I fear I've been too kind when I stated that I'll accept someone for who they are. Lately I've been rather disappointed with the state of some of you. 

It appears that the journals have returned 

If I do not remember a person there is always a good reason for that.

Some people are just shitty.

Happy Birthday To Me.

I would like to settle down with one slave/sub/bottom some day. When I am stable.

I have always been the marrying type.

Lust

He stood at the sink, face flushed from orgasm. His cock was half erect and still slick with my juices. I sat at the table in my robe reading Machiavelli. He had chores to do but every time that I looked at his warmed bottom blushed pink I would feel a thrill move through me. Every so often he would tug at his collar uncomfortably.
"J. stop touching your collar." I commanded
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm trying but.."

I didn't let him finish, I spanked his bottom. It was already covered in welts. He and I had only come back from shopping a few hours ago. I was excited to see him in his shackles. He was nervous. He saw me eying the cat o nine. He could feel my excitement and lust as we drove home. I needed no excuse to "punish" him but I chose him gawking at the biker babe with her tits propped up to her neck. As soon as we were in the house I was on him. Tearing his clothes off like a mad woman. He was kind of quiet. His breath came in short rasps. He was already erect and throbbing. Pre-come oozed from the head of his cock as I gently gripped it and led him to the bedroom.

I attached the shackles to his wrists and ankles and secured him to the bedpost. I gave his ass a few pinches to test how far he could wriggle and move. I adjusted the tension as needed and proceeded to walk around the bed, one side, then the other, teasing him.
Torturing him. I took up the cane, let is whistle through the air and let the blow land beside him on the bed. He jumped and whimpered. I let it swish and fall several times before hitting my mark.
He yelped and wriggled but he was stuck fast.

"fifteen strokes for staring at the walking pair of tits, J. You will learn not to disrespect me in public. Count them out."

"Y-y-yes Ma'am." He blubbered

By stroke ten he was properly warmed up for the cat and I was properly wet to be fucked. I couldn't stop. I let the cat gently lick his thighs, up to his weeping bottom, over his lower back and then his shoulders. I could smell the leather. The sight of him, sweaty, covered in rapidly growing welts, was simply delicious.

I raised my arm and let it fall. He didn't whimper much, as if all of the fight was taken out of him. New welts came up across his back. I raised my arm again, this time it was his thighs. He was quietly sobbing. Again I raised my arm, over and over, maybe ten times until I was trembling with lust. I dropped the toy onto the floor and climbed onto the bed, I licked and kissed each welt, each bruise, each mark across his pale flesh. I nibbled and sucked and rubbed him until his whimpers of pain were the heavy breathing of desire. I was mad about him. I spread his pained cheeks and peered down at his delicate rosebud. I hadn't tasted him there yet. I leaned close and touched him with just the tip of my tongue, enjoying the feeling of his tensing and relaxing. I explored him thoroughly before trailing my mouth down to his balls and the exposed head of his cock. He began to grind against the mattress, whimpering like a puppy.

I thought he would have been too tired of being nestled in my pussy by now. I had taken him inside of me often since he and I met. Several times a day, over and over, until I was satisfied or he was too exhausted to become erect. I released his leg shackles and loosened the ones on his arms. "Now, boy, you may fuck me." I threw myself on to him and we rolled until he was on top. He thrust into me quickly, roughly, deeply. None of that slow love making that he seems to prefer. He fucked me with a ferocious lust. I moaned and traced each welt on his back with my fingers before digging into them. Instead of weakening his ardor it only increased it. His erection became hotter inside of me. The chains still attached to the leather on his wrists clanked melodically.

Finally he moaned, a real moan. He was letting go of all of his fears with me.

"J!" I arched my back off of the mattress. I was dangerously close to an orgasm.
Just a few more thrusts and I was there writhing, moaning, squealing until I was nearly limp with exhaustion.

I did not give him time to rest. I pushed him off of me and had him to taste me, taste what he could do to me. He murmured gratitude and brought me to another lovely climax with his fingers nestled inside of me.

For hours I fucked him, toyed with him, forced him to come over and again for me. Before dismissing him so that he could wash the dishes. There he was at the sink, his bottom warmed up and covered in delicious welts, his back stripped with red as I tried to focus on my books and not the come slowly puddling between my pussy and the chair.


"Didn't I tell you to leave your collar alone? You are so disobedient. Come here."

He quickly knelt beside me and I stroked his face lovingly before pulling him in between my thighs to clean up the mess he caused only two hours ago.
Those dishes could wait.

The strange dreams continue.

It started off in a hospital bed with my god sister, the bed was round and floating above the floor. blue and white lights twinkled above the bed. We laughed and talked but I had to leave to meet my lover.

He and I were intimate but I had a feeling that he faked his orgasm. I left to go back home but I forgot something and went back. When I got there he was with another woman.

We didn't argue until I got back home. I remember saying to him, via text, that I wasn't the one being naked with women. And he asked me would I have felt better if he had asked first. I just sat there looking at the message. I didn't even answer. I just walked back to the hospital to see my god sister but she wasn't there, her room was empty and I was alone.

Last night I had a dream that I was sitting down to tea with my mother.

I told her about all of my fears and desires while she sipped her tea.

I told her about all of my troubles as she lit one cigarette after another. The smoke began to burn my eyes and yet i continued to speak. Finally I was quiet with tears streaming down my face. I wanted an answer to my questions, I wanted reassurance. I looked at her through the cloud of thick smoke and she smiled, I could barely see it. She suddenly leaned forward and grabbed my face, and as she exhaled smoke at me she said, "What the FUCK do I know about you, I'm dead."

Then she disappeared into the smoke.

She became a part of the smoke.

I woke up in such a panic with such a feeling of dread.

I am always touched by despair when I finish a book. The feeling is similar to my panic, as a child, during my mother's burial. I remember her white casket and how it seemed wrong for the clay colored mud to be tossed onto it. The red mud on the white casket was like a goodbye and it sent me into years of depression.

Finishing a book is a very mild feeling but it feels the same nonetheless.

My heart aches for hours and at the most it aches for days. It aches even as I start a new book. I have talked to others and it seems that I am not alone in that feeling.

I wish that someone could explain to me why a few of us feel a sense of dread or despair upon completing a book.

I have had that dream again. The dream of whipping an older gentleman in a theater.

Accompanied by a young woman about my age who is kneeling silently at the edge of the stage. The dream is so real to me that I can smell the leather, and hear the screams echoing out.

I haven't the slightest idea as to who the man is. I also do not know who the woman is. I really do not care.

The dream puts me in a queer mood and there is no one here to satisfy me.

Zephyr

Riding away from our city into a darkness, holding on to a memory of a scent.

I play with my tongue in my mouth, holding on to the fragrance of parsley kisses.

I can still taste it.

It stays with me, his words, as they slithering out between a bashful smile.

"I'm sorry but I really like to eat parsley."

It was like hearing "I love you" in a foreign language. You can feel it but you do not understand.

That moment of him was more real than 50 minutes of sucking the breath from between his lips. My warm hand gently dancing across his warm back was a solid thing in a world of wispy vapor.

A shiver moves through me as the powerful seconds unfold before my eyes.

It wasn't grinding into his lap that mattered but kissing his flushed face. It wasn't soul shattering orgasms that I didn't know could exist without batteries but eating, quietly, beside him.

My mind was not racing, there was no fidgeting.

It was feeling a peace and yet a yearning for another taste of him.

I wanted to swallow each moment into my being.

Oh, I wanted to build a picture of who we were together before the goodbye.

I wanted to write him. He is a poem. I always seem to fail to capture what it was like to look into his eyes as he touched me gently. I can not seem to express how it was to be open to him and to feel his eyes running over me in such a tender way.

Riding away from our city and into darkness of my life was a microcosm of every hello and goodbye. I brush my fingertips over every inch of me that he kissed and I realize that I have covered all of me with the memory of love. Moments of us that were real. Moments that I breathe into life to send as whispered kisses to him on a light wind... back home.

How do I handle bad news? Externally, very well. No one ever has to know that I am in pain or upset or sad. No one has to know that I am frightened or worried. Inside is a different story, I am a mess. one body full of panic and terror and sadness. I swallow back tears and wails and anger.

Sometimes, I lash out at those most near or dear to me and with strangers I am curt.

I am very honest, and relatively open to people. I am also quite trusting but with these emotions, with this kind of bad news, possibility of bad news, I lie. I lie to those around me because I don't trust them with my fears, with my pain.

I know exactly what they would say and it wont help.

But I can't work through the insanity alone, I've tried.

I had a dream last night that is preventing me from returning to sleep.

It started off with me going to a gathering with a lover. He ignored me the whole time but I didn't seem to care. I was immersed in so many different conversations with a group of very interesting people. Jumping from subject to subject was fun but I could feel eyes on me. I turned and didn't see anyone looking my way although I could still feel the eyes.

I returned to my conversation, in love with the attention, but it was all interrupted by a soft but very deep voice. Someone behind me had whispered that I deserved better than him. I turned to see a tall, curly haired, black man looking down at me. His eyes were so sad. He apologized for interrupting and walked away. Soon after that a woman approached me, she was cold, her eyes were like ice. The group of people that had been talking to me quickly disappeared. The woman spoke to me. Every single thing she was loaded. She didn't like me; I didn't care. She apologized for the behavior of her "boy". I let her know that he wasn't a bother at all and that I wanted to talk to him, see more of him.

Her fake smile disappeared and she walked away from me. I was left alone again. I was alone for a while.

The party became a mall or a store of some kind. I was with the man from the party, holding his hand as I talked and he nodded quietly all while smiling. He never took his eyes off of me. I droned on, blushing, talking, laughing. I stopped walking, let go of his hand and reached up to pull his hair. I just wanted to see what his hair felt like and he moaned and thanked me.

The mall became the living room in my childhood home and he was trotting around in a circle, whinnying with a bit in his mouth. I was trying not to laugh because he looked so cute. His hair kept bouncing all around and his eyes were wild. I will never forget the eyes on this man. Every time the training whip touched his skin he went a little faster.

He ended up strung up from a beam in that huge living room with welts and bruises all over his beautiful almond colored torso. I released him and he slumped to the floor. He kissed, licked, and sucked on my toes as I leaned forward to spank him. He thanked me over and over. Then we made love on the floor.

What I remembered best, upon waking, was his cock. Long foreskin that hid an apadravya.

Needless to say I woke up very wet.

I don't always believe what I read but this thing on cafe mom seemed to ring true with me about some people that I know.

Also, since I am so giving when it comes to compliments I guess I qualify as well.

http://thestir.cafemom.com/love_sex/164716/10_ways_to_know_in?utm_medium=sm&utm_source=facebook&utm_content=beingamom_fanpage

Winter is coming and I am craving some fun. It has been many years since I've had sex in the snow. I find that it is good for my sinuses.

I do not have a lover nearby and I do not have any play partners in this city.

I am not complaining, I could have them if I wanted them but I am very lazy.

January will bring someone new and wonderful. Something that I dream about often.

Winter is for lovers. I didn't buy a dress for nothing.

Maybe by February I will have written some new stories.

The Lovely Adventures of Padrona Venere and D.

Me?

Dangerous?

No, I wouldn't harm a fly. ;)

I have been in good spirits for two days.

There hasn't been anyone to piss on my parade.

I hope that nothing bad happens until after January.

I hope that nothing bad happens at all.

He said that I should beware blue eyed Latins. Fair warning he said.

I didn't have the heart to warn him about the Siren singing on the shore.

<3

What am I thankful for?

I am thankful that I have an open heart.

It gives love freely.

It receives love freely.

I love you all.

Happy Thanksgiving

619 399 6237

You can call that number as much as you want. It is not mine but it was sent to me.

I try to remember that everything that I have ever read is simply a different combination of twenty and six letters.

I try to remember that everything I have ever written is simply a different combination of twenty and six letters.

This site is sorely lacking Female to male transsexuals.

He came to me crawling with his tongue wagging out of his mouth.

He hadn't been able to catch his breath since the heel of my shoe slammed into his balls under the table at the restaurant. This had been months of planning. I practiced how I would touch him over and again in my head.

My pussy dripped, clenching and relaxing repeatedly, in my panties. I wanted to tear him apart and then walk all over the broken pieces of him only to rebuild him to do it all over again. I traced with my finger tips each old scar on his body. Memories of Mistresses past. I lifted one soft, buttery smooth boot to his mouth. He licked at it like a starving dog.

"You were so hungry, no wonder you came looking for Me." I whispered.
Up and down he went, stopping only to lick the buckles until they gleamed.
His cock oozed excitement onto the floor. I rubbed one sole into it and offered it to him. He murmured before lapping it up.

What a good Boy.

Ach! If only dreams were reality.

Alone in my thoughts.

The wind howls, rain patters against the window.

I watch the trees sway.

This dance is violent.

Branches creak, the house groans.

I have forgotten to breathe.

Why is it that some of you people act like children? Act your age, not your shoe size.

This idiot, LovingLeather, has been sending me messages. They seemed pleasant enough until he asked me if I liked leather. I answered honestly.

I am not a fan of animal products. From that moment on he was belligerent. Calling me all kinds of names. He even had the gall to tell me to leave him alone, mind you I did not contact him first.

A few days after that he sends me a message saying that he wants to be my slave or something to that effect. I deleted the message unread. He then sends me a message no more than ten minutes ago telling me to kill myself for crowding up collarme space.

If anyone is out there reading this, LovingLeather is a nutjob and a loser. Stay away from him, especially if you are not a fan of animal products.

It is always by way of pain that one arrives at pleasure.

Marquis de Sade

It came! It came! The sound it makes as it cuts through the air tickles me.

I slept last night.

I went to sleep at 8pm and didn't wake up until 12am and that was only because  my legs were hot. I went back to sleep around 12:15 and didn't get up to look at the clock until 3:30am. Back to sleep around 3:40 after contemplating calling mia amore. I wasn't up again until 6 in the morning. Back to sleep at 7 and finally ready to start my day at 9.

Today will be a long and interesting day with planning the birthday girl's festivities. Being 3 is a big deal, you know.

Some people just can't leave me alone. 

I have ex boyfriends and ex girlfriends that I sorely miss. I will not deny that.

I will not deny that I have done some pretty creepy things like stalking their fb pages, and looking at their profiles here on cm (but not viewing it because, you know, that would mean that they knew that I was looking. lol)

But I would NEVER make a bunch of fake profiles filled with responses from their journal entries. That is just weird and crazy.

I write my journal entries because that is how I FEEL. Writing is how I express myself. If I write about my ex guys and gals it is not because I WANT them to see, it is because I NEED to get it all out. I will not modify my profile or journal in retaliation. Nor will I modify my profile or journal as a way of creating dialogue with someone.

That would be creepy.

What is even more creepy is that this guy is creating accounts to "watch" me.

I am more than a little bit disturbed. I wish that he would just go away and move on.

Right before waking I had a dream about a middle aged white male, fair skin, brown hair, green eyes, glasses, married, maybe 160lbs or so, about 5'10".

In the dream I caught him on the computer and noticed that he had a collarme account. I looked him up and he doesnt exist but that was the most realistic dream I have ever had.

destroyabreakme68

destroyabreak68

destroyandbreakme68

destroyandbreak68

Set before me was a feast for my eyes.

My mouth watered at the sight of him.

Soft, delicious, flesh. clean and smooth, save for a few scars.

My beating heart was loud in my ears as blood rushed to warm my now very wet pussy.

My mind raced with thoughts of what I could do to him and with him.

All Mine. To touch, tease, taste and toy with.

To use and love with my whole body.

My whole being buzzed with lust and love.

Spanking, to warm the skin

Caning, to warm the blood

Whipping, to warm his spirit

Kissing, to bind him to me

A feast before my eyes. Beauty and life.

My thighs were made wet at the sight of him.

Warm, red, welted flesh. Cleaned with the tip of my tongue.

All Mine. To caress, to adore, to sooth.

My beating heart pumping swiftly in my chest as blood rushes between my thighs as he kisses my still wet pussy.

Here I am with writer's block. What else is new, right?

I haven't been sleeping very well. I am, yet again, having dreams that are so erotic that they wake me.

I have limited to no interest in shibari and yet it is in my dreams.

These dreams are probably a by product of my sexual frustration.

While cleaning I came across a love letter, already sealed in its envelope, for you.

I stared at the address for a long time, I stared at your name. And for a moment I missed you.  The letter was a test. I held it, brought it to my face and sighed. I opened it to remove my panties and tossed the letter in the trash.

I was strong.

I am strong.

Sweet torture.

What does it mean to lean close to heated flesh, stick out your tongue to taste a welt?

I am thinking about building a tesla coil. I get bored with new projects so I may never finish this one. Just as I never finished knitting that blanket, and I didn't finish making a stuffed polka dotted piggy.

It was like a roller coaster. it was building up to an insane peak before crashing down to the ground. On the way up I had ignored the fact that there weren't tracks on the other side. I held on, rode my way up and watched my sad and pained face right as I met the ground. Fool me twice shame on me. Never again will I give my attention to a person that is so insane that they don't care about the lives around them.

Little Miss safety girl should have noticed all of the signs and bid that ride Adieu.

When you give love and trust be wary. Not everyone is deserving. Not everyone will keep you safe. Some only want to hurt and destroy love and kindness.

You and he are like twins. Down to your very souls. You both chased whores so every woman you meet you treat like a whore.

Not every woman is interested in chasing every swinging dick that they see. That is not who I am. If that is what you want then continue to pay for pussy and continue to be unsafe. I am not interested in that kind of man.

I have not had to block someone on Yahoo in a very long time. I really do hate blocking people. Usually, when I tell someone to leave me be they do as they are told. Some people are persistent though.

Le Sigh.

I did not sleep very well last night. I had dreams of you that would wake me. What a feeling to wake with you on my mind.

An exchange that I had with an ignoramus:

First message, from him

"fat most ugly black women dont accept black slaves because it's immortal for a slave to be enslaved by another black and plus they know black dudes dont give up do anything they want to do only UGLY REJECTED white men do. Not even confident white men just ugly rejects."

Now I want you all to know that I was confused by the message at first. It turns out that this is a message from a young black male. Go figure, eh?

My message, a response to his own.

"What? what you said makes absolutely zero sense. Slavery was not something that had ethnic bias. Black slaves had Black masters, white slaves had white master, black slaves had white masters and so on.

I am also assuming that you meant immoral instead of immortal. Morality is a based on what the majority decides.

If you are going on today's standard then no one, black or white, that is into slavery or servitude is considered moral by popular standards. If you think that the proper way for a D/s relationship or dynamic to happen is interracial then you have some issues when it comes to race, not every one else.

And that whole "black men don't give up, they do what they want to do thing" has a deep psychological root that I am sure is far beyond your comprehension but we wont get into that. I can tell by that short, infantile message that you are not ready for that kind of thing.

Have a nice life."

His response:

"No, you lost monkey. Black women on here prefer white slaves because you apes have low selfe steem you coons can only get ugly white men but you know black men not dealing with your shit. Lmfao. White women are better. I worship all non-black woman not white women only but colored Middle Eastern women.

Black women are simply ugly."

And my lengthy retort

"Like I said, it is a you problem not an us problem. You are a self racist which is why you feel the way you feel. It is no skin off of my back, I don't care how you feel about our people, I do not share your ignorant view. And you also assume that I do not have black men, which is a very asinine assumption. You are the epitome of ignorant, and that is okay. lol

If you think white women are so much better than be happy with them. A sane, healthy, normal black woman wouldn't know what to do with a thing like you. I also hope that you know that middle eastern women have black blood. There are only three ethnic groups in the world. Mongoloid, Negroid and Caucasoid. Most Middle eastern women (the middle east is attached to the African continent) are very much so black.

Any way, there is no reason to try to talk any sense into you, you do not and will not understand because you are stupid. We both know that you are stupid and every woman that deals with you knows that you are stupid. I just hope that you never intend to have children because they may be just as stupid as you are; surely you will teach them to be.

I feel sorry for any daughter you have especially since you consider black women to be ugly ape coons. I wonder if you will call your daughter those things.

Do us all a favor and get your balls lopped off or at the very least get a vasectomy."

This guy is the text book definition of stupid.

Racing mind, loving heart.

I can't seem to help myself.

I have too much energy right now.

I had a dream about my ex last night. I was being interrogated. I was being accused of killing him. The last thing that I remember is this conversation.

"When were you last in contact with Mr. G?"

"I haven't contacted him since the day that I called you guys. I have not seen Mr. G and I do not intend to!"

I practically screamed myself awake. I was so annoyed this morning but I hope that he is okay.

I am trying to practice my equanimity. All while the gears keep turning quickly in my head. I react instead of respond. I should respond instead of react.

I will be away for a few days. I am feeling emotionally raw. If we have exchanged phone numbers I am always free to talk.

I laugh at the silly "dominant" men that send me completely ridiculous messages.

Every single day there is some new bullshit in my inbox. But never has there been anything as laughable as the message I received a moment ago.

Hello im Sean im known to have broken many Dommes, even the strongest of pro Dommes turning them into my cock sucking pig heres your chance slut come and submit to your superior Master and beg to kneel and beg for my 5 cock and thank me bitch Master Sean

I do not know what a 5 cock is, I do not wish to know what a 5 cock is. I imagine some tentacled monstrosity from Hentai. Either way, this buffoon is not only rude he is also a bloated, pig faced, weeping sore on the shit covered ass hole of this planet.

No matter how many "Dominant" women he has "broken" he still has absolutely zero right to contact someone in such a manner. I would imagine that someone, such as himself, is missing a chromosome or something.

I am amused by all of this.

Hey, tough guy, if you reading this journal entry, I want you to know that if you're ever ready to play with the Big Girls you better come with a helmet and a cup because I. play. hard. :)

Take no prisoners.

Show no mercy.

Leave no witnesses.

I'll eat you alive

The girl in the looking glass is too much temptation.

How she winks at me and teases me.

Her lips whispering to me as she undresses. I've seen that body before.

I gaze at her, her lips, her eyes.

I am in love.

Sweet Narcissism.

I am absolutely terrified of butterflies/moths. If I had to choose between spending the night in a room with a murderous lunatic or in a room with one hundred butterflies I would easily stay with the murderer.

Last night, while I was on the phone, A huge moth flew into the room. I squealed and ran for my life.

The man on the phone asked me what I would do if I had encountered a moth while with a "lover". My honest answer is that the person would be required to crush the moth.

The man then asks what would happen if my "lover" was all tied up.

I would leave the poor guy/gal.

I would. It would kill the mood, erections would be lost but that is how it would be.

I did get a chance to be brave last night.

I saw the moth again; I killed it. (I hope that I used that semicolon correctly)

There are a few things that truly get me hot and bothered

Older people (male and female)

foreign languages (italian, spanish, russian)

shoes

torture devices/ impact play toys

having my "spots" licked, sucked, kissed and bitten.

the sounds that another human being makes when in pain/ pleasure.

an intelligent person

an uncut cock

body hair on men, pubic hair on women

and getting my way.

I can find all of that in one package. :)

I stayed up late last night. I had good company. I went to bed. I had a pleasant dream. A dream about a polyglot, a human runway and a popstar.

I don't remember the dream. I wish that I did. It must have been good because I did not want to leave my bed this morning.

Up, "window" shopping. I realized that I only own ONE dress. A dress that I wore once two years ago.

I am a casual chick. I don't own any bright colored clothes. If it isn't black then it is gray.

I was a standard punk goth before the girls were born. I haven't updated my wardrobe in 4 years.  Of course, this is not including my shoes.

I have no idea what will look good on my new body. I have no idea what jewelry to wear or what goes great with my shoes. I have these amazing legs to show off and I haven't a clue as to what I am doing or what I should consider buying. I should just wear pants. Pants and a blouse.

A blouse, something else that I do not own.

What jewelry goes well with a blouse?! How the fuck do these "fashionistas" do it?!

Square one. If I ever end up dating a guy I will have absolutely nothing nice to wear. We would just have to stay home in bed, not that I think he would complain. Even if he wanted to complain he would not be able to utter a word through a gag.

Strangers pass on the street.
Always so close. Their shoulders brush but it is never crowded. He apologizes, his breath sweetened with the scent of her musk. A deep, breathy "sorry".

She smiles and nods, her nipples stiff against her soft bra. An aching throb across her clitoris.
The thicket of hair on her mons venus still wet from his tongue. From where his hungry mouth sucked and licked and nibbled her flesh.

Once a month, there is a knock on her door in the night.

Soft echo in the dark. Her shadow dancing on the walls. His is wailing, howling at the moon. The Moon.

His Moon. He leaves, broken yet whole. And they know each other. Intimately.

Before becoming, yet again, strangers that pass on the  street.

He is sjuch a tease. I dont mind him turning me on. He is good at it, from his deep, sexy voice, to the things that he says in that sexy voice.

And oh does he say all of the right things! I end up all night. When I do sleep it is he that lives in my dreams.

Dani, Dani, Dani. Are you going to be my girl? ;)

I should be sleeping right now. I am becoming the character in the book that I am working on. That kind of makes it easier. If any one, that isn't truly insane, cares to converse I am awake and bored.

I found an old picture of me. I was wearing many bright colors and yet my eyes were sad. For some reason it reminded me of you. Of my ear drums after we would stay up all night talking about things that made us laugh and snort as you yelled in your Samuel L. Jackson voice.

I never look for you, I never expect for you to look for me but I have to say it. I have to say that "meeting" nice guys kind of freaks me out. I am waiting for someone to suck me into a whirl wind of emotion, Highs and lows, only to tell me to never contact them again.

Fucking Twat. When I read that text I laughed out loud. I was furious, doing something nice, panicking over the well being of someone who could care less. I still wrestle with whether I really loved you or not. I wasn't broken after what we had had ended. I was angry, and amused but not weepy eyed. I cried once.  Fucking Twat. Never contact me again.

like Tourette's syndrome the word vomit was all over me. So when a nice man dares to "look" at me as I carry around my emotional luggage I am frightened. I am scared shitless. The collarme universe is unkind. It is unkind to those that are most intelligent, to those that are inept, those that are beautiful and those that are ugly. It is unkind to the men and the women, the tops and the bottoms, the subs, the slaves, The daddies, mommies and sensual Dommes. It is unkind to me. I have not been very fortunate and you were my last misfortune.

But who is keeping count, lol. Certainly not the dead eyed girl drowning in a rainbow. And neither is a man that talks entirely too loud when excited. Who weeps openly when hurting. Who can write such nasty things when angry. Who is so human just like me.

I am only human. I am afraid. I am strong. I feel. I can love. I can be open and kind. I can be cruel. I can be colorful. I can accept the kind words and company of a nice guy.

I can forgive you.

I could stay up all night just listening. Thinking about you. Wanting you.

And there is nothing that I can do about this feeling. I am consumed

More than I can admit.

Seconds tick away and I am lost. Floating on air, giggling through out the day.

Mon cherie amour. Hearing your voice calling to me in a breathy whisper as I whimper.

I had a dream about you. Poetry. Everything was still, quiet.

The ticking of your heart kept time. Lulling.

Tenderly, I was held. Finger tips danced in lazy circles.

Evening waltz, expert hands.

Nearing the sunrise of bliss. Morning smiles and wet thighs. A wonderful dream.

                                "Harder. Faster. I want all of you."

Oh, here we are at the precipice. Your orgasm is right there but you can't reach it with out me. Try as hard as you might, Reach as far as you can. Each time you get close I will take it from you. Your orgasms are mine to enjoy. ;)

Gosh. Every single night, for the past two weeks, I have had one or two erotic dreams before morning.

They are not all the same, the do not feature the same "mystery' man. But these last few dreams have had a woman in it. A young woman about my age. Last night's dream was a bit more steamy. It is getting so that I can NOT wait to get to bed and get to sleep.

I have never been a poly-amorous person but being loved, enjoyed, worshiped and adored by two mysterious dream lovers is AMAZING!

It was only a dream. Feather light kisses on bruises. A laugh that cuts through the heavy breathing and yelps. The heel of a shoe biting flesh with each step. A moan that sings. What a sweet song.

There is nothing better than a man with a beard to ride.

I am a slave to the moment and to her. She captured me as I watched her lick into the flesh, raise welts atop the body as she sang. Breaking the sound barrier as a threat. The sound is a laugh from her. A laugh that I have heard before but only in my head. The big laugh that I internalize when touched by a wicked excitement. Sensuality so delicious that it felt like a stolen secret. A laugh that tasted so sweet as it nearly dripped from my lips.

She took me away into the heat of night as I was witness to the weakness in the knees and yet they stayed there, helping him to stand before her might. He needed her more than she needed him.

She shackled me as I watched, frightened and aroused at the brutality of it all. Some would say that she was just an object and that the person wielding her was the Master but I saw different. In the long, thin, braiding of her body, her butt, handle, thong and popper. She was an elegant and cruel Mistress. Smiling lips, a titter as she says something snarky that cuts and kisses all at once.

She sang, again, to me. Calling through the air. Asking me to touch her. Feel and smell her. Use her to lick the flesh and weaken the knees.

   "You and I are meant to be, don't be afraid of me."

I reached out to my captor, lovingly. And she faded away from me.

A dream, a sweet dream.

Oh. Now I must have a whip.

Writer's Block. I need a muse, I've said it many times before. My poetry is best when I have a reason to write.

I am trying to type out these fricken manuscripts and I have drawn a blank. Nothing is flowing from me. I have a boring/ non existent sex life. I have not had good sex in two years. That is a long time to go without an orgasm from sexual intercourse.

It is not just that I need to get laid, it is that there is nothing interesting going on in my life. There is no drama, no deep pit of despair to wallow in for a few days. Maybe I will have a down period to fuel me. Or maybe the older gentlemen that I converse with will say something that triggers a poem or a short story. Who knows.

But for right now I am stuck, fingers hovering over the keyboard (not right now, of course) waiting for inspiration to come.

The Silence. (not the Whovian type)

Under cover of night, in the cool air, two strangers met to become friends.

After conversing there was touching. Gentle touching, firm holding, kissing. It was nice yet when it was over nothing was left but distance.

All that seemed to be remain was a red bottom, bruised lips, tender nipples and bite marks across flesh and silence.

So much silence in that night. Silence that tasted like regret and disgust.

Silence that covered up the excited tremble of a woman on fire, silence that smothered excitement.

You sure are quiet, well you have always been a quiet guy. Never speaking unless something needed to be said.

Restraint means having a conversation with someone, that you find sexually appealing, and not masturbating.  :)

"So long, farewell, goodbye, aufwiedersehn."

"I'd like to stay and try out some more pain, yes?"

"No"

It feels good to be honest.

When you wake up everyday, feeling like The Joker inside, life can be miserable.

It is nice to know that in a friend I can confide.

I wish everyone all of the love and kindness in the world.

The possibility that one can love too much is disturbing.

Some of us are given the advice to never be the one that loves too much in a relationship.

How do you tell what is too much and how do you gauge how much your partner is giving love?

I probably love too much, it is simply a chemical reaction in the brain. I am capable of loving and  I do not stop myself from feeling love. There are people that I dont love anymore and there were times when I lied about loving someone.

But have I truly loved someone too much. Only my ex lovers can tell me that. It is an opinion after all.

I wonder if Tulip thought that I loved him too much, Maybe Guppy thought so too.

I havent asked Red tie how he felt about me loving him. It feels like ages ago that I loved these people. I wonder whether I still love them.

Slaves, be subject to your Masters with all of your reverence, not only to those that are just, good and equitable but also to those with perversions
first peter 2:18

The Bible can be Kinky.

I am nauseated and frightened.

I think that it is time that I do something with my Talent.

When I get back home to Buffalo I will be contacting a publisher. I can no longer be afraid to pursue my love for poetry and short erotic tales. I have zero clue as to where I should begin.

Wish me luck.

I walked, in the heat to Fluevog. I was welcomed with many smiles. I told the sales woman about the shoes I came to see and she quickly brought them to me.

I sat down and she put the shoes on my feet for me. She had such beautiful eyes. I admit, I was turned on. I walked in the shoes and looked at myself in the mirror. I wore the shoes for a few minutes before buying them.

She asked me how I found out about the store and I told her about the sweet man who paid for the shoes. She smiled and told me that she has a pair and she loves them. She told me to scuff the bottoms up good so that I wont slip when I go out "dancing".

I have never, in all of my days, heard a person refer to trampling as "dancing".

Today was a good day.

Neighbors.

(I am running out of juice, I need a muse)

The moans came through the wall and woke me. Feminine and full of want paired with deep, guttural vocalizations. They fucked like animals, our neighbors. I lay there, my eyes getting used to the dim light of the moon through the window.

I felt you stir, your hand so warm compared to the cool air of the room. For a moment I had forgotten that the other one was still tied to the bedpost.

The moans became louder as their head board knocked against the wall that we shared. I held my breath, listening for her climax as I wiggled closer to feel how "awake" you were.

You were listening, more to me than to her. Waiting for me to utter a word in the dark. Waiting for permission.

I wanted to speak to you with my body. I wanted to be boisterous as you gave yourself over to the pleasures of me once again.

"You can untie yourself, you know," I said with a smile "We don't want you to lose a hand."

I could feel your smile as you worked at the red tie.

You shifted your hips. I imagined what your bottom must have looked like. Was it red, slightly bruised? Hadn't you made noises similar to hers only hours before?! Noises coaxed out of you with a few well placed swats to your ass, noises that grew louder and louder until I could no longer stand it. I'd like to think so.

You stretched, and I saw you wiggling your fingers in the dark. Fingers that had been drenched from an orgasm so beautiful that I went with out sight for a minute or two. Hurting you always did do something to me. I closed my legs tight, trying to decide between listening to our neighbors and giving them something hear.

I turned on my side, pressing my ass against the soft, yet rigid, flesh of you. There were those moans again, coupled with the knocking of their headboard. A knocking that matched the rhythm of my beating heart. You planted a kiss, so softly, on my shoulder. It was my turn to moan. Another kiss echoed across my skin. A cool hand reach out in the dark and played on my hip, squeezing and tickling. It was asking a question.

A question that was answered by the excited wetness that dripped lazily from my already bruised pussy to my sore thigh.

Making love to you was a work out, slow torture.

But I didn't mind it. After all, I like pain.

I am constantly learning about myself. Always through others.

I have a confession to make, to someone who is probably dead so he wont read it.

I lied. I don't often lie, but I lied to you. When you told me that you loved me I was quiet because I did not love you. I felt bad for you. It had only been three days and we didn't know one another and yet you "loved" me.

I tried very hard to love you after that. I did eventually love you. Beyond the lust and excitement, I loved you. I don't know if I loved you in the way that you wanted me to love you. I would have gladly been Mrs. G. And I would have had a set of fuzzy kids. I guess I loved you enough. But not enough to love you still.

I don't hate you, but I am disgusted by you. The whole show that was put on was irritating. I feel that you went through a lot of work to find someone to love you just so you could get that which I was not willing to give. And then to threaten suicide, knowing that I take that seriously. I should have just left you alone and I should have moved on to someone better.

Friends warned me about you. They told me that my ideal guy was out there and that I shouldn't have compromised my happiness just because you fed my ego. You weren't the kind of guy that I found attractive physically but I did find your intellect titillating.

Now to the good part, what did Little Miss Raven learn?

Raven learned that if a guy would harm your pets then he is bad news. That if he would mutilate his genitals then you should run for the hills. That if he asks you to kill him then you change your number. And if he threatens suicide then move out of country lol.

The men that find me are BAT SHIT CRAZY.

Sitting here in Brooklyn, everyone is busy. I could have stayed home in Buffalo.

New shoes always makes a woman feel sexy.

I need to make more time for myself.

The kindness of others should never be abused. Never see generosity as a weakness. Do not try to part others from their money. Do not beg for pretty things. If something is a gift then accept it and let it be.

Enjoy the things that you share with others.

Never forget to take pictures, you will want evidence of your youth in your twilight years ;)