Apr 302013

I like your pale skin. I want to sting it. I want it to spill little strips of lava , maybe rub some in. Oh, and I want you cry. Just let me have a little bit of it. Just let me hurt you a little. Cry for me. I want tears. They just tickle me to death. Make me grin.

It’s Christmas morning and I’m like a kid just a little too old for Santa, but with no parental conformation that he doesn’t exist. I don’t really know where this came from, but I like it.

Jan 072013

I don’t have a call. I don’t have a sign. There is not a moonlight reminder. Monsters come when they come. And you know this is more then you can take.

Still – His scent can’t be ignored. Tiptoe if you don’t want them to notice. ‘Cause they know. You always want what you’re running from. They love they way you cry. They love the way you want to. For them.

If you wander across a Monster, and you decide to dance, then a little cut will turn his head. A Monster loves his prey. He will eat you. He will break you. He will take you. Apart. Do you love it? Do you want it? Do you need it? Does  it make it impossible to tiptoe?

Sultry Saturday

May 112010


You are starving to receive and you are aching to give; when you know what it feels like to receive and to be allowed to give you will never be the same again.

I don’t want to be the same. I don’t ever want to feel this way again. I feel as if I’m stuck inside a cage, and I can’t get out. No one can see me or hear me but You. Help me… Please? Help me!

It will be like opening up the floodgates; there is no turning back.

Then let there be a flood. I wouldn’t wish this trapped feeling on anyone. I want out. Please.

Not because of me but because of what we will have unleashed inside you.

Can’t you see that what you are is what it takes to unlock whatever it is that keeps me inside this cage that I’m in?

I promise one thing, though; it is not about making you comfortable or taking it easy on you, but you will always know that I cherish you and that I desire you deeply. I just happen to express it more… enthusiastically than others.

Come get me … Please.

Apr 302010
I was in the shower. You were leaning against the vanity with your arms crossed. You were wearing a grey sweatshirt and jeans, maybe basketball shorts, I can’t remember. I’m just sure of the sweatshirt.
I was ripping you a new one while shaving my legs.  My right leg was perched on the edge of the shower. I was in a rush to go meet K.  I was blaming you for he and I even being together. I was hateful to you.
You came over and sat on the toilet seat. Your elbows found your knees.  Your head found your hands. I got out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around myself. I hadn’t dried off, though.  My hair was wet, and the whole room was so cold to me. I forced my way into your lap, wrapped myself around you and kissed those horrible things away. I kissed your face. God, your face, your eyes.
I can suck all of your pain away with my lips. Every time I think of you, it always goes back to the same thing. I want to kiss your face. I want to lay you down and touch your face and love you, touch your eyelids with my lips, put my face in your neck and hold you tightly.
Would you sleep like that?
With your head against my breasts, my arms around you, my legs around yours?
I’m rambling.
I can remember standing there, looking at where I could see this almost taking place. I chastise myself for wasting time. I’m always late. I asked him again that day if he’d been reading you.
I used to only imagine suffering for you, at your hands.
At some point that changed.
I don’t know why. Now, my focus is more actively loving you. I don’t know if you’ve led a life where you need things in your past sucked out and stomped to death, but I do. How wonderful if one person could eat those things and they could never touch me again. I would do that for you. I think that’s what love is, in an odd way.
I play with the thought of love with others, but deep love, suffering love, is amazing. What I’ve felt of it.
I am going to meet you one day, I hope.
I would love to suffer for you.
I wanted you to have this last night.
I didn’t want you to go to bed without hearing from me.
Apr 262010


I would rather live my entire life wrapped around you, feeding you, loving you, embracing you and licking at your old scars until they fade …rather than to live one more day battling myself and what it is that’s inside me, longing to to be ripped from my soul.

I know you can go to battle for me and win, not only this battle to make me surrender, but every hint of war there has ever been inside me. I trust you to do that. I trust you.

It’s deeper than the surrender, the moments after which I speak of, that I believe makes you unique. You don’t stop with a surrender. I don’t want to stop after. I love the concern for and the desire to continue taking and giving after the tears and the pain and the horror of the sins we’ve committed have long been brought to light and the atonement we can only seek from each other has been granted without question, from that first wordless moment.

An angel, no, but I will be your Monster, if you will be mine.

Apr 072010

How To Wash An Angel by Dreamwalker

I wrote mine first. :)

  1. Take your love and tint it with sandalwood, and lather your own body until you are soapy and warm to the perfect temperature. Then drape yourself around The Beast as tightly as you possibly can… because he will try to shake you free.
  2. Generously caress The Beast with your love, using your own body, every inch, lather building and suds rolling off of his, even when he looks away. Hold strong to him.
  3. Allow him to take you and use you as he desires and seek only to cleanse his soul with what you are.
  4. The water and the tears will rinse you both. Your smile and the look in your eyes will tell him Who You Are.
  5. For him, there is redemption in your touch, just as his hand ’round your throat delivers you from every evil you hath sought. Do not let loose your plight, only love him and allow him everything that is you.
Mar 212010

This is in response to Dreamwalker’s post The Power of a Submissive Woman

I am too greedy. I’m not ashamed I’m that way. Maybe your very presence would slow my temperament and calm my head, but  I won’t apologize for my needs and my wants. I’m curious, and sometimes I think that if I sit quietly and speak in whispers that will count as time having waited. It never does.

Don’t waste a moment with me standing, let me into your arms and you into mine. Don’t waste a moment between the thought and the action. Kiss me. Don’t second guess anything that ignites a flame. Even as you take from me I will whisper while I cry.

“Take as much as you want, my Monster.”

Mar 152010


When he came for me it was swift and cool like a powerful wind blowing right at my face. He sucked out my air and blew back my hair and growled “…girl, what a beautiful taste…” ~TSD

There’s never enough. I will not say that I am enough. I will say that my everything can be your anything, and I will enjoy your onslaught. But I’m a selfish bitch, and I will want a trade.

I have nothing. Make room for me inside your soul. I’m going to pierce you there with the honest and pure truth that is My Love For You and then it will flood over your entire body, like a wash or a wave. Only, you will never drown there. Breathe deep, my Monster. Sleep soundly against my heart, wrapped around me while I whisper beautiful, chilling, needy secrets of mine into your sweet ears.

I will hurt you. Yes! Oh yes, my Love, my Monster… you will. That’s the point.