I’ll bestow you this, swain:

Seized while unaware and vulnerable,

the elixir I’d been put on to “help” me had affected my instincts;

my doors were wide open.

Before I was ever narcotized,

before I was paying someone to fill my basket with wishes,

that same basket I had dropped so long ago, was empty, and I planned to keep it that way.

I know it’s all worthless when put to use in the real world.

No one in this dominion wants your invisible wishes, or that tattered old basket.

Sure, they postulate, surmising an oasis that appears in the most preposterous location…

Like, they are selling you time in a padded room that can appear anytime you have a fit.

Then you run to it and it’s got everything you think you need, and it feels safe.

There’s hope, trust, forgiveness…anything seems possible in this padded room they are pushing on you.

In this sanctuary that seems all but imagined, something will happen.

“What happened to me?”, you ask.

Some fortifications that were erected as absolute hindrances,

forged in order to ensure safety from all I’ve survived; don’t want to survive it again and don’t think I could.

But they come down, all the safety glass, the nets, the barricades, and I was left exposed.

Hook, line, and sinker, cast into the middle of the ocean and left there, dangling with “bait” written all over you.

I will say this:His timing was perfect, because I had been buying what my psychotherapist was trafficking, pushing, like the newest high on the streets..

I hand fed him all the ammo he needed straight into his clip.

I ran to the target.

I tore it down and practically begged him to use me instead.

So, of course he did, because he’s a bottom feeder and they aren’t finicky eaters…

not in the least…

because once I lured him with all that material, he’d lured me into that denigration he wove like silk…

he wove it right around my neck, my hands, my feet…

Just like it was a prelude to my most precious, fairy tale come true.

After he’d made sure I was secured in his ingot,

he came close to me, or said he did, because the rest is lost on me and I’m still reeling, giddy even, I don’t remember a thing.

once he was close enough to kiss me, he took a taste of me instead, a nip, a bite.

You see, what I didn’t know and what didn’t even occur to me is that he’s an emotional predator. the worst kind because they take what they’ve accumulated through bleeding bits of truth and hurt from you through a lie.

He was so indiscriminate that he devoured even my most rotten meat; the meat of my heart. Though it was, almost inedible. Toughed up from being broken so much, mishandled, and thrown away like common litter.

I try to know that those parts of me that are dysfunctional, fractious, and broken, it may even not be my fault, but just try and tell me that. I dare you.

yet these things still managed to turn parts of me acrid and would never have been edible.

Not to anyone, no one, only even lower life forms than him…if those even exist.

but for him it was as if it were a feast fit for a King.

So, he gorged himself on me; bloating already.

It wasn’t until then that my brain finally let me in, divulging all of it, finally.

with someone like Me, he knew precisely what he was doing.

Psychological sadism, and I was his prey.

This is the act of pirating someones hopes, fears, dreams, and all I’d worked so hard to ameliorate.

Now, it’s all gone again.

and if that wasn’t enough,

it was never enough,

it wasn’t sufficient to have already ruined the whole of me that I’d become, and had been working so hard on…

as he drifted towards the door,

he was emitting an air of stench,

it smelled like elation, exaltation, glory…

He took one last look back at the mess he’d made of me,

and just like a one night stand,

the nameless stranger in the morning to accompany your hangover,

he halts and looks down at something, something of great interest, but I can’t see what it is.

Then he smiles that toothy smile that was still hosting a party to welcome my rotten flesh between every tooth…

Then he picks up the object of such great interest.

It’s my remote control, the all in one universal one.

It controls everything and nothing works without it,

and so, he took it…barely even slowing his gait or missing a beat,

like he’s done it a million times, and he probably has.

I’m just one more…

and I’m sure there would be even more…except,

because between just us,

he’s just feasted on feelings that I’d never even felt,

me being as detached as I am…

and I know that since he didn’t get to devour the real thing, only the superficial acts of what I thought they should be portrayed.

he’s digesting the toxins that had taken over me so many years ago…

and he’s now just hours from ending up just like he’d made me…

a mess.


Collar me, she says…

I’m stunned by her beauty. 

Her age doesn’t match her at all.

the things I could do to this woman…

“oh, so you’re curious about fisting? I have tiny hands. let’s give it a whirl”.

My hands are covered in her wet and My spit.

I rub her to almost, and with My tongue I trace her heart.

Our grace disappears and we become primal.

She’s so close to cuming and I just say “No, not yet, doll face…”

and then I keep rubbing, I keep stretching…

she gasps.

is it pleasure or pain?

Probably both…

…again, I have tiny hands…

I’m in up to my wrist and shes writhing, she begging…

“Oh, Mistress, PLEASE, may I cum yet?”

…and finally, I’ve found that inside sponge, the one with the goods…

“Yes, princess, you are free to cum now”

She writhes, I work my hand, careful to keep it angled correctly so I don’t get my wrist broken if she sits up.

I’m working and shes screaming, “Oh, HAIL MARY! HAIL MARY!”

…and then she cums…

Its a very erotic thing to be arm deep in a beautiful womans cunt…

Then I’m covered in it.

It’s on the walls behind Me.

I had her on the edge for an hour, she was full.

She squirts…ejaculates…whatever you want to call it…

I think it’s the tears of angels crying for our souls.

something so taboo…

something she needed.

a release.

from her vanilla and normal husband…

Something that makes you think you need to go to confession. 

She’s found her space,

the sub space.

and I gently pull out my fist.

I have cum up to My face.

She’s smiling…

I’m  cradling her. ‘

talking to her softly about what a good girl she is.

and she shakes, 

she still has the aftershocks of cumming.

She’s adorable like this.

almost twice My age,

but she looks like an angel to Me.


If the shoe fits…

I can’t escape.
It’s got it’s claws in me daring me to do something.
Thinking is all muddled.
he’s stirring up something in me I never thought I’d feel again.
respect, admiration, help, safe.
He wants me to be better.
Maybe he can make me be better?
Maybe he can make me make me feel better?
shameless and honest.
He still wants me; and that’s saying something.
The qualities, the common interests.
Is this my prince thats come to make me his subservient/Domiant, Queen?
Only if the shoe fits.


I’m drawn to this stranger that is so compassionate and willing.

The scary thing is that is terrifies me that I might have connected to someone.

the first message sent me into a glow.

Maybe it’s finally being interested in someone.

Maybe I’m terrified that Ill hurt him like everyone else.

He’s a Dominant that wants to worship me.

What’s a girl to do?