We Were Free (this was a dream)

In my dream it had all come true and it was beautiful. It wouldn't go away even though I tired my sabotage because it was love. It was bold and brave and confusing. It was like a long over due midnight confession. I lost it but it was only right next door. When I thought I had lost it all I found an old church lady and she let me borrow her God and we prayed. For it all not to be too late. And it wasn't. It was disturbed by others but you only thought of them as passing companions.  You searched for me in the sun and the ashes. Always looking for your A alike. We made music and art together. You were brave and tall and skinny. I had a big mouth and was curious and lacking trust.  He was adventures and too trusting. It was love and we had finally figured it all out. In a small town in my imagination. Where I knew everyone but had forgotten them all. Where my ancestors and old neighbors came to lend a helping hand to the divine plan. We were free and brave and talented. We trusted one another.  We gave it all to the thought. Together through it all and it was never too much to overcome. My hair was short and colorful. He was tall and he wore Fred Perry and suspenders. He was bald and was always on the go. Trusting us to believe in it all and we did. I had my doubts but you were always there and I never had to look too far. We had it all. And me I tried to run and you all would have never found me. But I recognized the grey and the lack of touch. So I turned around and waited outside the door for you. Waiting patiently using the power of group prayer. You liked old churches and he like airplanes. I liked to run away and leave it all in a note or some oil paining. I believed in them both so much and they knew who I was. We were meant to be and we knew it. We knew all that was meant to be and all that their ever was. We used art as a projection and made crystal balls out of poems we wrote all night. Our hearts were so bright and we were so loved by them all. Strangers in a strange land prepared for the fall. But not before we'd have it all. All that they say will never exists. Love of the not so jealous kind. Joy of the not so normal kind. We were circus freaks in our isolation we showed them everything. And not one soul ever turned away. We made them smile and embrace the unknown. We made the mysteries clear. We battled it all and won. They were so brave but I had much fear. So we made songs and art and love to pass the day. Never reaching the things that were outside of us. Because we knew that the separation was a lie. And all that was real was all that was here right now. So we became a traveling circus and in it I was the sad beautiful clown. And together we took our bravery from town to town. 

This was a dream and I am Josalisa...Live from Planet RiOt. 

I Remember What You Have Forgotten

Why do I take any of it? The poison I mean. I'm surrounded by wicked, fiends with sunken sockets. I hate it here, yet I won't blow it all to pieces. What is the point? Knowing I could close the door behind me and all of this would go away. Like a strange dream that would end if only I could remember I was dreaming. Just open your eyes dear girl. All that I've learned about the world is true. Magick works in theory and practice. So why do I remain, anywhere reachable? What is goodness if evil does not exists? Knowing who you are is the key to fighting this whole society rap. Staying that way is beating the real disease. As they go at you day after day. Last of the dying self righteous punk rockers shunned by the liars and thieves. Waiting alone in Diagon Alley for all the flat-scans to find a personality. So many people are on this finding themselves rap. How long does it take a person to accept who they are? A fucking lifetime I guess. While I wait on my island. Made of poems and songs. 

I have such joy caged inside my sadness. Such anger for the bitter masses. Dropping like flys behind brick walls made of plastic. I can see what people hide it's gets easier every year. My memory of this place is oh so clear. While most think like a tape, erased day after day. The real tragedy is that I am still here. I have not got on a plane to a place where I can not find a familiar face. I'm starting to feel eaten alive again. The watchers have turned into Parana again. What are we  really up to anyway? I could just disappear. Become a forgotten memory. A distant thought not quite close enough to gleam. That is my real dream. The tragedy is that I am still here. I don't have the false joy. Work is bullshit, giving ourselves to another for profit. Every place I've ever worked I've attempted to burn down. I won't smile at you for a fee. Might as well drown in creativity. New friends can not fill an old mind. I remember my entire life. How can I preform as the sad clown? Old friends lie in order to align themselves with the new. Still teetered to the past by the ones who remember like me. My psychic mind is a personal Shakespearean Tragedy. My love is as beautiful as a dying man. We live next to the wall they think we are dying in. We see the gates stormed daily by love ones and close friends. A phantom home despised by phantom personalities. We smile and dream and create. Risking it all in front of another. Losing it all to survive as lovers. The real tragedy is nothing is ever lost just discovered. Another memory to last forever, or so they say. But what if forever were today? 

I'd have to show them that I remember it all. Not only that, I have more than half of it written down. Is this a poem or a confession? I've forgotten the difference somehow. One day I will reveal it all. But no one will understand. It will bring a tear to the eyes of the deaf and mad. The pain that I survive is real. Eternity is here to remind me. The darkness is an option. Death is always sitting right here beside me. One day it will take my hand and lead me to the land of the lonely. Where the hopeful believe this world will all start again. Where I will close my eyes and not remember any of this. For the first time in years. 

Goodbye sorrow

Goodbye memory

Goodbye tears

Goodbye hope

Goodbye fears

Goodbye all the nothing I ever was.

Goodbye every dream I believed was real.

Nothing left to see here but the evidence. That I did exist. With my eyes opened. Give me any quiz. I remember it all. Like the last witness to all the pain there ever was. Sober except for all for all the drugs. 

This is Josalisa, Live from Planet RiOT.  

Blood and Cruelty. Part 7

"Do you know what to do with it?" yes I answer. "How many times have you come down here before?" I try to sounds as innocent as possible when I give my answer. "This is my first time. I just wanted to see her." He looks at me with a gaze implying he knows me better than I know myself. He adds, "and fuck her." In a matter of fact way. I say nothing. How he just states the natures of my sick and filthy desire, causes me to lower my eyes. What does he think of me? Are we both crazy? Has he completely possessed me with his darkness? The answer to the final question is yes. He has possessed me, I am his. I want to be more him, more mad, more free inside of my own mind. I walk over and lay down in the bed with him. He has carried the body over to the bed. The way he lays it down on the blankets, it's head on the pillow. It looks like it is sleeping. He even closes it's eyes. It's so lovely, I cuddle up close to it. I want to smell it's hair and taste it's skin again. Master walks into the bathroom. He is there for what seems like three minutes. I take the opportunity to kiss her lips again. It is so cold and beautiful. Truly an exquisite corpse. Mater created her, it's hard to imagine he didn't do it just for me. When Mater finally emerges out of the bathroom he has something I can not see in his hand. I don't really care what it is. He and it are coming over to get on the bed with us. I know this is going to be a really good time. 

Mater sits down on the edge of the bed. I stay laying down with my arms wrapped around it. She is so cold, but I still want to share her with Master. The way we should have shared her last night. But we couldn't because I was being punished, maybe I still am. He caresses the breast of his corpse, then strokes my hair. He then touches it down there. In her womb, cut too large by his knife, but bloodless because I licked it all off. "She is too cold inside." he tells me as he rubs his cold fingers over the corpse's vagina. Finally his hidden instrument is revealed. It is a metal curling iron. It is very hot. I know because he burns me on my leg with it. The burn almost immediately blisters. I try to move my legs but his strength overpowers my own as he holds my legs still with his free hand. I cry as my skin burns. Once he feels I have suffered enough, and understand the nature his instrument. He tells me it is good for me to have a new scar. My scars are what makes me beautiful, he reminds me. "I don't want to hear you crying, shut the fuck up!" I try to control my tears and whimpers. Master returns his attention to the corpse. "Do you want me to show you what to do? How to keep her warm inside?" I do, but I do not want to speak, he will hear my whimper. That will lead to a harsher punishment tonight. I take a deep breath, get my shit together and answer, "yes, Sir." That makes him smile. Then he shows me what he does with the dead girls and guys he keeps in here. 

He takes his instrument, still hot enough to severely burn skin. He runs it down the inner thigh of the corpse, takes his free hand and and opens up what remains of her labia majora. The hot instrument is inserted deep inside of it's womb. He sees the look of wonder in my eyes. "This helps them to stay warm inside." Master removes his clothes and gives me a wink. I think he is happy to be sharing this other part of himself with me. With his ample member in his hand, he removes the hot curling iron and replaces it with himself. For twenty minutes he takes the dead girl in this manner. While I watch and learn what pleasures Master. When he is done with it, he kisses me and says, "Do you get it? Now it's your turn. She is still warm, sweetheart." I wonder how many times he has done this with the dead girls he keeps? How many dead guys has he kept? It would be impossible for me to imagine this is his first time. Master has been fucking the dead for a very long while. Storing them in the basement after starving them or chocking them to death, or like this one, after stabbing them to death. He keeps the bodies, makes sure the most important parts are warm, then gives them the pleasure only a lucky few ever have. Master is perfect. beautiful, and wicked. He lays next to the corpse, as I take my turn with her still warm body. 

When awake after hours he is gone. I am still laying, cuddled with the corpse. I get out of bed to makes sure it is all under the covers and the blanket.  I place it's head in the most comfortable position on the pillow. I put my clothes back on, including pig snot and head back into the main house to take a bath. Master will return soon and I need to have all of the housework done, including making dinner before he gets home. After I get out of the bath I find a note on the dresser from Master. It reads as follows:

 Necro-Slut,

You are to be clean, have all of the laundry done, and your filthy caged must be cleaned out. If I smell you in my closet, you are going to regret it. More than you ever can imagine. The chef will make my dinner. You will have three crackers, one apple, and one cup of water. Do not go into the guest house again today.

                                                                                                                                  -J


...to be continued. 

This I know (another dream)

Last night in a dream I learned a new truth. People love their misery, I think it makes them feel brave. Like, look at me I have survived something. But have you survived really waddling in that filthy dream? We all know sadness and heartbreak. We all carry the burden of the lonely. Yet some of us wave it like a freedom flag. For what? They love the misery and the sympathy it calls for. I survive the sadness daily and I don't really give a fuck. I'm not a pull yourself up by your bootstraps blue collar American or anything. But what the fuck is our deal anyway? Ever showed loved to the guilty and wicked and watched them turn against you? Ever pointed out beauty to these people and have them turn it into shit? Yes you have. That is because many love it in the darkness. No, they are not there to shine the light, they are there to waddle in it. This is what I saw in a dream. We are all vibrating into this Holographic existence  Projecting and attracting. Have you ever noticed what some people attract? A load of nothing too special is what it is. Their is a reason for that. I am not here to save this world. It feels good to think that. I am here to save you all from the darkness in which you dwell. But that is not why I have arrived. I am just an observer  I have my opinion. I have written it down. But really so what? I am here as a creator. Not a fucking beggar or a whiner  I see you fuckers down on your knees to anyone. A person you lust for, your sick twisted family, strangers with candy. Get the fuck up suckas and breath. This is a wicked world we live and it it's cruel. But it still belongs to us. The ones who have survived. Yesterday we lost a lot of humans and animals. They all died of natural causes. Not us though. We are the ones who made it. For whom the fucking bell tolls. 

I see the pigs waddling in the misery and yes you fuckers look like pigs or scared children. I fucking hate it, but I still love all of you. We are all a fucking dream. Creating this world one thought or action at a time. Can you fuckers not see that? Look around you. Does your life suck? Really? Are you absolutely sure it is really bad? Good. You made it that way. Your life is a fucking painting and you have the brush in your hand still. I look to the darkness I have created in my own life and I laugh. Because if I look back or do the math I can see how I wanted this life. I asked for it, dreamed of it and made it come true. I want other things now and the thought of not having them drives me to sorrow. But that is the work we do. Look around you. This is YOUR life. You are not a dead leaf blowing in the wind. You are Homosapien. You have the power to be what you dream. So stop dreaming up all of this weak bullshit and  do some real work. Dream fucking big then risk everything to get it. If you do not do this now you will be a little baby forever. A little sad baby until you leave this plane. There are Human Beings right now flying all over this world. And I am not flying. I am singing  and writing and creating sounds with my mind and hands. This is the source of my own sorrow. I want to leave, but instead I stay here and create. This is really the thing that causes my heart to hurt. The fact that I create instead of fly. What the fuck. That is not at all that bad. Especially when I look around me and see so many people just taking from the world. Never adding shit. Never offering anything of substance to anyone. Not even the ones they really love. Their are people alive today who will not make anything in this cycle. They will cry, they will attempt to assassinate others, they will attempt to kill themselves. But on this day. Nothing new will come from their cold dead hands  THAT is the source of misery. Blow a fucking horn or hug something innocent. Then you will see. You life is in your hands, dude. My life is in my hands. It makes me cry, but it mostly makes me smile. The shit is all right. I have space to breath. To shout, to make love. Yes I could kill the ones who do not think like me. But who are they? Just another part of me, right? So why really worry. All that is mine, I have today. All that I desire is on it's way. 

I have danced, I have sang, I have shouted, and been put down. Yet fuck, man. I am truly happy. I feel the joy wash over me. I love the existence I have come to create. The shit is all right. If I really look around. I can smile at all of my silly drawings. Because I have created them. I think so much of the misery I see American people in is because the fucks lack the sense to risk it all to create. I have been through some crazy shit this year. Some real proper crazy shit. And through it all I made sounds and art. So fuck the dumb shit. All is fucking well. As it has been, and shall remain. I've done fuck all to deserve the pain. And maybe you have. Maybe you deserve the misery in which you live. You horrible fucked up ones. I see you. You motherfuckers do some real wicked shit. If wicked shit were real. Which it is not. All of this is prospective. I embarrass myself often putting my shit our here for the digital masses. My friends ignore me, and strangers embrace me. It is the way of the world for me. I believe in my Guru and I believe in myself. Not despite it all, but because of it all. Because I see you dying, I see you getting what you deserve in this world. Then you cry and say you did not deserve it. Yes you fucking do. You did it to yourself. I did this to myself. I locked myself away from most people and became a fucking hermit. So I can write and read and create in peace. I made this reality. I want more now, but I have to really face what I have already created. And so do you, dear reader. Face your little bullshit, then kill it. Or not. I don't fucking know. All I really know comes from math, and dreams. I am my own dream come true. What have you done to yourselves, dear friends? Because in all honestly I do not recognize most of you anymore. 

This is Josalisa...Live From Planet RiOt.

I don't understand much, but this I know.

Blood And Cruelty...Part 6 of this Fan Fiction Situation.

He is cold at night and the bed is dry next to him. I'm sure it is all of the blood, but what of his coldness? This is the first night in months he has actually allowed me to sleep next to him. I know it is in order to purify me in this dead Woman's blood, but it is all so satisfying. Like we have become one. I have become united with his deed. Embracing his need to torture to no end, he has a desire to change the color and shape of flesh, to warp the human experience. Is he bored, is he mad, is he doing all of this to teach me a lesson, as a warning to me? I can not help but wonder if he kills them every time, even when he is not home with me. Or does he kill them just for me. I forgot to clean the kitchen, well here is a new body. I didn't get to the store in time, that's fine we will torture the next one together. I've never really seen him put a person to sleep. He stabbed the last one to death. He needed the blood, we both did I guess. I was really starting to miss sleeping next to him. He can not sleep next to me unless he has a lesson to teach. Sleeping in the blood teaches patience and silence. It offers stillness of heart and a oneness with the memory. I now she had to have enjoyed his knife somewhere near the end of her life. As she was spilling out she had to be somewhat thankful for it. It's not like he offers his gift to everyone. Most people don't even know he does this. His hair smells like shampoo and blood. I gently reach out to touch it. I can't see his face in the darkness, but I look at him anyway. His jawline can be made out in the shadows. He is gorgeous  Not just because he is psychically perfect. He is that but he is also capable of executing his well on any living being. He really is a true Master. A genius in the mind and the flesh. Men like him don't suffer the way I suffer. All the remorse and guilt, Regretting every step, wondering if I could be wrong. He knows he is not wrong, and if he is so what. No one is ever going to stop him. 

We can not be saved from Master's will. His mind is stronger than most other human's we meet. He brings most of them to their knees with their lust for his beauty  He awes them with his mind. 158 IQ and can you imagine how boring most people are to him? That is why he kills them. It is why I have decided to dedicate my life to him and assist him in his task. He does not need me. I need him, to be useful to him is my only desire in this world now. But why would he really need me? I guess I am his true companion. We are equally matched in beauty and intelligence. We both understand how to mold minds and control the weaker masses. But he is my Master and I am here to serve him, not to be his real companion  We are separate but equal. Not tonight. Tonight we are one with the flesh  Our own and this dead girl's he has freed. Bound by the blood and the love. As he turns over in the blood soaked bed, I do so as well. He reaching over to hold me and say, "I love you, Pet. I know I get carried away, but I just want to show you how much I love you." He kisses the back of my neck, I close my eyes and we our both are asleep again in moments. We sleep the peaceful sleep of people who have true freedom. 

His phones buzzes at 7am. He looks at it and messages someone back. He sees I am awake next to him. "I have another meeting this morning" he says to me. "I need you to get the room together while I get dressed". He strokes my blood socked hair and smiles at me. For the first time I can see his face is soaked in blood and he looks beautiful. Almost like flesh that walks and talks, not just flesh, muscle tissue. Maybe I look the same because he laughs at me and says "seeing you like this makes me want to skin the next one". I laugh and tell him I will follow my instruction immediately. He gets up to walk over to the bathroom, he is completely covered in blood. Like a demon reborn into human flesh he walks across the floor leaving no trail though it looks like he should. I lay here for a moment and wish I had his strength. Then I realize my strength is my surrender to him. So I get up and start to take the sheets off of the bed. I am hysterical with laughter so I walk over to the stereo and put on some Led Zeppelin to help me enjoy the task a bit more. What the fuck did he do with the body? I want to ask him, but I know it is best for me to just get the linen downstairs and out to the bungalow for washing. When I open the back door and the sun hits my naked, blood socked body I want to dance. I really feel that free. The grass is cold and fresh on my feet. I am cover in blood and freedom and I just want to run around like this all day. Once I get everything into the laundry and return back to the main house and his bedroom he has showered and is looking through his closet. He chooses clothes for both of us. "You look like some kind of tiny warrior, you dumb fuck. Why are you so happy this morning?" He says to me. I just smile and answer. "I liked doing that". He gives me this knowing look then turns around and walks into the closet. I hear him say. "pig, you have five minutes to get clean, so fucking hurry up. Meet me downstairs after. Before you get dressed, I want to make sure you are perfectly clean." Five minutes to get all of the blood out of my hair. I kind of panic but I know he is perfect with time and the five minutes does not include getting downstairs and it starts now so I don't even dream of complaining. I just run to the shower. 

It takes me four minutes to clean myself and get dry. On the bed Master has my clothes laid out for the day. I glace over to see they are mostly black but I have only one minute to get downstairs for inspection so I don't even walk over to them. When I get down to the kitchen Master is already eating his breakfast. His chef looks at the state I am in and leaves the kitchen. I walk over to Master and he looks up from his meal. He is eating oatmeal with fresh apples, and melon on the side. As he looks me over he checks his watch. He says, "Turn around." I do as I am told and let him inspect me from the back. "let me see your hair." I shake my air out, it is wet but their is no blood. I hope he can tell. "Go back upstairs and clean the bathroom and make sure you clean out your cage. You can have one piece of toast and and one slice of melon for breakfast." That is all he says and he goes back to eating. I take his lowing his head to read his paper as a sign for me to start getting dressed. I say "Thank you, Sir." and turn around to run back upstairs. 

The only thing that comes to mind is I hope he will still be home after I finish all of this. I want him to see me in my clothes and tell me I look wonderful. I head into the bathroom and start cleaning out the shower and making sure I have all the bloody towels ready to be tossed. I'm not sure why he does not burn all of the bloody things. I wonder if he ever worries about being caught? What would people say about us, if they knew what he was doing to me and what we are doing to other people? I know our neighbors think we are a weird rock n roll couple and it is clear where all of his money comes from. One scandal and his career could be over. Yet he does not seem to even care that he has all of these dead women in the basement of the guesthouse or that I will be just tossing theses bloody towels out into the garbage cans. I'm not sure what he did with her body. I'm not even sure the others are in their. I just feel like she may be. They all may be. Some of them were in the past. Hidden away in the guesthouse  His discarded pets. Or the guys he tortures so bad they can not be seen by anyone but the two of us. I know he keeps reminding me that our lifestyle is not wrong and he is only exorcising true freedom. But just for the time it take to gather the towels I worry for us. After I get rid of everything and get dressed in what he finds appropriate for a women in my station. Black fishnets, black and grey leopard print mini skirt and a black Nirvana baby doll tee shirt. And of course my little pig snot which I guess he thinks I deserve for all of my pissing in the cage. No underwear but he did lay out a little black spiked choker, which really fucking chocks I might add. So public humiliation and no breathing is the order of the day. I notice he did not include shoes. Meaning no shoes for today. Fuck I hate walking around with no shoes. He knows this and plus it is very cold outside. Once I am fully dressed I hear his car pull out of the driveway. He did not even care to check on me one last time. I know he will be gone for the remainder of the day and I don't really have anything to do outside other than to go shopping. I don't want to waste any time today. I am going to the basement of the guesthouse because I want to see the girl from last night. I want to see her face. I want to know if she is pretty or ugly, old or young. I want to know what her remains look like. 

I run out to the guesthouse, as I open the door I wonder why he never locks it. I mean does he not think the Gardner or anyone will ever just peek in here. What if someone did and they found everything? I mean I know he told the maid to never go into his basement and the way he looks at her when he gives orders I know she knows better than to ever go in there. But what if she did? She would see what I see. As I open the door I can feel the cold of the place. It stays dark in here, even with the lights on it is dark. He has a bed in one corner next to two empty cages. The guy he has in the bed. Some blonde mohawked punk boy he keeps for whatever reason. He says it is to starve him to death, and by the looks of him. The guy should be dead already. As I walk passed him tied to the bed post by rope warped around all four limbs. I wonder how long it will take him to die. Master has the timing all calculated. I hear the guy say something to me as I walk by. Maybe he asked for water. But I know better than to feed the toys Master keeps down here, so I just ignore his cries. I walk over to the corner of the room where there is a second little door. The girls are in there. The guys are on the other side, But I am looking for the girl  The one from last night. The one who recognized him immediately  As I open the door I see her. She is laying on top of the other two from last week. The perky blond and the bald black girl with the face tattoos. Funny he decided to kill her, I thought he would keep her much longer. I pull the girl's body out and she is very heavy  Her skin is pail as fuck and her eyes are still open. They are really beautiful, just like the rest of her. Too bad she could not stop screaming. Not that he was going to keep her, she was my punishment for wetting myself. I pull her out to the middle of the floor. She is tall. 5'9 I guess. Her boobs were not real and her hair still smells good. She has a great mouth. Very small with nice thick lips. I want to touch her fake boobs so I do. They feel like water balloons  Her body is so smooth. I get on my knees next to the corpse and imagine I was a beautiful as she is. In death beauty is trapped forever. I can still smell her breath. I touch her legs and she is extremely cold and lovely looking. Like a vampire. I kiss her lips. They feel like she kisses me back.  I go further down to look to see what he did to her womb. It is swollen, bloody and the flesh is all ripped out. Her outer labia, or labia majora is still in tact. So I begin to make love to her. The way he never would. He used a knife on her. I would never treat something so beautiful that way. I use my lips and we, me and this beautiful dead girl make the love she was dreaming of when she looked into his blue eyes last night. She taste like blood and him. I hear the guy in the corner start to cry. I stay with this dead woman for the next two hours. 

I must have fallen asleep because I never heard Master open the basement door. I never heard him come in. All I remember is when I wake up,laying on the floor next to the girl I see Master talking to the guy tied to  the bed. His name is Douglas and Master is asking him if he is ready to die. He is so gentle with him, starving him to death because he just wants to share himself this way with Douglas. When I see Master, finally I understand I have made a big mistake and I will have to explain myself to him. I get up, and try to explain. But he just keeps talking to Douglas. "You look so amazing Douglas, you know you where a fucking fat pig before I meet you." Douglas just cries and I am a bit jealous of him. Why is Master so nice to him anyway? "You have lost so much weight, I am proud of you." He kissed him. "You are hanging in there quite nice, sweetheart." He finally looks over at me. "So this is what you do when I am not home?" he asks. I explain I don't do this all of the time and I just wanted to know what she looked like. He looks at me and the dead girl on the floor. He ask me. "So what does she look like?" I look up at him. I get off of the floor and sit next to him on the bed where Douglas is bound. "Like heaven" I and answer. "How does she taste?" I look deep into his eyes and answer. "Like maggots,Sir."He laughs and we spit on Douglas. I do this because my mouth taste weird, Master does it because it is just what he does. He ask me finally,  "Do you want to keep it?" I am a bit shocked by the question, but even more shocked by the answer  "Yes." He looks at me and says  Yes, what?." I smile because I believe I am going to get what I want. "Yes, Sir,"

We leave Douglas where he belongs and Master carries it out of the basement to the guesthouse proper for me. He explain that we can not keep her long, but since I have been doing my best to behave like a good pet, I could have one of my own. I can not believe this. I have never had my own pet and she is so lovely. I just imagine myself  cleaning it up and combing it's hair. This is going to be a dream come true. My Master is so kind when I do the right thing. I think he is proud of me for not being weak and secretly feeding Douglas. He lets me know that we will have to keep her warm inside to have the most fun with the flesh. I can tell he has done this before but it is new to me so I pay close attention. He even tells me he feels a bit sorry for ripping her up so bad. Now that he sees she can be useful to us still. 

The Difference Between Dying and Knowing Everything

What the difference between dying and knowing everything

To gain any real knowledge you have to confer with the dead

That's a fact through entities or books

Shadows most be consulted

As if dying before a Great King

What's the difference between dying and knowing everything

Mathematics is the key to our existence

Yet to master it takes years of silence and contemplation

Nailing yourself into the proverbial intellectual coffin

I speak to the living quite often

You all are very smart 

Shame the dumb seems to go so hard

What's the difference between knowing everything and dying

Has an disembodied Energy every tried to paint

Could Necromancy work in giving a hand to a perfect rock band

What if Death was really your co-pilot

Has an Entity every reveled to you your life long enemies

Or is that just me I mean

What's the difference between being dead and knowing everything

I want to take a look back at 10500BC

I want to see the Orion Correlation 

I want to peep into the future

I use a foggy little ball or a bowl of water

Balance this out with metal from a Quarter

2023 I want to see The True Singularity 

I turn a card for fate or understanding

Magik, Science, Mathematics, and Archaeology

I study the dead so you don't have to

Maybe just sit back and watch a movie

Because truly

What's the diffrecne between dying and knowing everything 

1 8 3 5 14 16

That's the number of our unity

 This is Joasalisa in a RiOt as The Entity 

This is a poem to my sleep

I feel you coming and it's welcoming

Engulfing my body with the soothing hum of..

The stuff I dream of 

Drifting to the soft spot in my brain

Where rest lives and realization hangs around

My imagination in my playground

Especially subconsciously

Dear sleep comfort me

As my room watching over me

Moments away from the death like quiet

Praying for my friends and family

As I lay me down to sleep

I pray the lord my soul to keep

Or guide or borrow

Should our souls really be given away night after night

It's over 

This poem 

My music box lullabies

It's as they say 

That time

To not just unwind but incubate

My life my independent thoughts

Moments away from that place we all go

But few seem to ever remember

I feel you coming and it's welcoming

This is a poem to my sleep

Goodnight...Josalisa in a drowsy RiOt.

Outside Of The Dream

You will never be the one who satisfies me

Will I ever be the person who wakes me

The Magik is working so I will be gone soon

Into the arms of the great madness

Love is a distraction from our sorrow

I never got side tracked by that

Oh how I tried to die in the arms of another

But the music wakes me and takes me from under the covers

Into the coldness of my being

Covered in bugs and the filter of drugs

Trying to pretend I'm dizzy or just too busy to see

The me that is still alive inside here somewhere

Will I ever be the person who wakes me

You see the bitch won't shut up

Another poem another song another unfinished painting

I hate the world and love my dreams

I only want to see the people who live inside me

Alive and free like a bum with a drum

Women are so pretty and young

Some of us have found ourselves intelligent and curious 

You followed me to the end of the world to tell my story

I've always thought yours was quite boring

Especially now that I've decided to worship the Golden Cow

Soon I'll be gone

Lost to all those who think they know my story

I'm wild as the constellations 

As peaceful as meditation 

As the night turns to day

Will I ever have the skill to live how I feel

To reveal my great truths in a poem

In this world we are all married

Daughter's of the Stars which seem so far

Most dream this is the ending

Who ever gets so lucky they see the pain they live in die

I want to disconnect from the love I know

Like some romantic suicide

This couldn't be right

Besides who's ever meet a Prince that's Charming

Live from planet Riot...I do this as you lay dreaming.

Once Upon A Dream In The Distance

I blew into life this dream

Somewhere far away in the distance

The Fairies listen to me

All is reality alive in the moment

A glace upon a screen

A glowing flowing stream of nonresistance

I blew away and the Universe listened

Once upon a dream in the distance

I held it all in my hands so tight

It flew away and became pastel colors

Digital thoughts code and numbers

But oh so alive up under

The lightening and thunder have come to free me

Once upon a dream in the distance

Oh so long ago before I came here

On this Intergalactic mission

I blew a dream into life

That life is my current existence 

Close your eyes when you hear me

Use your heart to listen 

A Girl...A RiOt...A RiOt A Girl...A Girl In A RiOt

Blowing Cosmic Dust Through My Fingers

Music is the magic that makes it happen

The dream is the gift

I've only got one chance on this trip

To sing my song learned long ago

In some lonely room

This is all in a whimsical theme 

I learned as a child on the grass

Music is the the magic that makes it happen 

The dream is the gift

Inside reflecting everything 

Outside smiling silently.

Alive in a music box

Dying in a broken dream

I shall turn into a melodic melody

Music is the magic that makes it happen

The dream is the gift

Josalisa in a Riot...or something like it. 

I Woke up, Looked Around...and Got Pissed

How can I change it all. This is my dream right? So I should be able to rearrange the scenery and manipulate the circumstances. Well I'm going to have to. Because this thought is not working. It's not working for me. I know I can do better than this. This...all of it is a past thought. Maybe even a negative manifestation. I really have to check myself and look at it from as many different angles as possible. This whole thing could be the product of a negative idea. I may be living the same negative idea day after day and not really understanding what I am doing. Imagine that ultra fucked scenario? Sucks, doesn't it. I know my thoughts become things and actions. I need new actions. I have to turn this life situation into something bearable. Or something I dream to look at because right now...today...at this moment...I am frustrated. This...today...right now...this very fucking second is not life as I happily dreamed it. And if it is...what the fuck was I thinking...and better yet how fast can I think up some new shit?  Have you ever just woke up and wanted to get up before the rest of the household, grab your Passport and head straight to France? No questions asked...please no post cards? That is the way I feel right now. Again I blame this God Awful City. It really is God Awful but really it's my attitude. I'm over it.  I mean yeah a sexy encounter or a cool free Music Festival can soften the effects. But this city, like my current life circumstances is boring me to death. 


I know the music is here to change it all and save us before it's too late. I imagine it waiting for me every morning...and it is. But so is this...the awfulness. It just makes me sick. Can making the music change this all? I sometimes feel like my Partner is poison. I feel bad even typing it but I feel like he is poison. Or some kind of sick dagger I'm slowly killing myself on. Like this city and my family slowing boring me to death. Can you see it? I'm a bleeding rotting corpse. I mean we all are. That's kind of the point really. But on certain days like this one I can really feel the flesh melting right off of the bone. I've been poisoned by love. And circumstance and too much of me getting with I want. But what do I really want? I want this. All of this looks a little bit like what I want but it's all wrong now, isn't it? Like some strange episode of The Twilight Zone. I want music, love, family, and a time to be silent. I have it all and it fucking disgust me. I want my Guru to change it all to make it bearable. And he has but he can't change this feeling. Because he lives it as well. We all do I guess. The longing for the magic. Not Alchemy...real magic. But the kind you only dream about. The kind that makes me appreciate the things I have surrounded myself with, instead of waiting to set the world on fire. I really do want to set my world on fire. I want to escape the relationships I have started, the things I have acquired...I want to escape my living dream. 


I know so many people have it like twenty five times worse than me. But maybe they can take their circumstances and I just fucking can't. Plus there are people who have it way better than I do. There are people alive right now that would have gone on some kind of International Killing Spree if they had to live my life for like forty-eight hours. So what. It's sucks for me and that's all I know. Today...all of this bullshit is just for today. Tomorrow I will have forgiven myself for creating this life. I will find something to make me smile and well...a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down and all. For right now my partner is asleep and I want to bash his fucking brains in. For just existing. Can you imagine the madness? My Parents are awake and I could just burn this whole suburban apartment complex down to the ground. With all that it represents to me. Fucking suburban complicity. Basic ass day to day living. Los Angeles at it's fucking clean always tree lined best. I fucking hate it here. One top of all of this I need to figure out how to get out of this funk before I fuck my whole day off meaning a Pity Party. The shit is terrible but I got myself into this relationship and this neighborhood. I should be able to get myself out. 


I can't even go on writing about this shit. I'm upset. I see all of the familiar things but they just aren't working for me right now. But you know what? Today I am going to play my Theremin and my Keyboard I'm going to let the music wash over me. I'm also going to start painting again this week. No matter what I am going to try to get a least on canvas done this month. I can't let the misery take all I have. The music and the art are going to save me from all of this. I guess that was the point of surrounding myself with the arts in the first place. Music and art is all I have. People can be poison. Hell I may be my own poison as far as I know. I'm the one who hates everything and everybody. Maybe I'm killing myself with negativity. I can't see it all very clear right now. All I do know is this. My Parents are annoying and only an idiot lives with their parents at my age anyway. I really need to get myself properly organized to move into my own place. Before I become a suburban mummy. My boyfriend is the most annoying person I know about right now. Sometimes I look at him and I wonder if I have ruined my entire life with this one decision. What if we have ruined one another's lives? How God awful does that sound? Like we are drowning and we both can be saved if one of us had the balls to walk away. I don't know. Oh sorrow. Sometimes I feel like my whole life is a terrible car crash I can't take my eyes off of. 


Okay I'm going to stop now before I ruin my whole day. Fucking everything and all that their is...find me..and delivery me to the right place or feeling. Because today I am vibrating on a low energy frequency. Which may be the only thing stopping me from killing people.


This is Josalisa...in the most agitating RiOt I may have ever been in. 

It's All Just Another Song

No matter what I will always have this

The markings or the code

Alone in the madness with a fucking digital quill

Most things are not real in this reality

We are making it happen

The limits of our imaginations is all that is real

I act how I feel in my heart

I miss the smell of my art

The staining of things feels nothing like this

Searching for permanence is futile 

Humanity suffers from envy

It is very alien to encourage the dreamers

I know that now

Won't say how I found out

It's not a recommended method 

Neither is this

The life of a poet is no way to survive Armageddon 

Yet it's so perfect in it's tragedy

It would be hard to believe it wasn't made for me

I see what I dream then regret everything  

Until later when I've forgotten the details 

And it's all just another song

Josalisa...in a RiOt I guess. 

I Want To Be Your Hero Too

Replace what I lost in my heart

Can you?

I want to be your hero too.

I can make you smile through the pain

Your forward momentum is my inspiration 

Now love poems replace Science Fiction

That is some kind of impossible dream 

Yet on the same path we are

What is so near I thought was far

You welcomed me into your arms

Now I crave more than your voice

I guess I always have

But that is not so strange

Since we are on the same path

You started this Family

I want to take it further

It's going to save us all in the end

Or the beginning

You told us the Dawn will come again

I can feel you making love to me 

I can hear the music

Let's paint each other on the same canvas 

I dream of waking up with you

You made me who I am today

There for me whenever I need 

Reminding me of the magic in us all

You changed it all and so did I

I gave myself to the darkness

Surrendered to the pain

Through the tears you came

Now I want to be your hero too

To give you something special

To change your heart

To touch your mind

You always are a different person 

A sure sign of misery

Or remembrance of some distant Memory

I'm starting to dream you are just like me

Or am I becoming more like you?

Lost in a world so far away

I dream the dreams of prophesy

What's that say about you and me

We'll it's an impossible dream

Destined to become our truth

This is Josalisa, Live from Planet Riot.

On The Other Planet

I need more...then less

I need more...then less

And more...and less

And more...and less

I want it 

I get it

Then I want it some more

Then I miss it

I want to change it

I love it how it is

It's everything to me

It means nothing

It changes me

Then I'm unaffected 

It smothers me

Than I cry out for more affection 

I'm happy...then I'm sad

I'm hopelessly mad

Then I'm sane again

I see into the future

Then forget the path

I spell every word wrong

Then I'm perfect at math

I fall in the shower

Then drown in the bath

What is this?

A curious adventure indeed

I curtsy to bums 

Then shun the King

I'm ugly when I'm happy

Beautiful when I'm mean 

I smell good all the time

But never am I clean

I believe everything I dream

But nothing that I've seen

I'm an architect of crazy 

I'm bitter and I'm lazy

Yet somehow

Here I stand indeed

A girl...A Riot

A Riot...A girl

What does it mean?

To be out of this world. 

Angel or Demon

Beautiful stranger you are not strange at all

Like some far away Star Child

You are always there when I call

Like it was meant to be

I wonder do you hear me

Beautiful Star Child you're not so far away at all

Like a long distance phone call

Made long ago on an intergalactic wire

Your heart is like fire

I feel you pulling on my invisible chords

I think we are looking for the same rewards

Star Man our love is not false at all

We connected through a cellular octave

I was lost and then you found me

When I flew away you where there to ground me

Beautiful bringer of the light

You can hear me cry

I looked for a sign and it said Activate 

I suppose it means my heart and mind

The love overwhelmes so close yet so far 

You are everything we were suppose to try to be

This time you've changed something else inside of  me 

Beautiful stranger leader of my Star Family 

I want to run away to find you

But here you are right beside me

Guiding me in your simple way

What does it mean we cross paths so much now

I made a special vow to you

You made a separate one to us

The summoning works

Evoked by the love of things long forgot

You are stranger in the distance

Yet we dream the same dream

Yet we dream the same dream

That's why you are there when I call

I saw you yesterday

It inspired this poem

The answer to everything

This is Josalisa Live from Planet RiOt. 

This poem is dedicated to the stranger who saved me from almost forgetting what was in my heart. Only he is not a stranger, because he is always there when I call. Fucking strange Planet we are on. Now itnit?

Blood And Cruelty...Part 5 of this Fan Fiction Situation.

The room fell silent. I with the full understanding of what had just occurred closed my eyes. In hopes of blacking out the horrible sin, or escaping from this room. I know she is dead. He just killed her, I know it. But why? How could he? He says he goes this far but I never knew he'd go this far. Is she really dead? His laughter fills the room and I know she is dead. I close my eyes tighter and an attempted to be dead as well. There is a desperate whimper coming from the room now, and I know she is not dead. I also know by the sound of his laughter that she will be soon. I close my eyes. I want to forget I ever bored him this much.

He is holding her by her neck. Her head is limp as she is caterwauling from the pain and fear. Blood is bubbling out of her mouth down her throat and onto the sheets. "This was not personal, it was all the screaming." he tells her. "Just keep it down a bit, I sometimes have sensitive ears." the madness in this statement alone causes her to wail. In turn causing him to use the knife again. This time deep into the left side of her stomach. She tries to mouth please. He tells her to try and relax. Maybe lie down a bit more. She collapses on the bed in a dead limp and he knows almost instantly she is passing out. "Don't do that. Don't even fucking do that." he screams while shaking her now limp and bloody frame. "Don't try to fucking block this out I"m talking to you!" He straddles her body as he screams and shakes her. She is not dead. Her breaths are light and she is losing lots of blood. He knows he won't have her for much longer. She is dying from the trauma to her body. Her eyes slowly open as he is looking right at her. "Please help me." she mouths. Only now can he see the full beauty of this women. Her dark hair and brown eyes. The exquisite jaw line, the way the light caresses her skin. She is gorgeous. Lying here under him. Helpless, frail, frighten. He is so turned on by that, he makes loves to her for the first time. 

He holds her limp body as he enters her. Kissing her bloody lips. She is very wet as he forces himself into her. "ssh...let me love you. Calm down." he whispers into her ear. She closes her eyes and passes out. This invokes a new rage in him. He begins to scream again. I close my eyes tighter. "Don't fucking block this out." His movements become more violent. Maybe in rage or possible in an attempt to awake the dying girl. She does not respond to his actions. He takes this as a sign of disrespect and reaches for the knife again. This time using it to replace his penis. As he inserts the bloody knife into the Woman's womb her body begins to violently convulse. He tells her she is beautiful and that he hopes she enjoyed the fun time they had together. He says all of this as he pushes the knife in and out of her. He moans from the intense pleasure he is feeling. I close my eyes tighter. He turns the knife and pushes it in deeper. "Fuck you." He says to her body, now bereft of life. "You were a whore anyway, weren't you?" He ask no one. He continues using his knife as an extension of his penis for another 30 minutes. I fall asleep in my place. I know what he has done. I don't want to face it or him. I just want to fall asleep. 

When Master comes in to wake me from my place in the closet. I don't know how much time has passed. I don't know what he has done, or if what I know he has done is even real. I don't know if any of this is even real. He opens the cage and removes my mask and gag. He pulls me out of the cage and holds me in his arms. "Do you want to come sleep with me now?" he asks in such gentle voice. I know what I heard earlier was only in my imagination. He picks me up and carries me into the bedroom. The lights are on but the curtains are drown so I have no idea what time it is. I half expect to see a dead girl on his bed. I half expect to see nothing. I am only half right. The girl is gone. How did he get rid of her? Where did he take her? I know not to ever ask. The bed is covered in blood. The scene takes me back to when his band performs a Blood Ball. But this is no performance. He and his bed are covered in blood. I close my eyes to tell myself this is not real. But it is far too real. He removes my leash and says," Sorry honey, I may have gotten a little out of control?" I couldn't think of a thing to say. So I laugh and say, "Ya think?" He laughs as he turns back the bloody sheets. Removes his surprisingly not too bloody clothes and gets on the bed. I lay next to him in this dead girl's blood. As I do so I accept the fact that I am now fully separate from my formal self. I embrace the Madwoman my master has created. As he takes me in his arms. As I ease into his warmth and the blood he whispers, "I love you. I did this for you. So you will know that you can do anything you want." He then asks if I am afraid. I tell the truth and say no. "Never be afraid of anything we do." He tells me.

In this moment, laying here with Sir. Covered in the blood of some now long gone dead girl. I feel happy. I feel at peace. I understand the lesson he has taught me. I know he has brought me into his madness. A madness which I shall never again be free from. He has created a world where all darkness is gone. He has removed all light and replaced it with this. With blood and cruelty. But also with gentleness and warmth. Laying here in his deed I am trapped in a new world. In a place Master has created only for us. I am part of his secret. A broken piece of porcelain only he can put back together. I close my eyes, this time in joy. Knowing full well something I never understood before tonight. His darkness is my peace. 

Fan Fiction...Part 4 or whatever.

Master walks back across the room obviously exhausted. I stay in the corner and am allowed to catch my breath. He explains that I am still not allowed to sleep with him and he is certainly not sleepy so I am to remain silent while he makes a few phone calls. I take this as an opportunity to try and fall asleep. Since I am limp anyway and he can not see my face I will just lay my head against the wall and doze off while he is on the phone. When he wakes me he explains the I am in no position tonight to fulfill his sexual needs. Master explains to me that he will be having a friend come over to keep him company and I am to sleep in my cage on the wet mat. He unties me from the ceiling mounts and says "Get on your knees ,sweetheart." I do so and get down on all fours. "I don't want to hear you at all tonight, do you understand?" I respond in the positive and relax my back a little. He rubs oil and cream on all of my swollen bruises. He gently places his plug deep inside of my already swollen anus. This is one of his bigger plugs and it is unusually painful. "This is for comfort and practice remember that." he explains in his very gentle voice. I feel my body stretching to fit his instrument and I know it will make my sleeping all the more pleasant. A mask is place over my head. It is red and black rubber with the mouth hole open. It fits over my face like a glove. I immediately relax. He then places a gag deep into my mouth. I close my eyes in order to take the pain of my mouth stretching further than is usually comfortable. He places my collar on and leads me to his closet by a leash. When he opens the closet and leads me back to the cage he says, "I want you to clean your smell out of here in the morning. It's fucking disgusting." I enter the cage completing debilitated. He closes the gate. Before he walks away he reminds me that I am so disgusting for pissing on myself and I still need to be reminded that I'm being punished. He takes his big cock out and pisses all over the cage. The warn liquid covers me and the entire cage. I open my mouth to get some on my lips. I am a little disappointed that my mouth is gagged so none goes in there. "You did a good job today little piggy. You turned yourself into a toilet so don't be disappointed." those are the last words he speaks to me for the rest of the night. He kicks the cage further back into the closet walks away and turns out the light. Before he closes the door I think I hear him say, "I love you, good night." But that may have been just in my imagination.  I close my eyes and try to fall asleep.

About an hour later I hear him speaking to a women in his room. This must be the person he called. The one he wants to keep him company tonight, since I am being punished. I wonder if she is just a hooker, or does she recognize him. I can tell by the excitement in her voice that she is both. A hooker who recognizes him. I hear her say, "I love all of your movies." I can tell by that statement alone she has no idea about the music or what he is capable of. She is in for a very unpleasant surprise. He tells her to get undress and lay on her stomach on the bed. I hear her ask, "Do you live here alone?" He does not answer. Instead he slaps her and says, "Shut the fuck up. Face down." She begins to cry. I want to warn her that the waterworks just makes him more violent, but she will find out soon enough. 

He begins to tie her to the bedpost. She explains, "I'm not really into this sort of thing." He hears her but he continues. "Good" He answers. She begins to cry louder. Not really a scream but a loud whimper. She pleads, "please don't hurt me." He smiles and kisses her on her back. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to." She screams loudly. Maybe for help, maybe in hopes of pleading with him. Either way it is lost in this room with only me to hear it. He straddles her on the bed and places a black leather belt around her neck. He places his member deep into her anus and she begins to scream fucking bloody murder. The large member begins to pump into her body hard and consistent. He pulls on the belt, and I hear her scream from the pain and the asphyxiation. The headboard is banging against the wall hard. Master is not showing this stranger any mercy as she  yells, "you are killing me, please you  are killing me." He rips her deeper with his penis and begins to pump harder and harder. All the while pulling on the leather belt around her neck harder. He takes the belt in one hand and picks up the shinny knife he has on his nightstand. He is using one hand to pull the belt and the other to cut deep lines into her back. The sound of her squealing becomes unbearable. I wonder why he won't gag her and then I understand. This is for me. This is my reminder that this could be me. I then understand that she will never leave Master's bed. He cuts 13 four inch deep lines into her skin as he fucks her and chokes her. "You are a useless Pig and I can't allow you to leave this house." he says to her as he cuts. I hear him moan from his ejaculation which he lets go inside of her anus. There is quite a bit of blood dripping from her back to his bed as he unties her and has her turn over. She tries to fight but he just cuts her on her wrist and fingers with the knife he is still holding. He puts down the knife and holds her two wrist in his hands. "If you calm down and stop screaming I will make this happen fast." I hear him say to her. She looks him deep into his face, a face of such beauty but now only filled with terror. "Why are you doing this to me? Please let me go." she pleads. He answers, "I can't. You already told me you know who I am? 'Before she can tell him she won't say anything he grabs her mouth.  Squeezes her jaws together until her tongue pokes out. He grabs her tongue between his fingers and pulls it out. It takes the knife only a second to remove it. 

Fan fiction Part 3

The exercise portion of the evening being over is only sort of a release for me. I didn't mind the cold and wet so much if that is what makes Sir happy. He likes to feel like he is in control all day. He definitely is he must know this. It just somehow has to be proven over and over again. Sometimes I think he puts me through this so I can prove to myself that life is bigger than me. Before I found my Master I was a very selfish girl. I kept everything to myself and only cared about myself and I thought that was the way life was. Being here with Master reminds me that life is so much more than myself and my desires. It reminds me that I can push myself for someone else. That I can be more than just a self-serving person. To give  yourself over to another person like this is not easy. It takes a lot of strength and trust. I hope he is proud of me.

He is waiting in the foyer. "Thank you for waiting for me. You did a really good job, Honey. I'm very proud of you." he says as he wraps me in a towel. "How much longer could you have waited?" All night I answer. I could have. He tells me he has already cleaned up the kitchen I just have to clean myself and the living room and of course the wet mess I made in the foyer and I can meet him upstairs. I perform the few task he assigns and I meet him in the bedroom where he has  tea and biscuits waiting for me. I'm really excited about the biscuit part because I have not eaten all day and I am a bit hungry. As I go sit next to him on his bed I am excited by the look in his eyes. It's anticipation like he really missed me all day. Of course it's really ridiculous for me to imagine he thought about me all day but I like to do it anyway. He is wearing a blue tee and tight black pants, fuck if he is not the Angle of Death I don't know what he is. As I set down next to him I want to touch him and have him hold me in his arms. But that is a dream, I sit down and fold my hands in my lap and try not to look him directly in his beautiful face. "Is the tea for me?" I ask a bit nervous from my wanting to touch him. "Of course sweetheart. Can you handle seeing the food knowing you can't have any?" What? I want to eat really bad but I answer him right away, "yes, sir". He smiles and watches me drink my tea in silence trying not to recognize the biscuits as being at all edible. I finish my tea while he tells me about his day and the deals he made for the new album release. He plays one of his new songs and it is so beautiful I begin to cry. After the song is finished he calls me a crybaby. He then reminds me of the late hour and shows me the clothes he has picked out tonight.

I walk over to the chaise lounge and begin to put on my clothes. Black lace fishnets, black latex shorts, black lace top, a red corset and black boots, also a custom leather face mask with an extended cork gag made into it. "Don't look so afraid, it's just for sleeping." I hear him laugh and say. He must see my hesitation in my body movements. "I'm kind of tired." I muster up the strength to say this knowing this ensemble is meant to be used for brutality and nothing else. I've had a long day and I am very tired and hungry. I was really looking forward to going to bed. "I didn't ask you how you were feeling.  Now get dressed." So psychos never sleep and neither do their pets is the thought that is going through my mind when he begins to explain why I will not sleep tonight. "We have a real problem, Little Piggy." He begins, "We like to piss on everything. Our clothes, our chairs, our floors, our mats, and unfortunately my car. (I made a wee in his trunk last week but we'll get into that later on) don't we?" he ask. I want to explain how I don't ever do it on purpose it's just that I have a weak bladder and it's hard to hold after so many hours. "Would you like me to remove your bladder for you?" he inquires. "No, Sir." I answer. "Then we need to control ourselves, don't we?" I look up at him for the first time. Now fully dressed and I want to explain to him that I try but it is really difficult. "Do I have to show you what not to do again?" When he says show me what not to do he means by doing it. What he does not understand is I know what not to do. I just don't know how not to do it. Him pissing all over me is not going to help. But I say nothing of course. "Get on all fours" I do as the command says. "Lift your head up. Remember no slouching." He handcuffs my hands together, than puts on my mask and gag. He gets up and walks back to the bed. I remain in this position near his bed for two hours.

I hear him walk across the room. I am happy at this sudden movement and noise because he has not spoken to me the whole time. I feel him near by. He rubs me head and runs his hands down my back to my ass. I feel the cat of nine tails he holds in his opposite hand caress my legs ever so slightly. He whispers into my ear, " You have to constantly be reminded to control yourself in every situation. If you can not control yourself especially under my directions than you will be punished." He rubs my ass again. "Now I don't want to hear a fucking peep from you? Do you understand?" he ask. I shake my head in a yes response. He hits me once on the ass with the whip. I moan loudly. "Shh" he whispers. "Not a fucking peep" he reminds me. I takes a deep breath in a attempt to control myself. He hits me again this time much harder. I hold my breath and my sounds back. He hits me again. The leather spreads and each separate strip hits me on a different part of my ass. I already want to cry but I remain silent. Over and over again the leather stings and burns. I already have bruises on my ass and this only increases the pain. He hits me a total of 16 times. I know because I keep a mental count in my head. Right before bed he will ask me the total of times I took his punishment. If I am to answer the question wrong the punishment begins again this time for double the times. I'm really good at not forgetting the number.  He begins to caress my back and shortly after his whip replaces his sweet touch. The first strike across my back feels like fire. It opens one of my old wombs and that feels like sweat and salt mixed together in there. I want to tell him to stop and that I am sorry. But there are no safe words during these punishments. If I pass out it's worse when I come to. I think about My Little Pony the cartoon as he hits my back a total of 25 times. This helps me not to make too much noise or pass out. I hear his boots on the floor walking away. I want to lay down. He can tell and says from across the room, "Stay in position or we start from the beginning, Pissy Pants." I remain in position and let the pain in my knees distract me for the pain on my back and ass.

When he walks back across the room towards me it is a welcome release from the anxiety of the wait. Now I don't know if it is over or will he continue. He removes my mask and gag. I relax my jaw for the first time in three hours. He stands over my now uncovered head and looks down at me. I look up at him. Right into his eye where I'm not ever suppose to in situations like this. But I can't help it, he is the most beautiful creature I know of.  He stares down at me for a while like he has something to say but it has somehow been forgotten. I feel his eyes on me. He is so beautiful but right now there is only brutality in his face and I know my punishment is far from over. He puts out his boot. This is a sign for me to lick it and I do. Gladly, I love the taste of the leather in my mouth and on my tongue. He kicks me hard in the face to get me to stop. I taste the blood and want to fall to the floor but I remain in position. He walks back across the room to his bed. "Come here" he order me. I get up and walk over to him. He wipes the blood off of my mouth. Then kisses me. "I want you to learn to control yourself. Do you understand me?" I answer yes. He holds my chin in his hands and looks me right in the face for two minutes. "You fucking can't, can you?" he finally asks. " I can, Sir." I answers not knowing why I knew it was not true. He removes his very ample penis form his pants. I take a deep breath because even though I have seen his manhood many times I'm always shocked by it. It's so nice and smooth and vain filled. A perfect specimen indeed. "Get on your knees" he orders. I do as I am told immediately. "Open your mouth, Pissy Pants." I open my mouth as wide as I can. He looks at me for a while. Spits right into mouth than places his member deep down my throat. I immediately begin to chock since I have not even swallowed the spit yet. I begin to suck his cock like it's my dinner and in reality it is. Maybe his cum can help me fight off my unavoidable starvation. He takes control of the situation almost instantly and pushes my head against the bed. He holds my still handcuffed hands back and begins to pump his cock into my mouth as if it were a vagina. The more I choke the further in he goes. He pumps my face full of penis for what seemed like a lifetime. After he covers my face with his ejaculate. "Good job, Mouth Hole. You like having those big balls on your face, Cuntfuck?" I gargled some words or other. Before he drops me to the hardwood floor.

I wake up still naked and covered in him on the floor. I guess he allowed me doze off for a while. I turn over he is sitting on his bed drinking tea and thumbing his guitar for relaxation. He notices that I am awake. He smiles down at me. He casually ask, "Do you finally have your shit together?" I guess I do. I don't really know how long I've been asleep and my mouth and throat hurt like hell. So I answer him in the positive. He seems somewhat satisfied with my answer. "I need you to get your shit together and go stand in the corner." I look up in confusion. He is sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap. He kicks me a little to see if I understand what he is saying. "Right over there" he points to the corner with his foot. Than kicks me with his boot to get me moving. "Hurry, sweetheart" I get up and my entire body body is throbbing. I go to the corner where the chains are mounted to the ceiling. I stand with my back towards him. He walks over and removes the metal handcuff and replaces them with the leather ones. He then place the ceiling chains into the loops of the handcuffs. I stand with my hands over my head while he stands behind me. I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck and it is heaven. He touches my stomach and squeezes my breast a little too hard and I scream. He pulls my head back hard with my hair and says in a very low voice into my ear. "Not a fucking peep." Sir returns back to his bed and tea and I remain here standing chained in the corner. My imagination is left to go wild. 

But not for long. He returns to me and says, "This is only happening because you can not be a big girl and hold your fucking piss." I don't move or say a world. "This is the final time I'm doing this. The next time you piss in my house or in my car I am going to end you." His worlds are like spikes but his breath on my neck still arouses me. "Do you understand?" The tears begin to run down my face because I know he means it. This is my final warning and I'm not sure I really can control myself in the future. He wipes me tears away and begins running his fingers down the small of my back to the top of my ass. He steps away and shortly after he whispers, "close your eyes." I do and I feel his leather strap hit my ass with such force I fall to my knees. Which of course don't touch the floor because I am chained to the ceiling. It only increases the pain in my wrist. I try to straighten myself up when I feel the next blow. I beginning to scream and cry. He stops and grabs my neck. " Not a fucking sound, Fuckslut." Each time the leather hits my flesh it's like the most incredible violent pleasure ever. I hold my breath so I don't make any noise. I feel myself getting wet as my body tingles from the impact of his paddle. I close my eyes and think of running through grass covered hills mid spring. I thinks of rain falling on my face. The tears stop and he notices. "Are you trying to block me out. Fuck you" He hits me so hard I fall off of my feet again. My head hits the wall hard and this time I am a dizzy. "You fucking pay attention to me while I am punishing you. You fucking Pissy little Whore" He hits me again and my head is still swimming and tight. But I manage to say "I'm sorry, Sir" anyway. I work my way back onto my feet. He begins to hit harder with each blow. "Are you keeping count, Pig?" I am but I can not speak because of the pain and ecstasy. He strikes me again this time harder than all the others combined. "Fucking answer me?" I take a deep breath and say, "Yes, Sir" I let my head fall to the wall again. I hear him say "How many?" I don't remember. The next blow reminds me. "Twelve" I say. "Count out loud", he says. I begins to count. Thirteen, fourteen, fifth-teen, sixteen. Each time the leather touches my skin it is like a barbwire kiss. I love it so I close my eyes, cry and keep count. Nineteen, twenty, twenty one. I can nearly take the pain and I never want him to stop. Twenty five, twenty six, thirty. I start to scream as I count. Thirty one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty four. 

...to be continued