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mina12
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"she emerged, like a Golden Aphrodite
from the depths of a virginal sleep
to be taken into Her hungry waiting arms
under the gaze of Her eyes. And she knew...
she was insatiable, untamed and wild..."
Hot,Erotic,passionate,spiritual yes yes YES...We all have some little thoughts as this..some fantasy,some dream of meeting that perfect partner to come seduce you...Romance you..fill your veins and very soul of life..
BDSM D/S EXTREME ...Just remember to be honest and selfworthy of yourself..your goals,your heart, your dreams.if you do not have control of Yourself...you have NOTHING to offer anyone else..submission and servitude is not a weakness.but a raging fire of need and desire to be all that one can be. Practice empathy...feel for others as much as you feel for yourself..be true, be real, compassionate, trustworthy..communication will take you far.
I am very much involved in BDSM, S/M,Poly, Power Exchange..I have been in the lifestyle 13 years. I am a lesbian.. I am a Mistress.I have spent My time as a submissive in the past. Therfore as a Dominant I would not do anything to a submissive that has not been done to Myself.I have put Myself in the submissive head space and am fully aware of the intensity it may bring.
I have become a much stronger and understanding Dominant in My learnings. yes I know I look sexy as hell in bondage. but thats all in fun, I love the camera. A wonderful connection the camera and I have.. It by no means makes Me submissive to you. I am completly fulfilled living My Dominant nature.I have traveled to many events. done presentations, demos and discussions reguarding the power of BDSM.
The dance between Dominant and submissive. I believe that submission truly comes from the heart. I am not a my way or the highway Dominant. I do believe in loving My submissive. In My experience and opinion it makes the submission bond stronger.
I love to play, I love extreme scenes. I love to push limits. But by no means am I a player, a show dom..I live the lifestyle daily. I know that BDSM may be very overwhelming to newbies, therfore I tend to be the understanding One. One that can be turned to with questions. I enjoy teaching those that want to learn.I have no tolorance for online cyber scenes. I want flesh..I have all the time in the world to fulfill My sexual needs in real life..I dont need to role play
Outside of this wonderful experience I am a real woman, a lesbian,a lover, a friend.Just an all around KINKY woman.who is more then capable of handiling a regular relationship outside of BDSM as well.
Lifestyle is a part of Me but doesnt make Me who I am. The magic can only take you so far. It does not pay the bills.make the meals,do the laundry.
Enjoy the dance..the love of BDSM. The little things are what count.Rituals,fantasies,the realm of release ....you can only live out so much of the scene before its no longer reality but a unclear blurry vision.
may be what you want, what you need, what you desire...you may feel consumed with the passion and lust of BDSM ...live the lifestyle, don't let it live off you! I am open minded to making friends that are not Lifestyle as well. BDSM is like religion, I dont push it upon anyone.
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another entry from My baby...for her book
...the energy you gave me was unequalled. The pleasure. The pain. The life. Your life. The love. The unmistakable passion. I feel you from the inside out. I sink into you like melting wax flowing over a metal mesh. It seeps through the grate and then becomes something else, another form, so different from whence it started. Ignite the wick and the smooth, organized and formed wax becomes asymmetrical, dripping – it loses it shape - loses control over what it is – becomes something different entirely, yet maintains its very core composition. When the fire is out, it rehardens with the abrupt stroke of reality – the harsh overhead light or the sunrise. Unless it has run over the edge, it becomes what it once was, reorganized and waiting for the fire to be ignited again. This is you. The wax to my fire.
You mold around me. IN me. You become ME. I become you. I fill you, you fulfill me. As you lose control, I gain control, and as I lose control you take it back. We push, we pull, we feel, we fight. You growl, I laugh. You beg, I oblige. You bleed and I take it into my throat. You laugh and I smile knowingly. You cringe and I fall back. You cry and I fall to pieces, joyous water falling upon your bruised and bleeding breast. I love you and you love me. We know this above all. Whatever there is above and beyond our flesh, there is love and security and trust and understanding.
"Hurt me…" I bite, you moan. I smack, you smile. I fist and you cum all over me. We languish in the juices combined – my sweat, your g-spot, purchased lube from walgreens, elbow grease, spit, blood, snot – all on the sheets at the same time forming some sort of sex soup. I long to be covered in it. To swim in the unconventional smell – the smell of pleasure and pain, the scent of sex, the odor of love. Cover my face in it. Feel it on me. Swollow it whole, spit it back into you, so you can feed from me, little bird.
So as I spit the blood, cum and saliva I took from you back into your mouth (you said you were thirsty), your eyes closed and you breathed - slowly, deeply, in concert with the rise and fall of my chest. Synchronized. You said you wanted me to give you everything you needed to survive, so that in return you could surrender yourself to me wholly and explore with me all the possibilities that this connection holds – that this love creates. So I flew, with you, around you, protecting you and yet scarring you at the same time. Forget flesh. It is not about flesh. Its about leaving the flesh behind, tearing it apart so that there is no more left to worry about. You’re forced to abandon your holy temple and reach out with your mind – to control everything with thought alone. Away you go. Ok, maybe not away, but towards because the stronger the blows are delivered, the closer you become to me. The more violent the actions, the more passive you become, the more of you I take the more you give. The more you give, the closer I become ingrained and tattooed into your flesh and placed at the forefront of your next days thoughts. You become mine most willingly and I will not disrespect that honor. I LOVE you.
After last night, you are everywhere with me today. All day I am linked into your neurons. I feel you thinking about me. This is not meant to be an ego massage, but a privilege. A serious tribute, a gift, from the one who I claim as mine. I belong to her as well. Yin and yang. I know that without her I am truly nothing. I would collapse at the wind breaking off a feather. It is her strength that holds me up. My angel. My demon. My baby. My slut. My Life. My Drug…
…My God… |
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My dark seductive eyes
cast a spell on you...
suck you in...
Make you pant...
Make you want...
Make you NEED...
you feel My hand
Wrap around your throat
tilting your head..
preparing...
pressing against you..
I feel your heart thunder
I hear your thoughts
I want more.........
whats wrong?
can't you breath?
My eyes lock into yours
calming your fears....
I whisper......relax
My lips are open
I smile that familiar smile.
Showing fangs ..sharp fangs
your neck..extended
sweaty and ready
I bite....
I suck.......
I bite again...
blood dripping, I taste you
all of you..
I suck in your soul, your being
your life....
feel the passion,the desire,the lust...
I wipe the tear from your cheek
Kiss your quivering lips..
you are now Mine
My eternal slave
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I can make love to you,
in a room filled with people;
using only my eyes.
Awaiting the opportunity,
vulnerable, sensuality,
in my gaze.
My searching eyes wrapping your soul a gift in ribbons.
Love filling, misty eyes blinking.
Lingering glance, silent but not.
I can make love to you,
with the slightest touch of my fingertips.
Barely tickling skin,
shiver rippling spines,
echoeing back to me...my own shivers.
Your excitement stirs my own.
Exploring skin, searching treasure in the softness.
I can make love to you,
through a song,
tender tones....singing only heart to heart.
Attuned to soulful melody,
branding notes for future dreams.
Peaceful...graceful...vibrating,
lyricism.
I can make love to you,
through words I've written.
Heart pourings...wide open,
raw, agape.
No truer way to bare my soul, my life my feelings.
Spirit naked...served to you.
I can make love to you,
at times in dreams.
Holding you in my mind,
sighs....whispers,
and the look upon your face,
assisiting me in my fantasy.
I can make love to you,
in many differing ways.
Give and take,
constant flow of loving energy.
It doesn't matter how we love...
only that we do.
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Running through life, proud and strongdriven to excel in every task
always peering into the darkness that lies ahead
never reaching the light that awaits
knowing there is more and reaching high
standing tall, yet with doubts inside
wondering if there can ever exist
the one that will light the torch
searching, struggling, never satisfied
crying at night alone with your fears
fighting and questioning your deep desires
explaining your needs to the deaf
off in the distance a shadow appears
holding the dim lantern to guide you home
a pinpoint of light, a beacon of hope
whispers....of love...calling your name
come, my love, follow your dreams
come, my love, I'll fill your needs
come, my love, offer your deepest gift
come, my love, learn to be adored
the lessons you have learned through lifes search
have been for a reason, you now understand
without the searching, without the questions, my love
you would not be prepared to begin your path
power does not shout, it speaks with a whisper
strength is empowering those we love
respect cant be demanded, it can only be earned
free yourself , give yourself to me
I offer you me, completely
the distance has closed, the light now burns bright
your path now floods with surrenders sweet light
come to me, my face is now clear
holding out my hand to take you home |
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Just sharing another chapter of Mine and a lovers story...look for it in her next book as well....
I fist the air wildly like a baby reaching out for something that's non-existent. The reason? You are with me right now.
On top of me.
Fucking me.
Making love to me.
Biting me.
Breathing your life into me.
Sometimes my hands grapple at your back, cling onto your shoulders and scratch down your neck leaving marks in their wake. In case you haven't noticed my hands are, what we call in poker, my "tell." You can tell you have me where you want me, where I want to be and what is happening to my body by the motion (or lack there of) in my hands. You can tell by how hard I cum by how hard I grip onto you in that moment. I might even bruise you. You can tell how close to the precipice I am by how much I push you and pull you around while you are bringing me to that threshold. You didn't know where those bruises came from did you? You interrogated me like I was a criminal – how dare I mark the Master. Well now you know what happened. I really don't have any control over them, especially with you making me fly.
Your head next to mine, breathing on my neck, face down, sweaty. My right arm was around your shoulder, the fingers of one extremity pressing deep into your tense back muscles. Your right hand was above my head, holding my left – fingers entwined – your left hand – buried profoundly inside me. Subdued, you said, "Breathe baby." You whispered it so sweetly, so calmly – your voice alone in that moment was so reassuring - I let you in.
Then you kissed me and it was awkward. (We were slightly more focused on what was happening a bit lower.) But it was during that awkward kiss, the one right after "breathe baby," that I felt it – the moment of recognition, the spark, the moment I knew we were in this together, the magic, the release, the me into you, you into me, me into you (to quote an old 70's song), the power, YOUR power and my wanting to say, "HEY YOU (tap tap) yes you, I am ready.Ready to understand what you have been saying all this damn time about willingness and readiness and vulnerability and control and seduction and enjoying the fucking ride and trust, oh God yes, trust." I wanted to yell, "I trust you. God I trust you. Fucking take me, I am ready for you." But you only took me so far - to an edge, not THE edge mind you, but AN edge - and then let me go, let me fly on my own. It is like the minute you feel swept away by a rollercoaster - the minute the fear stops - you raise your hands above your head and open your eyes and feel the rapturous glory of being out of control, that's what I was feeling when you kissed me. That's what I was feeling when I looked up to see your hand in mine. Our hands together. Never apart. We are creating memories here and now.
Slow and methodical – very slow – that is how you touched me. At one time I thought, "How boring. Where is the passion? Where is the throwing each other off the bed, fucking with wild abandon, rough stuff?" But I am not thinking that now. No matter how fevered my tempo became, you brought me back down to your level. "Slow down," I silently heard you tell me through the contact of our skin. It was as if you were saying, "This doesn't have to be over in 3 minutes. This doesn't have to be over in 3 hours or 3 days. We've got all the time in the world." Slow down. My hands relaxed – flattened – on her lower back and gently swept upwards to her shoulders. They pulled her in closer, closer – God I couldn't get close enough. They ran up to her hair, slid through its wetness, held her neck, coddled her face and chin, the feeling of her soft skin – miraculous – sending the electricity of her ardor through me.
I felt it all through my hands.
She doesn't ask for anything or demand or persuade – she doesn't TRY to play that. She says, "I have one motive – it's not to make you take all the pain I offer, it's not to make you submit, its not to take out my sadistic nature on you – my motive is raw, emotional and mental release. The need to feel wanted, needed and released from the rest of the world's bullshit – to be lost in time with all I give. I want tears. I want to push in every way possible. I want you to soar. I know that tears are the brink, pushing you beyond those tears is what is needed. Losing control. Being real. Heart racing. Our minds in sync. Desire. Lust and being content and in awe with the experience is what I aim for."
Embarrassingly, I want this too. But I fight my own instincts and then I stop and think…why am I fighting? I know that when I am in her arms, I fucking melt into her both consciously and unconsciously. I WANT her to take me, do what she wants; I want to give myself to her. Sometimes she brings this out in me by just kissing me, putting her arm around my neck (not in any hostile way) and holding me – I feel like she towers over me, emotionally, mentally, physically. I let her control things; I want her to control things. The pace, the flow – it comes naturally. Is it just from her? Or are we both doing this? My inner monolog stops as I climax onto her over and over.
My hands absorbed all she had to give – 120% of herself. Feeling every part of her – up and down, in and out, over and over. Until nothing remained. Until no thought was present. Until she came back into me. Until I was spent and she was holding me tightly. My hands, her hands – vectors of pain, vessels of pleasure – held on – until we fell asleep within the confines of the bed, chest to chest, nose to nose, hand in hand.
Always, hand in hand.
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I had a wonderful experience with an amazing person, she has written about it for yet another one of her books..so with her permission I have decided to share....so heres our story...
She was a fucking animal pulling at my flesh with her teeth. She had me backed up against my truck, in the orange glow of the dusk to dawn streetlamp, and she was ripping into my skin leaving her mark. We were mad on each other, stopping the viciousness only briefly to kiss softly, but thoroughly – her tongue stud rolling around my mouth with ease – before she would again place her teeth on my neck and pick up the tender meat that lived there. In this moment, I am surprised I am not bleeding, but I am sure that can be arranged.
I groped and grasped at her, pushing her here and there, trying to regain some semblance of dominance, but she wasn't having any of it. This was her game and she knew it. She liked that I was trying to push and pull at her – that I would take her throat in my hand, thinking I was having my way, only to have her give me an evil smile that said, "That's cute little boi!" She simply would not succumb, not one little bit. She held her head up to me – her chin defiant – then she stared me down, grabbed my ribs in the palms of her hands and tightened her grip. Good God that hurt. "Now want are you gonna do?" she said as I growled my pains through clenched teeth. Like Hannibal Lector I'll bet her heart rate never got above 80. "Huh? What was that?" she said as she cocked her head, put her tongue to her back teeth, raised her eyebrows, jutted her jaw and smiled at my acquiescence as if to say, "Go on. Keep going." Where was my power you may ask? Well I decided that I gave it to her as a gift, and now she is giving it back to me in abundance.
She stands all of 5 ft 4 (sorry if it is more), but in her 6 inch heels, she pretty much towers over me. A red head – truly a red head. (I think there is some crunky comment I could make about the curtains matching the drapes, but perhaps I will refrain until I know better.) I like to be behind her, holding her, because in her heels my lips just about reach the nape of her neck where I like to run them across the soft line of her buzz cut. I like to place my nose to her skin and inhale her scent while my tongue plays with the tattoo there. I lick at it softly, kiss at it, breathe on it. Every once in a while I open my eyes during these actions to see if I am being intrusive – to see the look on her face while I caress her shoulder with the tip of my tongue. Am I annoying her with these little pecks of my passion – or am I pleasing her? I sigh in relief and am rewarded when she leans back into me, closes her eyes, lets out a deep breath that it seems she was holding for months, maybe years, and wraps my arm around her waist holding on to my hand tightly. In this moment, I am wanted by this woman - a dichotomy of soft pleasure and hard pain.
"Where is your car?" It is right there baby. Twenty, maybe thirty steps, under the tree, under the street lamp, blocked by other cars, only it's not a car, it's a truck. It's a HEMI and I am tacked to it as the brutality of the biting stops and I receive the best kiss I have had in ages. The kiss is oddly fluid, simple, unrestricted, there are no awkward breaks or "smooching" or obstructions – I decide in that moment that I could kiss her for hours. Then she bites the wall of my chest and my left breast and I think twice about that decision.
I grabbed her pussy awkwardly. Like a little boi, I so wanted to get under those panties. I SO wanted to pick her up, put her in my truck and, well, do more than kiss her. I wanted to be inside her as far as I could go. But, come on, how cliché (not to mention redneck) that would that have been, "Our first time together was in the back of her pickup truck…now get me a BUD! Duh-huh..." So, knowing this was as far as we were going to go for the evening, I stopped kissing her, backed up and waited for her to move out of the way so I could get in my truck and go home alone. She moved, but God how I didn't want her to budge. Just stay right there honey, looking all prettily disappointed, but then hit me with your strength, come back into me with that sexual power and tell me you're not done with me yet. I'll follow your lead. Maybe…
Alas, in that moment, I saw our similarities. She is just as shy as I am, really. I looked at the ground as she walked away and I stood there for a minute scowling at my own need – the need I just let stomp off back into the bar – the need that made me feel whole with the simple gesture of holding my hand around her waist – the sensation of feeling her skin and hair on my lips for those precious 20 minutes – the intrinsic yearning that made me hold my breath as she painfully marked me. The want of it all, there it goes, her walking with her back facing me as I open the door to the truck and get in to leave this newly sacred place, happily scarred, well, for a few days anyway.
Current writing mood – sore. Today, after the truck kiss, and the extreme pinch to my sides, I am in pain. This one hurts. These are not taps on the shoulder with a light flogger. These are not the pretty fan bruises across my shoulders that come from my other lovers' instruments, no. These are hard and fast marks – marks that last – marks that make my writing mood, well, sore. They are marks I look at whenever I go into the bathroom, symbols of where I was and whom I was with. You can't forget the experience so easily when it is right in your face, the symbols of the passion.
I am looking forward to what she has for me to learn – to the further symbols I will attain – perhaps to the love we will share – and to all that goes with knowing her. I want that kiss again. I need that kiss again. I need to be broken and bruised, worn out, and taught to let go and she can do it. She can break me |
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| Age: 21 |
| Whitesburg,
Kentucky |
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