Absence makes the heart go wander
Date: Jan 10th, 2008 8:39:29 am - Subscribe
Mood: unhappy

bleeding heart

I grow weary of solitude. Lazarus travels a great deal. I understood this when I entered into the contract with him. So, I have no one to blame but myself.

The house is mine to do with as I please. I have redecorated to the point I can no longer stand to look at another fabric sample.

The house already ran like a well oiled machine so there is little I can do as far as keeping things running smoothly.

I miss him, I find it hard to admit. I am beginning to think he does not find me desireable. More than half a year has passed since our joining and I am still untouched. I know men prefer the company of slaves and I really do not mind, expect for the fact I need children.

I will speak to Laz and give him the option of ending our companionship. If he agrees, I suppose I have my answer.

I have still not found a slave to my liking. I have a handmaiden provided by the house, but I want something that is just mine. I look over the slaves that come into the house, but none of them have that special spark.

I think I shall head down the Street of Brands and see what sort of morsels catch my eye.

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Obvious Suggestion
Date: Dec 28th, 2007 7:25:58 am - Subscribe
Mood: hostile

Laz has finally given me the present he purchased while on his trip.

A set of white silk sleeping attire that are truly only fit for a slave. He says I will wear them in the privacy of our chambers. I am do not believe I will comply. I will read up on the laws in this regard.

He also promises to purchase a necklace of arian diamonds. Is he trying to tell me something? If so, he will be sadly disapointed.

To be cont
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Soul Blending
Date: Dec 27th, 2007 8:21:01 am - Subscribe
Mood: bold

And still beyond the embrace that begets the body is the embrace that begets the soul, that invokes the soul from the Soul.

The wonderful embraces, sacred, occult and unspeakably tender, pure as prayer;

The hour-long, longer indwelling of him within her, conceiving her again like a child, the hour-long, longer, over-closing of her upon him, bearing him again like a babe in her womb.

The infinite understanding of each by the other, the transcendent uplift of each by the other;

No tumult orgasmal here; not because crushed out, simply because not desired, simply because this is beyond that, a saner, broader joy; the great currents, flowing through wider channels, rage not nor whirl, for where the greater is there the lesser is not demonstrative.

Here is harmony too sweet for violence, osmosis of soul within soul, rhythmically blending, inflowing, outflowing; singing without words; silent music of divine instrument.

Symphony of sex of nerve, heart, thought, and soul in touch, at-one-ing.

Absolute peace, realized heaven, the joy that never disappoints, that exceeds imagination, that cannot be described.

The love ineffable, the inspiration of brain, the energizing of muscle, the illumination of feature, the healing of body, the expression of soul.

Spiritual sex-exchanging; the masculine in her uttering, the feminine in him receiving, positive and negative alternating at will.

Spiritual sex-begetting; the impregnation of each by the other with beautiful thoughts, divine dreams, high hopes, noble ambitions, pure aspirations, clairvoyant vision, the birth-bed of genius.

The giving of each to the other to the uttermost impulse of blessing, the receiving of each by the other to the uttermost nerve terminal of body, to the uttermost fine filament of spirit.

Not followed by exhaustion, but by days of genius, clear and exalted vision, buoyant and happy health.

Not followed by revulsion, but by hours, days, weeks, years, a lifetime, maybe, of tender memories, clinging, affectionate longing to caress again, to be re-embracing.

(Nay, is it not true, beyond all truth, that those who have once thus bathed, blended, soul in soul, are eternally married?)

The embrace of at-one-ness, of expression, and purification and revivification, that incarnates the divine in the human.

Not possible except to the pure and poetic, to true and innocent lovers, fitting, responding, liberating.

To whom soul and body are both sacred, to whom this communion is a religious rite the most sacred.

The embrace of the Cosmic souls, the angel-mates in their heaven.

No vision this, dear friends, no poetic metaphor merely, for lo! I have lived it all many, many times, hundreds of others have lived it many times, every member of the race shall sometime, in some life, live it.

It is joy and truth, the joy of joys and truth of truths.

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Dismantle him
Date: Dec 22nd, 2007 7:36:59 am - Subscribe
Mood: pressured

I have not been to see him in hands. It was time to pay a visit to my old friend. I had asked a favor of him and he needed time to think it over. Time is up.

Scene in progress.
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Welcome Home wayward one
Date: Dec 21st, 2007 7:23:56 am - Subscribe
Mood: zoned

The Slaver has returned home.

Scene in progress
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