Yesterday

How can i sum it up appropriately?  Not a single word would do it justice. Not a line of them strong together. i will try my best, knowing it will fall well short. 

When i came out if the hotel with the room key and saw You in Your van, my heart completely skipped a beat. Knowing You were there and so close to being with You. 

Waiting in the room for You to come up was torture. It felt like hours though only a few minutes. You may have noticed my odd nervousness in the first kiss. No idea where that came from. Why? After being with You already. Why this time was i nervous again. 

Regained composure and Mistress, You took control as You always do. The feel of Your hands on my shoulders and back. Slowly and lovingly caressing my spine. Your body so close to mine. 

Then ... Strip You instructed. And sit on the chair. Watching You slowly cut the strips of material. Deciding which to use. Continually pushing my hands in place as they naturally rose up to caress You. Tying me down. 

Not tight enough that i couldn't move. But that was so much better. Because it required my total submission. Breaking free could be down easily. To not, it would require willing myself over. Which i did. And even though i could see through the flimsy blindfold, i gave myself over on another way. i decided to keep my eyes closed shut tight. To be Yours. And feel every sensation. Which was, in an inadequate word, amazing. Wondering what you were tracing my body with - lipstick? A roller? Your teasing my every inch. Little licks and nibbles here and there. Waiting to feel Your breath so i could push forward and get a taste of Your lips. The feel of the lubricant on my hard cock as You let it drizzle down me. The familiar sound of latex gloves being snapped on. Wondering in a panicked moment if it would hurt when You slid Your finger in me. Relaxing into it. Knowing if i relaxed too much, it would make it harder not to cum. 

Then to the bed. Teasing me more. Hoping for the feel of Your wetness and You wrapped around me. 

When You entered me the second time, it was even better then the first. i so wish i could have contained myself for longer. The orgasm, heightened by Your instruction not to cum, knowing You were right over top of me, enjoying Your teasing and it's effect on me ... That orgasm was the best i have ever had. Truly. As evidenced by my very hard ejaculation. 

Then Your taste. As You positioned Yourself over top of me. Straddled my face. Moments of breathlessness as i was lost in Your womanhood. The feel of Your body shuddering in orgasm. Wanting more. 

The moments of enjoying time with You in my arms, chatting and laughing, in betweeen You sliding on top of me and feeling Your wetness and Your body and the shudders of orgasms ... Heavenly. Divine. Moments of bliss. 

And yes, the spooning. :) there were moments i could have fallen asleep with You in my arms. Would that i could and maybe someday ...

How do i sum up such an amazing afternoon?  i can't. i don't want to. i would rather hold on to the memory and the beauty of it all. Something to daydream about and drift asleep to. Something to wake up to and cherish. 

Thank You my Goddess. For such a beautiful day. Thank You my Love. 

Sleep tonight

Will be amazing. Drifting off to sleep with thoughts of a few amazing hours with my Mistress. Though i haven't had time to truly reflect on it ... i plan to as i lay my head down. Recalling each moment from the excitement of seeing her in the parking lot, to the final kisses goodbye. 

i know this is short tonight, but today was ... Beyond amazing. The best yet time with You. 

Tomorrow morning, after meditation, i want to share with You through blog my total thoughts after processing it all tonight. 

i love You my Mistress. 

True villiany

This has been something that has been an interest of mine for many years. Hollywood has taken it in and explorer it to certain extents over the years, but in the desire to make characters and stories that sell and have a mass audience appeal, the bad guy always ends up with a "reason". Something that grounds him and makes him real or relatable. That is, if the villian is the main character.  If not, they usually camp him out. Make him larger then life and cartoonish and sometimes garish. 

The man with no name. That's a pretty good example of the relatable bad guy main character. Clint was not a good guy in that movie. He was selfish. Didn't care about other people. Only concern was where the next score would come from. And yet ... His moralistic impulses overtook him. He couldn't just leave the townspeople ... Even as he tried to figure out to make things work in his favor. Which he did as well. 

And then there is Francis on house of cards. The exact opposite. There is no moral center to his universe. He honestly does not care for anything or anyone but himself. There are moments that make you feel that he does have a gooey moral center, but the reality is quickly revealed. It doesn't exist. 

Where does the reality fall?  I think more times then not on the side of Francis. Bad guys are bad guys. For a reason.   They don't have a gooey moral center waiting to come out. They may have a wife and a family and they "love" others. But ultimately. What they do is for their own benefit. Decisions that make, if they benefit others, is only happy coincidence. Because it benefitted them first. 

The portrayal i like the best?  While enjoying both (the flawed hero always an interesting character) i relish in the reality. Why?  Because it is painful. Hard to watch. Draws you in. Because it is real. 

...

i wish i wasn't like i am sometimes. That i wouldn't fall back on instinct of me. The pattern of who i tend to be. The problem is, i don't often have this part if me tested. So instead of stopping and thinking and resolving to change ... i get stuck on the imprinted pattern. 

When facing mental/emotional strain, i just don't handle it well. i know. i retreat. Want nothing to do with it. The moment. i shut down. Flight not fight. i shut off. Everyone. Which isn't fair. Not to everyone else. It isn't. But i just do. 

And getting lost in a project is typically where i go.  Something where i don't have to think and can just do. 

i am sorry Mistress. It is truly a dick thing to do. Rude. Obnoxious. You don't deserve it. i am sorry i introduced You to that. i am sorry that i purposefully neglected You in my flight. 

i ... Am sorry for being so flawed. 

...

i wish i wasn't like i am sometimes. That i wouldn't fall back on instinct of me. The pattern of who i tend to be. The problem is, i don't often have this part if me tested. So instead of stopping and thinking and resolving to change ... i get stuck on the imprinted pattern. 

When facing mental/emotional strain, i just don't handle it well. i know. i retreat. Want nothing to do with it. The moment. i shut down. Flight not fight. i shut off. Everyone. Which isn't fair. Not to everyone else. It isn't. But i just do. 

And getting lost in a project is typically where i go.  Something where i don't have to think and can just do. 

i am sorry Mistress. It is truly a dick thing to do. Rude. Obnoxious. You don't deserve it. i am sorry i introduced You to that. i am sorry that i purposefully neglected You in my flight. 

i ... Am sorry for being so flawed. 

Her's

Smile and the teeth and the way the lips curl just at the end. More on one side then the other. She has a little Elvis in Her. 

Hair and the way the bangs She hates constantly fall in Her face and She brushes them aside. Or shakes them back when hovering over top of me. 

Nose and the way She scrunched it from time to time. The stud in Her nose slides up. Her eyes squint just a bit. 

Eyes ... Yes, God the eyes. Not to be cliche. Because it is. But Her eyes. How does that become a color? Almost iridescent.  And the shape. Could She be more feral? Cat like?

Cheeks. Can i say much more. Cut high. Chiseled out. Like art. 

But the things behind the face. The inner workings of Her. The stare off into the distance. The moments of wonder in a random smile and where it came from. The pain that is hidden deep inside. The well. 

She makes me want to hold Her and love Her and at the same ... Bend my knee, look at Her feet and submit. And be nothing but Her's. my complete identity. 

She pulled me in. She accepted me. She claimed me. 

She stamped Her's on my forehead. 

And every moment with Her, She tightens the collar. Pulls it closer. Makes me, more and more ...

Her's. 

my turn to rant

So here is my turn to rant about something dear to my heart. Mistress had Malificent. i have Batman. 

For me, Batman is the quintessential fantasy. 

When i discovered comic books, Batman was my first. It was Frank Miller. And it was the Dark Night. And the art was beautiful. Like nothing i had seen. Rough and angular and harsh. And the story line reintroduced Batman as a psychotic vigilante. Just a titch away from the anarchy of the Joker. And the reality we see is that Batman and Joker are just the same. And they need each other. 

So my rant ... i can appreciate many forms of Batman over the years. Adam West, super gay and campy. Michael Keaton with his less then broad shoulders but uncanny ability to capture the psychosis of Bruce Wayne to match the psychosis of Jack Nicholson. But Christian Bale's intensity rang the most true for me. The psychosis bubbling under the surface. The brute force and driven need to right wrongs. 

And as a side note, no one can ever, ever touch Heath Ledger's Joker. Ever. EVER. He was the Joker. Period. End if story. 

But to my rant ... The new Batman , the older Batman, that faces off against Superman (a story line i never got into, btw) is Ben Affleck. i die a little inside each time i say that. 

It isn't like when Keaton donned the cape. It was odd to think of. But nothing on film had been established yet. The only comparison was Burt Ward and pow zoom zing. And he pulled it off. But it was taken to the next level by Bale. 

And Affleck sucks. Not one movie of his have i liked - well as a leading man. A horrible actor. 

No intensity. Nothing boiling under the surface. No depth. Which means one thing ... This incarnation of Batman will be the worst. Flat. Much like Superman and his apple pie goodness that i never got into. No amount of cgi, dark broodiness brought to the script, advertising or a flat cheated Wonder Woman will make him better. 

The only redeeming thing i can say is ... Thank God for reboots!

What a treat

As i drove out to the middle if nowhere today, i was absolutely giddy to see my Mistress. Knowing it was just a lark. Feeling like a teenager. Making the long trip just to have a few moments with Her ... my Love. It was only a few minutes, maybe 10, but being in Her arms, feeling Her embrace, Her sweet and passionate kisses .... The way She grabs hold of my face and feels my cheeks, my lips ... Like nothing ever before. The look in Her eyes. Her playful bites and pull aways. Her sighs. The grind of Her body against mine. It felt like time stood still just being there with Her. And no cares in the world. 

i wanted Her to kidnap me and take me away. Claim me as Hers and that would be that. If only ...

But i thank You so much Mistress. i know the drive was mine, but the pleasure of You granting those few moments of eternity was ... Heaven. 

i love You my Goddess. 

Marx brothers vs three stooges

So this was just a very random thought with an explanation behind it of something greater ... 

Always hated the three stooges. i mean they were funny enough. But it was the same bit over and over again. Ending with someone bring slapped and a woo-woo-woo. My brother on the other hand loved them. Would watch them all the time. 

Marx Brothers. That's where it was at for me. It was dumb jokes, usually with an obscure reference. It was wildness and crazy. Anarchy and pandemonium. Ending in a song. Nothing made sense. Harpo with his whistle. Groucho full of ribald and sexual innuendo. Chico the con man. Zeppo the handsome. 

It was deadpan and stupid and perfect. Duck Soup. What a movie. If never seen, i highly recommend. 

The point. Give me humor that i can think  about. Even if it is stupid.  And i will laugh all day. 

Creativity

This is a subject i truly struggle with. Just in a ... Chicken egg, evolution creation, ying yang type if way. Where does it come from?  Are you born with it?  Can you make it happen if you don't have it?  Can you learn it? i mean i know you can build on what you have. But can a truly uncreative person become creative?

The source of my curiousty: Cameron Gnass. A jock. A dick. i went to a good portion of the public school system with him. He opened a marketing company about ten years ago in lansing. Became pretty successful. Not that any of that matters.  But it shocked me. This jock/dick. That he had a creative bone in his body. Where did it come from? And i have seen his work. He has game. 

But the point. Creativity. 

Sometimes i dial in a project. i know it isn't that great, but i sacrifice "wow" for time or production.  Or laziness.  In those moments, i wonder how creative i really am. i know that i am not the most creative person or greatest designer. So to my theory - i think it can be learned to an extent. But i think the truly amazing things ... The designs and ideas that make you sit back and say wow. That you have to ponder and seep into your head and take over your brain. Like the first time i saw and appreciated apples 1984 Super Bowl ad. Or nike's logo. Or any one of the Nashville hatch show print posters. Or learning about qr codes and one-to-one printing and marketing or NFC.  Now i am off on marketing geek stuff that turns me on. Sorry. 

The truly amazing ideas and how they are implemented are ... Probably done by better, stronger people then me. People that have "it". Even if "it" is one great idea. One perfect moment. That changes the world.  Or their portion of the world.

That, to me, is ... Creativity. Revealed. 

The impossible

So a little bit about me for a moment - egads, let's not make that a habit ;). i will share a pretty defining aspect of my personality. i am very much the type of person that relishes in accomplishing the impossible. Never one that  has been a fan of being told no, that can't be done, you can't do it, that's impossible ... i turn my head and silently scoff (or look them in the eye and say yes it can - mostly just silently scoff because i like to prove others wrong without making a big deal of it).  

Not sure where that part of my personality came from. Neither of my parents are like that. No big influencer in my life - mentor,etc - has been like that. i am not so sure that i was always that way, in fact i know i wasn't. 

i learned that most things are possible. That given enough time and energy and will power and brain power, most things can be figured out. 

Which is why my clients grew to love me. Never say no, just do it no matter the cost. Always my motto. And then: never take on a client that can't appreciate the sacrifice and doesn't repay you for it (after figuring out that not everyone cares if you accomplish "the impossible" for them and can't tell the difference between that and boiling an egg). 

What is the point of this rant?  It actually is rooted in something (specifically telling a client that something couldn't be done - it could, i just would have to make a sacrifice i was not willing to make to do it). But the larger point is that this go to attitude is part of me. Not just part, it has become me. On many levels, business, personal, sexual. It all has tied in together. I believe i told Mistress that i am very alpha with my work. Multitasker to the nth degree. Get it done at all costs. This is where it comes from. Which is also, oddly enough, a desire to please. Desire for recognition like a puppy fetching a stick. So do i do it for me or others?  A bit of both i think. A bit of both. 

Down in it

i don't know why but this is going to be my subject material tonight.  In 91, a friend, who turned out to be gay and avoided me like the plague (still to this day and a very good friend), introduced me to nine inch nails after going to a depeche mode concert my parents didn't allow me to go to. They opened up. As did nitzerebb - another day. 

And pretty hate machine became a staple to my burgeoning youthful angst. And down in it became an anthem of my 15 year old revolt.

This song had been pulsing through my head the past week and i don't know why. The lyrics rolling through like a mantra.

Kinda like a cloud I was up way up in the sky and I was feeling this feeling you wouldn't believe sometimes I don't believe it myself and I decided I was never coming down 

And I remember this dumb story that hit the news about how a guy found this video camera in his yard in the country. He popped the video in his VCR (yep, those) and called the police because he was so freaked out by what he saw. 

Just then a tiny little for caught my eye it was just about too small to see and I decided I was never coming down. 

It was footage from the video Reznor was shooting for his song.  It was a camera attached to a balloon filming some disturbing scenes of a person running, being chased. Black and white. Desperate. 

I was up above it. 

The camera got away. 

Now I'm down in it.

And i was getting my introduction to David Lynch at the time. And film. And the power to move a person. 

I was up above it.

And my soon to be gay friend was introducing me to music i never heard before. And we were vying for the same girl and friends with another. 

Now I'm down in it.  Shut up.  

So what what does it matter now I was swimming in the hate now I crawl on the ground and everything I never liked about you is kind of seeping into me. I try to laugh about it now but isn't it funny how everything works out. I guess the jokes on me. 

There was a surety of myself for many years. A black and white idealistic view of the world. That i held on to. That defined me. That made me whole. i struggle against that feeling to this day.

I used to be so big and strong.

I used to know my right from wrong.

I used to never be afraid.

I used to be somebody.

I used to have something inside.

Now just this hole it's open wide.

I used to want it all.

I used to be somebody.

I'll cross my heart and hope to die.

But the needle's already in my eye.

And all the world's weight is on my back and I don't even know why.

And what I used to think was me is just a fading memory.

I looked him right in the eye and said "goodbye."

Do You ever feel on the edge Mistress?  The edge of just pissing on everything. Saying goodbye to everything and everyone. Starting over.

Would a new hole be created? Would it be built on solid ground? Would it even matter. 

Rain rain go away

Come again some other day. 

i don't know the answer. i do know that song has been haunting me. 

My favorite poem. So appropriate

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, Your eyes have their silence:

in Your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

Your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if Your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of Your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

i do not know what it is about You that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of Your eyes is deeper than all roses

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

The hidden and subtle allusions to ownership, the poet by his love ... A poem long in my heart for so many years that has been rolling through my head the past few days. Over and over. Like a song. Your song Mistress Manda. Please enjoy it as much as i do.