Dearest Angela,

Happy Thanksgiving.

I want to let you know that I am thankful for you and what you have given me since I was first afraid to call you.

I am thankful for all the times we have talked, for all the calls you granted me, for all the times you teased me, for the times you took possession of me. And I am grateful for the physical, spiritual and emotional transmutation you guided me through, by teaching me to authentically commit to a truly dominant woman, rather than a cheap imitation of one.

You are the most amazing human being I have encountered. I mean that without the erotic attraction which so deeply binds me to you. The you that resides in your head and your heart, that beams loving insight at me & every other person in the world around you. The you who innately knows when to chide, to praise, to laugh, and even to cry.

That this person shares the same flesh with the most erotic, kinky, intuitive, arousing, and desirable woman in the known world is a miracle of creation. I would be pleased to encounter either, but my blessing — this world’s blessing — is to know the two of you as one and the same.

You allowed me to know you through some of the most challenging times I hope you may ever have.

You have led me to be a better person myself, and have helped me hope to heal, and to hope I may have started.

Whatever small gifts I have given you are but tokens to show my respect for the priceless gift you continue to share with me.

Thank God, and Thank You.

Love,
Mr. J.

______________________________

… and this ‘slave’ has certainly been a blessing to me.

xo, Angela

No. No. No. No. NO!

These do not mix.

Choose one and eat it well.

Mistress says so.

———————————

Okay. I said my piece. G’night.

In some respects I suspect you’ve got a respectable side.
When pushed and pulled and pressured, you seldom run and hide,
But it’s for someone else’s benefit, not for what you wanna do
Until I realize that you’ve realized I’m gonna say these words to you.

Yeah, you don’t know what love is,
You do as you’re told.
Just as a child of ten might act,
But you’re far too old.
You’re not hopeless, or helpless,
And I hate to sound cold,
But you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.

I can see your man can’t help but win any problems that may arise,
But in his mind, there can be no sin if you never criticize.
You just keep on, repeating all those empty “I love you”s.
Until you see you deserve better, I’m gonna lay right into you.

Yeah, you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.
Just as a child of ten might act,
But you’re far too old.
You’re not hopeless, or helpless,
And I hate to sound cold,
But you don’t know what love is,
No you don’t know what love is,
No you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.
Yeah, do as you’re told
Yeah.

————————————————————————

Special thanks to Mr. S. who sent this to me. (After all, Mr. S., it is *our* story, isn’t it?)

She is sleeping quietly in her crib. I am propped-up in bed reading. I listen to her breathe. I check the clock. I begin to wonder how late you will be.

You are hunting tonight. We stay safe in our den, relaxing or sleeping or taking time for mundane chores. In our bed I listen to every sound until I hear the door.

The door closes and I can hear what I have longed to hear. My warrior walks the length of the wooden hall. Her heels ring out like hobnails once might have done. Louder and closer she comes.

She enters, radiant, beautiful, and commanding. Her heels come off. Her dress comes off. She scoops our daughter from her crib and carries her to bed. She feeds. Her mother has already fed.

Was her prey young or old? Did he find satisfaction or frustration? Her mood is not changed by the feelings of the prey. She lured him towards her. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she frowned. Maybe she spoke too loud. Maybe she spoke too soft. He chased, unsure, too sure, but he chased. Thinking he was hunting, he was hunted. Thinking he was making his move, he was conquered.

The baby has fed. You hand her to me and I carry her, sleeping and satisfied, to her crib. I return to your bed. You are satisfied but alert. A motion of your hand and I stop. Your breasts are bare and swollen with milk. I kneel, naked and hungry before you. Your hand is moving and so am I.

I approach. I tremble. I quake. I throb. I salivate.

You hold your right breast in your two hands.

You speak: drink from me!

I fall upon my task with ardor and greed. With my mouth, I suck. I lick. I knead. I lap. I lavish. My tongue is fast and slow, gentle and firm. I take short and long passes across your nipples. They are tender. They reward me. As your milk flows into my mouth, your hand wrap around my cock. I am in ecstasy without fulfillment. I want more and more. Tender swollen breasts and warm sweet milk on my lips compete with the firm gentle fast slow scratching soothing actions of your hand on my cock.

I am chasing and chased.

I feed upon you.

You smile, victorious, another prize taken by the huntress.

………………….

just a lil kinky story from a fanboy

Yes Yes

Charles Bukowski

when God created love he didn’t help most
when God created dogs He didn’t help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low

when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time

He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.