A Real Love Poem For Once after all I guess...it seems that way at least

Maybe there is not a poem about this. Maybe there never was suppose to be a poem about this. Maybe if I just write forever there will not be a poem about this. At this point this is not even a poem about this.


Writers say it all because it has to be said
for what really
this is not even a poem
so much is left unsaid because it does not need voice
so much is spoken no one really wants to hear
or can understand
it's blackness for nothing
sadness to a point
yet there is a smile is there not
there is love can you not see
so we fell in love through books and documentaries
and yeah the math and engineering is to die for
but we are living beings are we not
yes you fell in love over art and rainbows
fucking unicorns I guess
deadly assaisins have your heart
when even a poem feels like a lie
I really loved you all but this war is a bit much
when even warmth feels like handcuffs
I've almost talked myself out of the tears I cry for it all and nothing really
on this day I could see so clearly it felt like I should have died
What do you miss the most
The Beatles
what do you miss the most
really The Beatles
what will you remember when it is all gone
that I never believed you all in the first place
what will you regret
the tears for nothing and the isolation I kept going on about
what will you be when you are gone
a girl in a hot shower writing post apocalyptic love poems
in the end I will see I worried too much
for all of them and expressed myself through anger
this makes the angels come to your side
I close my eyes as they sit beside me in silence
see after all this is
a real love poem


This is Josaisa, Live from Planet Girl On a Diet.

Contemplating Dying Gods and Their Children

He saved me with a kiss he'd come to kill me with

life unfolds like this from time to time

the ones who wake you from a dream you thought was life

I wanted to be innocent

no not really

I wanted to be pure 

like snow or summer leaves or the ocean in the more peaceful parts of the world

I wanted to be evil

no not really

just dark like they say we can never be

I tried to set myself on fire

However I dress really well and few people will stand for that

A girl in a pretty dress covered in kerosene 

He would not let it be

I tired to go crazy but I remember everything and in madness it helps to forget

He would not let me close my eyes

Maybe he thought it would be a waste

or at the very least an act of disrespect 

why let whiter and die what is is useful 

He turned the dial on the world just a bit differently 

now it does not seem so bad and we all seem less lost

the ones who are not with us are still here

It's just I don't have to be with them when I see them

No sympathy for the enemy dying

All hearts and minds to the victors trying and surviving 

These thoughts call me from my sleep

I am to make heads or tails of it all

Maybe just let it sit here for a while

I was hard and now I am soft

I was woman and now I am a pure animal 

wild like the tides and the moon

freed by a kiss from a charged knight

who no longer goes by that title at all 

unless one has eyes to see

and any useful inquiries

I am Josalisa, and this is some form of a RiOt.

I saw but Wasn't Looking

This is not even crying or feeling anything

this is just an expression

I like to experiment

with poetry and art

my mind my heart

it is all part of it

So it's a love poem

because someone writes love poems about them

and the empty they empty more

or the dead they awaken to kick

bored fucking never dared to pay for it

we share the world with them

they try to drown us in deserts

we try to breathe in fire

touch what is untouchable

to feel what

nothing 

how does nothing feel

how does it breathe 

how does it survive

in this time of the living and the dead

I sang all the songs in my head

I was never that thing you tired to kill

yet it died anyway

sacra vivere 

ita et in peccatum

DSM code F 52.7: The Subject

There are those who know better than this

to you I say enjoy the freedom

there are experiments one can undergo 

oh do we volunteer

at first I guess yes

later on you see it was all a forced draft program

one never really signed up but was summoned

by forces greater than ones own abilities

dominate thoughts always lead to subjectivity

one should always give in to these thoughts

best for all involved really

except for the girl who is oh so silly

so many signs and symbols

so many black and white documentaries

everyday is a night

every knight is a son

every boy on the run

deep inside has a gun

a sword on which to kill you

sex is death

and bondage love

longing is destiny

heartbreak fits like a glove

want the thing that breaks you

cry for a dying dove

DSM code F 52.7: The Math Tutor

The Math Tutor was a delightful hippie boy that well, was not a fucking hippie at all. I saw him once before our initial meeting working on his math homework in the library. I spend a lot of time around books and I'm never on the prowl while I am around words in mass. But there was something about this boy. I walked past him to get a closer look at his work. I wanted to see his letters and the way he wrote his numbers. Only he was not writing any letters, just numbers. In perfect sequence in the neatest script one can imagine. My first thought was he writes like a Good German. How did he find the patience. His energy was that of serious contemplation and slight irritation. I began to feel a warm sensation in my stockings. There was really nothing to say, so I just continued on my way. I never really let that image go. This was the kind of guy that sat alone and read, one whose mind may be inclined with the men who sent rockets into space. Sitting here, among the living. I always imagine men of any real interest being shown in black and white. Why, I'm sure the answer will come easy, but I will not bother with such inquires at this time. I wondered if the general lack of intelligence he must witness bothers him? However like I said, I just went on my way.

Many thoughts and dreams later I decided as an Anthropological  study to go out and sit in the sun for a bit. I had a dream or vision to begin reading about Lucifer again. After I finished a fine book on the Angel I remembered our relationship had been somewhat sexual for a bit. Him being my one true love after all. I began writing him love letters. What's a girl suppose to do with love letters to Lucifer, one may ask? The answer is simple. Give him his letters when he shows up. So I sat and waited. Would he show up? Would he be tall, dark and handsome? Or a boy who looks like a Mormon with a satanic sigil tattooed on his arm? Well no one showed up and I did not care. But I did like waiting so I waited, for whatever, whoever to show up. And just like a Satanic angel out of the blue up comes The Math Tutor. With all of his calm and casual demeanor. What does one really say to a man anyway? So I just randomly said everything which is nothing and listened to his bizarre, yet perfectly normal point of view. You know things you do while you wait. Except it wasn't just a casual conversation, it was a full on discussion and well, he was a bit cleaver now wasn't he? Maybe too cleaver and a bit too gentle. I may also be a bit too cleaver and gentle, but I try not to let men know it. Well only if that man I am speaking to is a hippie. Which this sweet guy on the opposite bench most assuredly was. Anti GMO...hippie. Anti pornography...hippie...Anti American...hippie. Beard...fucking hippie. 

So you know, when the nice hippie guy asked me to go for a walk with him in the botanical garden, I was like. Total hippie, nice. Except when we got over to the no doubt beautiful and all and out majestic botanical garden. He revels to me he is not a hippie at all. In fact he is the only other type of able bodied non-intoxicated adult white male. And as we all must know my darlings, that shit ain't no fucking hippie. He was as one may say, a Good German. Oh, the Ze Germans. This is what our friends across the pound would call being proper fucked. Or so it would seem from my antifascist  black lesbian feminist point of view. Which is a point of view I find suitable to explain my love of fascism. To myself, in my own heart. Yet lets save that for a rainy day. One of which this is not.

I almost immediately begin to retract all of my former statements. Of course he thought that was funny because he was not the type to allow for any bullshit. I was not as cleaver as he was and we both knew that. "I was just kidding about all of that from before." I said. "Yeah, but you know too much." He answered. "I read it in a magazine." I lied. "Oh, but you know how it all fits together." As he said that he looked me in the eyes in a way that let me know he was going to punish me for the last part. There really was nothing I could do. Other than scream, which was clearly not an option. I sometimes wonder what would have really happened if I would have screamed. I'm sure he would have been extremely violent. I could see the violence in his eyes and feel it...I don't know in the air. In his soul? There was no choice really. "What are you really?" He answered while kissing me. "You know." I kissed him back. Why because I was scared? It was because I knew what he was, and I loved him for it. "Say it" What is this, Gastapo Twlight? "I can't say it" He pulled me closer and kissed me harder. I was pushed into a very tight corner and he was going to have his way. I was caught in a very specific net. This was not his first catch and there was no chance to turn back time. "I know you want to." The Good German whispered into my ear. Ever so sweet and psychotic. "Say it" I turned my head. When he takes my head in his hands I can feel the pressure he puts on my skull. I know he can break my neck or pulls my hair out.

He does neither of these. Even though there is no way he is letting me go until he is finished with me, I know he will not hurt me if I answer him. So I kiss him harder with  my eyes closed. put my head down so I am no longer face to face with his beautiful blue eyes. "White power" trying to make it sound like a question. As it comes out as a request. "Good girl. Now open up your legs." Why did I open my legs? It needed to happen. Not just because it was what he wanted and he had established that as the most important thing for right now. I did it because I was afraid, for the first time in a long time I felt fear. A real emotion and I wanted to go with it. Open your legs and your wish is my command, no one ever said. So yeah I opened my legs. I learned how to give in. He was generous down there in my secret spot. I like having my body displayed in public.

After he was done with me. A simple yet terrifyingly aggressive sexual encounter, he asked me for my number. I couldn't even handle reality so I just gave him my phone. He took down my number, asked me if I was going back to library (the answer was yes) and walked away. I wanted to sit there and cry. Or run after him. I wanted him to not treat me so casual after taking me in that way. Have you ever just finished something you wish had never happened? Because you know you can't be the same again. He strolled off like it was his job and he had finished a good days work. I wanted to cry, so I fell in love. 

DSM code F 52.7: The Math Tutor: Deux

You would have to be a blind person to not see what happened to me. I was changed. He took something or replaced something with this new unknowable thing. I knew I would see him again and I was not sure how I would react. He messaged me the next day while I was in lecture. Inquired about my schedule and when I would be out of my current lecture. He wanted to see me again. We meet up right after my class. He was sitting on a bench waiting for me. So tall blonde and gorgeous. A really beautiful fucking Aryan man and I was probably in trouble. Maybe we could just be friends, I thought. We sat and talked for a while then he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. The way he presents these walks they always seem so innocent. Older men have taught him how to be very nonthreatening in a public place.

After walking for awhile around the more private parts of campus he took me to a really secluded place I had never been before. Once he got me there I can tell he was going to fuck me. Like leading sheep to the slaughter. What a naive little girl I can be sometimes. When he started to kiss me I knew I was going to let him do anything he wanted to me. He said we needed to go to an even more private place for what he had in mind. I looked around and could not even hear a sound. How private was his private place? We got up and walked further away from the main campus. We were like in the woods, as far as I was concerned. He took me deep into the thick bushes and told me to take off my clothes. To my surprise I did so immediately. Without giving it much thought. Like it was something I just do everyday. I can not say why. The way he treated it. Walk over here with me. Get into those dirty bushes and take off all of your clothes.

He had me stand there naked for a while. So he could examine me I guess. He kept all of his clothes on and he started to touch and kiss me. He felt like he had just really fallen in love with me and could not help himself. Having his way with me in the bushes was all he could do to not go mad with lust. I wanted to fulfill his every desire. He kissed me deeply on my neck. "56 % of Black Women can't take care of themselves. Most of them have children who they need to support and can't get an education.." He kisses me on my checks. I close my eyes. "Well I'm not like all of them." I say for no good reason really. "I don't want you to be like all of them. They don't know how to protect themselves. To say no to things that might be dangerous for them" He says as his begins kissing me on my lips. "Get down on your knees." he tells me. I do as instructed. He then takes out his...will you know and I...well you know. He has me suck it until I begin to vomit it is so deep in my throat. "Doesn't that hurt you?" he inquires as I am still on my knees with him in my mouth. I look up at him and say "yes". He pushes it in deeper as he holds my head perfectly still. "But you like it don't you?" he asks/tells me as he holds my head much harder than before. I look up at him with tears running down my face, "yes" I answer.

He has me get up and turn around to face away from him. "bend over." I do as I am told. "mmm, look at you" He began to push his way inside of me. "A white girl would never let herself get degraded like this" he utters in disgust. A harsh reminder that the encounter is for degradation purposes. After he is done with me and looks at me like I am an animal and he just finished shitting next to it. "put your clothes back on. Hurry I need to be somewhere else soon" He begins to walk away as I get dressed fast. I don't want him to leave me here. I don't know where I am exactly or how to get out and I am nervous and well he just brutally raped fucked me so I was a bit out of my wits at the time. As soon as I get dressed I run to catch up with him. "Why are you following me like that?" It was a question but it felt like a dagger. "Because of what just happened?" I tried to explain. "Did you think anything like that would ever happen to you?" I shook my head no."Do you know why that just happened?" he asked me. I could not think of a response. So I just shook my head no again. "Because I like to conquer things. In war it is how you show you are winning" He told me. "But we are not in war." That was the plain truth as far as I could tell. "Of course we are. It is a cold war and it has been going on a  long time" The Math Tutor kindly let me know. "What just happened with us is going to keep happening until I knock you up. Then I am am going to never talk to you again and you will have to raise the baby alone." Code fucking red this is no shook coming from a good German but yeah. Very romantic are not the two words that come to mind. "You are going to become a statistic like the girls I told you about." Thanks. as you can see he was a real dream come true. The entire statement just took me for a loop and I stopped walking. He kept going like this was all party line and nothing to be surprised by. Once he was a few feet ahead of me he looked back and said, in his calm casual tone, "are you coming?" I wanted to walk away. Yet we both knew I was not going to do that. This is the way certain men tame radical feminists, one which I certainly was no more. I walked faster to catch up with him. We walked back across campus, him with his usual casual stroll. Me covered in his cum and walking slightly behind him, completely conquered and tamed. I saw some of the girls I knew from class. I would usually call out to them a wild hello. Today I just walked past them with my head down two steps behind the taller more power Math Tutor. After all. I belonged to him now.

Люцифер Makes Me Wait

...and then I was like, I'll wait.

 I'll wait like a patient ballerina dancing on the tip of a razor blade. 

Like the girl you put into a cage in your heart. 

A cage with the smallest window and the most beautiful view. 

She sat and cried.

 You know, because we all know it's better that way

Learning to love it all because patience is what is needed

I have to learn that I can't have everything

But really why not

My legs are crossed, my hands in my lap

My back is ever so straight

I remember all the things you have taught me so far

Watch for the symbols

Wait for the call

Never teach them what you have taught me

Most importantly this is all just an experiment

Ending or beginning at any point in time

...now to exit my mind

Люцифер вчить мене чекати

DSM code F52.7...The Swimmer

This story is true and only printed here to amuse me, or maybe more. The names have been changed to protect the guilty and forgotten...

The Swimmer

I don't like the water. I've always been a very private girl and I find the water oceans, streams, lakes, or pools to be very public environments. Manly because I have never been ignored in the water. As early as I can remember I have been fondled while in the water. Boys can be cruel to girls with certain body types. We often forget certain beauty attracts certain madness. I attempt to be blind of my own attractiveness, but while in the water...well there is no privacy. The Swimmer was a Fascist. For his own protection but also out of pure boredom. I became a Fascist out of a lifelong desire for Roman levels on industrialized torture. And also for the boots. For as long as I can remember the idea of wearing steal toe leather boots...well maybe it all will not be said. 

The Swimmer enjoyed social experiments. Extreme Social Experiments. So he began to show me how the school world was similar to a concentration camp. With all the leaders and servants and captives. More details of this will be given in a later post entitled. "The Swimmer and The Master." What I did not know about the Swimmer when we began these Social Experiments was that well...why? Why was he a Fascist in the first place? Why did he feel he needed to protect my innocence at all cost? It was because someone had taken his. The entire performance was for this cruel little fat man...the swim coach. 

I hate team sports really. I didn't always. I loved Soccer and Basketball, and Hockey. Sports of violence. Where you can really break a nose or two. The Swimmer told me he hated sports because of coaches and the other people involved. In the next post I will go into more detail, about how he taught me to never take a shower during P.E. and to always change my clothes in private in a bathroom stall. Protection of the female body above all else was strictly enforced by The swimmer. So I became his creation. In silence, as Fascism is always preformed. 

Let's begin at this point to call The Swimmer, J. Why did J hate sports? Why did The Coach who taught our non sports related class always push us around and bully us? Why did he take our very private letters and tell J. he would talk to him about them in private...later? Where was later? I had no clue. What I do know is that one day after The Coach took our letters and told J. he would speak about this later, things between us changed. They became more extreme. J. became more violent. The Experiments became public and brutal, (more details to follow). Next time The Coach attempted to bend my little girl hand back and take our letters, J. stood up to fight him. We held on to the letters as J. threw himself on top of me and The Coach threw himself on top of J and started beating him. Right there in front of everyone. J. looked me right in my eyes and told me to eat the letter. Since our Experiments had covered me eating all sorts of strange objects (i.e. orange rinds, the industrial size napkins from inside of the girls bathroom, pins, erasers, and other such strange items). I seriously think he made me eat tape once. But I diverge. I had no problem just eating all three pages we had been sending back and forth between us. The point is we were kid fascists and this adult Fascist was not going to get always with trying to control us. Or so I thought. The Coach told J. he was going to really have to explain this later. J. did not give a fuck and since I knew he hated sports there was no way The Coach could do anything to him anyway. Right. 

The next day it seems, but maybe it was some time the same week. My friend, lets just call her, L. Invited me to go to one of her swim practices. I knew my friend L. loved to swim and was confident and good at it. Since I have my previous phobia to public water I never supported her in her sport. I jumped at this opportunity to go see her. After all she was the real Mermaid and all. What I did not know and what L. did not reveal until the last minute, is that her coach was going to be picking us up and taking us to the meet, or practice or whatever the fuck. I got nervous when L. told me we were going to be walking shortly down the block from her place to meet her coach. Because I did not know him and I hated coaches now after having to deal with The Coach abusing J. and myself on a daily basis, and disrupting our Sexual Social Experiments. The Coach was always trying to convince me to become a fucking Cheerleader, so I figured he must have been the stupid Football Coach. J. always told me to ignore him when he requested private talks with me about my very personal letters to J. that he had forced J. to hand over to him. He sometimes found time to talk to me about his goals for me as a mini skirt wearing Cheerleader and J. always found time to pull me away from him right before...I don't know what. 

When L.'s coach pulled up to let us in the car. I think I might have actually thrown up when I saw that her coach was The Coach. My only thought as I climbed into his car was that, A. he has read all of J's and my personal words, and B. does he fucking coach everything? Because in my mind this asshole had to be the football coach. The way he bullied J. it just had football written allover it. I wanted to run and grab L. and tell her everything. But what would it mean to her at this point? I didn't even understand. I believe at one point she told me he requested that I come with her to this meet or practiced or whatever the fuck. I was thinking the whole way there, why the fuck? 

Once I got to the school. The God awful institute of education and brutality. I waited for L. to get dressed, or undressed as swimmers do. While she was in the locker room or what have you The Coach wanted to talk to me. Understand I had avoided him all semester and now I was alone with him and in public. What the fuck and of course he wanted to finally talk to me. For what, I wondered? When the boy swimmers came out I was in a sort of state of shock to see J. there is his Speedo. Like what? He was a swimmer. The Fascist, who never allowed me to wear less then six items of clothing including a collar was a fucking swimmer. And captain crazy who left me bruised way too often from snatching letters out of my hands was his coach. Fade to black because at this point I was ready to pass out. Like for real. I mean the implications. I mean the everything. They knew each other intimately the entire time. This old man knew everything. Because J. had showed him and at this point it was clear, obviously told him everything. What level of perversion is this? 

I could go through all of my emotions at this point. To tell you how afraid I was. How I was trapped and J. was trapped and how L. never even knew any of this, or how I could not even begin to...well process the idea of it all. I wanted to run, but to where and to whom? The Coach took me to the side and began to explain what he wanted me there for. He told me he wanted me to see J. He asked me to explain what I saw. To tell him what I though about J's body. All I could really do was cry. So I cried. It was like no one even knew I was crying but I fucking cried as The Coach begin to explain to me what he thought about J's body and to remind me I could still become a cheerleader and all the benefits that would come with such an opportunity. I looked at the place and I just wanted to be Drew Barrymore so I could burn the whole thing down with my eyes. But instead I cried. Fade to red. I can not even remember how I made it back home. At some point J. came up to me to see what I was doing there and what the coach had been talking to me about. But he could tell by my face and I can tell by his he was terrified. By my presence? What if anything was he putting up with during those private talks about our letters? Fade to gray...I never went back to the class I had with The Swimmer again. I still wore his collar and the piercings he gave me. He began to withdraw more from the public places at school. I began to cover up even more than he taught me. But that could be attributed to The Master. He will be introduced in part II. "The Swimmer and The Master." 

- Angel Lisa 

Extreme Emotional Responses To Feminist Images

I've been beaten in my Bikini Kill t-shirt

I have had my Bikini Kill t-shirt thrown away

Someone has stolen my Bikini Kill t-shirt

Someone tired to hide my bikini Kill t-shirt

People have told me they straight out hate my Bikini Kill t-shirt

People have asked me what my Bikini Kill t-shirt is

Like they can smell it and it's making them physically ill

I have been asked not to wear my Bikini Kill t-shirt 

Strangers have thrown drinks on my Bikini Kill t-shirt

Strangers have called me a dyke in my Bikini Kill t-shirt

One day just like that it was gone

a black shirt with red letters

to hold up a mirror 

I just bought it to remember

so why all the abuse?

A Mirror In The Mind

It's absurd to be absurd 

Yet what else is there

Acceptance of this nothingness

Delusion in reality

We are the leaders on the forefront
Of modern thought

What are we thinking

We are not

We are reflecting

Can you see us not

Dressed in robes of the abstract

A modern parade painted black

This is a declaration 

A return to Dadaism

And the new world of non separation 

This is not a poem

It is art

We are not a people

We are a thought

A Return To Dada

Life is a clumsy accident

a child bent over the curb

chocking on gravel

Life is a circus of madness

A dance of eternal sadness

I cling to it

For without reality

There is only doom

Which forever looms

Like a nightingale on a cloud

Made of barbed wire

I live because I can not die

Death shall come

I shall wait

I only kiss madmen until then

When my Demons are reveled as Angels

And I am reveled as one God's Science Project

Left among the rubble

In a grave of colors

Beats the heart of an artist

Or something or another

Blood and Cruelty (Fan Fiction, really)

  Does he understand or care that I sleep better in his tight space. I know he locks me away so I don't bother him while he is sleeping. Plus I really don't deserve to be in his bed. He is so much more powerful than I can ever hope to be. He smells so good and takes up so much space in bed. In the place he puts me I feel his love. As he chains me to his bed and gags me, as he blindfolds me. I feel his breath on my neck, whispering for me not to hold back my cries. I can't believe he thinks I would hold anything back? I want him to know I appreciate the pain he gives me. The freedom he gives me to let everything out. Where would I be without what he has taught me? I feel so free and beautiful in the special place he has given me. After he finishes with me, after he has cum and let me cum. After he has released me from his chains on his bed. He gives me my special gear. My sleep gear. He ties me up in the bondage of night. Places my special anal plug deep inside of my ass. It's always a surprise how gentle he is when placing it inside. Even though he does not use lube for anal sex. He uses it for the anal plug I sleep in. I always feel such exhilaration as he leads me to his cage, on my knees, by the chain made into the plug. When he places me inside, I look up at him with tears in my eyes. Because I miss him at night. He always leaves me a little something so I don't cry about that all night. Right before he closes the metal gate shut. As I lay down in my tight space in his closet. He says, "Open your mouth my little pig." When I do with my eyes open, so eager for one last look at him. One last taste of him. When I have my eyes and mouth open. He looks at me and says, "wider". I know he wants me to open my mouth wide until it really hurts. And I am. But I know he wants me to try harder. So I open my mouth until my skins tears ever so slightly. When he is satisfied with looking at me like that. He makes a sound from deep down in his throat. And spits right into my mouth. I feel it in the back of my throat. I taste it on my tongue. He looks at me a little longer. Laying there with my mouth open looking into his eyes, with his spit in my mouth. He says, "What do you say, slut?" I answer "thank you, Sir." He closes the gate. I close my eyes. He walks away in silence. He turns out the light and closes the closet door. I can hear him when he sits on the bed and picks up his guitar. As he plays I wonder if he is singing me to sleep or just writing new songs? I know it's the latter. But I sleep like a baby anyway.

When I awake in the morning I wonder if it's too early for him. Is he awake yet, I wonder. probably not. It seemed he stayed up all night smoking and writing new songs. I lay very still and try not to wet the mat. It's very hard because I sort of have to pee. I weigh the thought in my head. If he is awake he will be in to wake me soon enough, giving me time to ask for permission to use the bathroom. If he is still sleeping, I'll have to deal with the consequence of wetting the mat. The last time I was in this very situation Sir told me if I could not control myself (which I can't) I would have to sleep on the wet mate for a few days, or sleep with no mat until I learned to control myself. I can't control myself so I close my eyes and return to sleep. I dream of his bed and how warm it would be if I were laying next to him. This leads to my regretting talking back three weeks ago, the action that lead me to sleeping in my Spacial Place...well in the first place. 

I hear his Blackberry buzz with a text message, maybe he is awake. I open my eyes with excitement. I can not hear him move. Does he respond to his phone? Did he even hear it? I hear him move on his bed. I turn over and start sucking my thumb to distract me from all of the excitement of Sir being definitely awake and my having to pee. Only it doesn't work and I feel the wet begin to leak out onto the mat. I try to go back to sleep, it's not like he ever wants to be bothered when he first wakes up. To my surprise he opens the closet door and turns on the light. Sir is so beautiful first thing in the morning. He is like some Satanic Angel with his clothes off like this. He looks sleepy as he runs his fingers through his short black hair. My eyes are not fully adjusted but his eyes are still the most beautiful sight I have seen in my lifetime. 

He kicks the cage with his foot a little. "Piggy, wake up I have a meeting this morning." I move around a bit so he can see that I am indeed awake without me having to take my thumb out of my mouth. It is now being sucked with anticipation. I don't want him to know that I have wet myself. Especially now knowing that he has this morning meeting. Meaning I will take extra time which is always frowned upon by Sir. Extra attention cleaning my mess. He picks out a suit and a Black London Fog Coat to match. "I'll be back to deal with you in a moment." Fuck, that means I have to lay here in my own mess until he is dressed. That should take about an hour. So I fall back to sleep. 

I'm awaken by his Black Doc Marten boot kicking the outside of the metal cage hard. "Pig, time to get the fuck up. We have twenty minutes to get you clean and dressed and down to the kitchen."  I'm awake all shocked from the cage rattling and the screaming. "I may need more time than that, Sir." I say to him. "Why, are you a little Pissy Pants again?" Fuck, why does he always know. "Yes, Sir" I answer already crying, like he gives a shit.  He gets down on his knees so he can look me right in the face. " No breakfast for you this morning and I'm going to have to start keeping you out in the backyard if you can't control yourself, Pissy Pants."  I look up at him still in tears.  He unlocks the cage and places a collar around my neck. He attaches a leash onto it. Takes me out of the cage and removes his plug. He then leads me out of the closet by my leash. I can see the frustration in his eyes as he looks at the wet mat. He begins to drag me across the floor to the bathroom. "Hurry the fuck up,  Pissy you only have twenty minutes. Are you fucking deaf?" He kicks me hard in the ass with his boot  in order to speed up the process of  me being dragged to the bathroom. 

It's still warm on the bathroom floor because of him steaming up the bathroom while he got ready. I lay on the floor strangely enjoying the warmth and the dryness. At this point he usually takes off my collar so I can shower and get dressed. This time he leaves me laying on the floor and begins filling the bathtub with water. Does he want me to bath in under twenty minutes? I wonder. After the tub is full he walks back over to me laying on the floor. He picks up my leash and pulls me up towards him. "Get up." I do as I am instructed and stand up as straight as I can. Bad posture is not allowed by Sir even in this circumstance. "I don't know if I can bath in under twenty minutes, Sir." I say to him. "Did I say you can make a fucking peep?" I shake my head no. He Begins to undo his cuff links, rolls up his sleeves and I can tell by the way he removes my collar and walks me over to the tube that he is going to bath me himself. This could prove to be a bit romantic. 

I get in the warm water. It feels so good since I was cold and wet half of the morning. He sits in a chair near the edge of the bathtub, gets a sponge and rubs my back and exposed chest. Then he gets it nice and wet and lets it drip over my head. This feels very nice and is going to take more than twenty minutes. I want to remind him that he said we only have twenty minutes. But I know better than to remind Sir of anything.  He begins to run his fingers through my hair gently kissing me on the forehead. I look into his beautiful eyes and smile. He smiles back and I think he mouths I love you. After which he grabs a hold of my hair tightly and proceeds to drown me forcefully in the tub. It is a full head and body dunking action that immediately takes my breath away. This is repeated over and over again for five minutes. I kick and scream and hit both my legs and elbows on the porcelain. I can hear him laughing as I come up a mere second for air. Up and down I go. The fucker is drowning me and he thinks it is funny. I'm not sure how much water I have snorted or swallowed and I know he does not care. For a minute I contemplate my own death. Am I stupid enough to let him drown me? Is Sir going to kill me like this? All of these thoughts go through my head for the next ten minutes. He holds me down under the water for what seems like a lifetime but is only two minutes. When he finally takes his hands off of my hair and face I sit upright in the tub and catch my breath. "All of that fucking splashing and you manged not to get me wet. Good Girl, because that would have landed you in the Gimp house unsupervised today." I barely comprehend as I try to catch my breath. "Get dressed, you have ten minutes." He hands me a towel and walks out of the bathroom. 

I get dressed in the clothes he has laid out for me on his bed. A red baby doll dress, black and white striped tights, a black and white spiked collar, and White Doc martens. I make up the bed and go downstairs with one minute to spare. I see him check his phone laying on the kitchen table for the time. He does not tell me I did a good job getting cleaned and dressed in under twenty minutes. But he smiles so I know he is proud of me. He is at the table eating toast, fruit, and vegan pancakes he had his chef make for our breakfast. I sit down across from him at the table in front of my plate. It's a mirror of his meal. I am very hungry after the night of sex and punishment. Not to mention the bath he just gave me. Before I begin to eat. He reminds me because of my wetting the mat I will not be eating breakfast this morning. I smile and thank him. I drink some ice water while he finishes his breakfast. He reminds me to make sure the bathroom and bedroom are clean before he gets home this afternoon and to clean up my place in the closet. "Don't touch the mat in the cage. You are going to sleep on it again tonight, Pissy Pants. I have to train you like a little fucking dog I see." After he is done with breakfast we go into the living room so he can pick up his keys and coat. He gives me my instructions for the day. In addition to the upstairs rooms I'm to clean the kitchen and back patio. Take his suits to the dry-cleaner, clean all of the linen and not eat a single thing all day. "If I suspect you put anything in that filthy mouth of yours you will be punished...and I punish severely. Do you understand?" I wonder if he would know if I just had a little something? Yes, I know he would so I answer with "yes, Sir." It's not like he can't tell if I am lying by looking right at me. He gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass and is out the front door. I go upstairs to begin my list of chores. 

I play his music loud as it can go to keep me company. The hard rock helps me get through the work faster.
....................

I rush to the window to watch him get into his car and drive away. As I watch him get into his Aston Martin DSB I wonder if I made him happy today. Either way it's a long day of missing him. I get to work on the list he left me working through the itching bruises. I really need to put peroxide and cream on my back. I go collect the linen from all of the rooms and take it over to the laundry cottage out back.  Then I run back upstairs to grab the things for the cleaners. I also grab some big shades. I have a few bruises on my face and I despise the way the women who work there look at me from over the counter. I take a quick look into the mirror and the bruises are very clear and swollen and so are the ones on my lip. Maybe a little lipstick. Fucking bitches I really hate having to go out in the daytime. I pick up the grocery list he left on the entrance table.

I have all of my duties performed  including making a dinner that I could not eat. He calls at 2:30 to make sure I was done and to tell me we had a special task because it had began to rain. He began with detailed instruction of what I was to wear and how I was to remember my posture. "Go outside and sit in the garden out front until I tell you to move. Take the phone with you." I run upstairs and put on the white lace cami and pink underwear like instructed and head out to the front garden. It is pouring down and I am cold. The no shoe part of the his instructions may prove to be the hardest part. I am already freezing when I sit down in the chair. I can see the neighbors from here and of course if they are not blind they can clearly see me. I hope this is not going to be a long exercise. I start to ask him since he is still on the phone but I think again and decide not to. "Are you sitting down yet? he ask. I answer yes. "Are you cold? he ask. I answer yes. "No you are not. Use your mind to regulate your temperature" he says. I think to ask if my mind can stop the rain but I know better and just say nothing. I stay in this position for one hour. He stays silent on the other end of the phone."Are you still cold?" I finally hear him say. Yes I answer. "That's because you are not regulating your temperature. Start with your feet and just relax." Since my feet are frozen they can not be relaxed. I attempt to regulate them for the next thirty minutes. I finally hear him on the other end of the phone. He tells me he will call me back and not to move until he says so.

At 6Pm he calls me back to say he is down the street. I had almost fell asleep sitting there. Of course my neighbors walking by asking me why I was sitting out in the garden in the rain kept me active. It was testament to their ultra polite English background that they did not mention my being in underwear. Master pulls into the driveway and I contain my need to run into his arms. My muscles are really sore at this point. He gets out of the car with his Guy De Jean Umbrella. He walks over to me and rubs my wet head. He kisses me on the forehead. "Thank you for doing this for me. You look so beautiful right now. I'll be right out to get you." He turns around and walks into the house. I wait outside for him in the pouring rain until 9pm. I wonder what he is doing while I wait. Eating his dinner. Taking off his clothes. Taking a shower. Working on songs. The cold turns to numb than to pride in my heart at the level of discipline I am showing. I really want to make master proud of me. Sometimes I think it is too hard, but at moments like this when I am offered such an opportunity. It's hard not to be a little overwhelmed with joy at my level of discipline. He has taught me so much and I am so thankful. I wonder if he realizes how much I love him when my neighbor walks over. "Are you okay sweetheart?" Yes I answer not looking at him. "You've been out here for a while, aren't you cold" I'm fine, thank you for asking Superman. Still not looking at him I answer, "Thank you, I am fine." I see him go to the front door. Master opens it and they begin to talk. I see the neighbor guy immediately start to laugh and I know he has been told the truth about why I am out here. He looks at me again and starts to say something but just smiles and walks away. I hear Sir close the door behind him.

It is 10pm when he finally calls me to say I can come inside.

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

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. 

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. 

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. 

"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.