The lower i go, the higher i fly.

21 December, 2006

What 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.