sakidorei

?Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air?
~Carl Sandburg

The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.  ~Isak Dinesen

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace. ~Kate Chopin

"Water is sometimes sharp and sometimes strong, sometimes acid and sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet and sometimes thick or thin, sometimes it is seen bringing hurt or pestilence, sometime health-giving, sometimes poisonous. It suffers change into as many natures as are the different places through which it passes. And as the mirror changes with the colour of its subject, so it alters with the nature of the place, becoming noisome, laxative, astringent, sulfurous, salty, incarnadined, mournful, raging, angry, red, yellow, green, black, blue, greasy, fat or slim. Sometimes it starts a conflagration, sometimes it extinguishes one; is warm and is cold, carries away or sets down, hollows out or builds up, tears or establishes, fills or empties, raises itself or burrows down, speeds or is still; is the cause at times of life or death, or increase or privation, nourishes at times and at others does the contrary; at times has a tang, at times is without savor, sometimes submerging the valleys with great floods. In time and with water, everything changes."
~Leonardo da Vinci

My soul is full of longing
  For the secret of the Sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
  Sends a thrilling pulse through me.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), The Secret of the Sea

making a bullet ...

view to the conquering on trembling knees
her will to resist slipping by inch degrees
biting her lip to hold back helpless pleas
realizing now, He holds all the keys.

His ears deaf to her muted cries
stiffled by slaps from His meaty thighs
the walls seem to echo her helpless sighs
His Mastery unquestioned, no ethereal disguise.

writhing beneath His powerful frame
too delirious with ecstacy to consider the shame
she's falling so fast with no one else to blame
she knows beyond question this is really no game.

thick muscles flexing taut with each grunting thrust
her mind in a fog uncomprehending this much trust
her body quaking ... can't hold this lust
tempo building in her, no room for disgust.

sweat and pleasure mingling as forbidden perfume
heady aroma pooling to fill the room
her senses reeling as His essence consumes
beyond caring any more if this signals her doom.

salty tears and wanton begs for more, more, more
bursting unbidden while He claims her core
trembling and jerking, she claws at the floor
realizing the inescapable, she is truly His whore.
~saki

Rule 47 for meeting with Master -

Beware your security blankets and phyiscal tells ... they WILL be used against you! 

Thanks for giving me my thumbring back Master ... i'd have never been able to navigate the table dancing offer without it! 

and yes, that bartender IS my new best friend!  "He might be the Man but it's MY bar!"  ~laughing~  Actually ... i think i might be in love with Him now.  Him or Mr. -You smell amazing- from the hotel ... anybody who's willing to give me their personal cell number just to ensure superior customer service is just dang impressive! 

~saki

Getting past the mind ... getting past the need to process, rationalize, understand, and dissect ... to a place of obedience and acceptance ... possible?

In a typical bondage, one is cared for, nourished, sheltered, nurtured, protected, and often loved. Certainly one is, at least, desired and lusted for. How many wives, I wonder, are lusted for. One respects wives; one lusts for slaves; wives are free, and are to be treated with dignity and circumspection; slaves are owned, and are suitable objects to be put to one's pleasure.

The wife consents, if she feels like it, and is so inclined; the slave obeys. The wife may dole out her favors by carefully measured spoonfuls, like medicine, in a regimen designed to reduce and torment, and thus to control, an angered, frustrated, confused, manipulated, indoctrinated, unquestioning childlike patient; the slave kneels and hopes to be found pleasing.

The powerful, healthy man is aggressive and lustful; what is he to do when he realizes at last he has been mistreated, denied, cheated, starved, and shamed; he may rise up with a snarl; let the wife be dismayed to discover she is to her horror then in the vicinity of a man; what does he care; let him kick the pedestal from beneath her, and find her a collar; or let him turn his back upon her inert, righteous petulance and seek something a thousand times more desirable, what he needs, and wants, a slave; the slave does not denounce the lusts of the master; she endeavors to satisfy them, and, in this, finds her own womanhood; she does not want a weaker man; she wants a strong man, and a whole man, one it is fit for her to serve; how absurd, how embarrassing, how psychologically futile, how intellectually preposterous, to reveal one's actual nature, one's health and power, one's lust, to an offended, glorious free woman, or to waste it upon her reluctant, anesthetic body; away with the very thought; what could he be thinking of; let him seek rather a slave; the slave, you see, is the object on which it is appropriate for a man to ventilate his lust. Indeed, it is one of the things she soon learns she is for.

She also learns that the human male, when he has what he wants from a woman, and fully, and with perfection, is, within the limits of the mastery, a pleasant, kindly, happy, wonderful thing. She is awed, and fulfilled, by this relationship. And, of course, it is she who, subject to his rule, and responsive to his will, has bought this about, not that she was?you understand?given any choice. She wishes to please him, of course, but she knows also that she is a slave and must do so. For even a minor error or laxity she knows she may find herself under the whip. She finds this subjection to male domination thrilling, and reassuring.

Her master is not weak. There are clear standards, limits, and requirements. She must be careful of them. Commonly they are made clear to her, and the nature of the penalties which will be imposed for the least infraction thereof. She must be a pleasing slave. She is happy. This is the surely one of the deepest and most profound relationships in which a woman can stand to a man, that of slave to master, and, ideally, that of love slave to love master. It is no wonder then that we sometimes kiss our finger tips and press them to our collars, that we humbly lift and kiss the bracelets that link our wrists so helplessly, so closely, together. Do we not admire the unslippable shackles on our trim ankles, fastening them in such proximity to one another, so inhibiting our movements?

They have been put on us at the pleasure of the master. Are we blindfolded? Are we forbidden to speak? Are we gagged? Are our wrists tied behind our backs? Must we kneel naked before him? We are his.
 
Let those who can understand these things understand how it is that a slave can love her bondage, and that she would never exchange it for the jejune inanities and boredoms of freedom?how it is that she can lie contentedly, happily, at the foot of a man's couch, chained to his slave ring.

Some, I suppose, will find this incomprehensible. There is nothing for it then, but to allow them to continue in their ignorance. But the woman at last has a place here, a condition, a station. She is now a slave. She now at last "belongs," and in the most profound sense of belonging, that of belonging to someone. She now "belongs" in the most profound sense conceivable, that of being owned. She realizes, with a radiant warmth that floods her, that illuminates her mind and enflames her belly, that she is now goods, a property, her master's slave. Men have found her of such interest and attractiveness, and they have wanted her so much, and so lusted for her, that they have enslaved her, that they have put her in a collar and made her theirs, that they have seen fit, in their imperious, dominating mastery to own her, and put her to their service and pleasure.
-John Norman, Witness

good god!
~saki

I think that we, women, although not immune to male beauty, are less seriously influenced by it than men, the brutes, by female beauty. Indeed, a pretty male face can be aversive to us. The masculinity that attracts us, and can overwhelm us, is one of intelligence, power and virility, one of ruggedness and might. We are looking, so to speak, for our harem master, although we would hope to be the only slave in his harem. We want a man at whose feet we feel it is appropriate that we should kneel, as women, and slaves. We do not want an equal; that is not enough for us; we want more than that; we want a master. We want him to be strong, ambitious, aggressive, possessive, jealous, lustful, dangerous, dominant. We want him to guard us, and protect us, and own us, with masculine ferocity, to see us as his rightful properties. We want to feel ourselves as though we were nothing before his wrath and power. We want to feel that it is the most important thing in the world for us that we please him. We want him to be jealous of us, and fiercely possessive of us; we want to be important to him; we do not want to be ignored or neglected; we do not want to be taken for granted, or just be "there," perhaps almost unnoticed, as are so many "wives" of Earth; the slave, I assure you, receives a great deal of attention, perhaps more than she sometimes cares for; she, in her service, and subject to his command and domination, is muchly noticed; one of the cruelest of punishments he can inflict upon us is to subject us to the same neglect and indifference commonly accorded to an Earth "wife"; how we strive to be pleasing to him, that that will not occur; but it seldom occurs; better the mercy of the slave lash; he must want to keep track of us, for we are his possessions; he must want to know our thoughts, our whereabouts, and our every action. He desires us; he lusts for us; and we are his; and so he is jealous of us and inordinately possessive of us, his relished goods, his coveted prizes, his properties, his slaves; and so he keeps us on a short leash. The pit master, despite the monstrosity of his appearance, was mighty in his manhood. We slaves were helpless in his arms. When I clutched him I must despair of the least shred of dignity. In the arms of such a man a girl is muchly aware that she is in her collar and will shortly find herself subdued, and forced to yield herself wholly, spasmodically, helplessly, whether she wishes to or not, in the most degrading and wondrously joyful of all ecstasies, those of a slave to a master.
-John Norman, Witness

potent.

~saki

You only get one chance to make a good first impression.  While everything here initially is based on one's words ... it's still the truth that your impression given from the very beginning may make or break your chances of meeting someone amazing.  Lack of effort on your presentation here, whether in your initial profile or in your first message to someone will likely be the single most defining factor in another's decision to seek you out or even reply to you.  Why bother to come here and make a profile at all that has absolutely no personal information on it in the least?

Slaves or submissives who only take a demanding tone or share nothing of themselves pretty much given an initial impression of lacking drive or effort in being found pleasing.  They give the impression of just waiting to be courted or that they just expect others to flock to them because they have the ever sought after -snatch-.  ~laughs~  Conversely ... Dominants or Masters who make no effort whatsoever in their profiles give the impression that they will likely Own or Master or Dominate the very same way -- with little effort or attention to detail. 

i have to wonder why people bother at all to list a profile without a single personal word or insight added to it at all.  If it's all the effort they are willing to make in finding a M/s or D/s partner ... then surely they can't be surprised when no one comes around to get to know them better.  Everything that you do is a reflection of your own standards ... if you half-ass it here ... when all you have is that one shot to make the good impression ... it's easy to think you probably half ass it in private with your relationships.  Sure one can always craft a great post just like one can always buy a power suit or a Dior gown ... it doesn't make the person better or worse.  But what you wear to the ball DOES at least reflect something of your taste doesn't it?

~saki

I am NOT impressed that you can suck cock if you don't understand basic service like how to fix My coffee. - Prophett

For some reason i laugh every time i read this ... it's classic!

~saki

i always see such a big deal made out of a woman's submission being a gift and little made out of the fact that a Man's gift of Mastery in a slave's life is just as important.  The focus is always on the woman ... HER gift.  The gift of a Man who spends His time and energy on a slave is just as significant.  One is no more or less a gift than the other.  Still ... this consistent focus on her ...

Shades of our normal female dominated society?  Shades of -it's all about me- that we see in Cosmo and all of the other female empowerment mags?  i guess all the Masters and Dominants should just be grateful that some of us women are benevolent enough to share our -gift- with them once in a while huh?

What rubish!