Hmm.. So on the topic of demons and Doms, perhaps there was a bit of delerium involved, and with so much left misunderstood of the astral plane, then who's to say what's what.  We're all curious; We all just want to have a little fun.  Some of us are mischevious.  That's just the way it is.

Hmmm.  I must say, my perspective has changed somewhat.  Still not looking though.

I stopped looking for a reason; Leave it at that.  It is not a conversation starter.  Do not message me with your bullshit, because in all likely hood, that's all it is.  Pure, unadulterated bullshit.  I may log in from time to time to keep in touch with particular people, but if I receive a message from you, and I don't know who you are.. automatic deletion.

Have a nice day.

Ho-Ly Spit-Buckets.  EPIPHANY!  As rediculous and biased as it may sound, I felt like I had to tell someone.  And I just don't know enough [openly] perveted people in real-life.  Before I state my reasoning, let me first state my "Ah-hah" moment.  Here it goes.  Demons are dead Doms.

Moving on to follow it up with why....

I'm what some would refer to as haunted.  My story and reasoning may appeal to those interested in "paranormal research."

With that being said, I only recently, as in a few months ago, found out about "BDSM."  I've always been a freak, but I had no idea that there was a "lifestyle." 

I can remember being as young as 3 or 4, back when I first starting to see and hear things that weren't there.  Now before you call me schizophrenic, let me state that I did prove, on more than one occasion, that the voices I heard were indeed real.  I recorded them on a tape-recorder and played them back for my psychiatrist.  She was floored.  I had the bruises and scratches to prove my point, but doctors and teachers assumed my parents were abusive.  My parents told me to keep my "nightmares" to myself, as they were often accompanied by visions.  Attempting to explain them to any normal human being would most likely have come off as me being COO-COO.  My parents did the best they could with me.  They brought priests to our home to bless it, and me as well.  Preachers and bishops tried to force the holy ghost into my head (or at least that's what it seemed like to my 10-yr-old brain).  Voo-doo mystics chanted prayers for me.  They tried.  They really did try, but whatever it was that was happening to me was beyond them.  I did and still do appreciate the over-all patients that my parents had.  However, regardless of it all, I snapped.  I just couldn't cut it.  I attempted suicide multiple times and was ultimately committed.  One day at school, I broke out in tears and fully explained my issues.  The recommendation was to see a psychiatrist... and I already explained that situation above.  I AM sane (sort of).  Except, aside from those tapes, I can't prove it.  As apart of moving on and attempting to start anew, I recorded over them.  My late-night occurences slowed down to practically nothing at all, and I moved (not all at once) 3000 miles away.

So why do I think demons are dead Doms??  I'm getting to that..

The other night, I was laying in bed thinking about what my nights used to be like.  I could never understand what they wanted from me.  I was always an inquisitive child, and it's a trait that's stuck with me.  If they said something to me that I didn't understand, I'd ask why or what do you mean.  My questions were only met with laughter or physical force.

Why do I think demons are dead Doms????  Getting there...

Thinking back to those nights.... things that were done to me... positions I was forced into.... they seem alot like games I've been introduced to by individuals here on CM and other sites including FL.  The "ah-hah" moment didn't come to me until late last night/early yesterday morning.  I was aggravated because I could never understand what they meant when they said that they "wanted me."  I can remember saying, "Why do you want me?  What do you want with me?  Is there something you'd like to tell me?"  They'd only laugh and tauntingly follow up my questions with, "We're going to get you.  We've already got you."  Or even more confusing, "Sit by the fire!" Whatever the hell that meant.  I was so confused!

Furthermore.... what is it that makes a "Dom" a Dom in the first place?  That over-bearing feeling of power.  It's not him stating that he's in control, it's that feeling that makes you know that he is indeed in control; that energy.  It doesn't need to be stated.  It just is.  What fizzles a Dom's domeness?  An even greater feeling of over-bearing power.  A conflicting force if you would.  So during an exorcism, it's not to say that religion is the answer, but rather that the belief in it is the answer.  Power is only given because we deem it so, and confident faith is that deemer.

I had my first orgasm at 11 (I didn't know what was happening at the time), and no, I did not have to touch myself.  Probably the most intense moment of my life.  It wasn't the first, and I can remember always feeling guilty afterward, like I had done something wrong.  I can remember being pinned against walls, choked, pulled out of bed, forced to my knees, having my arms stretched out behind or above me, had my hair pulled, slapped and scratched (strangely, except for the scratching, all things that turn me on... hmmm).  I was even choked while being held almost in mid air, while only my tip-toes touched the ground.  I was only ever choked long enough to the point of me thinking, I couldn't take anymore, then it would stop, I'd inhale, and it would start again.  I'd wake up with briuses in the shape of hand-prints around my neck, wrists and arms (strangely, I love big hands because bigger hands do it better..... but maybe not, I don't have a comparison).  My bed would shake.  I even had an "exorcist moment."  Although, I do not believe I was ever "posessed" and I'm not all too sure I'm even sure of what it means to be posessed.  Even with all the violence though, there were moments when they strokedmy hands, and my face, and my hair.  Even tickling my toes.  Like, I almost felt safe during those moments.  So conflicting.

Why do I think demons are dead Doms?

The occurences slowed down as  my attitude changed.  I knew when they were coming, and so I'd throw off my blankets and say, "Do what you want and go."  They didn't like that I gather.  I wasn't afraid anymore.  I didn't feel guilty.  I just didn't care.  When I stopped caring, they stopped fooling around with me.  These things happened to me for years.  They only stopped maybe two years ago.  Until tonight however.  Things picked up where they left off it seems, probably because of my "ah-hah" moment the other night, and my compulsion to talk about it out loud.  Not to mention, I was actually afraid tonight.  Until it occured to me again..... They have no intention of, I guess, "finishing" me off.  They want a toy.  They only take it just far enough before they stop......  So my attitude's back... and they've backed off again. Humm.

There's my reasoning.  Call me crazy if you want, but there it is.

Tell the truth.  That way, there's far less for you to have to try and remember.

In the grander scheme of things, for all simplistic purposes; We live in a world of conquest and aquisition.  No matter how you look at it, it comes down to those two things.  The most of anything else you can possibly get out of it is a stalemate.

Lovely as ever, lovely as if

Tears of sorrow be tears of a kiss

To hold and to have, to love and to miss

Lovely as ever, lovely as if

The sweet and the sour,

And all its mental bliss

To have and to hold, to love and to miss

Lovely as ever, lovely as if

Be that the sorrow of true love's true kiss

The pains and the pangs,

And all it's mental bliss

Lovely as ever, lovely as if

Be that the sorrow of true love's true kiss

I read something on here the other day.  A woman stated that she didn't want toys used on her that had been used on someone else.  Not even with a condom.  I thought to myself, "That sounds reasonable."  BUT... just think about this for a second.  The man-whore you find on here... Where exactly do you think his "buddy" has been?  I gurantee you it hasn't been locked away in a jar with a post-it stuck to the outside of it that reads "For your use only."  Like his toys, his "buddy's" been around, and possibly even as recent as the week before being "presented" to you.  Does that gross you out equally as much?

People, please understand the importance of dental hygiene.  If you won't see a dentist once every 6 months or floss nightly, at least brush your teeth once a day.  Tooth decay, once it starts, is a losing battle.  It's not pretty, it doesn't smell nice, and can be quite painful.  Try to avoid that.  I bet you'll get more dates that way.

Love and understanding:  Smiling when the elderly person you love dearly says you're smart enough to be on Jeapordy, because she saw a colored girl on there just the other day. 

"Death is a challenge.  It tells us not to waste time... It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other." -- Leo F. Buscaglia

Dialogue between Hubs and I

Me: So is the hairband keeping the hair out of your eyes at all?

Him: Uhhh..... penis.

Me: I don't know what penis means..

Him: It means........ *continues playing videogames*

Me: ........

Him: *continues to play videogames*

Me: Does it mean your decision hangs low and slightly to the left?

Him: Uhh...

Me: Or is it something you're firm and erect on?

Him: Err...

Me: Or did you mean floppy and therefore indecisive?

Him: Yeah.. that's what I meant.

Me: ...... ok...

My first boyfriend was in pre-school.  I saw him across the way, past the slide, near the marry-go-round.  I lassoed him with jump rope, pulled him close to me and said, "Be my boyfriend or else!"  He happily agreed and we lived happily ever after until the end of recess.  I saw him at the mall not too long ago.  Good memories :)

Am I taking it too far if I say I was the one who wanted to do Santa.. while he was still wearing his suit..

Over-grown beards make me go, "Ooh, fluffy.."

M*A*S*H* Theme Song...

Through early morning fog I see
visions of the things to be
the pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see...
that suicide is painless

It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
so this is all I have to say.
suicide is painless

It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger, watch it grin.
suicide is painless

It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
A brave man once requested me
to answer questions that are key
is it to be or not to be
and I replied 'oh why ask me?'
suicide is painless

it brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
and you can do the same thing if you please.

As if someone painted her with a wet brush,

let the colors slide down the backs of her legs,

pool at her ankles, and swirl in the lights and the darks.

And so the yellows and the browns

And the greens and the purples, all intertmixed

In uneven swirls, with spots of white

Here and there, showcase themselves in the light.

As if someone molded her from clay,

Melting down and pressing in unwanted edges,

Forgetting to smooth them out,

Leaving behind fingerprints.

Lines that criss-cross and wrap around her canvas

Like burned in lace and indentations on a record.

Pressed in curves and dents

Fingerprints and scratches

And lax spots play peek-a-boo.

And so the colors seem to still swirl.

Her wax canvas of colors,

Of strokes and fingerprints,

Given a value based on face,

On perspective,

Based on a time and a place.

Is her wax canvas.

I wanted to be like men wanted me to be:

an attempt at life;

a game of hide and seek with my being.

But I was made of nows,

and my feet level upon the promissory earth

would not accept walking backwards,

and went forward, forward,

mocking the ashes to reach the kiss of the new paths.

At each advancing step on my route forward

my back was ripped by the desperate flapping wings

of the old guard.

But the branch was unpinned forever,

and at each new whiplash my look

separated more and more and more from the distant familiar horizons;

and my face took the expression that came from within,

the defined expression that hinted at a feeling

of intimate liberation;

a feeling that surged

from the balance between my life

and the truth of the kiss of the new paths.

Already my course now set in the present,

I felt myself blossom of all the soils of the earth,

of the soils without history,

of the soils without future,

of the soil always soil without edges

of all the men and all the epochs.

And I was all in me as was life in me...

I wanted to be like men wanted me to be:

an attempt at life;

a game of hide and seek with my being.

But I was made of nows;

when the heralds announced me

at the regal parade of the old guard,

the desire to follow men warped in me,

and the homage was left waiting for me.

- unknown

That awkward moment when your husband finds your CM profile and sends you a friend request. #busted

You, Sir, have captured my heart and my mind. The fact that I felt I needed to search at all, for anything, after being made aware of your existence was foolish. You, Sir, will always be Master to me. Wether or not you still feel the same, I'm unsure of. Nonetheless, it matters not. Even if you should find someone else more capable than myself. I will forever be at your call. Your every wish and desire my command and desire. That word you dislike so, and in the words of 50 Cent, "I love you like a fat kid loves cake." Near or far, together or apart, I am yours. Please know and understand that I do indeed truly mean that.

...And yeah..... if by chance you're reading this... the tapioca has most likely already hit the rotary blades..... and if not.... ohhhhhhh..... give it time.... it won't need much..

Sincerely,

Your Slave/Slut

Sitting here and thinking, I'm wondering to myself.  What is it that makes a writer a writer, or a film maker a film maker?  What is it that gives them the genius behind all that drive?  They say there exists a fine line between genuis and insanity.  Questions and questions and more questions.  My college English professor said, "there are entirely too many questions in this paper!"  I remarked on how my paper may have been under done because there was a lack of interest in the topic at hand on my part.  He wrote, "I had a lack of interest in this paper!"  To that comment, I laughed.  I find the humor in so much of life, that at times I find myself laughing and sometimes hysterically, because life is indeed hysterical.  Lovers quarrel simply to fall back into each others calloused arms.  Enemies become "Frenemies" and we eat it up like we do most things offered.

Proper and inproper, who designated such things?  The text book accepted How are things against the so assigned "Black Vernacular" of What it do.  On a trip down south in high school, Sojourn to the Past, images of the Civil Right's Movement were shown before myself and others, and great minds spoke of how asking why was not as productive as asking why not.  Certainly, I agree that is so true, but WHY? 

If not meant to question, then what purpose is there to this life?  Go to college, graduate, get a degree, find a job, get married, have children.   My mother said to me when I was 10, "When you graduate high school, take a year or two off, and just live a little."  And so I did; yielding results that she has only recently become comfortable with.

Previously...... I asked a question.  "Where does one go when feeling beaten down by life? Daily struggles, heartaches and failed romances, when seemingly there exists no warm words or shoulders in sight."  The answer was in itself.  HERE.  Very public, online blabbering for any and all eyes that may come across it.  Because. Sometimes. Whining helps.

Free

So who is to say that you be free? 

What is free; what does it mean for you to be free?

Does it mean that you live to be free as you?

What does it mean for you to be free?

Free is a word? Or free is a state of mind?

No you say? Free is a state of being.

What does free mean?

Does free mean that you live to be free as you?

Or does free mean that you live for you and only you?

There is no such thing? Some would agree.

To live soley as you for no one but you?

There is no such thing. Some would agree.

There is no such satisfaction.  Some would say.

Am no longer actively seeking a mentor/teacher, so no more messages please.  I do appreciate all you Doms and Dommes who have been in touch however.  Thank you :).

For now I'd like to spend time getting to know and connecting with those who I've already been in contact with(no new faces).  Oher than that, my only interest on this site for now is making friends with like-minded individuals.  Thank you again :)

I hope EVERYONE has an absolutely wonderful day.

"How Did You Die?"  Edmond Vance Cooke (1866 -1932) 

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way

      With resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light  of day

      With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a troubles's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,

      Or a trouble is what you make it.

And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,

      But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth?  Well, well, what's that?

      Come up with a smiling face.

It's nothing against you to fall down flat,

      But to lie there --- that's a disgrace.

The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;

      Be proud of your blackened eye!

It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;

      It's how did you fight and why?

And though you be done to death, what then?

      If you battled the best you could;

If you played your part in the world of men,

      Why the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,

      And whether he's slow or spry,

It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,

      But only, how did you die?

Noooooooo!!! Dick Clark died :(.  I'm never watching the ball drop again *pout*

My intracranium workings -

Where does one go when feeling beaten down by life?

Daily struggles, heartaches and failed romances;

When seemingly no shoulders or warm words in sight.

But of course there exists a shoulder and warm words,

And of course it exists at a price.

Where does one go when feeling beaten down by life?

Daily struggles, heartaches and failed romances..

Please understand that I'm new to this site.. dare I say world...?  If I don't respond to an e-mail, don't take offense.  I'm either, 1) not interested 2) communicating with someone else 3) Can't and/or have no interest in responding to everyone.  Chances are though, I have read your email.  The "hover" feature is rather nifty.  I'm honestly a nice person if you get to know me.  However, if you're overly rude or vulgar in your e-mail.... I won't respond.   I am always happy to make friends though :)