It’s late. I’ve spent about 3 hrs scrolling online. It’s almost three AM and I’ve been up since 11. I leave for work at six. This time I closed my eyes and thought about being held in his arms as he kissed me on my forehead. I closed my eyes and snuggled into his chest. As I imagined this, tears quietly rolled down the side of my face. this man was someone I knew but never saw but I could feel his love and passion radiate through me. The only certainty is that if I were to find myself wrapped in this someone’s arms, it would be for my benefit alone. I’d leave him eventually for a man I would want to marry. And it doesn’t work that way. The karma in a one-sided love affair hits hard. I’d be plagued with the idea of being a placeholder and inevitably ruin the prospect of a serious relationship. Until I can enjoy the quiet space & not occlude it with the past, I need to be alone. I don’t want my old lovers or my old friends. I want to feel new. I am in fact brand new.
Bianca sat on the floor with her legs crossed, smirking indignantly. She had caused her master trouble at least five times today. Each time she caused him angst, he removed an article of her clothing. She was down to her baby blue lace bra and panties.
Her final violation was when she snatched at his belt and pulled his soft cock from his pants while he attempted to lead a conference call. His large hand gripped her arm to pull her off of him before he turned his back to her and adjusted his clothes. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he frantically fixed his belt but Bianca was feeling insatiable. She quickly attached herself to his back, reaching around his waist to unbuckle his belt once more.
This time she giggled loudly and said, “I need your cock!” It was loud enough for the other conference call participants to hear.
He grit his teeth and turned to face her, dropping his phone on the marble counter. His irritation aroused Bianca more than any of their other interactions. Still glaring at his slave, he picked his phone off the counter and continued his call. Bianca stood back from him with her hands behind her back, biting her bottom lip.
His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed a split second before he reached for the collar of her t-shirt and stretched it before it tore. Then he pointed to the corner of the kitchen and mouthed “Sit the fuck down.”
Bianca rolled her eyes and reached for his belt again in protest. He grabbed her wrist firmly and walked her to the corner, never missing a beat on his conference call, then shoved her to the ground. Before he walked away, he grabbed her collar again, twisting it until it tore then ripping the tattered shirt down the middle.
“Take it off,” he mouthed before turning his back on her.
Bianca poked her tongue out in protest but removed the tattered shirt anyway. She waited in the corner with a pout fixed on her face. After what Bianca felt was an eternity, Master returned with her restraints and a remote controlled vibrator.
He leaned forward and grabbed her wrist to yank her from her seat on the floor then whispered in her ear, “You’re a dirty bitch, aren’t you?”
“No,” she whimpered.
“You wanted my undivided attention and now you have it,” he told her as he twisted her arms behind her back to cuff her wrists.
He shoved her back into the corner causing her to lose her balance and fall to the floor. Master waited for her to adjust herself in the corner before he lowered himself into a squatting position and attached her ankles to the spreader bar.
He slid her panties to the side to reveal a clear liquid dripping from her pussy.
“Look at your cunt, begging to be touched,” he mused.
Master then used his middle finger to dip in and out of her contracting walls. When he removed his finger, her pussy juice strung along with it. Bianca moaned, eager for what he might do next. He slipped his finger in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it.
He pulled his finger out then squeezed her jaws, “You want Master’s cock in your mouth, don’t you.”
She diverted her eyes from his but didn’t reply.
Master stood up to retrieve the remote controlled vibrator. He slowly twisted it into her aching vagina until eight inches of it were no longer visible. Her moan was for both pleasure and relief. His final touch was putting a red ball gag into her mouth.
“Remember the rules. You can’t climax without permission.”
He pulled up a chair then turned on the vibrator. Bianca’s muffled moans filled the kitchen. Her eyes begged him for permission but he just sat and watched. Her thighs twitched uncontrollably. Her moan was throaty and guttural from her trying to contain herself. Right before she let herself go and climaxed on the thick long vibrator, Master turned it off.
He shook his head no. Tears streamed steadily from Bianca’s eyes. She almost began to sob but Master never moved from his seat. He kept her at the cusp of satisfaction.
So I’m going to write everything until something makes sense. I read this tweet from someone that said something along the lines of “Pay attention to who comes to get you when you retreat inside of yourself.” There’s no one here.
3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Dreams
Self conscious and self aware are not the same and I happened to become both at once. I recognized that I needed to work on myself to find inner peace. I’d spent the first five years of motherhood learning that despite knowing who you are as a woman, your identity changes when you become a mother. It’s now year six and I still don’t know who “she” is.
I am a woman first because being a woman allows me to feel human. The woman I imagine myself to be knows how to cope with the white noise. As a mom, I feel overwhelmed, lonely, neurotic. As a mom, I should have all the cures and answers my children ask of me but I feel as though I’m coming up short; with empty hands.
My old friend battles anxiety and depression. I was her crutch. Imagine using a broken crutch. When I saw that I needed to pull away to be repaired, I tried but was discarded in the process so fuck her.
I have a friend who is negative. The world is negative. Imagine listening to a broken record. Even a broken clock is right twice a day so I keep her bc she keeps me.
I had a friend who lived in an old shoe. It turns out, we weren’t friends at all. I was her cobbler. Imagine being drained of healing properties you didn’t know you had.
3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Dreams
You owe yourself your mental health. I can’t help you if I don’t help myself. No longer unable to identify those that drained my mental health, I’m ready to dig into my deeper subconscious.
Night time, maybe even dusk. Think state fair in Central Park. Able to order plates from amazon. Ordered pizza bbq chicken and other random fare. Conspiracy theorist meeting nearby. People go up a tower and don’t come down. I went up the tower before my food arrived and returned without remembering the trip. My food was covered but the random ppl that ordered with me were gone. Saw a homeless guy run further into the park. I gave chase then woke up.
I am growing. I think.
I see him everywhere in everything. I wish I was referring to my higher power but I’m referring to my lost and late love. I wonder if this will ever get any easier.
My chest hurts. I wanna cry but the strength and stubbornness in my melanin will not permit me to do so.
I need you because I trust you even though it doesn’t seem like it. Again, blame the stubbornness in my melanin.
A woman who cried often taught me that the only real emotion or relevant emotion was her anger. I don’t know how to fix it. I heard this is called Black Trauma.
I don’t want to kill myself. I have so many stories to tell and trips to take. I just want to feel better. When I breathe, I don’t want the crack in my heart to feel like it’s bleeding. I don’t want it to feel like the bricks I laid around my emotions are eroding, taking my ability to love and be empathetic away in the winds if experience.
3 AM RAMBLINGS & Indistinct Agony
I’m tired but can’t sleep. My eyes are burning but they won’t close. My brain hurts but it won’t rest. I’m trapped in a continuous REM state and the entire show is a nightmare.
January 2020, my first property will be a building. This building will be transformed into a privately funded transitional shelter for single individuals and families. At least 10 apartments to begin. Hebrews 11:1
I’m tired. I forget to pray for inner peace and when I remember, the stubbornness of a born sinner won’t allow me to follow Psalms but I think it was people like me that Jesus died for. I’m hoping this is sufficient.
I’m so tired.
I am tired.
I miss him so much. I don’t think any of my friends understand why. He loved me through the mental break downs before we understood my affliction to be a mental illness. He loved me anyway. His family loved me anyway. They even liked me despite the burden my 14 year old broken spirit arrived with.
You are among my dearest memories. When my mother was thought to be hours from death, it was you, the person I knew least who comforted me the most. It was you who kept me occupied. It was you who visited my mother when I could not. It was you who watched me cry without judgement. Thank you.
I want an ofrenda. My father had one but it wasn’t called an ofrenda. It was simply the ancestors’ room.
My phone is dying.
I can’t sleep.
But I must sleep.
Still nothing makes sense but I must sleep.
He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.
I wonder what those things include.
Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?
As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?
Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me
Staring into my eyes so he can see us
Because I am now his submissive.
A reflection of his dominance,
A result of his care,
Our taste is on the tip of my tongue; our scent lingers on my lips and nose. A tingle remains on my backside to remind me of the way you popped my ass to correct my arch. I want to please you in every way.
I’m feeling antsy in this heat. I should be in the nude. Your hands should be fixed in the crooks of my knees. My knees should be pressed into ribs while your phallus massages my insides. The sound of coqui add to the soundtrack of our love making.
Let us recite our sacrilegious prayer. It’s the one we share prior to commencing congress. You give thanks to our higher power for giving me your rib. I give thanks for the strength in your backbone. Our lips unite after we say ‘amen.’ You’re delicious. Stroke me.
Lay up with me under clouds of weed smoke. Your fingers part my lips while you kiss the other pair.
Let’s cross the line between lovers and friends.
Devour my body.
Entrap my soul.
French kisses for your phallus
and chills for your spine.
Nibbles for my clit while you squeeze my ass
and suck my soul.
This is important.
I don’t want to be your friend.
I only want to be your lover.
Don’t ask me about my day
Just remove my panties.
Take off your clothes.
You mustn’t speak.
No, you mustn’t speak.
Let’s be unfamiliar.
He uses his lips and tongue to part yours. The crema escapes your taut pussy and drizzles his chin. Soft moans escape the deepest part of your body. He sucks on your clit and tongues your hole. His slurps get louder as his eagerness to receive your orgasm increases. Your hips grind your pussy on to his tongue. Faster. Faster. Faster still but he doesn’t want to stop the fun. His pace suddenly slows down; eager licks and slurps have transitioned to sensual kisses on your clit.