February 14, 2014

December 21, 2013

 

...and wishes made for another year.

April 1, 2013

Here is how it began.

The central passion of my life.

You spoke.

I was dazzled.

I held back.

But I could not stay away.

We were surrounded by others.

Yet we spoke privately.

Technology created a relationship

Curiously medieval in tone.

A chevalier who courts his lady from afar

Without a trace of physicality.

Experiencing this assault on the senses

Was akin to traveling from the pristine

Isolation of my soul’s snowy pine forest

To some opulent Oriental bazaar.

You voiced knowledge of a sensuality

I had held back: fire in a shell of sensibility.

I dreamed of your stature.

The elegance of your long, slender limbs.

I felt you must possess a candid stare

I knew it would be penetrating.

I prayed it would let me in.

Where we might find common ground.

So I’d resigned myself.

Our relations had to remain

As such and for the time being.

But could they sustain this remove yet devotion?

We were water.  We were inlets and islands.

We needed to flow and ebb at each other’s land.

Dear Professor of Desire.

A man who does not need to swagger his confidence.

Few have known as well as I the discrete

Difference between profane and sacred love.

All restraints fleeing my body

As I unfurled into a sail and wind

That transported us

To regions I had never traveled before.

I think of the soft hair on the nape of your neck

And it seems an impossible thing to me.

I heard your voice and felt your breath.

I heard your heart on top of mine.

It seems the vastest and saddest miracle of my life.

I touched your hair.

  

What wisdom is there for me

To focus on the gravity of love?

I feel unmoored

So floating in the void.

I’ve lost the love-weight

That had anchored me for all of those years.

In my loss, I often wonder

Why I left my rocks.

Why I turned from the snowy pines.

Was it not to give up hope?

I would not have had as much joy

But I would have avoided much pain.

I know now that any relation I ever had was meaningful to me

Built on the rope of hope, however mistaken.

The Woodsman

You (yesterday) : "One of these days I need to tie her to a tree in those woods and rip her shirt open, beating her tits with a switch."


Me: (silence)

Dom Versus Domme

I have a friend who was a Dominatrix.  I say “was” because I don’t think she actively pursues clients anymore, having other interests, but I suppose one could argue, “Once a Domme, always a Domme.”

I invited her to the Cape house.  She arrived at the lower door wearing a wig and a tightly belted trench coat.  She entered and we went upstairs to the living area.  She unbelted her coat with a wicked grin, and there she stood before me in all her Domme splendor.  I laughed.  Delightful.  She had a crop and was playfully thwacking at the furniture.  “Bring me a drink, Slave!”

She heard footsteps above her head.  The master floor and bedroom suite.  She looked at me with a puzzled expression.  Footsteps came down the stairs, and you entered.  She gasped.  It had been a while.

I think she wanted to be embarrassed, but something else kicked in and she adjusted her head back and stared at you defiantly.  Domme to Dom. 

I knew better.  I took one look in your eyes and saw it all.  How much you were going to enjoy yourself.   The undoing.   She was my friend, but you were my Dom.  This takes precedence.

She looked at me.  I looked at you.  I fell to my knees and lowered my eyes.  Her mouth opened in astonishment.  Then she looked at you again.

You met her wavering gaze head on.  A slight smile on your lips.   She knew she would have to pay for this moment of frivolity.  “Slut?  Get upstairs.  Now.”  I left.  I knew I would have to bear witness and participate in the falling of a proud Domme.  I dreaded it.

The lessons she thought she so gleefully played at?  She was going to learn the impact of what they really meant, for the first time in her life.  I am sure she was starting to tremble, realizing her error.

But you?  I knew she would weaken.  I knew she would be humbled.  I knew your gaze.  I had paid for disobeying that gaze.  I understood its full power and the need for obedience.  I heard her cry out.  I heard a thud.  I could only guess.  You had grabbed her hair and dropped her to her knees in front of your hard cock.  Such begin the lessons.

May 23, 2012

You command her to bend forward as far as she can without toppling, so that her nipples brush the rough carpet. She moans under her gag when they do. You lie down in front of her and make her now rub her nipples onto your hardened cock. Drool is escaping from under her gag and running down her chest. The rope reddens her flesh as it cuts into her. (I brought her my red gloves and a red corset, then you returned me to the bedroom , bound me to the posts, turned out the lights and left me.)

You continued laying in front of her, stroking your oiled cock. This is the face of checked desire. Her eyes cannot look away. Her mouth wants cock in it. She is writhing, trying to escape and have what she desires. Her eyes beg you to let her have your cock.

The tension is terrible. If she topples she has failed. Every time she leans forward to get closer to your cock, she is in danger of failing. The punishment of this decline is frightening to think about. She shakes the fear out of her head . "No." "I must not fail, or he will punish me, and I will never have his cock." You are aroused at witnessing what is going through her thoughts.

You stand and begin to walk away from her. She is torn. She cannot stop twisting in her bindings. The rope has forced her tits to swell with pressure. She wants you to fuck her tits. The rope is cutting into her clit and the more she moves, the more it cuts. She wants to cum, but she knows if she does, there will be serious repercussions. Her ankles are tied and the rope ingeniously not only cuts into her ankles but her thighs. All of her sensual points are aroused, and yet you refuse her. When will she have release? Or...will she have release? You exit the sliding door and go outside. You can hear her whimpers through the glass. She is ready to be fucked. However. She needs to learn that you decide when that will be. She is in a brightly lit room. You stand outside on the deck in the dark and you watch her. Her eagerness makes you hard again. You glance up at a dark window. Soon enough. You breathe the night air.

April 1, 2012