Only a moment …
To grasp this reality …
The curve of a neck …
The grace of a wing …
Legs that lash out …
In their one gasp of freedom …
A heart that can beat …
For one instant of time …
Only a moment …
On the wind shall it fly …
Grasped but not captured …
By time …
(Source: mpdrolet, via profoundlyv)
Coyote Buttes, AZ
(via sheissugarysweet)
(Source: ctboston, via vastbluesky)
This can’t be good
Major love and kudos to this Master writing a poem for His pet. And it is an INCREDIBLE poem. (swooooooooooooning has begun.)
-tdp
I suck at poetry, but here goes…
Please Tell Me It’s Okay
I don’t want to hurt you
Not for real, anyway.
But I do want to hurt you,
In every other kind of way.And the best thing you can do is:
Tell me that’s okay.The Dark Side wants to come out,
Most times that we play.
To cause you pain, to hear you scream,
To treat you as my prey.And the best thing you can do is:
Tell me that’s okay.It constantly amazes me,
That you’re willing to obey.
Tho’ I mess with your mind,
Or put your body on display.And the best thing you can do is:
Tell me that’s okay.It’s a gift that you do give me.
It takes my breath away.
It’s why I raise you up again,
Bring you back without delay.And the best thing you can do is:
Tell me that’s okay.The good is also there,
Tho’ the monster leads me astray.
But I promise to take care of you,
Each and every day.So before we now begin, my pet…
Please tell me that’s okay.— A poem by KaganMaster for pet
(Source: madmonkisms, via come-to-the-edge)
Perfectly stated!We need to remember too that a Dom must be able to trust a submissive as well — to communicate her needs, to be honest, and to not cry “foul” when she doesn’t get her way. Granting a Dom control over you and gifting Him with your submission doesn’t absolve you at least some responsibility. Doms have needs and feelings too.
- amasterAgreed…but it goes beyond sex. The submissive’s trust in the Dom, in placing their life in the Dom’s hands, coupled with the love and responsibility the Dom has for taking care of the submissive, creates a bond stronger than anything I have seen or experienced. It’s two halves of a whole and its the most wonderful feeling I have ever experienced.
(Source: tannedbum)
(via rjslk)
Sinking in.
(via coolcocoageek)
“Eventually soul mates meet, for they have the same hiding place.” —
Robert Brault (via againstalloddshope)
So glad we found a place to hide together.
(via vastbluesky)(Source: wemuststandtogether, via vastbluesky)
There was a latex hood in the sex shop when they’d visited. It was wrapped around a mannequin, meaning there was just foam where the eyes should have been, more foam for a mouth, and foam sprouting out of the neck. It had repulsed her, but there was some attraction there, too. Some attraction, even, for the hood’s sister, wrapped around its own mannequin, sitting next to it. Identical save for there were no eye holes, and a zipper for a mouth.
It was such a brute force though. To slap such a thing over her head was the rubber equivalent of a brown paper bag, and while the anonymity wrapped itself deliciously with her penchant for objectification, it also seemed far too crude, and far too disgendering. She wanted to be stripped of her identity, but not her femininity. There was an argument to be made for her indetity being her gender, to an extent, but foibles never bothered her before.
She’d talked about it, and he’d listened. Smiled, even, before glancing away, and she’d trailed off knowing that he wasn’t listening any more. She’d planted the seed, and he was busy making it grow. Her gardener. She’d chuckled, and he’d come back down to earth, that smile grown a little wider.
The next time she’d found herself tied up, the rope wasn’t all that wrapped her. Gag, blindfold, ear muffs. He cut her off from herself, while building a cage so that she’d only have herself for company. He turned her into a body, leaving her head out of it, except for those delicious sensations. And then he’d treated her like the object she wanted to be. Used her till she was spent. Then a little more beyond, a quick shake to wake the batteries back up and then over and over, again and again. All she had was frayed nerve endings and the muffled sound of her own moans echoing around her head.
She didn’t need a hood. She had him.
(Source: kangurubicon)
Most mornings are the same. I wake up early and stagger into the shower. As the warm heat of of the water runs over my body my senses start to awaken. I close my eyes and immediately the fantasies come. The hot wet feel of the water dripping off my morning erection could very well be your hot mouth. With my closed I can dream, of your body, of your pleading eyes, of the things I’d like to do to you, of the things I’d like done to me. I throw my head back and enjoy the sensation, smiling to myself for I know one day when I open them, there you will be.
(Source: tulipanonero, via lov-ely1)
(Source: weheartit.com, via evilblackbloodyangel)
“On a trip to Los Angeles in 1969, a friend introduced her to Jonas Salk. She had no interest in meeting him- she thought scientists were boring. But soon afterward, he came to New York and invited her to have tea at Rumplemayer’s. ‘He didn’t have tea; he ordered pistachio and tangerine ice cream,’ she recalls ‘I thought, Well, a scientist who orders pistachio and tangerine ice cream at five o’clock in the afternoon is not like everybody else!’” —
Francoise Gilot in an interview by Dodie Kazanjian for Vogue, March 2012
(P.S. They got married the next year and stayed together until he died.)
(Source: jadesparrow333, via thesensualstarfish)
never downplay your intelligence. dumb is not cute.
integrity, dignity, and wisdom are the true indicators of beauty.
(via thespiritofsubmission)