I am the quiet standing
one hand loose and untouchable
relive the sun and feel the caress of
slow the heat that I live
my head unacknowledged.
Within this very large cavity
I plaything atavistic
a pin pace of breathing.
no violation
except the bite of hunger:
you at the bottom of all my world
relief are what I listen to the beat.
I love our bed. I love both. However, at this moment, I know K, you tell me: "waniguchi" crocodile's mouth.
're hating our bed for too much comfort. It's too big and too empty, you feel lost. Devoured by the night. Although you would have plenty of time to take it easy and recover a bit 'tired, dropping them on the sheets and fell asleep still wearing one of our uniforms, you can not.
Perfectly clean and starched, wrapped in a lightweight fabric apparel choice for you, a bit 'too little on his chest, so as to form a gap in the middle of the breast, continuous at home to polish.
Wipe and Wash, the shiny floor with the short skirt, dramatically short and narrow, glad to answer any movement in the middle of the deepest desires of Michael.
K., even if you like to be alone and you love the peace and quiet, now you can not let you go, I understand. For me it is the same.
You can not afford to overlook anything that is unpleasant. Even after days it seems that the Lord steps to take a look, you never know, and yet it takes time. Long weeks before Michael falls, before I take the way back.
You wonder if in the meantime I have the same thoughts. What is my behavior now that we are far away?
"Honey, wake up late nights as you step in taming the lack."
Everywhere I look around, before I worry about important things, that everything is in order: the apartment spotless and my body ready, as if Michael were to arrive at any moment.
pretended not to notice, but everything I do has a clear intention to complete a task.
it worth it, I am satisfied with my work regardless of the moment that is happening, just wait to have your eyes on him. A follow me everywhere and trot back and forth, wanting to be called even if they are tired. Just a moment dozed off or in the shower, hear His voice from another room, which requires the nightcap.
raid in your room without any other garment that bare skin, and while I do, turn the seat towards him, writhing in a sensual way, and opening his legs like to invite.
O parandomi front property, standing beside the bed, waiting for the tasting drink to ensure it is prepared with accuracy. Ready to make me the furniture, if you ask me, or lick the floor. Taking care to stay in my place while he is lying, or unknown with stunning women crouched beside him.
K., know the rules, we could break them, for once, but it would be inutile come voler indossare le mutande per stare più comode.
“Mottainai, K.”, dico, conserva premurosamente il ritmo del tuo respiro.
At the moment I have employment outside the home, a sister’s child to care for and naturally all the pressures apply by today’s fast lifestyle.
I and K. have very much to do during the day, clean our house and prepare for our Sir’s pleasure comes evening. But even with all this, we have found that our heart has to be ready for a pleasurable time with Him.
He has assigned to me the position of “alpha slave”. I am responsible for the running of the house, insure that K. is trained and ready to provide for His needs.
Anyway, this favourite role gives me some problems. K. competes heavily for my position. And if this of course keeps me and her at our best, occasionally it’s hard to go on.
During the day we have on one or more rings that can be heard into the house, use if they are requirement, and a lovely sound is emitted. We wear them because it pleases to Michael, to understand as His women proceed through the rooms.
In this way I have known without a doubt that I cannot grow, redefine, or simply change my mind if I don’t catch myself changing.
My growth is a part of my everyday life. I incorporate what I learn and learn what I can as I grow: Michael is a Sensual Sadist.
He takes enjoyment purely from giving pain.
He has come to value that some desires are there, to accept and enjoy them.
Definitely I am often bitten, pinched, tied, flogged and whipped, and He feels that it isn’t hurting me to hurt me, but instead to make me feel good. Pain and, most of all, His hands themselves give me a sense of great arousal and pleasure, a marvellous level of headspace.
He pushes up hard limits and I love when He does.
Bringing D/s into an existing relationship is often difficult, but if approached realistically and slowly, it can be done.
An important step is talk. Talk honestly.
It is extremely important that I and K. are able to discuss how we feel or what we think of the sisterhood, how it is developing and where it will go.
Michael has learnt to us the psychological aspects of headspace. He is a
It requires we apply our skills on a day to day to every situation that occurs. To develop this path takes time and energy, determination and integrity, true and open mind, but more than anything else it takes communication, love and desire.
Michael knows what's going on inside my head. His clues are my bodily behaviours and His own understanding of how my mind relates to my body.
He breaks the mirror in which I am His double. He acknowledges my existence and I exist as a person.
Now I am speaking to Him through the silence and His voice is filling the room as if He was right beside me. I could see His face too.
At this moment He knows I need to remember and feel.
It is time which I am waiting for with great anticipation. Allow me to back up.
Life is so complicated, my friends, my real friends, as we have met ourselves I have had many words to say.
I have suffered a lot since I cannot share intimacies of our lives with each other.
The phone is not been enough. I need people physically.
We always understand how important are honesty and contact, this is all we need.
I have drifted my attention to my Sir, but I sometimes think that this right priority has left them feeling alone. I have not to think but occasionally I am felt alone too.
The distance hasn’t made for a perfect relationship, however, our bond, our connection, does.
During the meeting with Max and Alex, feelings are been instantaneous. We are together every chance we have. We have spoken about finding ways to be together more than a few times in a year.
Elisa’s eyes are been the first thing I have felt touching me, a sweeter awakening I couldn’t imagine.
Our words in person are been filled with melancholy and passion, so many memories. We have the most time lying on my bed or theirs, holding each other, talking and laughing.
We continue to experience something extraordinary.
My frustration is been so far away with no way to communicate with them, look in their voices, and most of all give them my presence.
I feel blessed for having them in my life and there are times when writing some words can only help you to share.
Happy to know They like me as much as I Like Them.
(January 2007)
Love, I thought, a door to breathe.
A smell mortal. From the moment that made the case that he offered me, my heart was pounding. But it was the case, really? Had I not chosen to enter at last into his car and tell him everything.
I still remember the hard thinking about how I looked, I had a new recipes. The smell that I felt could not be a coincidence, I tried for days that essence, then, I waited without saying anything.
What impression had to get my body in those pictures scattered on the dashboard? The head of a madwoman, her back like a page torn. Stamps differently decorated, honored or dishonored, provocative, striking out. The legs obscenely wide open. The wrists tied. Away, or right there, tossed with a smile in the foreground.
photos scattered everywhere, of course, among the things unmentionable. On dirty mats. Underfoot.
Mark my body looked shaken while a man was putting me in a different and completely filled my mouth. It was still a vivid sensation experienced, lost and forgotten. Loss of adhesion and for a few moments, and death.
was crazy to see me at that time. Impaled. Open. It was damn exciting.
felt that I was wet again, it was strange, so try those emotions away.
I wanted to scream, but Mark - the stern face - expressing embarrassment. Avid repulsion.
I realized that an explosive charge had begun to wander, and could explode at any moment.
I got a jolt when the car he left suddenly, as if a mirror was broken, Mark led with equal detachment. In so doing synergy a note came up to me, which I accepted with enthusiasm physical impotence.
Carabinieri officer, Mark, was a friend even though he had never created a real relationship. More than anything else take advantage of him often.
He had a soft spot for me when I needed and always gave a helping hand.
When we arrived at her apartment, a penthouse in a quiet neighborhood, yet hesitated a reminder that more accurate impression, a man imprisoned.
The building was modern, a stone's throw from the old Roman walls. The sun had begun to wane among the trees and the cultivated garden was impeccable English.
I tried something different in the air, a feeling came back and flowed. There was a bitter scent of oleander and laurel, a smell of sodden earth that demanded respect. A breathtaking smell, a perfume that I already knew. Of sadness and sex.
A smell unreal, fine wood, but delicate at the same time. Startled when I entered the building again, a strange pain filled my belly and at the same time forced me to take a decision. The time it takes to feel broken, live, cold. The body is off.
The walls of granite, the elevator acid green, the hall decorated with plants inappropriate, it was all strangely familiar. I already knew but did not remember when. For some time I arrived and I had not ever gone.
On the other hand, no one may leave himself.
Marco opened the entrance and sun flooded the entrance, meanders through the stained glass windows light the room. In a moment I rushed inside, I sudden rush.
then I looked at Mark, he was upset, his eyes glassy, \u200b\u200bfixed at a point unknown.
The eyes have searched me for a moment and I was certain that we wanted the same thing.
The wait made him mad.
When we drank from your mouth the taste of rain, the smell of clay, wet and organic that January was to complicated. I wanted to whisper to me take away, there, facing the wall. Tearing the silence against the walls shiny gray, the smell of paint scraped would not have forgotten.
Discovery. Torn myself. Entrance on the dresser. Filled again. For a moment complete. I wanted to scold him or maybe pray. Fuck me.
of pride perhaps, however, said nothing.
does not react when I heard him behind his back, slipping slightly, his hands like birds on the buttocks. Breathing down your neck. The scent, that scent, shot in the throat, choking me.
For a while, 'Marco and I made love almost every night in that apartment, a jump in his arms it was a form of suicide.
I enjoyed in her mouth every time he has enjoyed in mine. Our tricks have lasted weeks. They hired bizarre features, handcuffs service, the triggering of the hook, the rings were biting the flesh to bursting; more than had been possible the last time, Mark loved the sound of metal, used it. I did not ask.
Orgasm is threatened in me like a shell on a rock.
The only time it really hit me was when I came the M16 to my crack, which had that weight metal. I looked into his eyes and read that desire to continue to enjoy that bordered on the desire to kill. Fuck me with that statue in every way, digging deep holes in which sank quickly.
The sphincter muscles are shaped perfectly to his cock, as if all the times I sodomized, between the belly and hot metal, hurled the sperm that could clear the track of who I was.
But I loved him. I'd never have loved and not wanted, but I could not shake it.
was a sense of urgency to precipitate events, to regain control of my body.
Living on the edge of consciousness for months, days, artificial, a sort of suspension, but this remote, closed in sorrow, in disappointment, I began to reply as soon as the kiss of my lover.
space to fill became bigger and bigger and Marco realized that the current was changing its course, for a while 'remained unperturbed and continued to conquer. He tried to back to the heart.
but swallowed his failure.
As the heat was mounting on the surface beneath the caresses, the progression of skin jumped out of memories and it was a smoking gun: the scar of my convalescence came to an end. Only reality gave reality to the pain, we left early.
A smell had persisted to impregnate the skin, attracting, and in one fell swoop had disguised desire. Inbrogliandolo. He revived an absent, the memory made it possible to find Michael.
Love me and make me suffer, I asked, as if Mark was an old scar of the Master. The latest injury, a silent groan. I was full of unexpressed tenderness.
It happened in a transparent manner, in his memory, Mark was a belt, and then the pain relief.
The smell of a confession difficult to tell when you are trying to rearrange a puzzle.
When everything seems the same but nothing is equal.
N. Araki
When my Sir doesn't speak any word, time is just stopped and then restarted with a bump. He looks, really looks, through me. He drives my current explorations in specific feelings.
I know I have been writing on and off about ecstatic practices, which include things like pleasure and pain, tease and denial, ordeal and flagellation, obedience and so on; all things that tell rather well about kink.
I have worked with my D/s relationship in its development and the practice has been intensely intertwined with my work. I have got to expanding and understanding of what it means to manifest my power.
Michael has trained my inner energy from where I properly thought, getting myself into influences about whether it’s possible for a sub to recognize virtue. Something which I always need to claim in order to become a real whole woman.
I’ve had a hard time understanding how BDSM intersects spirituality, and specifically how D/s is not only a path of service where I am capable in my own rights, but the path of my faiths too. I understand how feel “God” when Michael experiences myself as a fully open world of possibilities. I find that there’s a subspace all around me, in the sense that BDSM tides up limits. It is a ritual and a lifestyle which is always a teaching.
Feelings fly and emotions touch some sort of divine essence.
My Sir alters my state to give me a new focus state of being. He leads me to reinterpret previous spiritual knowledge.
Sexuality, for us a basic part of BDSM, guides body to spirit is some kind of intense bliss. Every sex act become an ecstatic goal, a break up to top. To top from the floor I grew emotionally, spiritually and in special way mentally. I embody some archetypes that come back to me and remember who I really am.
I rise from the bottom of the dark, through humiliation, whipping or bondage, through Him and His mind.
So fucking is not more merely fucking.
My Sir directs me to provide each time a bond to my surrender.
Internally it means something complex. I’ve to analyze and try to work with it, whit where it comes from. I know that at each level I look forward, I become more alive.
Since a sense of loss has overwhelmed me, I’ve nevermore searched other.
I breathe soul to soul with Michael and truly idolize completeness. A feeling of love so intense.
Under Michael guidance I continue to visit areas of my psyche yet unused. His control has no limitations. All inhibitions drop and all feelings of restriction go. Nothing is taboo.
If in the past I was been out of control and was been swept along in a sea of carnality, I know, currently these things obsessive come back with no balance and burn themselves out.
I have come into a big realization standing along in the farness of
Sex and spirituality are become one. I understand my path like a path of sacred rejuvenation.
When my Sir explores my body seeking out every mark, time disappears, my need to hide a bit embraces me, extends and extinguishes itself. At the end there is nothing I can't feel or do. Nothing is obscene in such a love.
Michael and I become one thing and one being. Every act open us the way for all that follows and we arrive knowing an inner peace. An acceptance of self.
The virtue says us that we are our reason.
Oh, great design!
Heaven has penetrating essence to call
This is my light, my motion's law
If strong repulsion powers too
If reason obstructs my force
In smiles chastised and in bright rays
I attest, feel darkness like wild desires
But what's the sense of this capricious fate?
A slave has a huge energy, a fervid flame
One Man into her glowing brame
It was while your hand
The feeling a bit my 'lost
The Essert gambling and of course, credit
Gloria afternoon in the middle
From a little black 'or diverted nearly
least, from the beginning to the white
Between the green and yellow of the advanced
of nights before that already burn
The charm. Your Poetry:
Reconstructed silent doll
EUFOR remittances
fingers blind and contentions
tells you to breath
Woman torrid, fiery women's leather
Clear water that s'allaga
Hide pious hands and dry them
to you under the sea, the sky is
Played nails
Nette waveform even
scratches. You breathe that plan within
Feel your hungry mouth
And then pours
The body, the yield doubled
Your full movement around
security your host.
He is music and you come
A meal lap collection.
