This place is ancient. So ancient I tremble at the signs of immemorial years. Full of deep, damp hollows, overgrown with rank grass, moss, and unknown creeping weeds. The air is full of a vague stench that I associate with rotting trees. The signs of neglect and decrepitude on every inch.

I, and I, the only living creature to invade this lethal silence of centuries. I can distinguish a repellent array of slabs, urns, cenotaphs; all crumbling, covered with moss, and moisture. Most partially obscured with the luxuriant growth of unhealthy vegetation.

I stop in front of half-obliterated sepulcher. It is barely discernable. I uncover the entire surface and step back to survey the entire scene. A black aperture is revealed. Inside something which a effluence, miasmal vapor rises from. It drips with some detestable ichor of unknown things.

Ahhhhhh. It is my heart.

The ever fickle, frail, finicky, pompuus, sanctimonious, arrogant, superciliious, and self-aggrandizing "uber-dom".

For now, let me just say that these men irritate me to know end. They make my teeth itch. They expect every submissive to bow and cower before the might of their capped letters. You are expected to fall into a puddle of submission at the mere sight of SirIAmAnAsshole's over capitalized and cliched name. Of course, if you don't you aren't ~gasps~ a true submissive.

These men generally have poor spelling skills, bad grammar, and syntax. Let's not forget they suffer from a drastic lack of manners and common sense. I'm sure they are inbred to the point that their father is their grandmother, too. (Don't try to figure that one out, it will hurt your brain.)

These obvious dolts suffer from a strange affliction of admirably proving themselves to be stupid with every word spoken or typed. They are easily spotted yet for some reason still have a submissive hanging on their every breath. I'm sure I have a tumor growing on my brain from trying to figure that out.

The point of this? I don't know. I just know I'm tired of these inane, foolish, vapid, purile men pretending to be something they are not. It's really ok to be new and not have any knowledge. It's not ok to pretend to be something or someone you are not.

So, I just finished changing the contact names in my daughter's cell phone. She will now be recieving texts from Batman, Edward Cullen, Simba, Evil Minion, and many more fictional characters.

Just some things that I find irritating about people.

1 - No offense, said with a smile and an unctuous tone.

2 - Condescension.

3 - Hubris.

Strangely, all of the above are rampant on here recently. Must be something in the water. Or someone has switched my hormone pills with M&M's again.

I dreamed of you last night. I awoke with my body trembling and wet.

Do you want to hear?

Do you want to hear of how your fingernails raked across my skin, agonizingly, as you tore my clothes away? Or do you want to hear of how your fingertips stroked my skin, adoringly, as you bound me with leather and silk?

Do you want to hear of how of your fingers lashed my skin, terrifyingly, as you painted me a flash of colors, simply because you adore it?

So much I could tell. So many stories. Do you want me to whisper them all to you?

Children starve while boots costing thousands of dollars leave footprints upon the dust of the moon.

While creating a bloody war man will orate most fervently for peace.

Man will build globally destructive weapons while asking for global harmony.

Man will say they are sorry while planning the next assault.

Man will look at you with pity in their eyes while assailing your ears with platitudes yet never feel the words they say.

Man is unworthy.

Things you don't want to hear while tied-up and blind folded.

Hmm, I've never tried this in real life before, but I'm the best there is at it online.

Have you given any thought as to what you want your epitaph to say?

You think anyone would notice if you came up missing?

"This is the police. Come out with your hands up. We have you surrounded."

"You'll never take me alive!!" ~said to the sounds of repetitive gun fire~

Uh-oh then silence.

Now children, see what happens to bad boys and girls who don't listen to their parents?

Mom! Where's the ballgag?

The highest acheivement mankind believes is the stamping out of evil. But what is evil? A thought? An action? Inaction? An absence? Opposition of beliefs? Intention? Ignorance?

Who decides what is evil? The individual? A group? Religion? A perspective we ignore? The lack of reason? Bad judgement? Is there an universal evil?

Wikipedia defines evil as "a broad term used to indicate a negative moral or ethical judgment, often used to describe intentional acts that are cruel, unjust, or selfish."

The dictionary defines it as "morally wrong or bad; immoral; wicked: evil deeds; an evil life; harmful; injurious"

(Moral - ethical; virtuous; righteous; principled; conforming to accepted standards; having integrity)

Is our perception of evil defined by our religious beliefs? Afterall, most people derive their morals from their religion. I'm sure everyone has some idea of evil. It probably varies from individual to individual. Yet is what we consider evil actually evil or just misinterpretation?

I'm sure to a fly caught in a spider's web the spider is evil. But the spider is only doing what a spider does. Doesn't make the spider evil.

Of course, not everything compares to that. I'm sure someone is considering the more gruesome aspects of human nature. Pedophiles, rapists, cannibals, murders. Yet, does that make one evil? I see such people as mentally unstable. Doesn't make them evil.

So, what is evil? I'm finding it hard to clarify. I do find many acts to be reprehensible; but to proclaim them as evil? No, I cannot.

A Mouse Story.....

A mouse looked through the
crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package.

"What food might this contain?" The mouse wondered -he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard,the mouse proclaimed the warning.

"There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and
said, "Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a
mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The pig sympathized, but said, "I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray.
Be assured you are in my prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow and said, "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The cow said, "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap-- alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house
like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the
darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake
whose tail the trap had caught.

The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her
to the hospital and she returned home with a fever.
Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient.

But his wife's sickness continued,so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock.
To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.

The farmer's wife did not get well; she died. So many people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.

So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you,
remember -- when one of us is threatened,we are all at risk.

REMEMBER:
EACH OF US IS A VITAL
THREAD IN ANOTHER PERSON'S TAPESTRY

This is to help out all those poor men out there. I know I'm not suppose to give away these super secret women translations but I feel sorry for them. They keep stumbling around in the dark. Here's a candle ,dear. Use it wisely.

"Fine."
Translation: You're an idiot; just be quiet. I'm tired of arguing with you.

"I'll be ready in five minutes."
Translation: Leave me alone and let me get dressed. I will be down in 30 minutes- idiot.

"oh, nothing."
Translation: You're an idiot and would never understand.

"Go ahead."
Translation: If you dare, idiot

"sighs"
Translation: You are an idiot and why do I have to explain everything to you?

"Oh"
Translation: You're a lying idiot.

"That's ok."
Translation: You're an idiot who is going to have to take me shopping tomorrow.

"Please do."
Translation: Yes, explain to me why the idiot king felt the need to do this.

"Thanks a lot"
Translation: Great! Another mess for me to clean courtesy of the idiot.

"What"
Translation: I know you didn't just use that tone of voice with me, idiot.

Your voice echos within my mind,
It's haunting, dulcet tones.
Those words whispered to me,
The only things you've left behind.
They linger here.
Reminding me of you.
Haunting me.
Tormenting me.
Sometimes I can smell you.
At the oddest moments.
The strangest places.
For no logical reason.
My skin will feel your touch.
The hairs will raise
And I would swear you are behind me.
I turn.
You are never there.

I've decided to become an old, crazy, cat lady. Live with and love my cats. Live alone and scowl at my neighbors. Run the little bratty neighborhood kids out of my yard. And talk to my cats about them.

Get out of my yard,ya damn brats! And stop teasing my cats!

~tosses a stick at the retreating backs of the bratty neighborhood kids~

I know, Mr.Tuddy. They are the worst kids I've evar saw in ma life. Yes, I certainly agree with you, Mrs. Putty. They ain't gonna get no x-mas gift from us this year. And no, Bob, we ain't givin' 'em back their ball.

Today I am examining the phenomenon know as luck.

Luck strikes where it will and where it won’t. Some people claim to have it and others deprived of it. It seems fickle, picking one person in a crowd for rewards of greatness and another for punishments that defy nature.

I have often asked myself why every fast moving line slows to a crawl as soon as I enter it. I have also noticed that dispensers frequently give the last paper towel to the person right before me. And then there is always that getting picked last for kickball thing.

Could it be bad luck?

No, actually in my case these things are directly attributable to the International Conspiracy to Cause Thesan Pain, which I will have to address in a different journal. For every one else the usual culprit is luck.

I have no time for speculation and small talk of this nature. I have just discovered that journaling (Is that even a word?) is a lot of work. Consistently using the word 'of' and 'that' is even more difficult.

I digressed and forgot what I was going to write. This ends another frutiless attempt at journaling (If it wasn't a word - it is now.). You may return to your I-can't-believe-it's-not-bondage life.

Your sense of smell. Perhaps one of the most under-rated of your senses. But for me; no.

There are some men that smell absolutely sexy to me. They just have this scent, which I call "that" scent. They come near me, I inhale their scent and my body goes into over drive. My blood turns to hot, liquid chocolate and I literally ache for them. I want to lean in and inhale their scent. I want to be stained with his scent. I want to smell him long after he is gone. 

They arouse a certain feeling in me. I don't even know how to describe it. It's just "that" feeling. It's not the cologne; oh no. It's them. It's their scent. I notice it most after a man has been sweating and he comes in. His smell is overwhelming and sensual. Shivers course through me at the thought of it. I want to hear him growl low and deep in his throat as he bites into my flesh. I want to bare my throat to him. I want to scream; no. Beg. I want to beg him, "Take me, fuck me, hurt me. Oh by the gods just freaking touch me!".

My blood is raging with thought of it. Coursing through me like molten fire. There is a deep aching need just below the surface of my skin. Even the slightest hint of such a scent sends me screaming into the primal abyss. I must have him.

I am digressing. Dang it, people. Help me keep on topic. Ok, I was talking about "that" scent. The dominant-male-I-will-fuck-you-like-an-animal scent. Yes, he has to have "that" scent. Pheromones, I know and I don't care.

Screw it. My mind keeps wondering and I can't recall what I was going to say about it.

I wonder; is it just me or does any other woman out there experience this phenomenon?

I didn't write this but I wanted to share it.

Subject: MEN

1. Nice men are ugly.
2. Handsome men are not nice.
3. Men who are both nice and handsome are gay.
4. Men who are handsome, nice, and heterosexual are married.
5. Men who are not so handsome, but are nice men, have no money.
6. Men who are not so handsome, but are nice men with money think we are only after their money.
7. Handsome men without money are after our money.
8. Handsome men, who are not so nice and are somewhat heterosexual; don't think we are beautiful enough.
9. Men who think we are beautiful, that are heterosexual, somewhat nice and somewhat handsome, and have money, are cowards.
10. Men who are somewhat handsome, somewhat nice and have some money and thank God are heterosexual, are shy and NEVER MAKE THE FIRST MOVE!!!!!
 11. Men who never make the first move, automatically lose interest in us when we take the initiative.

AND THEY SAY WOMEN ARE HARD TO UNDERSTAND!!

Are you a chest-thumping, silverback dominant? Signs include (the obvious) chest-thumping, roaring, growling, and throwing poo. These are just a few signs. These "men" (or "women") are irritating. They make my teeth itch.

Why roar out some submissive is with you and other dominants best leave her/him alone. Honestly, if their women/men can't tell another they are taken, then why are they with her/him? Do you truly want someone so helpless you have to wipe their ass?

I digressed. Back to King Kong. You do realize he fell to his death over a blonde bimbo? All that roaring, chest-thumping, and swatting at planes only lead to his early demise. True, the blonde was impressed but everyone else was just irritated. His roaring was too loud and look at all the damage he created in just a few minutes. I won't even mention the shedding. And let's be honest here, didn't take much for the blonde to swoon. After all, she was impressed by a big, poo-flinging, monkey.

Face it. He's (or she) only trying to impress you and everyone else with his/her dominance. I find the most dominant men/women never proclaim it. They just are and it just shows. They know it and you know it. Chest-thumping is redundant.

We now return you to your irregular I-can't-believe-its-not-bondage! life.

One of the hazards of maintaining an e-mail address is the influx of unwanted e-mail. (aka spam)

Fortunately, I have the spam-slamming power of Yahoo at my disposal. Yahoo has powerful spam-filtering that searches every incoming e-mail, and throws the suspicious looking ones into a holding cell. I just drop by at some point and mock them in their humiliation.

I was admiring my collection of apprehended spam when I started to wonder. (These instances of wonderment, are where those who know me usually run for the nearest exit, but I am counting on the fact that you don’t know me, or your browser is not responding right now.)

What I was wondering about is:

What if male enhancement products actually made you more male?

I have always been female, so I asked why would I want to be male? Are there some type of bonus points involved that I can redeem for prizes? Is being able to pee standing up considered a benefit? Why would I want to stand up and pee?

Then I wondered what would you do with an enhanced male? What would an enhanced man do? Gather up all maps or any direction giving item and burn them?

He would definately have duct tape with him where ever he went. Duct tape fixes everything.

He would probably burn all the toilet seats with the maps and such.

He would have one remote control for everything. I mean EVERYTHING - including his libido.

He would gather with other enhanced males, make bodily noises, drink beer, look under the hood of a car and try to figure exactly how to take out the GPS satellites. All enhanced males would believe they must be the only source for directions.

I see many journals on here talking about how things aren't fair. Guess what? Life isn't fair. Get use to it and stop whining about it. You aren't a child.

Another thing - stop whining about your mistakes and trying blame someone else. It's your fault. Live with it. Learn from it. Move on. Sure you might regret the choice but only a dull life will never have regrets. It's been my experience to have the regret of doing something than the regret of not doing it.

It's time to get off that cross and take the wood to build a bridge and get over it.

Here's some pick up lines for the men. The ones they have obviously don't work too well from the journal entries I read.

Does this napkin smell like chloroform to you?

Can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money?

My boys over there bet that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the room. Want to buy some drinks with their money?

Okay, so I came over here to ask you to dance, but I'm kind of concerned. I mean, we could hit it off really well, end up having a few drinks, next thing you know you're giving me your number because I'm too shy to ask for it, I finally get up the nerve to call and we take in a movie, have some dinner, I relax, you relax, we go out a few more times, get to know each other's friends, spend a lot of time together, then finally have get past this sexual tension and really develop this intense sex life that is truly incredible, decide our relationship is solid and stable, so we move in together for a while, then a few months later get married, I get a promotion, you get a promotion, we buy a bigger house. You really want kids, but I really want freedom, but we have a kid anyway, only to find that I am resentful, the sparks start to fade and to rekindle them we have two more lovely kids, but now I work too much to keep up with the bills, have no time for you, you're stressed and stop taking really good care of yourself, so to get past our slow sex life and my declining self-confidence I turn to an outside affair for sexual gratification. You find out because I'm careless and a lousy liar, you throw me out (justifiably so) and we have to explain to the kids why mommy and daddy are splitting up. That's just too sad. Think about the children! For God's sake, if you dance with me and we hit it off, let's just keep it sexual, because we both know where it's going.

I AM THANKFUL...

For the child who is not cleaning their room, but is watching TV because it means they are at home, and not on thestreets.

For the taxes I pay, because it means that I am employed.

For the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

For the clothes that fit a little too snug because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work because it means I am in the sunshine.

For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing because it means I have a home.

For all the complaints I hear about the Government because it means that we have Freedom of Speech.

For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot because it means I am capable of walking and  I have been blessed with transportation

For the pile of laundry and ironing because it means I have clothes to wear.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours because it means that I am alive.

It is madness, says reason
It is, what it is, says love
It is unhappiness, says caution
It is nothing but pain, says fear
It has no future, says insight
It is, what it is, says love.
It is ridiculous, says pride
It is foolish, says caution
It is impossible, says experience
It is, what it is, says love.

- Erich Fried

Hindu Legend.....

There was once a time when all human beings were gods, but they so abused their divinity that Brahma, the chief god, decided to take it away from them and hide it where it could never be found.

Where to hide their divinity was the question. So Brahma called a council of the gods to help him decide. "Let's bury it deep in the earth," said the gods. But Brahma answered, "No, that will not do because humans will dig into the earth and find it." Then the gods said, "Let's sink it in the deepest ocean." But Brahma said, "No, not there, for they will learn to dive into the ocean and will find it." Then the gods said, "Let's take it to the top of the highest mountain and hide it there." But once again Brahma replied, "No, that will not do either, because they will eventually climb every mountain and once again take up their divinity." Then the gods gave up and said, "We do not know where to hide it, because it seems that there is no place on earth or in the sea that human beings will not eventually reach."

Brahma thought for a long time and then said, "Here is what we will do. We will hide their divinity deep in the center of their own being, for humans will never think to look for it there."

All the gods agreed that this was the perfect hiding place, and the deed was done. And since that time humans have been going up and down the earth, digging, diving, climbing, and exploring--searching for something already within themselves.

I'm southern girl for those who didn't know and there are some things I sometimes say which leaves others confused. Here are some helpful translations for those who aren't privileged enough to be from the south. And I'm truly sorry you are not southern. :p

1-  sugar.
Translation-  a kiss.

2-  yonder.
Translation-  a 1/2 mile to a mile down the road.

3-  a poke
Translation- a bag

4-  courtin'.
Translation-  a date.

5-  the holler.
Translation- A small valley.

6- mad as a wet hen.
Translation- very angry.

7- sigoggly
Translation- crooked.

8- flew all over me.
Translation- irritated them.

9- doodles
Translation- baby chicks.

10- baccer
Translation- tobacco.

This is not by any stretch complete. I could make it much, much longer. This is only an example.

It seems some have a preconceived notion of my intelligence. I think perhaps some have too much time on their hands. They were hypercritical of me. Not only was it pointed out to me that I'm narrow-minded but also that I am obviously stupid. Not to mention the myriad of other things. I think they need to take up a hobby - perhaps knitting? Now for my opinion on this.

You don't know me. Probably never will. Your opinion doesn't count for much when it is regarding me. You have a stereotypical view of intelligence and you wish to propagate it. I don't fit your box. I know myself to be a intelligent, articulate woman. Whether you see me as such is your choice and your mistake. I'm sorry. I will continue to be me. I will continue to give my thoughts and opinions. I will continue to make jokes. I will not share my toys. I will not play with others. I will play in the sandbox barefoot. I will cut off all of Barbie's hair and I will not stop writing my thoughts or opinions down because you have your panties tied in a knot. If it bothers you so much - stop reading it.

It is amazing that some people would wish to douse the fire, the streak of individuality that every human being possesses. Each person is an individual and therefore unique. I find it incredibly myopic that some have the gall to pigeonhole living, breathing people into a slot to determine that person's perceived intelligence level. The very notion this should come about from the words (or text) of someone who claims to adhere to a way of life that is open, liberating, and exhilarating, is preposterous.

A piece of advice for you, be careful you don’t fill your writing with 50-cent words. Those longer, more obscure, or more scholarly sounding words are often inserted into writing purely for the purpose of seeming more intelligent. But it’s not the words that indicate how smart you are, it’s the ideas. If you have something interesting or compelling to say, your intelligence is going to come through even if you use the simplest words.

I also suggest you buy a sense of humor; if such things can be purchased and next time do try to resist the temptation of cramming another into your description. Remember: it's not my fault you are challenged by the concept of spell-check.

Oh, I'm sure another "uber-dom" or "uber-submissive" will get angry over this. I'm sure I will be marveled at their degree of eloquence and self-control as they rant in my inbox. I'm sure I will be in awe of your ability to control everything within a 5 mile radius. Did that bird just fly by without permission? Go ahead and write a nasty note to me. Get angry. Rant. Rave. Talk about me. Do whatever you feel is necessary to justify your ludicrous ideas. But I think you need to go and give that bird a taste of your crop from hell; he keeps flying around and I'm pretty sure he didn't ask for permission this time.

My Casanova.

I must stop. I must stop before this wave over takes me. Before I am drowning within you.

But that is what you want, is it not?

To quell the raging within me is impossible. Beyond my grasp.The taste of you; never do I wish to dispel that taste. I want to savor it. To lick my lips and taste you there. With the first drop of you to be taken back to a moment within my mind.Your captivating words echoing in my mind. Caressing my ears.

Seductor. Libertine.  

I'm terrified. I'm aroused. I'm apprehensive. I'm intimidated. I need to be unraveled by you. To be contorted, possessed, controlled, ravished, twisted. All those things and so much more that words can not describe. You make me want to abandon everything I have thought or knew and just revel in you. You are dangerous.

Deadly. Perilous. Portentous.

You make me vunerable. My senses reel. My mind runs through a rampage of thoughts, word, deeds, emotions. You are dangerous for me, Libertine. 

Bewitching. Beguiling. 

How can mere words typed out ever hope to express what I think or feel? They can not. They are lacking in so much that is beyond my reach to explain. I am not articulate enough. I am not educated enough. I have not the skill. Or perhaps, it is indescribable for even Shakespeare. My heart jumps to be in my throat and pounds unrelentingly. My breath stops and I have to force myself to breathe. Shivers crawl up and down my spine. My skin flushes.

My Don Giovanni.

It defies my ability to write. I pant. I quiver. I rake my nails across my unrelenting flesh leaving a trail of white, bloodless streaks. I want to devour you, Casanova.

I am determined to get to the bottom of this 404 error thing, and will repost this entry as many times as necessary until the enigma is unraveled to my satisfaction. There are a lot of things I have to put up in life but rebellious journals are not one of them.

My journal is in fact broken and handing out errors like a dominant spanking his submissive. So, I’m trying again. And again. And again.

Random Thoughts:

Where does Calgon take you?

Why would Scooby do all those things for a Scooby Snack? Are they addictive?

Where were the messed up smurfs?Chronic Masturbator Smurf? Flasher Smurf?

Why do I care who killed Ms Scarlett in the library with a candlestick?

Why don't the smurfs just kill Brainy? He's irritating.

Has anyone else ever noticed that Pepe le Pew is a stalker?

And has anyone ever seen a duck that is solid black like Daffy?

Where does Wild E. Coyote get the money for all those gadgets?

Why is it that Wonder Woman's weakness is being bound?

Why don't I ever get those good looking delivery men coming to my door like in the porn movies? I have things delivered but it's always an overweight, balding man with chronic halitosis.

What do I want in a dominant? I am asked this question often and I find it hard to answer. I will do my best to answer it here and I hope anyone who chooses to message me will read it here and stop asking me.

I could lay a laundry list of items here but I won't. Some things are just a given and do not need to be said. What I want from a dominant is in a tone, an inflection, a look, and a stance. It cannot be faked. It cannot be taught. It cannot be learned. It just is and I just know it when I encounter it.

It is not cowardice. It is not good looks. It is not a high paying job. It is not whining or pleading. None of those will attract me.

It is being able to seduce my mind long before you seduce you my body. It is manners and gentleman behavior. It is kissing my hand before my lips. It is the ability to discern that which lies below the incandescent surface.

It is the ability to turn my blood into hot, liquid chocolate with one word.

I don't know how many times I've seen her quoted in various submissive's profiles or trotted out as a submissive role model.

Who? Anais Nin.

Don't take me wrong. I love her writing. But as a writer, I'm aware that not everything penned should be considered holy writ and not everything written should be believed as fact. Simply because I appreciate her writing and find meaning in her words does not, in any way, imply that I view her as some sanctified submissive.

Sex should be explicit. It should be full of lust, desire, flavor, and intensities. It shouldn't be confined to lurid words and fanciful desciptions. That is what Anais Nin writes.

Her writings are descriptive and filled with flowerly phrases. I adore it. Yet, at the same time, I hate it. It somehow seems mechanical. Monotonous. As if she was examining every inch of sex with a microscope and taking away the mystery, the allure of it all.

And some of it is just disturbing. The appalling story named, "The Hungarian Adventurer".

Yet, I cannot deny her influence. Her genius. Her way of writing exactly what she thinks, feels and making you think and feel it, too. Her uncanny knack of expressing each and every emotion and thought. The unabashed freedom in her writing.

So, when it comes to Anais Nin, I am torn. I love and hate her. But a role model? No. And I think perhaps the many which hold her on a pedestal might want to read her writings instead of a quote here and there.

Tell me.

~~~~~~~~~Ask me.

I'm scared.

~~~~~~~~~You're safe.

Why?

~~~~~~~~~Why not?

Adore me.

~~~~~~~~~Worship you.

I feel.....

~~~~~~~~~I know.

Unwind me.

~~~~~~~~~Bind you.

Captivate me.

~~~~~~~~~Free you.

Grasp me.

~~~~~~~~~Hold you.

Touch me.

~~~~~~~~~Caress you.

Hurt me.

~~~~~~~~~Ravage you.

See me.

~~~~~~~~~Show me.

Control me.

~~~~~~~~~Possess you.

Hear me.

~~~~~~~~~Feel you.

Take me.

~~~~~~~~~Stole you.

Taste me.

~~~~~~~~~Savor you.

Lead me.

~~~~~~~~~Follow me.

This is a story
About passion
Desire
Lust
Craving
It is a tale that beats
In the private
Innermost
Most-secret recesses of each dark heart
That rides on the wings
Of each whispered breath of arousal
That surfs on the seething deluge
Of each crazed throb of pulse gone wild

This is my story
Bleak…savage…untamed
It is stark
Bereft
Dark
Abject
It is unapologetic in its very being
In its very existence
It revels in its murky darkness
It savours its incandescent, iridescent implacability

And yet it is also your story
Whispered…murmured…rustling…shimmering
It is primal…banal
Exotic, yet evanescent
Capricious, yet strangely-comforting
Ethereal, and strangely-surreal

This is the moth and the flame
The flame and the moth
This; is you and I
This; is you and I

Feel within
Feel the quiet tendrils of warmth that flicker
Lick at
Heat the cinders; the very embers of your soul
Tell me
Are you its fuel?

Feel it grow; and amplify
Feel it flow; and sanctify
Build from spark to flame to fire to inferno.
Feel sensation sharpen; heighten.
Feel it singe; burn hotter; brighten.
Feed the fire that burns within you.
Feed the want that churns within you.
And then, you'll know the answer to
That question that has plagued your mind-
Yes, you are its fuel.

Listen within
What do they whisper to you?
What do the foaming, roiling, roaring tides
That crash against the shores of your soul
Whisper to you?
What promise washes over you
On their screaming, screeching, dirge-like wail?
What murmured whim do they ask of you
With their quiet, exhaled, rush of breath?
Does it arouse you?
Does their breath arouse you?
Does the soft shimmer of those waves stroke the very insides of your mind?
Does the spray from their scalding tears splash against your icy skin
Crystallizing against you; like diamonds adorning your arousal?
Does its wetness envelop you whole
In a living breathing screaming breeding wanting craving brooding clasp?
Yes
It does,
I know…it does.

I want to...do things to you
Terrible…exacting…exhilarating…wonderful…ecstatic…obliterating
Do you want to hear?
Do you want to hear how I ache
To unravel you
Strip you clean of all your trappings
…bare you…
Lay you waste; from the soul within
To dive down deep...spiralling
Plunging into that dark, sinful core of yours
Only to yank it out from the inside of you
Do you want to hear how I want…no
How I crave to...unhinge you?

Do you want to hear how I want
To overdose your senses?
Deprive one and accentuate the other
Breathe life into one; devastate the other
Sear and singe and burn and break one
To ravage, ravish, obliterate the other

I want to hurt you
I want to make you scream, 
Over and over and over again
Until your breath fails you
Until your voice fails you
Catching, ragged, raw
Hoarse within your sobbing breath

I want to ignite incandescent
Dizzying
Whirling swirling
Burning cartwheels of pure sensation in you
Pain…pleasure
Delight…distress
Rapture…resonating deep within every recess of you
Agony…ecstasy
Arousal…excitement
Overwhelming, intoxicating, mind-numbing bliss
All of the spectrum of emotions that make you you,
Sheer, unadulterated sensation,
So intense; that the words that churn in your breast
Would never reach your tongue to say

Yes
I want to make you scream, I want to arouse the animal in you
Wild
Feral
Visceral
Raging
Ravenous
Hungry

I want to taste your hunger,
I want to experience it
Foaming...churning...seething
Inexorable
Relentless
Implacable
No…I want to be your hunger,
Breathe it
Breed it
Freeze it
Feed it

How slick and wet do I make you?
How pronounced does the pulse beat in your temples?
How much do you yearn to orgasm?
How ragged do I make your breathing?

I am the darkness, 
Velvet
Enveloping
Encompassing
Breathe me; inhale me into you, now
Flood yourself with me
As I caress the innermost recess
Of your slick, wet, soul…
Drive me into your very essence
Where even your breath falters
As it works its way inside you

And I am the light, 
Brilliant
Intoxicating
Unbearably buoyant
Feel me spark inside your mind
Flash desperately on and off
In jangling, jumbled, jarred reflex
Feel that one instant
Ignite into a searing
White-hot sheet of passion

Feel one struggle against the other
Revel in the abandon of sheer surrender
Let your senses overdose; without an anchor
Let the fire consume you; wild
Insane
For you are the moth,
I…am the flame.

From: Thesan, Imperial Empress of all Universes, known and unknown, real, alternative, fictional, imaginary, and all of the multiverse, and any I decide to incorporate into my domains.

To: All Warriors, lords, ladies, and plebeians within and outside (temporarily) my domains.

Let it be known in all quadrants of the cyber universe that my almightyness is proud of you. In my imperial observance, the flying squirrels and poo flinging monkeys have achieved their goal of the most memorable cyber war.

Therefore, I hereby decree that all flying squirrels and poo flinging monkeys are to be granted the rank of Dictators of the Unified Mutants of Brilliant Asinine Social Skills (D.U.M.B.A.S.S.) for their collective effort in fighting this long battle against the infidel rebels, in what is now the best and funniest squabble online, as well as of my empire's history.

A special reward shall be granted to the infidel rebels for giving us a free, never ending source of entertainment. I will require that the Minister of Imperial Requests make it so. (Perhaps a spare Death Star.)

On another note, for those who have not partaken in the festivities mentioned above, I suggest you do so at once. It is highly entertaining and there may be a quiz on it at a later date. (Subject to the whim of Thesan, Imperial Empress of all Universes, known and unknown, real, alternative, fictional, imaginary, and all of the multiverse.)

So as it is written, so shall it be done!

FEAR ME AND OBEY!!!!!

Is there a rule on this website that insists if you show your face you must be sad? Why doesn't anyone smile in their pictures?

And if I see one more shiny butt glaring at me, I will scream. I swear to god I will scream. My neighbors will come running to see what is wrong and probably scream too at the shiny butt on my computer screen. Do you want my neighbors seeing your shiny butt?

And what is it with all the men sucking in their gut and taking a picture of it? What makes you think we won't know you are holding your breath?

Personally, I could not care less what your shiny butt looks like, if you look sad but deep, or if you are holding in your gut. I am not looking for the perfect body. I am not looking for someone young and fit who has a shiny butt, is sad, and no gut. I am looking for someone who is dominant and that doesn't always come in a perfect package. Some things are more important than appearance and someone who is the right dominant for me is definately more important than anything else.

Oh, I definately don't want someone who can't smile and is depressed at all times. I'm a happy submissive. I want a happy dominant.

This a nectarous tale of debauched libertines. One that must be told upon this page to violate your eyes and rape your mind as you read it. This tale is hedonistic in nature. Now read on, if you dare.

He leans in close. So close his breath warms and caresses her face. "You are incredibly, intoxicatingly, insanely arousing." He bends down his head and brushes his lips against your collarbone, gently slides those lips inwards; grazing along the planes of your collarbone. Stroking against the smooth, taut flesh covering the rounded part at your throat whispering. "I want to fucking possess you." Your reply comes in a ragged breath. "What makes you think you do not?"

His lips brush upwards, ending at your lips; inhaling your breath softly. Letting it fill his lungs and pervade his senses, permeate his very being. Before exhaling words into your breath. "I do. I know I do." You inhale his breath as you do his words. He continues. "You are arousal, passion, desire, need, driving, pounding, aching, reverberating, pulsing craving." You move your head slightly from side to side. "No, those are only my reactions to you. How could anyone react in any other manner? The burning coals buried beneath the ash you stir into a raging inferno."
"Such small embers," he replies." Flickering away. barely surface-deep beneath the fragile, alabaster shell of the body." "Shatter the shell," you murmur.

He snaps his eyes up to yours. Locking you in his gaze. "Tendrils of warmth, licking away at the the insides, heating it. Over heating it. A dull, burning, aching, searing sensation. A gradual singing, sending fingers of fire creeping along each nerve ending. Along each pleasure center. Along each receptor of violent, ecstatic, blissful sensation." You shudder slightly moving your eyes down the curve of his face.
"Ahh, such sensations that even the angels would sing glories to it in heaven." "Yessss," he hisses tracing his fingers along your jawline down to your throat. "You are arousal. You are passion. You are pleasure and to shatter that shell, break it, obliterate it. I want to. I want to deface and defile it. Smash and sensate it."

"You snatch my breath with your words." He exhales slowly and you inhale his breath into you. "I want to take you in. Every part of you." He whispers softly, "I adore you. I want to hurt you. Unravel you. Unhinge you. Render you inarticulate. Undo you completely. Absolutely, make you mine." A smile curves your lips. "I long for you to do such things to me. To leave me a quivered mass upon the floor, bed. To be painted by you in shades of blue." "I want to paint you in more shades. More colors." You glance into his eyes again. "There are so many more." He grins wickedly. "I want the crimson on your body. A deep glowering, visceral color. I want the blue of the rings of bruises on you. The purple. The violent, angry violet. I want to etch your desires on you in silhouettes of inky, obsidian black. I want to color you in the blinding white of a orgasm."

A small shudder passes through your body. "Your words devour me. They paint a picture on the canvas of my mind. They consume me with lust, passion, ardor for you. I want you. NO. I need you. I ache to feel your hands upon me." He trails his hands down your skin, leaving fleeting touches here and there before kissing you on the lips gently even though every fiber of you cries out for harsh. You savor the taste of him, the feel. He begins anew. "Crimson, purple, blue, violet, black, and white." You kiss him hard on the lips. He presses back deeply.

He pulls back suddenly, releasing your lips from his grip. "You elicit the wildest, most crazed, most electrifying thoughts and images in me. I wish to bring them to life," he says. You smile with the image of such things terrifying your mind. "What does a dominant do", he asks. "Is he the darkness or the light?"
"He's a prism. He twists the light to reveal the beauty hidden within. Something that turns the white into its spectrum of brilliance."
He asks another question. "Is he darkness, too?" "Yes," you whisper." But isn't darkness just the inhalation of the color. The consumption of it? Which is a beauty in of itself."
 

The Touch of the Master's Hand

Written by Myra Brooks Welch

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old violin, but held it up with a smile. 
 
 "What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who will start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar" --
then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

Three dollars, twice;
"Going for three --" But no,
from the room, far back,
a gray-haired man
came forward and picked up the bow;

Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
and tightening the loose strings.
he played a melody pure and sweet
as sweet as a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
with a voice that was quiet and low,
said what am I bidden for the old violin?
and he held it up with the bow.

A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once;
three thousand twice;
And going, and gone!" said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed its worth?"
Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scattered with sin,
Is auctioned off cheap
to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;
A game -- and he travels on.
He's "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and "almost gone."

But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never quite understands
The worth of a soul
and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

There seems to be an overwhelming number of people who aren't dominants. They are just pompous asses. Lucky for them, they have me to give them a list. This is how you can tell if you are a pompous ass and not a dominant.

1-You know you are smarter than everyone else.

2- You are DEFINITELY smarter than any submissive.

3- Even though you have been a practicing dominant for only a year; you are more versed in intricacies than someone who has 10 years experience.

4- The nerve of that fly to light on your flogging hand and send you off balance. That's why that last strike with the flogger was a little bit off.

5- You repeatedly hear the phrase "Look, there's an idiot" when you enter any room.

7- You wear bunny slippers because it makes you feel powerful to shove your feet up a rabbit's ass. Plus it will show the other bunnies your dominance.

8- Who is that sexy, handsome person staring back at you from the mirror?

9- Cachinnating ensues from the submissives everytime you tell them to refer to you as Master Bater.

10- You know this list about you because you are just so darn interesting, everything anyone writes is about you.

I didn't write this, but I found it on a website. It is very amusing and I wanted to share it. Enjoy.

Isn't Aging Fun? Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids?

If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. How old are you? ...

"I'm four and a half " ... You're never 36 and a half ...
you're four and a half going on five!

That's the key.

You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number.

How old are you?
"I'm gonna be 16."
You could be 12, but you're gonna be 16.

And then the greatest day of your life happens....
you become 21.

Even the words sound like a ceremony....
you BECOME 21 ... YES!!!

But then you turn 30 ... ooohhh what happened there?
Makes you sound like bad milk ...

He TURNED, we had to throw him out.
There's no fun now.
What's wrong? What changed?

You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40 ...

stay over there, it's all slipping away ...
You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, you're PUSHING 40,
you REACH 50 ... and your dreams are gone.

Then you MAKE IT to 60 ... you didn't think you'd make it!!!!

So you BECOME 21, you TURN 30, you're PUSHING 40, you REACH 50, you MAKE IT to 60 ....

then you build up so much speed you HIT 70!

After that, it's a day by day thing.

After that, you HIT Wednesday ...

You get into your 80's, you HIT lunch.

You TURN 4:30,
my grandmother won't even buy green bananas ...
it's an investment you know, and maybe a bad one.
And it doesn't end there ...

into the 90's you start going backwards ...
I was JUST 92 ...
Then a strange thing happens.

If you make it over 100,
you become a little kid again ...
"I'm 100 and a half!!"

What do I want?

Someone who sometimes does stupid things so I can feel intelligent and point and laugh at him.  Someone who points and laughs at me when I do stupid things. Someone who will let me cry and get upset so he can comfort me. Someone who will let me fly into a rage and give me space when I do. Someone who understands I get into trouble because I am naive and a lover of humans. Someone who knows I will feed any hungry animal or human within a 5 mile radius. Someone who knows I'm unpredictable and won't take me for granted because I won't let them. Someone who is not there all the time so I don't forget how to rely on myself. Someone who thinks I am the most wonderful and impossible person in the world. Someone who will threaten to leave in a heated argument and never return but never does. Someone who can stop in the middle of a raging argument and say, 'I love you' then start yelling again. Someone absolutely meticulous and irritates me because he is meticulous. Someone who makes me laugh when I am unreasonably angry. Someone who knows not to let me watch the evening news because it will make me cry. Someone who doesn't try to be clever but is anyway. Someone who will try to protect me from the bad things in life even though I may run straight to the bad things in life. Someone who stumbles over his words, sometimes saying the wrong thing and I can give him hell for it. Someone who will give me hell when I stumble over my words. Someone who will let me completely ignore him for a book and accept me with open arms when I am done reading. Someone who comes running at every loud noise thinking I had an accident. Someone who knows it's a very real possibility I had an accident. Someone who defends me even when I'm wrong and he knows I'm wrong but defends me anyway. Someone who isn't perfect but is perfect for me.

Alright. I have some irritations I will speak about. Those who pm you and ask what you are looking for. Why do I have to be looking for anything? Why can't I just be here without conducting some type of foraging expedition; as if I'm on a hunt for something. Shhh...be vewy, vewy, quiet. We're huntwing dominants.

Maybe I'm not getting enough attention at home, one suggests. Yes. That must be it. Let's ignore the fact that I am single. I am not getting enough attention at home. You caught me, Sherlock. Me being here is a cry for attention. I was hoping that you, out of thousands, no millions; you would contact me. Saving me from my tedious, unimaginative life.

In which they reply that I must not be happy. No. I'm not happy, Dr. Freud. I have this weird obssession with sex. Due to the fact that I don't get enough attention; I am not getting laid either. Can you help me out? I think I might be nymphomaniac. Do I have to pay you for this service?

Do I want to see your penis? Yes, yes, yes. I want to feast my eyes upon your flaccid cock. Geesh! At least make it hard and dress it up before you take a picture. As for seeing your penis, no. Believe it or not; I have seen a penis before. Yours isn't special. Now if it's going to do a dance. Sure, I want to see it. Otherwise, don't bother. They are ugly little things that stare at you with one good eye and have a habit of spitting. I'm not impressed. No matter how large or small.

You must be Domme. Yes, and I would of gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those meddling kids! You caught me, Super Sleuth. I'm a Domme in disguise. I slink around acting submissive to catch unsuspecting Doms and snare them in my web of dominance. My bad.

Where do these people come from? Is there a club for them? Do they breed? Where were they before they found the internet? Harassing people in the grocery store line? Did they go into Victoria Secrets and ask people if they were happy? Or wanted to see their penis? I'm confused. Where do they come from? Why do they all end up in my pm box? Is there a homing beacon attached to me?

Apparently there are trends in submission, and me such a glamourpuss and all, I really should be embarrassed not to know these things. But yes, apparently there are trends and ways of thinking that are either currently in or as out of date as a white polyester suit, and those not aware of the current trend will be a laughing stock with all the other submissives.

Well, thank you to all the submissive fashion police for so kindly pointing out to the rest of us what is or isn't currently in vogue in the way of submissive thinking, attitudes and behaviours. Not all of us have been submissives since Noah wanted to be a cowboy, we should be grateful to those that have for pointing out the error of our ways. Perhaps they could publish a guidebook on what is considered acceptable at the moment, like one of those HOT Or NOT lists you see in Cosmopolitan. 

One person even suggested being sarcastic as a submissive is "undesirable, unattractive, and inappropriate." Oh, yes, of course. I'm submissive. I shouldn't dare to be sarcastic, have an opinion, an original thought, or dare to speak my mind. If someone is rude and inconsiderate to me I should just bow my head and be grateful they acknowledge me. And when you have a dominant he holds your hand all the time and takes care of everything. You never have to worry about thinking or doing anything else. They are there to fix everything and make your life perfect. You won't have any responsibilities. You won't have to make choices or decisions. This is your happily ever after. He is your knight in shining armor galloping in on a gallant steed to rescue you.

Oops! Did I just use sarcasm? My bad. Does this mean I'm dominant now?

I have no flaming idea what is current or fashionable or old fashioned or a cliche or eighties or whatever the hell else label anyone wants to put onto the way I choose to conduct myself. I don't have a degree in submission, I didn't know the way I think and feel went out with glitter balls and platform boots. I have nothing else to base my responses on than what I feel and experience within my relationship with a dominant. Those are my realities and I wouldn't give a flying rats bottom what anyone else thinks of that.

I come here to learn and to grow and to share opinions and I value the experiences that other people have had that are different to mine and I try to learn from them. But I don't tell anyone that my way is the right way or the only way, it is right for ME and that is all.

If my experiences and responses are cliched or sarcastic and unfashionable, so be it. Good for all you Ubersubs who have ascended to the higher plains of enlightenment. Now step back out of the way and allow us to ascend the ladder. And without your "enlightened" perspective.

These words seep down into the dark recesses of a soul, far beneath the ashes, stoking embers long forgotten into a raging inferno. Flames bursting forth as the mind gives birth to writings that pour out of the hand, threatening the life of its creator.

You long for his deep, baritone voice to become a whisper next to your ear. His warm breath caressing your skin as he asks that one word question. "Who?" The answer bubbles forth unwillingly and becomes lodged in your throat. It aches but you know if you open your mouth that soft moan you are holding back will take the escape route offered. So, you take that deep breath slowly; you think. Instead it is a quick gasp. Your mind screams as your body betrays you with its reactions. Revealing all you are attempting to keep within.

And the fire burns and rages. The words pour forth. The hand unable to keep up with the onslaught. The eyes not quick enough to devour the letters chaotically written.

You may not know this, but I like chat. I know my sunny disposition hides this fact. But I do like chat in short bursts not for an extended amount time. Maybe a few minutes, then I have to get out of there.

My reason for this is I have a low tolerance for stupid behavior and ignorant chatter. Most everyone in chat seems to suffer from those things. It's trivial things, too. Things no one in their right mind could be interested in. Such as; who spoke to who three night or years ago? Who does such & such think she is? Who has been flirting with their man or woman?

And while they are busy babbling away I am only thinking of how to change the topic or make it more exciting. Or do I leave? Lucky for me, it's digital, and all I have to do is click the little 'x' if I want to leave. Honestly, are these grown adults or special kids? It's like a digital purgatory. It is good for an occassional amusement, though.

Speaking of the little 'x', how many know how to use it? Should there be a class in 'x' use? So many whine, yes I said whine, about getting pm's. Ummm..hello? Just close out the box or turn off your pms. Tada! Queue the heavenly music! I'm a miracle worker! Next up, my crucifixation and resurrection.

Then there are those who are perpetually sick. They are hurting. They are regurgitating. They have one health problem after another. If I was that sick I would go to a doctor and not be online talking about it. If you are in pain or worse, go to a doctor. Do not sit in front of your computer crying about how unhealthly you are.

(Wow. I'm really good at this making new friends thing. I think someone replaced my hormone pills with M&M's again.)

I had the pleasure of sitting through a half hour in chat. Call me crazy but I think they're giving lobotomies in there through subliminal messaging. I felt smarter prior to my entrance.

Maybe it's just me.

I saw this comment on someone's journal:

"You are a vile, narcissistic, selfish, self-centred, pathetic, scrounging, malingering hypochondriac who is nothing but a drain on society."

It seemed a little presumptuous and assuming to me. In the 1600s they probably would've burned said person at the stake and just let it go. I have encountered some who, in my opinion, fit that description perfectly but were treated like something resembling royalty by all the lemmings.

So, it is all a matter of perspective.

When a scene goes wrong.......

The ropes are too tight? How could that be? I know what I am doing. You're submissive - how would you know?  Remember, you agreed to 24/7. It's not like I put a gun to your head. Huffy slut! I make the rules, not you.
No! That gun wasn't functional...okay, it wasn't loaded. And what do you know about guns? WHo are you? Charleton Heston? Calm down....don't flinch when I'm experimenting...umm..I mean working.
Ah..ahhh...ahhhhh...choo!
Jesus Christ!! Now look what you done! You made me sneeze! You bad submissive! Give me a tissue, now!
What? You're tied up! Fine. I will just sit here with mucus all over me while those ropes just deteriorate.
What? No, I don't know what "biodegradable" means. Stop using big words, you cocky cunt! What is this, an english class?!?
No, I can't untie those knots. I'll never figure this out with you nitpicking at me. I'm sneezing, I don't have a tissue. You are confusing me with those big words. The knife is getting dull....all this because you whined about the ropes, I sneezed..no! You flinched! That's what you did! You flinched! Bad submissive!
Stop pouting! I'll tell you when you can pout! And when I like it! Now stop it, John Waters wannabe. Now go get dressed.
What?? John Waters..the guy who made "Cry Baby".....well....yea..Johnny Depp's cute....
Stop talking about his leather pants, you smug bitch.
Now go get my tens unit...What?? Hush, slut! I don't believe in safe words! Stupid submissive! Red! Red! Red! I'm not listening to you.
What?? Immature!
Stop using those big words on me!! What are you a Thesaurus-slut?? Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! That's all you do!
Hey! Get back here! Halt! Where do you think you are going? I'm the dominate here! Not you! Stupid cunt!
Oh..come on...stop crying..I...I was playing with you, snugglebunny. Come on, in a few years we will be laughing about this.
Call my parole Officer??? Crazy slut, call him!! Go ahead, call him! That's right. Make my day!!All this is your fault! You had to go complain about the ropes being too tight and then use those big words to confuse me. You should of just been listening to me,and pretending you were submissive in the first place! Instead you were nit picking, pouting, crying, talking about Johnny Depp in leather pants!
Oh, come on, nobody can a tie a knot like...hey, that's pretty good. Now, let me go. Come on, whore! Untie me this instant! I'm the dominate here!! 
What are you doing with MY lube?! Ssssssssshit!!! That's cold!!
What is that sound?? What is that sound??!!
May the power of christ compel you!! May the power of christ compel you!!

To my reader:
I must warn you. What you are about read may offend you. Some would say I'm bitchy, others may name me subdued. Do not say you weren't warned. Now go read....if you dare.

Why is it that every "dom" you encounter online demands something sexual from you? Before they even know you or are a friend? I think it must be on page one of The Dominant's Handbook (you know, the book they ALL DENY exists??) because I hear about it so often. In my online travels  it has always been the first thing that doms I meet  come up with.

"From now on you will masturbate once every morning and again in the evening facing east while focusing on a red/green/white candle and repeating my name. Naked of course." Umm...yeah sure thing. Oops, I mean yes Sir.

Or even worse the ones that  tell me that I am not allowed to masturbate unless I do it on web cam so they could monitor the level of my commitment. Oh sure, monitoring my commitment, that's important. Even I am not dumb enough to fall for that one.

Then they get angry when I decide I do not want to pursue a relationship with them. Ummmm.....if all I want is someone to watch me masturbate on cam I can find that without putting up their crap. And that's what it is. Crap.

Ever thought that maybe some of you men should get to know someone as a friend first, then proceed to see if you can have a relationship together. BDSM or not, it is still a relationship.

Hello??? I'm submissive. Not some mindless robot. And dare I say it?? Yes, of course. If you know me at all you know I dare to say anything. I have a mind and I use it. I have opinions and I express them.I don't need someone telling me what my thoughts are or my opinions should be.

And honestly men, kneel bitch isn't a good pick up line. What happened to the art of seduction? If a man came along with a good seduction, yeah, I'd be eating out of his hand like he was Johnny Depp.

And expecting to call you Sir/Master/Lord of Small Aquatic Sea Creatures when I dont know you? Ain't gonna happen, bubba. Stop whining because you think I am not showing respect you deserve because you killed 100 goblins in the cavern of doom. So get off that cross and use the wood to build a bridge and get over it.

OK, enough. If you write one more enthusiastic, overly punctuated sentence, I will seriously have to strike you with my stapler.

Enough, people! Learn to use grammar and punctuation!

Journal entries that are 500 words in one long sentence are ridiculous. Does any sort of sentence structure exist in your world?

Your journal is painful to read. It gives me a headache. I believe fighting coked-up ninjas who have attack trained squirrel monkeys would be easier.

Also, 'u' is a letter, as is 'r'. They are not WORDS! (By the way, '2' is not a word either.) If you are too (See! Look! I typed out that word!) lazy to type out such a small word, why are you even bothering to type at all? If you cannot spell it then you should not even be on a computer.

Please, give it a rest! I am begging you!!

AND....if you don't stop I'm going to tell the demon Bagah you called his wife fat. He won't be very pleased and is notorious for his temper and method of executions which is only second to his reputation for torture and he once wiped out the cat-crazed-pig-rats which is why you have never heard about them he destroyed the entire species and they only said they didn't like his wife's cookies imagine what he will do when he finds out you have called his wife fat and now you know what it is like to read a sentence that just never ends and has no punctuation but I wonder if you even noticed that.

This is a tale of passionate declarations, of breathy whispers. Told again to be savored.

"Such mute, illicit promises are expelled with each breath. Such access it gives to fingers. And lips. And teeth. And tongue. And nails."
She squirms as she murmurs, "Stop taking my mind on such trips." He smiles. "No. You want me to. You want me to. Don't you?"
She blushes. "Why ask me such questions when you know the answer."
"Answer the question, please."
"Yes, of course, I do." He inhales softly, closing his eyes for a moment. "If you only knew.."
"Knew what?"
"How much I want to feel those nails raking against your skin. Leaving white, bloodless marks there. If you only knew how much I ache for that. How I want to see them leave angry blushes of crimson on your skin. How much I want my lips to caress those marks."
She sighs deeply. "I desire, I ache, I want, I need to feel everything you described and so much more." "I know," he whispers.
"I want to see my flesh marked by you. To feel the ache afterwards, with every movement and smile with recall."
"You want to carry the sensation with you. As you sit. As you walk. As you go about your daily chores. You want to feel that dull, throbbing grow into a raging, terrible pounding at the oddest hour of your day. You want it to become you. Inseparable from you. Enjoined to you. A part of you."
She smiles and readjusts her position slightly. "Yes, I want all that and more." He leans forward, smiling faintly.
"You want the veneer of calm torn away from you violently, savagely. You want to revel in the sheer abandon of abject surrender. To let your senses overdoes; without achor."
"You will be my anchor. And yes, I want that. I want that and more. I want those sensations that only you can give me."
He sits back again, folding his arms. "When you say you want 'more' you mean you want it all. The all of it; everything. You want your soul ravaged. Every pore. Every fiber. Every atom."
She glances down quickly. "Who doesn't want and desire such? Just as you want to ravage someone's soul. Be in their mind. Seduce the mind, the body follows. It hasn't any other course of action. It will react."
A grin plays across his lips. "It always does, girl. It always does."
She sneaks a glimpse at him. "You seduce the mind."
He whispers,"So enchanting..."

Isn't it amazing how mere words can impact one in such a manner? They leave you feeling naked, raw, exposed. Leave you feeling vulnerable. The words become you. They set you aflame. The ignite you.  They become a part of you. Something to echo in your mind and haunt you until you are forced to write it down before it devours you from the inside.

Such was this tale. It haunted me. It echoed in my mind. I had to write it. Now as I read what I wrote. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Defenseless. Yet, I don't think anyone would of even noticed had I not said something. Even now I'm sure it will escape so many.

A part of me I thought long dead is being revived. A flower bursting forth in the fertility of spring. I've tried to evince my emotions but pangs of fear silence me. Those are torturous times. My will weakens and the fear grows. My heart flutters and my head warns me to dare not give in to those emotions. 'You know that pain', it whispers. 'It never truly goes away and aren't you carrying enough pain?' I acquiescence.

He's sits ever so close to me. I can smell him. His scent invading the ether around me. I look away and try to distract myself but I can feel the heat emanating from him. I move away a bit. He says nothing. Perhaps he knows. Perhaps he feels the same.

The silence is heavy with words unspoken.

Random Thoughts

1-Did someone just act out a high school fantasy? The nasty little witch.

2-My upper body hurts. No. You have guessed wrong. I haven't struggled with evil, vile, and deadly ninjas. I think I slept wrong.

3- I know. I know you want to cry from this beautiful piece of literary artwork. It's ok go ahead and do it.

5- Where is number 4?

6- So, being super sub. No wait. Let's make that Uber Super Sub Girl. Yea, that sounds cool. So, being "Uber Super Sub Girl" I must have an outfit.

7- I will stop all those people doing drugs as school girls. I don't mind if they do drugs but do they have to dress as school girls to do them? The perverts!

8- I have mastered the arcane and magical skill of laundry.

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Now I'm sure you are the best dominant in the world. I'm sure you've had a string of submissives who've marveled at the degree of "control" you exert over every living thing that passes within a mile of you. I'm sure your rubber ducky dare not bob in the bathtub around you.  Yet, I feel compelled to write this:



Trust the "uber-doms" to have incredibly frail, fickle, finicky egos. And be pompous, sanctimonious, and self-aggrandizing, to boot. And have poor spelling, and grammar, and syntax. Oh, and suffer from an acute absence of breeding, manners and basic common sense.  And please, don't make me upset. When upset with OBVIOUS dolts, I suffer from this rather strange habit of making said overly-asinine idiots, wish they'd chosen to stay quiet, and be THOUGHT stupid, than to open their mouth, and remove all doubt.

Don't do it. It's not worth the effort. Or the acrimony. Or the self-revulsion, later on.

This is a list of things that you will NEVER hear a dominant say. Though in all honesty, some of them you may not want to hear them say.

1- If you want to argue semantics, then yes I did miss you with that last smack but that's not suppose to happen. So, let's pretend that it didn't.

2- Do these jeans make my butt look big?

3- Mom! Can you bring the ballgag? This slut is being way too noisy!

4- I do not have bad aim. It's called marking your territory. Stop whining. It can't possibly burn your eye that much.

5- Technically, I haven't had any experience with a human submissive but I really do think that goat counts.

6- I swear! My wife does knows and she's fine with it!

7- Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.....

8- I am the dominant one here! When I speak you will listen and.....hey...is that fudge?

9- That's right. I'm a Dom. I'm the LORD-UBER-GODLY-GRAND-IMPERIAL-WEENY-MASTER OF SMALL FURRY CREATURES! And I think your pussy counts as a small furry creature.

10- Of course you can have two Masters. It's only fair if I have two submissives.

11- OOOOOOHHHHH! IT BURNS! IT BURNS! I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF IT REALLY DID BURN! AHHH GOD! KILL ME NOW!

I received the nicest message a girl can get today. Let me share it with you.

"On ur knees bitch i am now ur master and u will obey me turn on ur cam and get me abeer"

~wipes the tear from my eye~

Doesn't that just touch your heart and make you feel all warm and gooey inside?

Let me respond to this heart-warming message.

Dear flea-butt-plug,

Thank you for the kind offer but I must decline. You see, I cannot get on my knees. I have bad arthritis in one and if I kneel down I will never be able to get back up without your help. I know you are too busy to help me back onto my feet. How do I know this? Simple. You cannot be bothered to type out two more letters for the word you or the three for your. Therefore, you must be very pressed for time. I'm sure such a successful business man as yourself hasn't the time for such frivolous things as typing or helping a "bitch" to her feet.

If I cannot get onto my feet I will never be able to retrieve you "abeer". I'm sure an afficionado of women (as you must be) would not be pleased with one such as I.

Alas, there is one more problem. I do not have a webcam. It is difficult keeping up the pretense of being a woman when another can see the beard stubble on your chin while watching you on cam. Also, do you realize how difficult it is to hide such a large penis from one as observant as you? I can only tuck it so much. Therefore, I do not have a webcam.

~sighs~ Tis my loss, I know. I will more than likely cry myself to sleep for many days. Do not trouble yourself with worry over me, great one. I will eventually console myself with the knowledge there is someone like you in the world - even if I cannot have you.

I just adore some the e-mails I receive from here. There are some I haven't answered. Today I am going to answer some of these lingering questions instead of sending out e-mails to all those who asked.

1- What are you looking for?

I am looking for the book of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred. I wish to raise R'lyeh and free Cthulu from his watery prison.
"Ph-nglui mglw'nafh Cthulu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

2- ASL?

72, yes, please, nursing home

3- Are you submissive? (This is has several answers. Choose the one you like best.)

A- I'm vulcan. Live long and prosper.

B- I'm a Jedi Master.

C- Submissive? Are you one of those BDSM perverts?

4- Are you owned?

Yes, but it's ok. I'm poly. I have been looking for another Master. Two aren't enough.

5- Are you female?

Not yet but after my surgery I will be.

6- Looking for a Master?

Yes. Do you know one? I've been looking for years. They keep running away from me. I don't know why. I am a little needy but I'm not that bad. I mean, come on, who doesn't need love? Where did you say that Master is located? I hope he has a collar for me. I want one. And these bills are piling up quick. I need a Master to take of care of them and me. Plus, he can scare away that crazy ex of mine. My last Master he put in the hospital but he was a wuss. He whined for weeks in the hospital about losing his leg. I hate whiny dominants!

7- You will show me respect. You will refer to me as Sir.

I will get right to that, asshole. Oops! My bad. I forgot to cap. Asshole.

8- Do you desire a darker path?

No, I'm scared of the dark.

9- Do you like anal?

Only after eating lots and lots of laxatives.

10- What do you offer a Master? (Another one with several answers. You choose.)

A- My bills.

B- I offer him as a sacrifice to Satan. Hail Satan!

11- Is that you in the picture? (I hope that isn't their best attempt at being clever.)

Yes, but I am not the one in the hat. I'm the one driving. The one in the hat is my ex-dominant. Unfortunately, the bats did get him. I should have listened to what he said.

Things you don't want to hear your submissive say:

1- BY THE POWER OF GRAY SKULL!! I HAVE THE POWER!!!

2- I'll serve you for a scooby snack.

3- My other Master said I didn't have to listen to you.

4- Cooking and cleaning are HARD limits.

5- I'm friends with Thesan.

6- Master, the voices said we must sacrifice your penis to the porcupine god.

7- ~uncontrollable laughter while you spank her~

8- It's YOUR cage; you get in it.

9- You're the one who said you wanted a second submissive. Now run faster.

10- I think Johnny Depp looks better in leather pants.

A conversation:

submissive: You are good for me
dominant: Get back in the cage...it's good for you, too.

submissive: ..why are you sadistic? What does that mean?
dominant: you are intelligent, I like that. NO. I LOVE that. Go read that novel I wrote about it. It's in the cage.

submissive: Do you think that submission is a gift?
dominant: There's a gift in that cage for  you. Go get it.

submissive: Who's really in charge in a D/s relationship?
dominant: Get in the cage and I will tell you.

submissive: Can a total power exchange really work?
dominant: If you unlock that cage door you will find out.

submissive: How many different thoughts are there on BDSM?
dominant: As varied as cages...

submissive: Is domination a gift?
dominant: Is it if you buy me a new cage.

submissive: I love you. Do you love me?
dominant: I love you. I love you more in that cage.

submissive: Can you be a dominant even when you don't have a submissive?
dominant: Is a cage a cage without a submissive in it?

What you shouldn't say to your dominant....

1- I'm so telling the other Doms you wear pink, silk panties.

2- I'm telling everyone you hit like a girl.

3- Im telling your mom what that hook on the ceiling is for.

4- Are you done spanking me yet? I have to file my nails.

5- How long do I have to wait for you to get that knot tied?

6- Do I look like Burger King? You can't have it your way right away.

7- Did I give you permission to leave?

8- Honestly, I thought you would like those fuchsia colored flowers painted on your super Dom vehicle.

And last but certainly not least...

9-  Dommie, dommie, doe dommie. Fe fi foe fommie, me my mo mommie....DOMMIE!

The Knight.

This most subtle of characters, equivalent to Sir Lancelot, with a malevolent twist. He's most likely to come to the rescue of the nearest damsel in distress, and protect her from the evil conspiracies of those who want to harm her. Fortunately, he's also, a more than willing participant in any carnal desires she may or may not have.

The Little One.

Ah, her heaving bosom. Her flushed cheeks. Her dainty steps and flutters into the room to ask for permission to enter. Her very demeanour cries for a protective arm around her, and save her (ignore the fact she weighs four hundred pounds, and can wrestle a lust-starved gorilla to the floor in ten seconds flat). Her eyelids are in a state of perpetually lowered shyness. Her breath; agitated. How do you recognize her? Well, her name and behavior.

The Village Idiot.

He's as sharp as a butter knife. Discerning as a doorknob. All the girls know him because he's tried to use his charm on everyone. His messages begin with "Hi. ASL? ". All the guys know him, too. Often, using the same devastatingly, irresistible pickup line. Prides himself on his poor grammar. Revels in his inability to spell.

The Charming, Amorous, Foreigner.

He's learned to make a flower and passes it around graciously, to every person that appears female. He's sickeningly sweet. He's even-more-nauseatingly attentive. He's from a country you've never heard of, has odd hours, and disappears randomly due to his wife periodically checking in on him.

The Slut.

She has breasts! With nipples! And a vagina! And what's more, she has pictures of her in varous stages of undress! This 18-22 year old (she will not be older than that) is incapable of coherent speech. She'll yawn. Or stretch. Or if she's being imaginative, combine both. On occasion, she'll be spotted doing her toenails.

The Brat.

She is under the illusion that she is being captivatingly naughty. Her favorite weapons are M&Ms. No, wait; they're Skittles. No, wait; they're marshmellows. See her at your local chat room, today; pinging the fuck out of everyone with those sweet projectiles. Go ahead, slap her. You know you want to.

The Dragon / Vampire / Slayer.

The Dragon will periodically blow smoke rings from his nose, out of sheer boredom, I assume. The Vampire will drink blood from a goblet and grin maniacally, for no apparent reason. Oh wait, I remember. He wants us to know he drinks blood. The Slayer is, well, weirder than most. He'll probably be twirling around a katana, sword, dagger, or machete. More than likely running his fingers along the edge of his blade, while he gazes into the fire. I don't know why.

The Perspicacious One.

She/he sniffs at people. Disdainfully. She/he grimaces at ordinary. Uses terms like "How conformist". She/he doesn't like people being too forward with her/him. She/he is apt to serenade you and find some obscure poem and claim she/he wrote it for you. Commonly, will be very clever and witty to a point. Then when confronted they will spout that snappy two word come back, "Fuck you" then once again disappear into the cyber mists, only to reappear months later under another incarnation.

The Whiner/ Martyr.

This one always has something going wrong in their life. They tell everyone about their tragic losses. Mostly, their children are constantly sick. They are out of a job. Their spouse left them after they severely beat them. They are unhappy with everything around them and nothing will ever be right in their lives and how dare you suggest they do something about it.

The Gorean/ Groveller

They will ride upon a gallant steed and swirlling mists or crawl on their belly begging permission to enter. Nevermind the fact they are already there. That is irrelevant. They will speak in third person and disdainfully look down upon anyone who does not agree with them. And quote poor literature to back up their delusions. Will often behave in a righteously, indignant manner.