images. Like the damsel tied to the tracks -- a pre-cursor to my bondage inclinations. And the children's book, The Little Engine Who Could. And too, when the subways were graffiti-ed like they were in the opening sequence to Welcome Back Kotter. i guess i'm really an unconventional old-fashioned kind of girl. i just wish people would fit into the seats assigned to them.
A Brand New Sensation
14 December, 2006Very interesting. i had not experienced it before. It used to be that i attracted Men so much so that i got to learning how to do it beyond doing it naturally. Everything i did was for Men. my entire way of relating to the world was about being a woman displaying and presenting myself to Men.
That often turned to being more in line with being a little girl seeking protection from Men. Or a slut being doped up confused but accepting about why some Men came (literally) and went, never to return. That then became a matter of being crushed by Men either by the headiness of power squashing me or Their sex-ing me, sucking me dry, spitting me out. Basically, my big M.O. was to make sure i was remembered as a very sexy coquette and a great lay. Anything else really didn't matter. i wasn't after love then; i was after being remembered as special. It probably had something to do with the acquiescing to being discarded or trashed.
There has been this new great thing happening. i'm branching out! i've noticed that many of my loyal blog watchers are submissive females and some of the ones who comment most are the ones who are deeply submissive. Its like they KNOW what i'm talking about and then they are relieved to see their own feelings expressed. i cannot begin to explain how happy this makes me feel. Never mind my own validation seeking, i'm giving them their validation! It is a sensational feeling. i've never felt it before aside from little tastes of it when helping a friend through a crisis.
i told Master about this the other day. Then, low and behold, the very next morning, i looked at my blog and guess who visited?
Male 47
Male 40
Male 41
Male 38
Male 56
Male 47
Male 48
This is just great! i haven't lost my technique!
Seriously ... This is really still just great! It is so funny! It was what i was ALWAYS after ALL the time previously. MEN IN DROVES. Now i see who viewed me and it runs the gamut. Depending on the title of my blog (so i think), visitors can be, well, basically, market researched! my "New York, New York" post drew Men primarily in Their 40s and 50s (my cup of tea ~wink~). That brings me to say that i rarely dated Men my own age -- i had that looking up thing going on even back in the pre-pubescent day. But now, it is just the WILDEST thing -- so ticklish and rewarding. my audience is richer. i'm finding what i had been missing before. Sisters. SISTERS!! Now i'm not just getting off on how i'm remembered -- i'm getting off on the serious here and now.
With Men, i wanted to be remembered. With women, i'm learning that remembrance is past tense and present tense is all about empowerment. i could fail with women and still, i'd be remembered as a great lay.
someone attempted to break into my bubble
15 December, 2006i startled out of my sleep before the break of dawn and opened my eyes. i saw a blog page! It was a comment left on my blog. It recounted very specific details of my life. It identified me. Someone had found me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone broke in!
i closed my eyes. With my eyes closed, i saw the gigantic screen -- my highschool graduation date was there, along with my name and an itemization of my former addresses and references to other significant dates. There were descriptions of people i know. It was a scary "This Is Your Life" episode. It was menacing -- threatening. i was petrified!
It was so bad that some other part of my brain stepped in to offer aid. i consciously said, "okay -- i'm going to open my eyes again and PRAY that that blog page is NOT there like the big projection screen i just saw". i opened my eyes and saw the big picture window in my bedroom instead. i saw the moonlight and silhouettes of trees. The chiffon drapes were still. Calm registered. i was relieved.
Someone invaded my bubble last night. It was a violation. It was my sub-conscious talking to my consciousness. Obviously, i can eradicate demons but they must actually be haunting ghosts. They don't belong in my life. i must guard my bubble with all my might. i can never let anyone or anything shatter my world again, not even my fears of the people who ATTEMPTED to destroy me before.
OBJECTIFICATION; does form follow function?
17 December, 2006Oh, thank goodness that things are getting back to normal!
Finally, after one full month, i got to get back to my slave position in its entirety. Well, almost. Granted, i still have really drifted so far away from my disciplined life that i have yet to REALLY get there. But every step is a step nonetheless. Besides, if i'm at least of sexual use, i feel more in tune to my place of being. Function first, form follows.
Friday night, i got to Master's home and the simplest of actions felt foreign. "Mount down" -- my once favorite position, had now become a bit of a conundrum. my new big tits were in the way of my knees! (Okay, well, agreed -- there are worse conundrums in life. ~wink~)
Master f-ed my brains out. His penis was a furious weapon and He told me later that indeed, He was taking out His three plus weeks of frustration on His slave. His profession is demanding but the past few weeks have been brutal and this is one of the best things for a slave -- i was so happy about it! No, not about Master's difficulties, but about my place of providing an outlet -- my place of being a refuge for Master. It is the best thing i can offer Master -- even better than bringing Him gifts or personal service. my favorite thing to be is both an object for His release, AND a remedy for the stresses of life.
His release and my remedy can run the gamut -- it can be His own personal release sexually or psychologically when He just wishes to have my company and no interaction. Or it can be His penchant for being a consummate host to His friends and my being just another possession to share, or yet it can be His need for escape -- my being whatever He wants me to be. my form follows the function He wishes to utilize.
i love when He can use me as His punching bag, SANS the abuse. Oh if only Men elsewhere in life could understand the beauty of this! And Their women, too! If only T/they all understood that a woman's place, if she really wants a fairy tale princess life, is to be the peasant brought to life through subordinance. i have a regal life, all because i have stepped up to kneel at Master's feet. The podium is carpeted in purple velvet and the seemingly harsh is really plush.
This weekend was so reassuring! Having been away from my normal utilitarian function, i was living this life of quasi-vanilla. Oh sure, each day of my life is still immersed in ordinary life but what makes it so wonderful is knowing that now being complete, i have my spirit courted and my hand held so that everything is manageable without my heart and libido screaming for attention. i have purpose! i'm no longer just folly.
The heart and libido were essentially on hold after the boob-job -- i had to operate post-operation without my soul for a short while and the impact was that of, say, a dabbling submissive with a lenient Master. Recuperation required Master's forgiving certain slave requirements and well, having felt this, i took advantage. But that's another subject, another blog for another day. Let's not talk about that right now! Let's focus on all things romantic ..................................... (~big dreamy DRAMATIC sigh~) ...
Because it has taken this long for me to feel "normal" again since surgery, i had not had orgasms other than the little blips on the radar -- you know, the clitoral daisies. Yeah, you recognize them, but you don't skyrocket. They're not roses. They're perfectly enjoyable, but they are NOTHING compared to those battering SICK MEGA SHOCK THE NEIGHBORS type.
i must have been screaming my head off for one hour STRAIGHT. It was insane! The entrance foyer -- the place where the threshold connects the foyer to the living room, the living room itself, my slave rug -- well, the neighbors must fear a cold-blooded murder when i'm around, what with my maniacal screams, but they must also have alerted the superintendent about the leaks from the space upstairs. Surely the floor boards are buckling and the ceiling below is dropping wet plaster. i am not kidding that finally getting to be normal meant feeling superhuman. Orgasms and squirting were cataclysmic and so numerous that you wouldn't believe me if i told you anyway, so why count? Just trust me when i say that quality was on par with quantity!
At a point, Master wanted me in that position i'm not so fond of. i'm big into being on all fours, but i'll admit that i'm not the rider-type. i like being ridden. Master insists that His slaves be real whores as in the porn star type. He wants them to service not just receive. He likes to sit on the couch with His cock extended and for me to be on all fours and ride it. He likes me to stroke it like a good hand job, but with my pussy. He likes it mixed up and varied -- He wants a really creative and stylistic technique. It is my least favorite thing!
i'm so much more into being an object. i am a creative person, but i don't like being creative sexually -- i'm into function! i'm a Louis Henri Sullivan devotee. Here again, "form follows function"! Then again, okay -- i'm lying -- i'm using that as my cover. i actually believe that they are intertwined just as the statement was intended but famously misinterpreted. What's a good blow job without a beautifully drawn mouth with the perfect cupid's bow arch and the most delectable shade of ruby sucking it properly like a good whore should?
Form requires function, function requires form. They are integral to each other. i can't be a perfect receptacle unless i'm also a pretty little girl, thus making the use of the receptacle all the filthier.
So, i attempted, of course, to do a good job with this pussy-sucking-cock technique on all fours service and i managed to get by with what i'd call a C+. It was mediocre. i wasn't proud of myself. my arms felt really tired from being on all fours. Afterall, i'm not allowed to do upper body exercise for another few weeks. (Aww, boo hoo, wimper, whine ... -- what excuse next?)
Let's just hope that in the New Year, W/we can find my sister slave and that she'll be really good at it. i can be the object, she can be the whore. i can be filthy dirty, she can be provocative and doing all the work. Form follows function -- use me while You get off on her getting You off! Actually, i love that concept. i love the idea of Master using my holes as just a masturbation device while He watches a really slutty woman doing her showy thing of popping all the guys one at a time. i like the idea of Master looking through a porn magazine or watching a tease and then needing to jack-off and my being nothing more than the receptacle where He'll deposit a load. Oh sure -- girls always want to be the one who is desired and i love that, too, but think how much more glorious to be the one He'll actually USE! Now THAT is purpose, THAT is having a position of great worth.
i was so relieved when Master pulled me up and positioned me all over the living room -- in front of the mirror bent over, over the couch bent over ... over and over and over. Oh, the DEEP sick pumping and the head up to the hilt. Oh, the function i served! i was NOTHING but a variety of holes to pump -- the variety to choose from being the only thing remotely related to creativity. At one point, i looked up into the mirror and witnessed Master's expression while He used me. i love that He looked angry. i bent down further to allow Him further depth into my cunt. i only know depth -- i don't know the superfluous embellishments. i'm learning but my inherent abilities as f-meat are my best offerings.
my pussy is amazingly resilient. So too is my rear-end. Ironically, my mouth is the most sore because Master had me wear the gag longer than usual. my mouth is still sore, two days later. i could barely open my mouth to feed from His cock this morning.
But never mind all that! i'm not going to even elaborate on all that right now (Hallelujah sayeth thee!). Here is my favorite thing of all:
If you've ever picked up a little puppy there from the litter of other pups, it is the same sort of concept. Let's say the puppy is walking in one direction ... you pick it up and then you turn it facing the other direction, plop it down, and the legs have never stopped. It continues to walk, not knowing that the direction has really shifted. It just walks. When you've picked it up, right before you place it down, it still walks even in mid-air. THAT is what it felt like when Master came to bed last night.
i was sleeping in bed facing one direction. Like a magnet, Master entered the bed and i turned to face Him so that i could latch on. Master, with one strong arm, lifted me as my delicate little limbs kept moving. i tried to attach to Him and snuggle up, but He turned me to face away from Him -- He lifted me as if He plucked a pup from the litter and redirected it. i felt actually like a piglet more than a puppy. i felt like this little fleshy thing that will cling to Master and squeal like a little piggy if He picks me up too rapidly or squeezes too tight.
The littleness was magnificent. The sublime swine! That was me! Redirection without resistance, just continued movement -- rapid movement even when standing still in mid-air -- it is what slaves feel as collared slaves. Form, function ... FLUIDITY!
Master used my cunt for awhile once in bed, then He used my second cunt until He pumped a load. He probably masturbated with my second cunt for a good 30 minutes or more. All the while, His hand cupped a tit. i am so happy about these new tits! Forget about the going-mad-shopping reality -- forget about the fact that EVERYTHING i wear looks GREAT -- the best part is that Master can relate to me in an even MORE objectified manner. i love that He has these big tits to use now. i love that He takes comfort in holding onto them and that when He focuses on them, i am not even there.
There was one night a few weeks ago when i got the first taste of this. It was before He could really hold onto them and He just seemed to FIXATE on them. It was like He was immersed in ONLY my tits and i loved knowing that He might get off on JUST the tits as if they were some new sex partner to use with my being a vehicle to it, nothing more. i doubt i would be able to find happiness in not being present -- i like being a conduit or somehow involved, hence, i liked thinking that i was removed but still a part of His relating to my tits in a completely impersonal way.
It is strange in a way -- Men and tits, that is. You would think that its all about lust but there is something else. i mean, the fascination with big tits -- i have it myself, of course. i think they automatically convey comfort. What else are mammary glands for? Nourishment AND comfort. Once you outgrow the need for nourishment, you seek comfort as its substitute. i'm not suggesting that Men are secretly boys looking for mommies, but i am certain that real Men are boys who OUTGROW mommies in order to graduate to USING women for their womanly attributes. Its only the weenies and cowards who become sissy boys or misogynists. Its only Men Who see that women are women only when they are being drilled for every resource they have available.
Function! i'm telling you, form is nothing without it. It may require form to be of best functionality, but form without function is nowhere. A pretty girl who can't deliver, is, in the end, just a pretty girl. An object without any aesthetics is just an object but at least it has purpose.
(Illustration: BENSON !! ~swoon~)
New Business Lingo !!
20 December, 2006I received a memo from our ........... um ... i'm not sure of his title. He's not a web-designer but a technical person who evaluates better business practices for the best functioning websites. The memo had a line that read, "get rid of frames because frames suck". I think we're paying this consultant pretty well. I think he's a professional, but who would know? i mean, afterall, frames suck. Suck tells me alot.
About a month ago, I received, along with the rest of the office, an email from the lead partner of our firm. He didn't like that the dress code and people's offices were looking a little less than snuff. The email read, "some of the offices are looking crappy". The partner pulls in, personally, about one million a year.
The cleaning woman who appears each night after everyone leaves (but for the one guy who lives in his office and must have a shrew of a wife) has seen me there on a few rare occasions when i've decided i can get alot more work done without interruptions. She calls me, "Miss". i can guarantee that even if she did speak English, she wouldn't say "suck" or "crappy" in a business setting nor even outside of it.
One of the IT guys came over to help me with something on my TICKING-mE-OFF computer and W/we got into a conversation about India. i hadn't known he was from India. He's an attractive guy and then, wow! Out of NOWHERE, i saw history being spit from his teeth. He told me the non-romantic version of the Taj Mahal story. He started to turn red. His eyes changed and fangs appeared. He didn't say "suck" or "crappy" but it sure did suck and make me feel crappy to have to dismiss him before he took up my entire day with his rant. My computer still has problems but apparently not as grave as his.
A friend of mine in the office is a very direct girl. She says it just like it is. I usually hedge a little in some effort of diplomacy. I had suggested that the marketing person needed for a particular project should be someone who is "right there" -- an in-front type of person -- someone who is "on". Sales-y. i referred to a woman who occasionally works in our office -- i said, "you know, sort of like so&so -- you know how she is, right?". my friend replied, "you mean FAKE?" Yep. That's what i meant. ~smile~
There was another conversation with my direct-to-the-point friend after the mean chick in the office fired yet another person within a two week time frame. i get the idea that this time, the young fired guy didn't take well to her advances-turned-admonishments. She apparently didn't figure out that he is gay and NOT INTERESTED, not that being hetero would have made any difference -- the woman is brutal! They would still probably have butt heads, but not with the head she'd have preferred.
The mean chick does interesting things like trying to be super chummy with everyone immediately after she fires someone. About six months ago, right after she fired the nice grandma, she suddenly came up to me -- sort of snuck up from behind, and then crouched down to spring up and say, "boo!". Wow she was ALL smiles. i gave her a look that said, "yeah, okay, hi and goodbye". Wow are manipulators ultra transparent to me.
i confided in my friend that i find this mean chick extremely divisive, one minute having badmouthed and belittled the grandma and the next, saying with puppy dog eyes how grateful she is that grandma found a job -- "she deserves it that's great good for her i'm happy for her" ... yeah sure, right. i said something else to my friend and before i used any descriptive words, i did my usual couching and said, "you know, she's kind of ... " and i grimaced and shrugged my shoulders in typical mime lingo. my friend replied, "you mean PSYCHO-BITCH?". Yep. That's what i meant. ~smile~
i'm going to circulate a memo tomorrow.
To: Company Staff
From: Management
Kindly be advised that sucky, crappy language is really on par with an unacceptable dress code. Juvenile language and gutter-mouths, like flip-flops, are not permitted. Psycho-bitches and fakes and hot heads are on notice. The behavior exhibited of late is real-world sucky but in a professional environment it is even more crappy. If you have a burden such as some ancestor history or oppressive upbringing that has allowed you to carry your baggage to work, we ask that you leave it at home. We don't want to be subjected to anything BUT the partner's cool million. Lay it on us -- we're hungry! We might even swallow all else if we're compensated for the idiosyncrasy aplenty.
In fact, i've got a few things i'd like to share! i've been down in the dumps and i only feel refreshed when my brains have been f-ed out of me royally and i've been subjected to a very sound ritualistic beating. Therefore, come around Friday, 4pm. We'll be having a little holiday celebration. You know how a drink at the company Christmas party turns spiked eggnog into inappropriate groping with colleagues who never previously appeared attractive, right? Well, i'm going to warn everyone now. When i tell my stories, BEWARE -- you'll hear words you've never heard before!
Thank you and have a COOL, AWESOME, GROOVY, RAD, PHAT day! Don't let the sucky crap get you down! Let's have a shout out for Peace & Productivity! Can i get an Amen? Oh -- that's right -- religion in the workplace -- that doesn't jibe. No Christmas trees in the reception area this year. That sucks. Who came up with that crappy idea?
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
What do balsamic vinegar & slaves have in common?
 | What do balsamic vinegar and slaves have in common? They both taste better with reduction. ~wink~ |
The lower i go, the higher i fly.
21 December, 2006What can i say? Sometimes even the repulsive is arousing.
i've been thinking of a picture i saw -- its the one of a slave sucking off some guy in a public bathroom. The girl is not repulsive (in fact, she's the extreme opposite of the word), and the act she's performing is not repulsive (here again, its the extreme opposite of the word), but its that paunch i see in the picture that reminds me of things that arouse me in ways that mean something almost repulsive having a heady effect like that of an aphrodisiac. The girl isn't sucking off her boyfriend or her Master; she's sucking off joe-schmoe -- and whatever other guy happens to desire a blowjob.
Its even in imaginings as unpleasant as those dykes with clits they call miniature penises. i am, if anything, turned OFF by the butch type but i do like tough -- tough Men and even tough women so long as women are women (read: not pretending to be Men). But just think of those ugly bull-dykes forcing some pretty young thing to suck off their clit as if its a dick. Then the poor girl would likely have to suck off all the ugly lesbo friends since, as far as i know, a major bull dyke has the usual array of out-of-shape-can't-get-laid hairy legged friends who love being serviced no differently than a Man Who pays for sex.
i guess you could say i like the filth involved in dealing with things i wouldn't normally find attractive. And too, i like that my person has nothing to do with it. The vacuum sucks up the dirt from the carpet, i'll be used to suck up dirt and roll in it, too.
i used to dream of being on stage not as stripper entertainment but as a cleaning station. (Although i still think i could put some of the local adult club girls to shame because i'll actually dance when i strip.) AnyO/one from the audience could come up on stage and they could use the bathroom beforehand if they liked and i would be their pussy wipe or a-wipe. i'd be their toilet paper. i'd be fastened to some sort of contraption and audience members would just have a seat and it would be very comfortable. They'd position whichever hole they wanted cleaned right over my mouth and nose. i liked the idea that it would mean one after the other after the other. Complete strangers. Some clean, some dirty. It wouldn't matter. i'd have to do a good job regardless of hygiene or aesthetics.
i still LOVE LIKE MAD the concept that i am going to really be a public cock cleaning station or a public urinal one day. That seems more tangible. i will love that it matters not at all what the Men look like. And, why, just think of it! Were They to all be super attractive, what kind of challenge does that present? Sure, i'd personally prefer it -- sexy, built, STRONG, HUNG Men. And too, i don't even mind smaller cocks (in this one regard only ~wink~) because then i can give GREAT head as opposed to GOOD head -- then i can get it back down into my throat no problem, no gagging. (Actually though, i'm learning that gagging is a turn-on so maybe my small mouth problem isn't the end of the world afterall.)
WHICH REMINDS mE! (Sorry to digress ... ) i remember watching an American Idol season of auditions when one girl tried out and she could NOT sing. (Did i just write that? Okay -- several of them could not sing.) she had a certain sexiness but she was not sexy. she had big boobs so that helped and she had a dismal personality which is too bad, but wow did she have a gigantic mouth. They allowed her to continue for a few weeks even though she could not sing and they even gave her a good amount of air time (the looks and the boobs) but there was one thing that has stuck with me all this time. When she opened her mouth to sing, i had ONE SINGLE REACTION: This girl can probably give fantastic head!
That is ALL that occurred to me. And to this day, i think i must be part Male inside -- my still remembering her was to remember only what mattered in how she could be put to good use. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF hER MOUTH! her jaw hinged open so wide that you'd have thought her a grouper. i kept thinking how happy a Man could be. she'd be one of those instances whereby you'd probably put up with the dismal personality simply by screwing her mouth, then gagging it and hooding her shut or sending her home when not in use.
Function.
Purpose.
A job to do.
See? Men put up with the less-than-perfect if there is at least one resource to tap. Its not THAT different from the way i relate to being used. The only difference is that i want ALL my resources tapped and drilled and run dry so that i'm depleted. i may not have that big hinged jaw, but my entire self opens up and that allows for all sorts of penetration. You could say i'm multi-functional -- an all-in-one as notable as Ronco's Veg-o-matic slice-dice-&-chop.
~~~~~ + ~~~~~
i was thinking about the different Men Who would enter the public bathroom and how i'd be positioned there on my knees on a soft cushion rather than my knees on the tile floor. Severe reduction doesn't have to mean inconsiderate treatment. In fact, i know Master would check in on me and bring me water and stroke me at times to tell His little girl what a good job she's doing. Oh, He'd be harsh if i wasn't performing well -- He'd demean me in front of the Men and He'd demand without hesitation -- He'd throw in my favorite endearments like "bitch" and "stupid cunt" and "piece of trash", but He'd also be proud of me once i turned things around if at all i was slacking.
Some of the Men would piss first and this particular servicing would not encompass my drinking Their piss. That would be an entirely different venue. Each Man would have gotten clearance from Master first. Other Men would still be able to come into the bathroom and use a urinal, but only one Man at a time would come to the cleaning-sucking-off station. Master would be socializing just outside the entrance and He would basically be doing what amounted to selling and collecting tickets at the entrance to a sporting event. The only thing missing would be the turn-style and the exchange of money. There would be a sort of casual festivity in the air, albeit, a matter-of-fact one.
There would be all sorts of Men and all sorts of cock. There would be the Man Who was perhaps big and burly and His cock was not all that big and more akin to a pecker. He'd be an easy one. He probably would have worked hard all day as some sort of laborer -- a contractor or tradesman -- and if not for getting off in my mouth, He'd otherwise be home on the recliner with a beer. He would probably be the type to remember such an encounter as the best time of His life. He'd run into Master elsewhere and still be thanking Him twenty years later for the time of His life.
There would be the dark devious type with alot of hair and a musk that might mean He hadn't bathed yet that day. And maybe He would be the type to verbalize alot of detailed instruction. He'd direct me in a completely detached fashion, "grab the base of My nut-sack and pull down on the balls" -- i'd know exactly when He was about to ejaculate -- He would lead me through everything He likes to feel and who knows? Maybe He'd even have me insert a finger into His rectum. Afterward, i'd get up and wash my hands and then kneel down to prepare for the next one.
The best part of all is that i would be handled in such an intimate manner yet ironically it would be so impersonal! i'd get to know the secrets of these Men. The very things They want as Men would be my privilege. While other girls have to be won over and while these Men have to secretly dream of sluts and whores, i get to be right there obtainable and i get to feel Their release. i get to be a catalyst! i get to drink Their cum and taste Their piss! They'd empty all Their bodily fluids INTO me or ON me. i doubt you can get closer to a Man than that. i'd get to feel the desecration painted all over my entire being so that when i awaken the next morning, i have to live with the filthy slut's rite of passage -- the rite that keeps repeating itself.
~~~~~ + ~~~~~
Master gets to enjoy showing off His possession and the fine job He has done in restoring what was no different from a well used vintage car in need of attention. He made me into a classic and now everyone will want a shot at driving it. Master is a gentleMan's gentleMan, and a Man's Man. i am a Man's possession and i LOVE the prestige -- i get to be inside the Men's Club and not all women get to pass through its doors.
A slave gets to really FEEL her enslavement when a task is not something easy for her. Of course, i'd sometimes prefer easy or pleasurable for the sake of my own pleasure. But when i have to do something unpleasant -- when i feel that it is not FOR me, there is not arousal necessarily in the act i'm performing but in the transaction instead. i am doing something purely FOR Master and i am serving a purpose for a REASON. i know Master is getting off on "me" -- on what i'm doing FOR HIM -- tell me of one single girl in this world who doesn't want to know someO/one is INTO her, whether in love or as an object for use -- one is just as excellent as the other.
i get to be completely removed from myself -- i'm an inanimate object being injected with a life as if i was stripped of the one i knew previously. Its as if some lobotomy took place and the substitution for the persona and psyche now missing, is the ultimate degradation of a human being. Bring her as LOW as possible. Make her crawl in a piss filled gutter, make her slop around in the muck of her pig-pen. Make her commune with animals -- make her feed and bathe and defecate and breed with them, too. THAT is where i LOVE to be! That makes me THANK Master for understanding what my libido has been dreaming of since pubescence! Finally! FINALLY! Desire FULLY fulfilled!
Oh, how i LOVE being reduced to this state. Oh, how i LOVE being used! Oh how i love going to the absolute bottom with my Master bringing me there. There are things i may not like, but i am aroused when Master gets off on directing my reduction. It is the difficult task that proves a slave's being. Take it out of context and it can be brutal or devastating. A slave's worth and purpose is really defined when she obeys even when the surface action violates her sense of conventional gratification or sense of decorum.
my Master inevitably keeps my switch on. i can face pleasures, i can face challenges, i can even face VERY distasteful assignments (like having had to wear that hideous HORRID little girl's party dress that was ill fitting and authentic as in it might have been worn by a girl for her First Communion in Spanish Harlem). When Master brings me down, i know that He is receiving pleasure from it -- i am just a vehicle to His pleasure. i'm the puppet He'll make grand or the puppet He'll use for projection or venting or release. i am Master's inflatable doll with perpetually open, permanently receptive holes.
~~~~~ + ~~~~~
The Men in the bathroom. The attractive ones but then the ones Who are not attractive. i will have to suck off all of them regardless. i will have to view Their penises, ironically, in much the same way They regard my holes. Its a genital and a genital is to be used, maintained, or modified. When i have to suck off numerous Men in a row, one by one, i will LOVE that i am stripped of my preferences, of my person and my dignity. i will LOVE that i get to then FEEL the true place of a slave. i love that ALL i'll want to do in these moments is set forth breathy recitations of, "i love You"s to my Master.
i'll verbally pen sweet love notes! It will be my mantra and i'll succumb to a meditation. The intoxication of use will segue to those love proclamations again and i'll begin to leave my body for awhile.
"This slave loves You, Master. she loves You." i'll want to chant it like a psalm and i'll fall into that delirium again. The one that makes me really tipsy. i'll feel top-heavy. my head will feel bigger than the rest of my body which will feel only the non-weight of a spec of dust. i'll probably be able to be blown over just as easily. Poof! i'll turn to a vapor and then dissipate into AIR.
It is true. i will want to thank my Master for every dream come true. For every opportunity to ignite. For every chance to bring further enjoyment to His life. For every opportunity to get into those very special places that give me insider knowledge. i get to see Men through Their penises and the fact is, THAT is where a girl should look first!
The lower i go, the more i want to stay physically near Master. The lower i go, the more vulnerable, and the more vulnerable, the more secure AND insecure i feel. i become more aroused, MORE happy, MORE sad when apart. The disparities greaten and the sensations intensify ... and the circles continue infinitely. They gain momentum.
The lower i go, the more attached i become.
But i am happy to report that there is a plateau when the extreme vulnerability is answered with resolve and real belief, as opposed to optimistic belief.
The lower i go, the higher minded i become.
The lower my angle to view the world, the more prophetic my assembly of thought. It may not really be so, but it FEELS so.
The lower i go, the lower i want to go. The further i want to travel, the further i want to explore uncharted depths so that what is already dark gets even darker.
The lower i go, the more womanly i feel. The lower i go, the more beautiful i feel. The lower i go, the more i feel my commitment. The more i feel committed, the more i feel connected. The more i feel connected, the more i confirm being in love.
The more, the more, the more ... i think i love the marking! The reminders. The brainwashing. i love the perpetual flogging and relentless penetration so that ritual turns to Consecration! i want it to soak into my pores. i want to feel Master branding my insides.
The lower i go, the more i feel my devotion to Master. The more i feel my devotion, the more i know He feels it. It isn't so much about "proving" my devotion -- in fact, when i think of it, it is actually rather selfish of me. i want to FEEL my devotion to Master because i am happiest when i am in love and when i am traveling and evolving. my devotion makes me feel attached. If i know that i'm attached, i know that He will keep me tethered so that i can continue to climb and let go and take flight in those lofty heights where i'm weightless.
The lower i go, the higher i fly.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
daily considerations for an anal whore
29 December, 2006This morning began its typical course but for the fact that THANK GOD HALLELUJAH i am sleeping with Master EVERY SINGLE NIGHT THIS WEEK! i am in Heaven. There is no greater feeling than to be entwined in His limbs and muscles with that one particular hot one shoved up into my cunt or 2nd-cunt.
Its not all sexual. Some of it is just about completion. Completion of a person -- completion of me -- completion of a slave. Or completion of some dream-fanatic who knows sticky and clingy when answered means velvet smooth.
Master's body is luxurious. i'd sleep more if i could! Lust keeps me awake and its the only competition to slinking down into His flesh and immersing.
Master is not at work this week but i am and so each morning, i awaken and DRAG myself to get up and get ready and haul my little self into a big girl's world. i had one of those conversations with myself on the commute. The conversation where i talk to an imaginary boss. "Yeah, well, i've got more important things going on in life than dealing with this crud."
The conversation usually is some sort of defense or defiance. "Yeah, well, how about mE? How about the fact that i have a LIFE? How about the fact that i had to shuttle two people clear across the county this morning, both in entirely different directions, and i needed to make time to present my 2nd-cunt to Master for use first and gee whiz i have responsibilities in this world! i have FAR GREATER considerations than that which exist in the office with petty clients and their petty laments. Master used my 2nd-cunt this morning!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Did you hear me? Has the world taken note?! Master needed to USE HIS sLAVE'S RECTUM this morning and that is of FAR GREATER IMPORTANCE than the fact that i arrived at work two hours late."
So there!
After that diatribe, i usually start in with the other conversation -- the self to self one. i start demanding answers from myself. "What about my PERSONAL pursuits? WHEN am i going to have time to work on my new website? my art? my OTHER passions? my sex-object body, my superficial interests which are just as legitimate as my soul searching quests?"
Then dominoes fall and the hair-trigger fires and i wonder about the people who call and demand from me when they have only ONE job (if any at all). Its always the ones with no dependents, no reliability requirements, and all the time in the world who come along to tell you you're selfish for not dropping everything to accommodate their immediate need (or command for undivided attention from the attention-hungry deprived!). Let's all keel over to aid what is hardly critical!
Once at work, i know REALLY important matters with which to contend like the fact that the skirt i wore has a slit that rides up the back higher than the thigh high stockings. In fact, i realized that the top of the slit is only one exact inch from the bottom of my bottom cheeks and basically i worry that something might ooze out unexpectedly.
Before leaving for work, fortunately, the cum enema began earlier than the usual two hour mark. This time it didn't dribble out, it blasted out! i can't say i'm disappointed. This way i'm relieved. And still, there is the remnant issue with which to reconcile. Thankfully i was smart enough to wear a thick suede skirt. Imagine if i wore sheer white linen!
Well, AT LEAST i have such considerations! Why think of yesterday! i served no purpose to Master. i raced off to work and He was still sleeping. i was empty (literally!) all day and i was lost without my objectification. This morning, Master grabbed onto a tit and f-ed me mercilessly in the two holes below. He started with the cunt and then moved to use the 2nd-cunt. Its so matter-of-fact! Its so reassuring! The cum ripped through me and i was relieved. Master had release. i had reduction. All is well in the world.
Thank God for real purpose and real considerations! Tell Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore that i'll be with them after i dab at the leaking goo from my bottom. Hold my calls, fluff up the lobby cushions -- EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING will just have to wait. i intend on sacrificing NOTHING because why? Why should anyone be a martyr in this world? Even slaves and anal cum-buckets are not martyrs.
HEAD BONDAGE
30 December, 2006Master had me in a headlock this morning. i love EVERYTHING about a headlock. Oh how the feeling of restraint and of being overpowered feeds me! Sometimes when Master holds me secure, i actually try to strain a bit in order that i feel FURTHER the matter of Him holding me down and rendering me helpless. Its good for my head. Its everything i want to feel as i relate to Master, that being, little. i love my littleness. i love His Almightiness.
Master's arm feels so pronounced when my head is but a little cannonball in a gigantic machine. He often cuts off my breathing and of course, i love that, too. If you've ever been choked, you know what i mean when i say that sniffling afterward is not from fear but a physical reaction to strangulation. All i know is that the inability to move -- to breathe -- ANYTHING AT ALL that means i am at Master's complete control and whim, is good for my head. Its everything to me to feel brought down in a way that is complementary rather than destructive.
When Master grabs my hair into a pony tail and uses it as a rein, i also pull forward a bit in order that i feel more intensely the sensation of degradation. It is degrading, no? Hair pulling? Its no different from bitch-slapping or grabbing just one tit as opposed to both tits at the same time. Its a way of saying, without words, exactly W/who is W/who and whom belongs to Whom. Its good for my head. Its everything for me to feel constant reminders of my place.
Before Master started a slow, steady, rhythmic ascent to His orgasm, and before He applied a headlock, He grabbed me by the shoulders when entering my 2nd-cunt. He pushed me forward so that He only steadied His position with His large hands on my shoulders. Sometimes He does this with my hips. No matter what part of my body He uses for leverage, its all the same -- i'm always basically a box with glory holes. Its good for my head. Its everything to be a receptacle -- its everything to know purpose as a cum and piss repository. If Master spits at me or tells me to "shut up" or if He slaps me across the face, its basically like He just tightened the headlock. i'm more His! i'm more in love!
It was an immediate entrance back there. i hardly need any lube anymore. Master did instruct me to use some, but it was minimal -- its more like using it as a moistening towelette -- its not like greasing up a crank shaft. He had me apply a small dime size amount to the opening of my rectum and He had me insert a finger to have some of the lube coat the initial entrance. He probably would have wanted me to do what He often does, that being, inserting more than one finger, one at a time, in order to stretch open the hole. But i think He may even do that for my head more than any real logistical consideration. Afterall, its everything to me to feel that an opening need be properly prepared for use. i just want to accommodate -- i don't want to be accommodated.
Once the ascent began, it was all animal. i felt the ridge of Master's penis head rubbing inside my bowels. It was like a flicking -- over and over and OVER. Steady. i knew Master was intent on building to His climax. The headlock was tight and unrelenting. There was nothing forceful about it -- THAT'S what makes it my utopia -- rather than anything requiring effort, Master simply holds me steady in place. He never exerts Himself -- take the example of premier cockManship! What would mean years of extended stamina training to a 20 year old guy would mean the amount of effort Master might use in waving His little finger. Master can run circles around everyone and never take a breath. He can SLAM it to a million girls PERPETUALLY AND ROUGHLY ALL NIGHT LONG and save His cum for when He's ready to distribute it or good and ready to bestow the honor.
Everything is very practical. One not need fancy intricate lacing when a simple square knot will do. Master's headlock is no different than the way He f.s me. Its utilitarian. It has purpose. Just as high-falutin drivel is just that: DRIVEL, Master's use of me is pragmatic and succinct. It gets to the point but can go on infinitely. It DRIVES HOME a point (and a most emphatic one at that ~wink~). Its profound but He never tells you that it is. Its the best i've ever known, and i tell Him all the time. Its good for my head. Its everything for me to feel His effortless strength and my relentless effort to feel MORE of Him.
No fanfare. Just utility. That's me. i'm the fanciest piece of f-meat around. Its good for my head. Its everything to feel skull f-ed because a Man's penis is really lodged up there in between the ears. If He knows what He's doing, be assured, you'll feel it in your head and by the way, a girl's head is located directly next to her pussy. Screw a girl thoroughly and you'll keep her in a headlock always. she'll squirm and she'll whimper and she'll pull on her restraints ONLY for the sake of testing the strength that holds her down. she'll want to know that she can do NOTHING to free herself. THEN, when she is satisfied that You can hold her weight, when she is convinced that You won't let her go or drop her on her head, You'll know that You've fed AND f-ed the REAL g-spot.
my Prophet came to me (and IN me!).
31 December, 2006my Prophet came to me last night. He entered the room to finally lock my heavy steel collar around my throat. This family stuff, the holidays, all the eating and drinking -- it has taken a serious toll. my slave self has sacrificed alot and i feel like it will be a matter of starting all over again just to catch up to where W/we left off.
With all the hoopla and obligations to not shock people out of their skin, i have flaunted my new big tits but tucked away my rituals. i miss my beatings tremendously. i can't believe how much i miss them. i think i could even say that i love dungeon sessions more than sex! (Let's pretend i didn't say that. i could come to regret it!)
So, last night, FINALLY, here in the land of smashed, over-sugared, slovenly suburbia, Master had me wear my collar again. What a welcome reprieve from all this other festivity. i miss my dog bed and this morning i thought how ALL i REALLY WANT TO FEEL (and soon!) is a long (prolonged!) amount of time lying still on my back with mouse traps worn on my nipples and glass cups suctioning my pussy. i just want to go for extremes! i just want to think about some Man contacting Master for use of this slave and His only requirement being that i be prepared with a chubby pig cunt. i love thinking that the Man will have a thing for inflamed genitals. He'll want plump and stretched.
my mind went there when my Prophet came to me last night. After Master fastened my collar, He attached my leash. GOD i am INSANE for sleeping tethered to Master. The leash handle was secured, albeit loosely, around His wrist all night long. i moved and repositioned myself throughout the night in order to accommodate Master's shifting positions.
Normally, Master locks my ankle manacle to the foot of the bed but that is when i am in Master's bed. During the holidays, with Master here at my house, W/we have had to make due by modifying certain routines. Making due is WAY MORE than making due, however -- nothing is really a compromise to me. As long as you incorporate WHATEVER you can, WHENEVER you can, you're not really sacrificing. Only when you have to put things away into cubbies or compartments does it get in the way of Master/slave fluidity.
Besides, i'm one of those optimists who sees a glass half full with bubbly. Sure, W/we're navigating around all this outside world stuff that is everyone else's conventional world, but at least i am dreaming about Master taking me for walks. All dogs must be leashed. That's what the signs say. i love being on my leash and one day soon i'm just not going to care a fig if the butcher, the baker, and the prude-prig-foresaker SEES me on a leash being walked in the park. Hey, i'm even longing for the day when i'll be brought to the dog run. When i'll be there offering myself up for sniffing and breeding and the relieving of hounds. i'll pee with them, too! i'll have no shame.
my cunt was aflame. Last night. Last night when my Prophet came to me. Master used it such a long time that sloshing turned to friction and friction then turned to burning. i WANTED it to burn. i thanked Him. He wanted me quiet, however, and so that is when i stifled even my moans as best as possible. i was ecstatic though -- i was DYING to beg Master to PLEASE make it really dry. Keep using it so that it really hurts and so that tomorrow i'll think of sandpaper.
The visuals came along and everything was puffy and sore. All i could imagine was a rubber flesh log. The kind you'd find in a porn store. It would be sold there right along side of those fake hairy pussies and the scary inflatable dolls with painted mouth holes. It would be another ugly device for perverted secrets. It would have two holes -- one to replicate a pussy and the other to mimic a very tight but pliable rectum. A Man would use this routinely and He'd cum in it and never wash it. It would smell and i would love sticking my nose in there to inhale. Sticking my finger into the smaller hole would remind me of just how depraved i can be -- part of me would be repulsed solely from thinking that a Man might HAVE to use such a thing when a live woman hole is not available to Him.
ALL i could do was dream fat and chubby -- sick amounts of plumpness and pulchritude. i just want to be SORE and inflamed and distended!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just the word, "genitals" took on an omnipresence to the point that all i really want right now at this very moment is, no, not toasts on New Year's Eve, but instead, just a SOLID FULL YEAR of genital torture!!
my Prophet came to me last night. He entered me and planted sperm. i got to be a dick-loving whore. i got to dream of making love to a stranger's cock but i did it with a different brain. i did it with the conditioned brain of a BRAINWASHED slave, a SABOTAGED woman. Thank goodness i was abducted from society and all the ill notions of independence, independence, INDEPENDENCE-IN-FAVOR-OF-ABANDONING-FEMININITY.
Last night, my Prophet came to me. He came in me. He reached a fist up inside me and i let Him in. i let Him SQUEEZE me to a pulp. Turn me inside out. And just as i dry out, my pelts become more luxurious. i have a healthier glow. The dark brings out highlights. It exacerbates the longing! i'm dying to be svelte of mind and emotion again! Enough with all the fatness! i can FEEL my thighs touching -- all this holiday spirit is depressing and fattening! Enough already -- it was fun but now, let's get back to accomplishing things! i only want to feel my pussy lips rubbing together. i only want to feel weight clamping down on my nipples so that they swing in slow motion when flicked. i want to feel like one big giant cunt. i want to suck on the balls of a Man Who has to piss a load down my throat. i can't help it! i just am ACHING for FAR REACHING MIND ALTERING reduction!
Okay, the conversation has turned to chatter, time off has turned to dreading going back to work, being away from the gym has turned to lethargy. Being away from my litterbox and getting to use a real toilet means ... what happened? Where did she go? Where is my slave self? The one who has just as much person in her whether stripped of persona or indulging like some pet vixen with a combined philosophy and psychology degree -- a degree obtained by stripping her way through life and abusive relationships.
my Prophet came to me and i got to revel in the filth and base use. i got to think of the word "contentment" and indeed, i even took it out of my profile. i can't help but feel that there is a slight connotation of complacency in the word, "contentment". The new year is upon me ... i must make changes ... i am not happy to settle in ... i need to strap on sharp shiny things ... metal crampons ... needles! ... torture devices! ... ANYTHING that will aid me in the climb -- the more dangerous, the better. Those very tools that are dangerous if left lying around and unused, are the very tools to employ -- RISK -- TRUST -- FAITH. They need be USED. i need be USED. i need to make USE of precious time and go as far as possible and climb as high as possible. Only then will i feel the heat UNDERNEATH the gutter. The one that comes from an incinerator -- its debris that generates HEAT. You just cannot be afraid of the dirt! i want to dive FURTHER into it! i know how to swim in TAR afterall!
my Master came to me last night. my Prophet spoke to me. i am a follower leading myself to a higher ground just by virtue of letting go. It doesn't matter if i'm granted a green field with poppies or confronted with a pile of rubbish -- i can make the field prettier with debasement and, like Master, i can turn the discarded into scenic treasures and splendid gardens.
A note to my beautiful Master ... Your baby adores You, Master, and she is ready for wherever You take her. Happy New Year! It is O/ours to build! Happy New Year also to all my lovely friends and acquaintances here at alt! Listen for the Prophets! If you don't hear Them, simply fade to black and start again. You'd be surprised how Their whisper is within your range of hearing.
bubbly effervescence ... & JEOPARDY !!
1 January, 2007~~ a NEW Lesson for the NEW Year ~~
Hey -- WOW -- could it have come upon me any quicker?
GOD, WHY would anyone want to jeopardize someone's developmental PROGRESS? Why would you want to pummel the emergence of confidence in favor of the exponential growth of insecurity?
Yesterday W/we played Jeopardy. i was royally intimidated -- i was about to play the game with a family of supreme intellects and quick wits. (Master's family, who else?!) my tummy was in knots. Surely i could tell them that one of my best-friends was a contestant on Jeopardy? That's impressive, right?
Well, never got to that. Just went for it -- FULL FORCE NO HOLDS BAR immersion. Don't think; just do. DIVE IN. Go for broke. i now know that Veuve Clicot should be the new Pepto Bismal. THANKFULLY, those good luck fairies were with me once again. God i love these little cherubs! Family! They're my family! It always happens this way. i need the boost and the jolt to give me the confidence and the head start -- then i can sail through defeat if i must. my little good luck fairies are forever hovering about, even when i don't see them. They were bestowed upon me because some God somewhere said, hey -- take pity on this thing! Let the little fairies bring her luck in whatever she does -- it will counter the blows.
i think i like life's blows -- i wouldn't know the good luck fairies if not for their brilliant rescue missions.
With each question, i hit the table first and stated the answer but HERE is the GREAT LESSON i learned -- all in a game of Jeopardy.
i prefaced several of my answers with a quick disclaimer. i'd start by saying, "um, well, okay, i'm just going to take a guess ... drachma?" CORRECT! my usual quirky idiosyncratic kind of knowledge -- the things that stump everyone else, is my forte. Ask me for history dates or mathematical equations or 20th Century literature ... well, just be sure it includes answers like "the special bra was designed for Jane Russell by Howard Hughes" and "two really equals one" and "Henry Miller's ultimate passionate romance was with His lover, Anais Nin". There ya have history, math, and literature, respectively.
Do i get extra points for being obscure or ecclectic?!!
Ask me the name of the independent nation off the Southern coast of India. Sri Lanka. Shekels are from Israel and effervescent is the word that won me the wager of 1999 points (its root is ferv -- woo-hoo! just like that Veuve Clicot!). And oh ... mildew is the scientific descriptive for what grows on the underside of garden plant leaves.
The lesson i learned was SO GREAT! God, i just LOVE that i finally see this now!
Master would answer. He answered. Period.
me? The disclaimer first. Its a guess -- just a guess everyone -- don't hold me to it if i'm wrong.
i cannot bear EVER AGAIN IN mY LIFE the receipt of certain titles or judgments like "stupid". In order to prepare for it, i've conditioned myself through an entire upbringing of ridicule and belittlement. There was never such a thing as an intelligent guess because even a right answer or a smart answer was an outdoing of the ones who needed to crush me in order to feel -- FEEL -- powerful. Do not DARE to answer in anything other than THEIR words -- but wait! Don't do that either!! Its ALL ABOUT THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no place for you, dear.
Psychology for 500 AND WHOA -- THE DAILY DOUBLE!! Here we go! Why would i be so afraid or anxious about playing a game? Because i didn't want to chance being perceived as dumb. i'd need to prepare first -- rehearse -- study -- memorize -- know that i AM indeed up to muster. i have to win respect. Win approval.
Let them think i'm just GUESSING because, that way, if i'm wrong, i did say it was just a RANDOM WILD guess. i didn't access my real knowledge, right? i took no ownership of it -- claimed no thought or real consideration to my answer, hence, they couldn't blame me or accuse me or judge me ................. oh boo hoo hoo. Sad, sad, SAD little girl. Poor baby with the ingrained persecution reactions.
Do you know what i really learned? Don't play games with people who pretend that cruelty is just a brand of humor that no one else seems to get. Don't interact with people who are only after your demise. If you mess around with fire, you'll get burnt. i know the answer and now, when i don't, i'll guess and i'll even have you thinking my answers are NEVER guesses. Wanna know HOW to play and really have fun? Get to know my Master and His insanely entertaining family. It is a whole new phenomenon to me -- this concept of not needing disclaimers anymore.
Thank God for BIG BOOBS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3 January, 2007Okay, things can't be too bad -- i've got my new big boobs afterall!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i've been losing sight of them! (How could i? They're pretty hard to miss. ~wink~)
This morning, i did that thing -- came to a conclusion after the SERIOUS CONVICTION to get back to the gym. i decided on the time table for the day -- call the boss and tell him i'm working later hours rather than earlier hours. i'll do a major workout -- get back on track -- push myself to get over this slovenly LETHARGIC excuse-laden hurdle that is only creating blubber both in body AND motivation. God, schlump is a word that is SUPPOSED to have the effect it does!
THEN, the conclusion and game plan prompted a snapping at God again -- F. it! That is what i shouted. F. it! If i do this then that suffers -- if i don't do that then i have to do this and THAT IS NOT WHAT i WANT or NEED to do for me! Too bad. Tough luck. Today is my day. i refuse to let myself turn into pork. A piggy, great, but NOT stagnant fatty uselessness. my insides will suffer! They have suffered! i'm not nearly the alert tarty thing i was pre-surgery. i don't care what demands are banging down my door. Today is my day to GET BACK to where i was which means on my way to BETTER places!
i looked in the mirror after the big flip off. There they are! Those fine beautiful BIG LUSCIOUS MELONS!! Ripe like Honeydew. i'm loving them! What else matters? i got my hair done just right and my make-up looks better -- i tried a better smudging technique after fixating on Iman's new print ad yesterday. This will be my first day back at the gym and no one there has seen my once tight round bottom there in six weeks. i checked my pussy to make sure there are no little remnant hairs (despite the laser and doesn't permanent mean permanent?) and low and behold! Another great omen! Another sign that all is well in the world. i thought there was a little bit of toilet paper stuck in the folds of my labia ... i leaned over half appalled and there it was -- MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF mY WHITE CREAMY GOO! i got out the little hand mirror to inspect closer and there it was -- HEALTH! Health was pooling up at the very entrance to my cunt and i think its as thick as honey which goes nicely with my new big full honeydews!
Okay! All systems go! Watch out world, i'm back!
ALL mine !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5 January, 2007The day is mINE -- ALL mINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i got up before the crack of dawn and took care of my responsibilities and okay, loves, laments, loads of joy and loads of work ... and THEN ...
i went back to sleep!
Heaven!
i am not yet ready to go back to my kickboxing class because i first have to get up to speed at the gym -- get really loose and limber (that should be easy given my promiscuous and flexible nature ~wink~) -- and well, i have to find me a REALLY good sports bra to take care of Master's new girls, too! No jumping around until i can find a way to hold these things tight. So there is no urgency to get out the door today -- no work, no class, no NOTHING but for the millions of chores and errands but for a change, THEY will be mY slaves! They'll work around me!
i made my coffee there in the buff. Oh how exquisite to walk around with my twat feeling the air ... having free reign of the house and the house of my mind. i need more days like this! Gosh i cannot wait to walk the beach with these big beautiful tits catching the sun while my cunt drips a trail in the sand. Oh for the intoxication of liberation! i can't WAIT to be back next to Master ... in His physical care ... i dreamt of Him just lying on His back and my sidling up next to Him, so little a creature am i next to His largeness. With Him, i am free. This day reminds me that i am HELD TIGHT and that makes me run wild with abandon! i'm free! i'm FREE!
my tactileness is caressing me ... my cheek on a flannel pillow case ... my big pink bunny from Master tight up against my flesh and i always squeeze him for dear life ... oh and my beauty rituals! my vitamin E oil and massage oils and KMFDM building in the background because i need that in the morning -- its like a good swift kick to my cute heart-shaped bottom (that is DYING for its harder condition!). my energy is coming back! Its spreading contagious! Let it take me, God!, let it TAKE me! i'm so easy about surrendering.
The day is dreary (Magnificence!), there is rain (Glory!), i am in my world ... i'm getting ready now to LEISURELY get to the gym after first doing the LASCIVIOUS -- Master granted me an orgasm today!!
i sure could get used to this indulgence!
The Art of Sucking Labia
8 January, 2007Isn't that something? Who ever would have thought? Well, i guess lesbians know all about it. And some Men. my perception, given what it is (that of dreamy bi-sexual female slave), well, i tend to believe only submissives enjoy lapping at a cunt for long periods of time. But then, i know, i know -- i'm a bit prejudiced. i have known Dominant Men to like it, too, but let's put it this way: i didn't get to know those Dominant Men intimately. i had a mental block!
This reminds me how much i long for someone to suck on my pussy! i'd like to get a dog for just this reason. i'd like to have to oblige the dog's needs everyday and i like the way humiliation and degradation washes over me just by knowing that the dog's need to slobber up my pussy comes before my own needs.
Last night i stumbled upon a site that was dedicated to LABIA! BIG THICK LONG FULL LABIA! i have to say, i enjoyed it immensely. i had no idea that an entire sub-culture existed, ALL revolving around labia lips in all their unusual glory.
i do love that look of a plump pussy with meaty lips. Its nice when it peeks out from behind. Its the same way i love seeing a hefty weighty ball sack falling out of shorts -- kind of draped heavy alongside the thigh. i like this idea that we are all uncivilized animals letting it all hang out.
The best thing about this labia site was a little clip of a girl sucking and i mean REALLY SUCKING on labia lips. she pulled them into her mouth and pulled hard like a suction and the labia lips stretched. They stretched a good long length and then retracted. i must have watched that three second loop for ten minutes straight!
The really fascinating thing was that the entire site was paying homage to JUST THE LABIA as if it were a cock. i have never considered such a thing! i understand cock worship but here there was the complete flip turn -- and i don't just mean pussy worship.
How can i explain it? ... ... ... i know!
It transcends what you think you know about genital worship. Its no longer about Dominance or submissiveness. Why, imagine a large group of women from all over the place, gathering and then congregating, to the point of a March on Washington! An Emancipation Proclamation! All these women descend upon the Capital in order to proclaim labia liberation! Or Pussy Pride Week, or some such thing. They walk in their parades and they wave signs and flags, and all the while, every shape, size, and colour of labia lips is represented.
i like thinking that a woman stands up on the podium to be interviewed and all is just very matter of fact. She talks of her happiness in having discovered that there is no shame in her labia lips. She explains that, afterall, women have been exposing their tits to Men for eternity and now its about time that women stand up and be counted -- that they stop having to hide their cunts away like something dirty. The women are tired of having to be shamed by things like menstruation and smelly pussies. They want to be ACCEPTED! They want to display their genitals and have them appreciated, too! If a Man can ejaculate all over the place, well, darnit, a woman should be able to shove her cunt, even if ugly, anywhere she likes!
(Sidenote to readers: do know that this slave still thinks this is entirely a lesbian cause! This slave, herself, honestly believes that her cunt has a purpose and its not to serve herself!)
The woman on the podium is asked if the camera can get a close-up of her lips that are hanging out of her mound. Naturally, she consents and she ever so slightly parts her legs. There, up close and magnified in great detail, big thick labia lips which she displays as if its just some other appendage -- there is no significance to it -- its just another body part. And yet, the irony! The lack of significance makes it all the filthier! Here is this thing that's been covered up and private, NOW in the open, NOW there for everyone to look at closely, even touch and fondle. When something intimate is made public, wow is it a heady arousal!
What gets me everytime, however, is this idea then exaggerated further. Oh i love dreaming of each woman who will get up to the podium -- there are the ones with piercings weighing down their lips and some talk freely of their choice to modify and stretch their lips to have them appear more pronounced. They want them BIGGER. They want to really make a statement. They want to feel their sex DRENCHING them.
i love the FREEDOM in it so that instead of these women, their predecessors, burning their bras, they're now burning society's provincialism! They sit around and have tea and talk of yoga and the workplace ... all the while donning their cunts in their many shades and styles. One woman thinks nothing of touching and inspecting another's. One may explain that she isn't sure about the tuft of hair right above the clit and her new friend may lean over to pull at it and then offer up her opinion. Everything is so casual that you'd think they were critiquing the garden plantings around the patio.
Here and there you see new found friends touching each other ... they just idly move their fingers all about the folds and intricacies of lips and more lips and inner lips and big fat outer lips. Its a luncheon -- the young ladies who lunch -- the nouveau young chic -- they're all girls' girls! The girls-gone-wild crew with a semblance of sophistication. They LOVE pussy and they want to show you their freshly waxed cunts and the matching studs that Janie and Sissy just drove through their clit hoods together as a sign of eternal friendship.
This all reminds me that i am still petrified about the day when i will eat my first pussy. i really am scared about it. i have no idea what to do. Women tell you all the time that all you need do is think about how you yourself like it to feel. Yes, but i have never eaten my own pussy!
All i know is that i'd like it to feel dirty and sloppy. Like the way a dog would eat it. i like the idea that the one doing it is doing it for PURELY selfish reasons -- because they are DYING to EAT and SUCK PUSSY! i love thinking that its like nursing -- something that is needed whether for nutrition or general comfort.
Master says that He is going to teach me how to eat pussy. W/we're looking for the cunt for me to practice on. The girl won't really be there -- she'll need to be like me mentally -- she'll need to LOVE being an object. Her cunt will be the only thing in the room and her legs will be spread and Master will show me some techniques. Master also says that He knows i'm going to GO crazy and BE crazy for it after my first taste.
i'm still scared! What if it doesn't taste good or doesn't smell very good? i guess it depends on the woman. i just hope she's ALL woman. Little girls don't do it for me. i'm dying for RIPE. Something that will smother and intoxicate me. Wow, i can't wait! But that doesn't mean i'm not afraid. i just pray that i do it well and well, if i can admit it ... i hope there is something really delectable to suck on -- something that shows through and can't be hidden. i will love a woman who has her sex prominently on display at all times, even when dressed. Then i'm sure i will be artful with my new learned skill -- that's because some things inspire. There is no work involved when you're moved. When some big juicy thing is laid before you, how can you NOT know what to do with it?
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