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| kaoskitten's bits are best described as her "passionate hamster". |
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Comments: Read 8 or Add Your Own.
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Warmth against me, soft breath, the faint staccato of heart rythym barely perceptible as I lay my face to your breast. Held warm and close, for comfort, I am surrounded by your limbs and the comforter around us both. Time passes. I feel kept there, safe, and beginning the tiniest of movements, my fingertips tracing tiny circles on your belly, repeating tiny spirals. A tiny smile traces my lips when I realize that small beat rythym under my cheek moves just a bit faster with each swirl. I could hold you forever like this, just feeling your warmth against me, your peace radiating into me, lulling me and easing the jitters I carry with me all too often. This close comfortable passivity encompasses me, I trance into my bubble, barely feeling your fingertips respond in kind, a conversation between us of swirls and dips, of feather light contact, of touch. I close my eyes. In that velvet dark I feel you more completely, those tiny contact points growing in sensation as I focus on it alone. My cheek moves against you, soft skin and velvet nap. I almost feel small movement in me, as though each tiny touch made me want to squirm suddenly, a miniaturized live wire, tiny sparks of attentive sensation. I barely shift and yet your grasp grows snug for but a moment and then stillness, but your fingers, circling still. I bathe in that small heaven, drifting into dreams with your marvelous hands upon me...
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Because I'm enjoying the reaction this got in my personal journal, I've crossposted it. Please ignore it if you've already seen it.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, January 27th, 2004
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So so long since i have felt more than thee merest, shallowest and most meaningless of female caresses. It is a liberty taken for granted when one is a sex-worker...sexual caresses by a woman make s a selling point to the pervs. But so long, since I have felt the type of touch that reaches past the skin, into the gut, heart, head.
I have been isolated and alone, seperated from the Yin for far too long.
I want to be fed that sweet feminine energy as though they were seeds of the ripest pomegranite, fallen from the tree, lush with juice, bursting. that is how i feel....bursting.
Each tiny fragment of welling passion a seed unto itself, waiting to burst upon the tongue of fervent desire. Each dribble of red down the chin of those to whom I feed myself willing a mark upon a decadent hunger.
Bite me and the red flows sweet and tart upon her lips.
She's got a power beyond my ability to sense. When she is near I flouresce like blood under the black lighting of forensic seekers.
But she is also open and waiting to be the feast, for my forensic eye upon her bleeding heart.
Bless me Mother, for I have sinned.
As I will again.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, September 23rd, 2003
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I studied the dust on the ceiling fan blades as the latest of the last half dozen socially inept perverts kept mindlessly droning,droning,drrroooooonnnnniiing; my poise kept automatic vigil against tentacle attacks. Mindless work,mindless environment, mindless inebriate masses all around. Drink had set the whole place askew. Customers sat somnambulistic,drooling,a dancer spun like an ecstatic saint onstage. Desperate intentions all around...desperate for moneysexcompanyfriendssafetysecuritylove. Desperate like you or I, and happy to be desperate for the impossible,for the girl you'll never approach in reality, for the guy I'd never consider seeing in even the most passing of ways were we to meet outside this conclave of frustrated intentions. Anouther day anouther dollar. Money is the root of all evil,let me cleanse you of your sins....a friend in greed is a friend indeed. Somewhere inside me I fancy my liver making tiny sounds to accent its death throes. Sip ,sip, I'm already drunk, hell I should have eaten today,whoops, I spilled. Get up when the tentacles stray,go change into my defensive dressing...pants,pants are awkward to get into and cover well. No,make that a one piece pantsuit...like fucking armour,see if you can molest me in that, motherfucker.Rolling along,avoiding the sea of hands and prodding invading digits. Kick a passerby,too drunk to noticed he stepped on me. Endure politeness with self aggrandizing insecure urban professionals. I wander mentally; do men in general need something illict to get excited like this? Belligerent for something on the side....don't forget this isn't real life....I can see his mouth moving but I can only hear a crackling static....
I am relieved the overstimulation is over, and happily drown in sleep.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, September 18th, 2003
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The sky ran dark like a diluted ink stain. Sidewalk glitter, broken glass, always looking for a new fix. Red stilettoes clackclackclack popping pebbles aside with each step. Walking softly past soundless evening denizens, each attending to a personal hell nurtured in this broth of sin and addictions. A fire blazes briefly and I breathe smoke, dragonlike and frigid.
Inward to the door I step aside. Fumble and crash of keys, entrance. I toss my damp leather coat into the darkest corner of the room. Silence, a sense of misplacement. I can almost scent the sour colored emptiness coming from my bedroom. I stride in, angry. How dare he,after all this time.. I saw his shape,dimly outlined by the lamplight outside the window. In my bed.
I snapped on lights. There was a strong moment of wordless clashing, eyes to eyes blazing fire and razors. He sat up on my bed. The sheet slid off . Magnetized, I slid in next to him. His gaze still burned and cut me. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy the sharpness,the heat. I enjoyed the lack of socially acceptable courting. I used him. He all but begged for using.
Frantic, hasty removal of buttons, slither of fabric away. He rarely kisses me but his gestures are full of teeth and nail. I always bruise. I savor it. I'm an addict for it.
Inside my brain were mountains of hungry insistance stacked high. I killed them off, a few at a time. Pieces of the corpses were constantly falling off the stacks and jostling my words and pushing my body. He knew this.He was already cast away. He was first drawn by the coldness and remained for the drama of the change. Even, when I told him to be gone from my life, at the moment I left him in my fury of disdain, he had had an erection.
He doesn't know me now, whom I had become. He never imagined or wished to know. Crawl around, I had said. From behind, knees on the floor, crawling, fucking. I incited him until he heard everything in the room answer him, and answer me, wordless and violent. We fell together, scattered like a pile of broken porcelain, once beauty of one kind, now of another. Have to crawl around, yes. Lust made me everything.He felt as if he were nothing, and it didn't bother him. I squeezed his balls roughly during a long spasm,a twisting, and these clutches were painful accidents never mentioned. It was MY torment, and it didn't bother him.Belittling aroused him, and selfish need was his food. He tore into it, drooling inside. He tore into me like raw meat. I exacted my pains from him, but I was equally broken.
I let him sleep at the foot of the bed. It was my gift.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, September 6th, 2003
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Nights like this can't happen too often. Part of some other age, echos of where sin factories once began. Vaudville echos. Pomba Gira trances. Soft corrosion tainting the taut, artificially sculpted automaton bodies, tempting ripe protrusions of surgically enhanced womanhood beckoning. And the whole factory simply swallowing you down to it's gullet, where its warm...ripe,fermenting under your very feet.....
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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"You are lost and broken"
I heard as I walked into her home, dark and sheltered as any cave. I was startled by her gravelly voice as it came from the shadowy depths of the adjoining hallway. Exiting the bedroom, she languidly crossed the room with her ever present regal stance, her warm deep eyes seeing me to my center. I looked downwards, shamed at her assessment. I looked downward at my bedraggled blouse, my torn hose, soiled bra strap peeking above the slacking neckline. The soles of my feet hurt with confinement. Beneath the outer clothing, I felt some boning in my undergarment gouging my flesh cruelly. I felt common. I dropped dramatically upon her couch, sighing.
"I am." She had crossed the room to loom above me, holding an offering of a hot cup in her hands, crisscrossed with lines and soft fleshy folds to mark time's passing. There was wisdom in her hands.
"Why do you let them? You soak up all of the misery they carry, and they are never grateful." She sat down besides me, those miraculous hands clasping mine, as the soft plush of her hips sunk the cushions of the old velvet settee.
"I don't mean to, Madame…I cannot help it. They place themselves in my care, and I administer, as I know. I am good, they are always brought to a higher plateau"
"Yet, you leave that cell with the sorrows they offer you, coating you like soot. Come, I know what you need. You need to not be responsible for yourself for a time."
She helped lift me with surprising strength, and led me to the cool tiled spaciousness of her bathroom, lighting candles after starting the water running into the large Victorian tub.
"Grace and alacrity." She gently reminded me as I began to strip off my clothing haphazardly and without thought. I immediately brought myself to the present, and completed my task with careful movements. I fought to maintain the expected stance as I struggled with the laces and hooks of my corset. Once stripped, she nodded her approval, and took my clothing with her as she quietly left the room. I slid into the sweetly scented water, entertaining a brief image of drowning as I sunk below the foamy steaming surface. I floated, amniotic. After some release of my thoughts, I began preparations. "Grace & Alacrity" I said to myself as I carefully soaped, shaved and rinsed. I emerged as Venus, sandalwood steam rising from my nakedness. I dry myself and kneel upon the rug, coming into a quieter and vulnerable headspace. I noticed that she had set a goblet on the vanity, and on her personal stationary, a fine filigree script instructing me simply "When you are ready." I sniffed at the cup, which was warm. Wine and spices. I sipped, my face momentarily crinkled at the bitter taste of valerian, present beneath the cinnamon and cardamom of her herb craft. I let the draught take me deeper into warm introspection. I readied myself, and rose. I blew out all but one candle, which I took to light my way.
Soft imported carpets lined the hallway, which was rich with antiques and lit with artfully obscured mood lighting. Madame's house had always reflected her very well. It had a rich, antiquated atmosphere, both formal and relaxed, simultaneously. It was warm, cozy…and dark. It was elegant and sensual. It was educated and artistic. It was secretive. There was much to admire. No matter- Blessedly, I was to lose all awareness of my surroundings, soon enough. All awareness but that which Madame felt suitable. I sighed in relief as I approached the door to what Madame calls her 'Sanctum'. Here she would be free, ego-less and floating. Here, lost and broken would be enacted, and then she would be re-birthed and made in Madame's image, as she had before. She set the candle down, extinguishing it as she knelt before the door. Pulling it open, she crept in on all fours as silently as she could.
There was darkness all around, except for a tray that held a dozen lit candles upon an altar. Madame was sitting, Japanese style on a zazu cushion, eyes closed in meditation. She was absolutely still, except for those marvelous aged hands, stroking softly the nap of the crimson strips of suede that spilled across her lap onto the floor. The strips terminated in a polished wood handle held loosely in her other hand. I crept to her left, to my mat on the floor. I sank down gratefully into a pose not unlike that of a worshipful Muslim, showing humility and acceptance. I did not raise my head as I heard Madame rise, and smiled to myself at the soft displacement of air by those crimson suede strips as they fell to her side
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"Rise." Her tone had lost its subdued tone. It was a voice of marble and oak. I kept my eyes down and rose. I followed her with a practiced ease. I felt the emotional wilt that had overcome me earlier fade into the stillness. I am led in procession to the far wall. Eyehooks run the wall- up, down, across. I stop abruptly at her sign, three feet away from and facing the wall. I close my eyes and listen to Madame move about me. My arms are raised and she begins diligently ensnaring me in rope. The rope is cotton, velvety with use and repeated washings. It is a lovely feeling, being encompassed with knots and lattices. She raises one leg, balancing me even as she folds that leg up and binds it, ankle to my thigh. I lean slightly forward. She pulls one of my arms up and forward, binding my wrist and anchoring the trailing rope somewhere overhead. The other she binds folded behind my back. After a quick look over, she places two chopsticks into my mouth, and braces them in place with hemp twine, forming a bit. She further secures it by wrapping and knotting the hanging ends into my ponytail. She sits down beyond my sight to admire her work. I must focus in order not to wobble. It is difficult.....
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I've not had enough.More.I want.There is little beyond yearning.I've had but a taste,and yet I wasn't truly there,like a succubus.I was an illusion of something else,a disguise,a mask...One body is as good as the next as long as a person can pretend.I was a phantom fuck.Unfortunately,that simply makes me writhe with want need desire lust.....yeah,you've heard it all before.So have I.
Goddamn it.
Fuck me.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, November 30th, 2002
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Lounging in the dim bed,Christmas lights shedding a soft electric glow,I lay against your chest,feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath my cheek.Your skin is warm.I press my belly to your hip,undulating , purring very softly.You barely turn your lips in a curl.I leap up and bite your mouth,laughing,and our teeth clash.You kiss away the small flash of pain my mouth encounters...tongues entwine,and I am astride suddenly,but a breath of space between us.I play with you,toy with teasing kisses and enticing wet soundless words.I pull away again and again,rewarding you unexpectedly with brief contact,until you can't stand it and smash your mouth to mine.We kiss in parries and feignts.I break away,flee the bed,giggling to hide behind the large mirror.I smile broadly,turning it to face you,a clear view...and you seem shy,curling a bit.I slide to you,kissing,biting,turning to look over my shoulder and into you eyes first in the mirror,then directly.I move to front,my back against you,sitting between your legs,and set your hands on my small breasts.I moan as you knead,giggle when you pinch,and begin to touch myself ,grinning slyly into the mirror,hoping to entrance you....When you attention is had,time to change the view....I turn,kneel,and swallow you in degrees,looking up to you,who is enraptured with not only my smiling eyes,but the reflection of my backside ....then I am behind you,we have switched,and I want you to do the same,to show me how you pleasure yourself in the mirror,as I look into your eyes,caress you,drink you in,let you see what I see....
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, November 27th, 2002
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Thinking,late nights hazed in a swirl of words,texts,emoticon expression in a virtual world of people too real to fathom.Shadows,satyrs,skins and sylphs dancing to the drumbeat heart of all the world's passions condensed,ridden like wild horses,torrenting.I am in a land far from home,yet glimpse back to see it so near me in my heart.I walk beyond,to the seraglio,seeking the warm scents of animals like me,games and feints,of promises made with a glance,secrets told with each sigh.Spices,perfumes and lingering corruption in the air laden with rut,with hate,with fire and blood beneath the surfaces of our chosen masks.And so we glance.Eyes dart,pinpricking my brain with the strangest surges of inspiration.I see shadows in my realm now.They linger.I wait.
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Friday, November 8th, 2002
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Friday, October 11th, 2002
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There is such aching when you hold my form against you.I grow dizzy....such kissing,hands softly tracing my curves.I mold my fingers to your ribcage,slender and pale.There are histories in your skin,symbols scribed in scars.I trace them,lightly,reverentially.There is a stunning purity in your need.I have so long been far-flung from the Pure.Yet,it shines in you,uncorrupt.I feel a distant resonance in me that only surprises me with each pulse of my blood....a beat driven faster by your naked skin on mine.Embrace me and invade my senses.Give to me the flesh of your lips for my nourishment.Draw your teeth with force into mine.Rend me asunder-I want to fill you with the crimson blood of my passion.For this I know,Passion...forever tides of fire and flare,of fantasy and flesh.Passion consumes me.It is the only way I know how to live.I wish to call you,like a Siren,into this devouring Sea,to drown in Passion.You will feel it fill your lungs and gut and head,and never again will shadow-beasts gnaw at your soul,for Passion is their bane.And I will offer you your retribution...impale me,stab me to the quick,again and again with furtive lust.Give to me the gift of La Petite Mort,kill me again and again and breathe life into me once more.Make me call out ancient wordless cries in homage to Desire.Each hiss of quick-drawn breath 'twixt teeth is a song to a legion of lust-devils that clutch at us,whispering ephemeral promises.I can only hold you tighter....but should I slip away in the night,remember that this Sea will caress me,and drown me not,unwilling....
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Tuesday, September 17th, 2002
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Thursday, September 12th, 2002
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Wednesday, September 11th, 2002
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It's just so humiliating,to feel one's hormones spin quickly beyond my own control,reducing me to a squirming,begging puddle of WANT.I feel it overcome me slowly,knowing what comes next,and masochistically holding off,crossing my legs,egging it on with lurid pornographic thoughts,vivid visions to my mind's eye of slick hot skin and red haze.I could stop the torrent of lasciviousness,simply by mastering my own flesh with my knowing slender fingers,but I let it go on,unattended,let wild,rousting the beastly self to howl at the moon in heat.I think I like to devolve into this delirium,like a drug almost,and just watching it grow,exponentially....sparks to heat to raging inferno.
When it rages along,I hit a state of depravity.I will aggressively insist,I want you to fuck me NOW....then with a desperate quiver in my voice,my eyes betray me and my begging is blatant.I am a shameless whore,a slut,a trollop.I am driven by my cunt,which eases any other thoughts from my mind beyond the sexlustsmutporneroticfuckmenow continuum.I am swollen,I feel slickness between the juncture of my pillow thighs.My pelvis pulses with the dull hum of desire.My hands are driven by their own will to attend my writhing form.I will pull you in with me,if you are close enough,and devour you with hungry lips and mouth...hungry like a worshipping Bacchante.I grunt and plead and gasp and scream as I masticate your flesh to nourish me.I pull and pull you in even as you pound me down,stronger than gravity,earthquake quivers shaking.I want you to fuck me so hard,I feel like you are breaking me.I want to feel invaded and violate.Spill obscenities from your cruel mouth and I will only beg you more,MORE.I will burn and burn,even as you pound my ashes into the earth.
but always,I beg you...
beg....
MORE....
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Monday, September 9th, 2002
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I've hit a delirious,punch drunk overtired state of insanely physical craving.I WANT.Even as I type this my own hands are all over myself....I feel overheated.For a girl with such tiny breasts,when I am this electric,wearing a wifebeater still seems obscene.....I like the way a wifebeater looks on small breasts,with no need for a bra,nipples impossible to overlook.The top is red,prefect for my mood,and says 'Bad Kitty' on it.I have red lace with black trim panties,and my legs are demurely crossed,but I am so very aware of the heat there.Now what?This is so funny,looking at the mirror of my words,a verbal narcissistic fest I use to try an inspire myself to be heated, frustrated,beautiful...and enjoying the squirmy,slightly uncomfortable dull throb of unfulfilled desire.I type words...I need stronger words,but as I'm typing them,it seems so much like talking dirty to oneself...I put on a song,called 'Lick' from the movie 'XXX'....sexy....this beat makes me want to be on my knees,splayed,pushed forward and devoured....flesh and sweat to lick and bite and bruise and savor.I have bruises from bites and playful flirting punches this last weekend,and I touch them,pressing,making them hurt and smiling because these hurts brought such pleasure.I want to just keep my body humming along like this for a little while,with no intention of fufillment.Just let me hum,let it follow me into my bed,my sleep.i want my dreams invaded with lurid technicolor visions.I will dream perhaps one of my recurring themes,one that always stirs me deepest....I am a priestess,a channel for power to be conducted to the gods,and that power is lust,and fire and rut...I am taken by the spirit and mount the lap of Priapus,impaled in deep worship to that god,even as his male devotees await ,each in turn to worship at his temple via the blessing of my body,my flesh conduit of the Divine,and I can never have enough,there is always more want....
dear god,I can't stay by this monitor a moment longer.I now take myself,and my lusts,to bed.Send me dreams,all whom are able,send me lascivious,dark,enveloping,overwhelming dreamforms to violate the sanctity of my rest....
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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It is a well known fact that quite often,we beings known as humans wallow in the want for what we cannot have.I know,both in the past and now,that is a true trait I have,bearing witness to my humanity.I desire.I want.I fantasize...and know it is just a little bubble of a delusion,that for a thousand reasons,I cannot pursue,they may never reciprocate,that the sexual tension builds and lingers....yet I love that WANT,never satisfied.I enjoy the sheer masochism,the drama,the gothic self inflicted suffering that only such forbidden fruit draws from within me.I glance at the object of my desires,my stomach flutters,my gut turns warm tumbles over to roll in the bottom of my belly in fast small circles,orbiting the bowl of my pelvis.My mind flashes me visions of temptation,violation,passion,fire and force so vivid I close my eyes lest the lust be so obvious.Perhaps he knows my flush,reads my soft body language that alerts his instincts to the suffusing heat of wantonness I try my best to camoflage.Perhaps he is unaware of the supernova flare wrapped within my skin.But I bathe in its delicious suffocation,even as it burns me and I smolder....
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Wednesday, September 4th, 2002
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The lightning shorted out all the streetlights...so I ran out into the darkness and ran about half nekkid....how NICE!
I should probably shut down the computer then....as I sit here still wet and half naked....
I know.
I'll go wait on the porch,like this,lights out,and wait in ambush for J to come home from work any moment now...throwing myself naked at him in the dark wet outdoors of my front stairs...even before his ride drives away....
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Tuesday, September 3rd, 2002
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I have a rather strange notion....
I have been poly so long,and so up-front about my philandering,I was wondering...does keeping an affair a secret change things?Does it add a thrill,the threat of being caught,the fear of red-handed betrayal?
does it make one more passionate and fervent?Anxious,anticipatory?Sneaking around,stealing short sweet moments of passion?
I'm tempted to find out.I don't think I'm *capable* of not letting it slip.Its been such normal behavior for me to blurt out everything,every last detail,sometimes beyond the need to know.
hmm.
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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kaoskitten's journal