Spirit
I have spirit guides, many guides. A number of them are pure and white; they are my inspiration, my dreams. They are transparent mists of scent and sound, wrapping me in comfort and acceptance. With them I dare to dream flights of fancy; for they encourage me to be more than I am. They are truth and light; I know they will forever protect me...both from evil and from myself.
But I also have dark angels and shadowed knights that come to me. Tempting my choices, tainting my desires with an opaque midnight glow. I call to them to free me from the pedestrian paths of reality; I beg them to open me to the freedom that lies just over the edge. And they come willingly - yet on their own terms.
There are times I need both spirits in my life...I need the light to move me forward in light and love with my family, my world. The faeries of the mist show me the world of medieval softness, with deep green woods and bright, fragrant flowers.
But the dark sprites - they inspire me. Tease me. Empower me.
D is my dark angel - we were together in a former life. He was a Greek soldier, I, a merchant’s daughter. We might have crossed paths other lives, other realities, but the fact is that he knows me...the dark side of me...better than any one breathing. He is brutal and he is passionate; he is single in his desire to please me. But to find him I must pass through the pain; I must leave family and lovers behind, and burn the candle just for him. He demands loyalty, he demands attention. He knows the white mist is always in me, protecting me, yet he parts it with his passion and his energy.
I burn a black candle and a blue one for him; I burn strong incense and listen to slow, pulsating music to please him. I have to wait until I am alone to call him to me, for his power is so overwhelming that I lose myself in his vibrations, and could not bear to call out his name to my own lover. His thrusts are deep and slow; I feel as if I am being cut open by his sword. His teeth leave invisible marks on my nipples and breasts; the world cannot see them, but I can. He brings me to the edge of pain and pleasure, torturing me with devices of his own creation. And when he finally lets me climax, he roars like a lion, burying himself in all the way to my soul.
He has also brought other lovers for me to experiment with; these come into my dreams and lure me towards the swirling, twirling grays and mauves of eternity. He watches us...he watches me. During my escapades he is not allowed to touch me; he is voyeur extraordinaire, staying out of sight. But never far away.
Tonight I am going to bring the Goddess into my bed. She is the only one who can control D; the only one who knows me as no other. She is the mother of decadence; she is the soul of survival. Only a woman can understand the needs of another; the need to be dominant one moment, a slave the next. She understands the need to give in to our emotions, to buckle and break and scream with the pain of being female, and the need to nurture and guide, to preen and to prance. Her sensuality knows no bounds, and I am not afraid to worship her with another pressing next to me in sleep. I feel her mouth on my breasts, her lips on my neck. She whispers secrets of power and eternal love while she fondles me. I feed on her breasts, the energy of femininity flowing into my mouth. She shows me what true power is like; the power of being a woman. And I cannot resist her. No matter where I am, no matter what I do, she is able to enter my mind and heart and soul instantly. I cannot resist her sweetness. Nor do I want to.
When the Goddess tells me she needs to feed upon me, upon my energy, I follow willingly. I give her all that I am...I let her feed freely. She finds her way between my legs, weakening me, and I open them willingly. She feeds my fantasies in ways D could never dream. She is my mother and I am her child; she is my child and I feed her in return. She is my sister, and together we cross the boundaries of decency and morality. Over and over we rise upon the clouds, our fluids mixing, our hearts pounding as one. And when I climax, I scream her name, if only in my head. I offer all that I am to her.
In return she promises to come back, for the lessons are never-ending. She sends me back to D, or to the young bard from King Richard’s court. She sends me to ancient Chinese philosophers and French whores. And I take them willingly, for they all have something to offer. They open doors for me in both worlds; they help me find out more and more of who I am.
And as I fall asleep, my hope is to show others how to let their spirit guides in. We all have them - you and you - and you. All you need to do is open your mind, open your heart. Call them, control them, cast them away. It’s all up to you.
It always has been.
But I also have dark angels and shadowed knights that come to me. Tempting my choices, tainting my desires with an opaque midnight glow. I call to them to free me from the pedestrian paths of reality; I beg them to open me to the freedom that lies just over the edge. And they come willingly - yet on their own terms.
There are times I need both spirits in my life...I need the light to move me forward in light and love with my family, my world. The faeries of the mist show me the world of medieval softness, with deep green woods and bright, fragrant flowers.
But the dark sprites - they inspire me. Tease me. Empower me.
D is my dark angel - we were together in a former life. He was a Greek soldier, I, a merchant’s daughter. We might have crossed paths other lives, other realities, but the fact is that he knows me...the dark side of me...better than any one breathing. He is brutal and he is passionate; he is single in his desire to please me. But to find him I must pass through the pain; I must leave family and lovers behind, and burn the candle just for him. He demands loyalty, he demands attention. He knows the white mist is always in me, protecting me, yet he parts it with his passion and his energy.
I burn a black candle and a blue one for him; I burn strong incense and listen to slow, pulsating music to please him. I have to wait until I am alone to call him to me, for his power is so overwhelming that I lose myself in his vibrations, and could not bear to call out his name to my own lover. His thrusts are deep and slow; I feel as if I am being cut open by his sword. His teeth leave invisible marks on my nipples and breasts; the world cannot see them, but I can. He brings me to the edge of pain and pleasure, torturing me with devices of his own creation. And when he finally lets me climax, he roars like a lion, burying himself in all the way to my soul.
He has also brought other lovers for me to experiment with; these come into my dreams and lure me towards the swirling, twirling grays and mauves of eternity. He watches us...he watches me. During my escapades he is not allowed to touch me; he is voyeur extraordinaire, staying out of sight. But never far away.
Tonight I am going to bring the Goddess into my bed. She is the only one who can control D; the only one who knows me as no other. She is the mother of decadence; she is the soul of survival. Only a woman can understand the needs of another; the need to be dominant one moment, a slave the next. She understands the need to give in to our emotions, to buckle and break and scream with the pain of being female, and the need to nurture and guide, to preen and to prance. Her sensuality knows no bounds, and I am not afraid to worship her with another pressing next to me in sleep. I feel her mouth on my breasts, her lips on my neck. She whispers secrets of power and eternal love while she fondles me. I feed on her breasts, the energy of femininity flowing into my mouth. She shows me what true power is like; the power of being a woman. And I cannot resist her. No matter where I am, no matter what I do, she is able to enter my mind and heart and soul instantly. I cannot resist her sweetness. Nor do I want to.
When the Goddess tells me she needs to feed upon me, upon my energy, I follow willingly. I give her all that I am...I let her feed freely. She finds her way between my legs, weakening me, and I open them willingly. She feeds my fantasies in ways D could never dream. She is my mother and I am her child; she is my child and I feed her in return. She is my sister, and together we cross the boundaries of decency and morality. Over and over we rise upon the clouds, our fluids mixing, our hearts pounding as one. And when I climax, I scream her name, if only in my head. I offer all that I am to her.
In return she promises to come back, for the lessons are never-ending. She sends me back to D, or to the young bard from King Richard’s court. She sends me to ancient Chinese philosophers and French whores. And I take them willingly, for they all have something to offer. They open doors for me in both worlds; they help me find out more and more of who I am.
And as I fall asleep, my hope is to show others how to let their spirit guides in. We all have them - you and you - and you. All you need to do is open your mind, open your heart. Call them, control them, cast them away. It’s all up to you.
It always has been.