Almost Goodbye by Anonymous

 Almost Goodbye - by ANON

You hesitantly reach across the couch, across the divide, to touch my hand, an uncharacteristic conciliatory gesture. I stare at your hand. Your voice sounds strange, unfamiliar, when you ask, "Are we okay?" I raise my eyes and search your face, still stung by your willingness to walk away from me, from us. I pause before answering, "I think we can be." You open your mouth to speak, but for once, I have no need for your words. I need you to show me, not tell me. I close the space between us and press my mouth to yours. Pulling back, I whisper, almost plead "Show me." I desperately hope you'll understand what I'm asking for, what I need. And you do. 

Your mouth opens to me and I push my tongue into you, but it's not enough. Acquiescence will never heal this gaping wound. I start to pull away, but your arms are around me, holding me to you, preventing my withdrawal. Suddenly your tongue is inside my mouth. Urgent. Hungry. Desperate. "Yes," I think, "Show me. Prove to me that you couldn't walk away, not even if you wanted to. Show me that your need for me is too great, that my hold on you is too powerful, unbreakable." You don't wait for permission. I groan against your mouth, against the lips that are crushing mine. I hook my hands under the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, disrupting your hands and your lips, but they return instantly. You force the left cup of my bra down, exposing my breast, and your mouth claims it. I cry out, arching my back. My fingers thread through your hair holding your mouth to me. Your hands waste no time. You push my skirt up my thighs and jerk my panties aside. Without warning, your fingers are inside me, two fingers. I gasp and cling to you, nails digging into your back, marking you, hips thrusting forward to meet your invasion. "Fuck me," I whisper, my tone demanding. From your throat comes a sound akin to a growl. I reach for your belt, clumsily tugging at it. Impatient, you take over with your free hand. Belt. Button. Zipper. I push your pants down to your knees, desperately needing you inside me. You pull me on top of you, grabbing your cock and guiding me onto it. Your hands find my hips and pull me down hard. My cunt engulfs you entirely with one swift movement. My eyes widen and then close, my body tenses, and I cry out sharply. I press my hands down on your shoulders, holding you in place. You thrust up into me. But you need more. You easily shrug off the pressure of my hands on your shoulders and lift me, flipping me onto my back, your cock, no *MY* cock, never leaving me. My legs instinctively wrap around your hips, pulling you deep. You thrust. Hard. Urgent. Pounding. Knocking the air out of me each time your body crashes into mine. I struggle for air. I scream. You don't stop. You don't pause. With a final thrust you groan and your cock spasms inside me, filling me with your seed, with *MY* seed. You collapse on top of me. My legs wrap tightly around you, not letting you go, holding you until you soften inside me. You begin to come to your senses. Realizing what you've just done, you anxiously push yourself up to look at me. You start to speak, but I cover your mouth with my hand, "If you apologize for that, I will never forgive you." When you nod, I remove my hand and pull your weight down on me, holding you, stroking your back lightly with my finger tips, searching for the half-moon indentations left by my fingernails. 

At some point, I rise and take your hand, leading you to the bedroom. I stand beside the bed, watching, as you finish undressing in front of me. Then you reach for me, slowly undressing me. Your lips adoringly brush kisses against each inch of newly exposed skin. Dropping to your knees in front of me, you lower my panties to the floor and press your mouth between my legs, worshiping me with your tongue, tasting the familiar mixture of my fluids with yours. You teasing my clit expertly, just as I've taught you, until I cum on your face. You hold me up when my knees buckle. 

We move to the bed and fall into a deep sleep in a tangled embrace. Hours later, I wake with your mouth on me, peppering small kisses on my breast. I look down and see the bruises left on my skin by your greedy hands and the bruises left on your skin by mine. Your lips close around my nipple. With a soft whimper, my back arches into you. I feel your cock hard against my thigh. We make love, slowly and tenderly. I roll on top of you, moving on you, engulfing your cock. Your hands gently tease my breasts. This time, you hold back, letting me move on your hard cock, your thumb massaging my clit, until I cum, then rolling me onto my back and thrusting into me until I look up at you and offer the barest of nods. In response, you instantly release inside of me. 

It's dark now. We lie beside each other, your cum dribbling out of me. I snuggle into you, needing to be close. You hold me until I'm asleep. As I dream, you lie awake feeling anxious about what is to come. You know there will be suffering after enjoying my body so freely. Making love is ALWAYS followed by pain, intense, almost unbearable pain, but it's worth it. With these thoughts on your mind, you drift into a restless sleep filled with dread and anticipation of what's to come. 

Bad Memories by Killian

 So, bad memories, where to start? I don't enjoy humiliation, it's not a kink of mine, so in the spirit of confessions, the title and over-sharing I'll go with this one.

They say it takes tens of thousands of hours of interaction for humans to reach an acceptable level of social comfort, or roughly to the age of 25. As a young man in my early twenties I had absolutely not reached that point. I was a perfectly happy child, rarely in the limelight and content with mostly solitary pursuits. I was never really much use with women, I never felt particularly comfortable with them and the memories are so very painful in hindsight.

I never did manage any experiences at college despite living my best life through IRC. So when I made it to London for a first real job I was determined to pursue my lifelong dream of submission. I did what any sensible person would do - I hit the message boards and with a remarkable degree of luck the first advert I responded to somehow landed a NSA attached date with an extremely attractive woman who was perhaps 15 years older than me.

Incredibly, she was for real. As attractive in real life as her pictures, and seemingly as enthusiastic as promised. We met on a Saturday morning in a smart Central London hotel. I was painfully awkward when I think back to it, but she complimented me for wearing a shirt as we made our way up in the lift to the room. I put my arm around her, it wasn't so bad, maybe this was going to be ok.

In her room, a small suite, she suggested I lie on the bed and she disappeared for a moment to change into the most gorgeous lingerie that years late I still don't think I've ever seen better. We see the past in rose-tinted glasses, but I can honestly say she was the most beautiful person I've ever been with. I had stripped down and laid back on the bed. She straddled me while I was still barely able to speak, we kissed, my hands in her hair, and then I realized that I could not get it up. She tried her best, and god knows it was nothing to do with her, but I couldn't get a response. She offered a handjob, but I was broken and I could maintain enthusiasm. I apologized profusely, made my excuses, and left, ashamed.

And so began a lifelong problem that I've still not managed to overcome. I'm sure it's psychological, but decades later I've never quite managed to overcome it. As bad memories go it's hardly the most traumatic, but of all the negative experiences I've ever had, whether personal or professional, this is the one that still hurts the most.

I never heard from her again, I look her up every so often, she's still stunning.

Cuckold by Rorke

 BUZZZZZZ!!

He jumps and grimaces a little at his desk, with a hurried glance around he sighs in relief seeing those around him engrossed in their work and paying him no heed. Subtly adjusting his trousers and feeling the bump of the ingenious cock ring; bluetoothed to his phone to send an electric shock to his sensitive balls upon receiving a message from her; and picking up the phone: 

"No dinner needed this evening, boy,"

Sighing with a soft shake of his head at the brief message as he simply replies, "yes, Goddess, thank you, Goddess", and thinks such is the life of a male in a Female Supremacist Relationship. No matter, he muses, everything will freeze, it was going to be a special meal for her before the ritual of presenting his pay cheque to her but she must have other plans...Then suddenly, very suddenly the realisation dawns mixed feelings of excited frenzy and pangs of jealously hit him while the dread grows. It can only mean she has a date!

The rest of his day is a blur, just an out of body affair with him reduced to basic functions while his mind races. These were always difficult for him, while he had accepted long ago that he would never have that type of intimacy with her and his service to her was way above anything these men could experience, he could never help but feel that male envy of them having something he only will ever dream of. Plus, there is the added torture of who she was with, would he meet him? More often than not he did which always left him unsure of whether that was better or worse. 

Most times, he was just required to drive them home and fix them a drink before being sent back to his chores or to his room but that depends on her mood entirely. It could range from the extremes of being made to provide entertainment to one time being made to sleep in the car while they fucked all night. Again, he was very unsure which was worse.

Home time now, hurrying back as quickly as legally possible (the time he was caught speeding is another story for another time!) to prepare himself mentally. With no dinner to prepare; aside from the dog's and his own basic meal; his chores before she arrives home were light so he hadn't even that distraction to take his mind off of it. Kneeling naked, he could only try and process the feelings, "Suffering is service and service is freedom", he repeats over and over to himself.

He lost track of time ages ago but knowing her it is around 11pm when the door pushes open and is breath is taken, as it always has been from the moment he first heard her heavenly voice, filling his ears with her excited laughter and chat while his eyes dart to her heels. Bracing for the next set of feet he will see and swallowing hard, about to crawl forward as she grants permission to greet her, he freezes....

A second pair of heels and bare legs enter his view!!!

His hesitation earning him a slap to his cheek, causing his ears to ring, as he mumbles his apology and hurriedly kisses her feet.

The greeting complete, he kneels up and his jaw just drops. His Goddess stands before him, as beautiful as ever in the long, flowing skirt with a tasteful split exposing a thigh and the white top clinging to her form.

"Well, greet Miss Maddison, boy...where are your manners?", came her rhetorical question as he lowers his forehead to the floor in greeting, bringing a chorus of laughter from the guest. Hardly daring to breath as the young blonde Woman in the black dress allowed him to kiss her feet while conversing with his Goddess.

What ensued was an evening much, much worse than anticipated but somehow much, much better. It was decided that if they had to wear panties then so did he...so...in front of this gorgeous young Lady he had just met, he had to pose in his pink sissy panties under constant ridicule, reminded that his were staying on tonight, unlike theirs.

This was very different in a physical way too, as while he avoided looking at the males, he had to tear his eyes off her. And even the waiter service (or maybe maid is more accurate) was more difficult as he was making cocktails to their exacting tastes opposed to just grabbing a beer!

Finally, after a game of musical statues at his expense which seemed to last for hours, his Goddess gave the sudden curt instruction, "Fuck off, boy".

Crawling from the room and closing the door to the sound of female laughter, moans and kissing, he sighs but smiles...this is his place and wouldn't want it any other way.

Invisible by Meldoran

 Invisible

Life is often made of crossroads, of decisions that must be taken trying to rely on logic, intelligence or maybe even just common sense. There are times, however, when common sense does not help; times when you realize that the choice is almost forced, whether you like it or not. At that point you can only suffer, just trying, for pure survival spirit, not to be overwhelmed by events.

Forgive me for this perhaps inopportune beginning, but I personally feel it is necessary.

I awake from my slumber, open my eyes, and slowly look around. It is almost unreal what is happening here. I am in a cage, not so small that it forces me into extremely uncomfortable positions, but still a cage that severely restricts my movements. This is the place where I am ordered me to stay by Mistress. The cell door is ajar, but Her command is stronger than any lock: "Do not move unless you are told otherwise," were Her last words before she left me. I know She has something in mind that I am unlikely to like; I have learned to know that Her imagination is unmatched when it comes to obtaining pleasure, even and especially through my suffering. But I also know that any attempt to rebel cannot succeed. Maybe I was able to fight back more in the beginning, but over time I've given up. I just can't fight back, assuming I want to. And I don't want to.

I am naked in the little prison, but not completely. The manhood is not caged, as Mistress usually requires. Instead, there is a sort of ring fastened around my shaft and scrotum, a toy I've never tried before and which Mistress wants to inaugurate today, of all days. Not knowing how it works unsettles me, but then I don't have much to do. I have my collar, of course, and my beads, that are completely stuck in my butt, complete my meager equipment.

It's dim around me. I quickly notice that the cage I'm in has been moved from its usual position and carried away from Mistress' bed, a bed I can barely see.

Mistress is lying sideways, as far as I can see, on the side of the bed nearest me. I can't make out her contours clearly, but I can hear her unmistakable moans. I can tell she's having fun with someone, but who? It's probably Cam, but whoever it is is hiding behind Mistress. I also hear an unfamiliar moan, which makes me realize that there are three people on that bed.

I have no idea who the third person might be, and maybe I don't care. Maybe I know him, maybe I don't know him. Maybe he's a friend of mine. I know that the refined perfidy of Mistress could relegate me to someone I might share my time with. I shudder at the thought. All I know right now is that the atmosphere is permeated with sex, with desire, and that the lack of clear vision is heightening the other senses and increasing my sense of frustration. It is obvious that my presence is not accidental: Mistress wants me to be there, but why? To emphasize my role and make it even more obvious? To feed Herself with my natural but suppressed desire for Her pleasure? I don't know how to answer.

I touch my hard member, I know I am not forbidden. Mistress moans again and again, speaking words, sometimes broken, that give me a picture of what is happening, "Move over and don't you dare cum. Instead, take his cock in your mouth and make it nice and hard. You know it's even nicer than yours?" Cam's grumble is a clear response, somewhere between offended and eager to please Her. I see him move and nuzzle himself between the third person's legs as he guides his head onto his cock. Mistress seems to be watching, amused and aroused...but only a few seconds pass and a sudden pain hits me on my member. I let out a moan which Mistress notices and turns to me for the first time, "My little slut, what was that?"

The darkness is not such that I cannot see an almost satanic grin on Her face. I don't have time to recover from the pain, and a new one hits me, even more intense, there, between my legs, coming from the ring I wear. I begin to understand. Mistress is using something that gives me electric shocks to my member, obviously dosed according to Her whim.

I'm still moaning, the pain tending to soften my manhood; fortunately enough, Cam's moans are louder, and so the sound of his eager lips around the stranger's hard cock draws the Mistress's attention away from me and calls her back to Cam, "Good, ... that's it ...." Saying that, she reaches behind him and starts stroking his hard member, causing Cam to moan even more audibly. I catch a glimpse of Mistress' hand move with methodical rhythm, causing agony in Cam, making him even more dependent and pulling him into a subspace of his own.

The atmosphere is charged with eroticism, it is charged with sex. But it is also full of domination, control and dependence. It's clear that Mistress is pulling the strings on all of us. In relation to me, it's quite obvious: I'm in a cage at her behest, forced to witness sex that isn't mine, and made to suffer for Mistress's distant pleasure. But Cam and the stranger are also obvious tools in her hands. I watch Cam nearly drown himself, banging his head against the stranger's pubic bone, while Mistress expertly stimulates and arouses him, keeping him docile with her deft movements.

There, now, Mistress turns...she looks at me as she continues to masturbate Cam...she smiles at me...I think she smiles at me...and a wave of immense pain seizes me...it forces me to bend and gasp as if a hand, Her hand, is gripping and squeezing my balls, with determination, with malice, leaving me no escape.

I look up painfully, and she signals me with her index finger to come closer. I move with extreme difficulty, the cage is small, I open the small door and slip out, on all fours towards Mistress. I don't have time to take a few steps as a new incredible pain grabs me, making me gasp again. I collapse to the floor and hear Mistress chuckle in amusement. "Well, well, well, is that so difficult? ..."

I get back on all fours and trot laboriously toward her. As I draw nearer, even in the spasms of recent pain, I manage to catch a glimpse of the stranger, and my heart beats to my throat; the semi-darkness does not help, but it seems to me that he looks familiar, that he is Giulio???!!! No, no, I cannot believe that Mistress's sadism would go so far. Him?

She signals me to settle down, sitting, leaning, resting my head on the bed, exactly in line with Her hand, which continues to masturbate Cam. I understand immediately what she wants me to do. Still shocked with the acquired stranger's identity, I open my mouth, just in time for Her hand to accompany Cam's cock to my lips, sliding it in little by little. My mouth is full, so full that I get a gag reflex that I struggle to suppress.

Mistress smiles and enjoys the scene: a kind of human chain, a chain of servants pleasing each other just to please Her. The slave's mantra comes to mind... "Her pleasure is my pleasure," as the piece of meat reaches down my throat and begins to thrust between my lips. Mistress seems aware of my difficulty, because she reaches down, grabs Cam's balls (who moans in pain) and pushes Cam's cock even deeper, nearly choking me. Satisfied with that, then she stands up on the bed, almost riding the human chain and positioning herself with her sex right in the Giulio's face.

"Now you lick me, because I want an orgasm right now...In fact...I want you all to come, but after me....like a real chain....I will....then you...then Cam....you won't, Mel, since, as you know, you're the low man on the totem pole, poor you..."

I hear Her words almost in the distance, like a dream, or rather a nightmare, of which I am the involuntary protagonist. I hear the lustful gasp of Mistress as she holds Giulio's head in Her hands and presses it against herself....beginning to murmur words of pure lust... Knowing who it is that's giving Mistress pleasure right now ... hic et nunc... kills me even more than this piece of meat entering my mouth hard and throbbing. It literally drives me insane to know that he, only he, will bring Mistress to her climax. I moan and feel myself dying.

The atmosphere is growing hotter. Mistress' excitement is like a catalyst for the other two. I can only suffer and prepare myself for the orgasm of the one who thrusts into my mouth for Mistress' sadistic pleasure.

The road to apotheosis is short, heralded by a hoarse cry from Mistress as she squirts, fierce as ever, and I imagine with deep envy what Giulio must be feeling now, whose face Mistress has surely baptized with a crop of sweet precious fluids. Only a few seconds pass, and then Giulio himself cums too ... judging by the grunts he lets escape. A few more seconds, seconds of uncontrolled movement, and Cam cums too, copiously, filling my mouth with cum I can no longer hold back. Some of it spills out just as he collapses on the bed, dripping from the sides of my mouth.

There is nothing to say: everything was perfectly synchronized, almost as if it had been organized down to the smallest detail. Everything seems to be over. But, of course, it's not like that. Yes, it's true, the atmosphere gradually fades into a relaxed silence, a complacent satiety of the senses. But not for me, I know that, and Mistress knows it. She studiously ignores me as she talks to the two on the bed, "Divine, just divine. I knew I could count on both of you. On you, Cam, who are such a slut. And you too (turning to the one who was a real friend to me), well, I can't help but say you have a future ahead of you, a future as a pleasure provider for me. I'm sure someone here will be more than happy with that. " She laughs.

I just don't exist, except for that last lunge that makes me bleed. Today my function is merely accessory. After all, it is to confirm what I am, an instrument of pleasure in the hands of Mistress. And today my role is to be invisible, to not exist except as a vessel for pain and cum.

As she slowly rises from the bed, she looks at me with a smile and says, "Poor baby, today is a bit like Lent for you. A penitential abstinence. And your cock doesn't seem very happy about it. Let's take care of it for a bit ..."

I throw myself down and kiss her feet passionately as a tear wets my face, a tear of frustration but also of total submission to her. She lifts one foot and places it slowly on my head, pressing down and whispering, "Tomorrow, if I choose, you may exist again. But today you do not, you are invisible, you are nothing. Yes, kiss your mistress's foot, annihilate yourself in this act of absolute submission. And enjoy it."

And as She pronounces the last word, She works for the last time on the remote in Her hand, snickering evilly and pleased, giving me an immense ache in my testicles just as my tongue slides between her toes.

Just invisible...

The Spa by Cam

The lucky ones amongst us males are the spa boys. We live in relative luxury but that doesn't mean we don't still have to earn our keep.

The Ladies come to the spas, to pick and choose - for pleasure or for mating. The spas charge by time and by service. We all have our favourite Ladies, and sometimes throw in little extras, which don't get logged in the ledger.

My own favourite is visiting today. Sometimes she picks me, sometimes not. I stand patiently in the line as she slowly walks down, inspecting each boy in turn. Some of them she touches, grasping their chin and tilting their heads, or running her hand over their chests. Once or twice, she cups the boy's balls, or strokes his cock. Just to see if she can get a reaction from him.

While we're in the selection room though, there must be no reaction. We must stay like statues. One of the less experienced boys whimpers almost inaudibly as she grabs his cock. One of the trainer's steps forwards, clips a leash to his collar and leads him off, without a word spoken. We all know he's going for some re-education.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see she's approaching me. I think I'm in love with her, but it's forbidden to speak of such things. I want her so badly. Not just for service but forever. To serve her only and be with her all the time. But males are too precious a commodity these days to not share.

I stare straight ahead as she approaches me, fixing my gaze on a spot on the wall opposite. She touches me. My skin erupts in goosebumps. Fortunately, reflex actions are tolerated. My pulse quickens and her hand rides down my body, wrapping itself round my cock and weighing my balls. I feel myself stiffen.

"When did he last service someone?" She asks, turning to the spa manageress.

The manager flips through her smartphone. "Last week. Well, almost two weeks ago" she says, without looking up. "Unusual, for him. But business has been slow. Everyone is on holiday this time of year."

"Perfect," the Last says. I wish I knew her name but I know her only by her looks, her bright eyes and her perfect smile. The curves of her body...and of course the fit of her cunt. "You know the services I've requested today?"

"Yes, of course. We'll bill your account accordingly," replies the manager. The Lady clips a leash to my collar and leads me from the selection room and towards the pool.

We spend quite some time at the pool. She sunbathes a while, and I run lotion all over her milky white skin to protect her from the sun's harsh rays. I make a point of turning it into a massage. She lets me get close...soooo very close to her sex but I know the time is not yet right, and veer my hands away at th last moment.

I fetch her drinks when she wants them, swim with her a while. She takes advantage of this to stroke my cock hard while I'm in the water. She presses herself up against me, letting me feel the heat of her pussy in the cool waters.

Eventually, she heads for the shaded patio and takes some lunch.  I kneel by her table patiently. Occasionally she offers me a bite of food but those are strictly treats. I'll get fed by the Spa later. It makes me feel like her pet, and I love it. I rest my body against her smooth calves while she eats.

After dinner she leads me to one of the chambers. She lies on the bed, puts me on the floor next to her and strokes my hair. "I'm going to take a little nap," she says, "but you know what I'll want when I wake up."

I nod, not daring to speak. I watch and listen as she settles down to doze. I think I fall asleep for a short while myself but I'm woken by the sound of her stirring.  I know what sh likes. I've served her often. I clamber up onto h bed, carefully so as not to disturb her and insinuate myself between her legs.

I kiss and caress them, working my way up to her labia, tenderly approaching her in the way I know she likes. She's rented me so many times. Although I don't know her name, I know her in the best way possible.

I kiss her pussy just as she wakes. I feel her fingers run through my hair. She twirls it, gripping it softly but firmly as she parts her legs and allows me to lap softly at her cunt. Her smell, her taste... everything about her I enjoy more than any of the other Ladies I serve. I want her to call me 'mine', to possess my body in the way she already possesses my heart.

As I attend to her clit with my tongue, she cums, pulling my head tight down onto her, denying me air until she is satiated. Often, as she slumbers in post-orgasmic bliss, sailing on that ocean of relaxation, she'll have me make love to her, to fit myself inside her and keep myself ready, moving slowly, until she's ready for her second.

Sometimes she pushes me away, tells me I'm done. Once or twice she's even dismissed me completely, back to the shower room and then to the waiting room until I'm selected again.

But not today. She seems urgent, not relaxed. She grabs me and pulls me up to her. My cock pressing at her wet pussy. She grabs my head, one hand over each cheek, squeezing.

"I want you" she says, almost grunting the words.

I'm taken aback. Ladies aren't supposed to…

"I want to call you Mine," she says, wrapping her legs around me.

I finally break my astounded silence. "But it's forbi…"

"Sssh." She presses a finger to my lips. "Only we will ever know. Her other hand reaches down, touches me and guides me inside her.

"You're going to become part of me today. Inseminate me."

I don't know what to do. Normally it's a regular thing for a spa boy to provide sperm for reproductive purposes, but it is always purely business, functional. This level of emotions attachment is completely forbidden.

"Do it," she says, gripping me tightly with her inner muscles, and with her legs. Give me my seed. Give me a baby."

I can't help myself. My need and lust for this woman, whom I know intimately but also hardly know at all overpower me. My cock twitches, despite myself, I cum in her, pumping her cunt full of seed.

I start to weep. If I'm found out it'll be bad for me. If she's found out, it'll be worse for us both.

As I relax and we uncouple, she tells me to lay sideways. She wants to prop her hips up on my back, to give her a better chance of conceiving. I lie there, worried for myself but more worried for her.

After about an hour, our time is up. Reluctantly, she gets up and I dress her. She clips a leash to my collar again and leads me back to the exit.

The manager is there, waiting for us. My Lady hands the leash over to her and waves her card over the payment terminal.

"Did you enjoy your treatment today?" Asks the manager

"Yes. Very much," says my Lady, looking at me. "Except for one thing."

"Oh?" replies the manager. "What was that?"

"The bastard came inside me without permission" she says, and turns sharply on her heel without looking back before he manager can reply.

I feel sick, knowing what punishment is coming my way, but also knowing she did it to protect me.

THE END

Untitled by Anonymous

 thirsty, wanting, delectable decisions await,

the fall of the ice cold trickle over this untold fate.

promise to fulfill the craving, this beautiful rapture, soon gushing free,

into the scent filled calm waters, i long to drown in to me. 

cautious, painful, burning desire,

the yearning flames, are raising higher.

heat rises into the darkness, yet as it calls,

the soft screams, are heard, the sound within the walls. 

potent to the mind, as in anticipation taught,

in just for a moment, i pause, where nothing i thought.

the sensuous, upon the tongue of that sumptuous taste,

into the throat the warmth, of ones sweet zesty flavour some haste.

the frivolous moment where i shall be,

calmly, drifting into the night, just sipping my tea.

                             -Tea Time

Untitled by Anonymous

 Sometimes the moon's orbit wobbles around the earth.   Those wobbles produce higher and lower tides, and dramatic events on  earth.   The gravitational attraction isn't a straight path, no matter the strength of gravity's pull.  And sometimes for me my path is not clear, my commitment is wobbly, and I forget the path I am on -- the path with Mistress.   But her pull, her path, her power is always there...undeniable, unshaking and a law of nature.   

It is best to let the law of nature take over and to follow her path, listen, and follow.  Einstein conceived of a planet's path through time space similar to a bowling ball moving over a mattress -- the object moves through a smooth path carved for it.  The easiest way is to follow the path created in a straight line.  Deviance from the path and wobbles cause friction, bumps and instability.

I often forget these truths as I get swallowed up in personal thought, drama and life.  And yet she doesn't.  For that I am grateful, and it is her nature.  She can't change her pull, and my attraction to it, no matter how I might try.  It is the nature of the bond, of D/s of us.

Thank you Miss for being there.   For not letting go, for not letting me spin off into a self-centered, untethered world of uncertainty and loneliness.   For being you and crafting Us.