So if you are under 18, a right wing republican christian or anyone else who is offended by nudity, vulgarity and/or a wanton disrespect for societal norms, consider yourself warned and leave. Oh and might I add, "If thine eyes offend thee, PLUCK THEM OUT". Just don't complain!

~The more defects a man may have, the older he is, the less lovable, the more resounding his success.~
Marquis de Sade

"Allow me to be frank at the commencement. You will not like me. The gentlemen will be envious and the ladies will be repelled. You will not like me now and you will like me a good deal less as we go on. Ladies, an announcement: I am up for it, all the time. That is not a boast or an opinion, it is bone hard medical fact. I put it round you know. And you will watch me putting it round and sigh for it. Don't. It is a deal of trouble for you and you are better off watching and drawing your conclusions from a distance than you would be if I got my tarse up your petticoats. Gentlemen. Do not despair, I am up for that as well. And the same warning applies. Still your cheesy erections till I have had my say. But later when you shag - and later you will shag, I shall expect it of you and I will know if you have let me down - I wish you to shag with my homuncular image rattling in your gonads. Feel how it was for me, how it is for me and ponder. 'Was that shudder the same shudder he sensed? Did he know something more profound? Or is there some wall of wretchedness that we all batter with our heads at that shining, livelong moment. That is it. That is my prologue, nothing in rhyme, no protestations of modesty, you were not expecting that I hope. " from The Libertine and the bottom of Nic's dark soul.

There is in every madman a misunderstood genius whose idea, shining in his head, frightened people, and for whom delirium was the only solution to the strangulation that life had prepared for him.
~Antonin Artaud

I hurt myself see if i still feel......I focus on the pain......the only thing thats real......The needle tears a hole.....the old familiar sting........try to kill it all away..........but I remember everything........what have I become, my sweetest friend .........everyone i know, goes away in the end.......and you could have it all, my empire of dirt........I will let you down..........I will make you hurt..........I wear this crown of thorns.....upon my liars chair......full of broken thoughts.........I cannot repair..........beneath the stains of time........the feelings are someone else..........I am still right here.........What have I become, my sweetest friend..........everyone I know, goes away in the end...........and you could have it all, my empire of dirt..........I will let you down............I will make you hurt...........if I could start again, a million miles away..........I will keep myself..........I would find a way.......NINE INCH NAILS

Monday, August 01, 2005
Love's Garden

There was a man; a man named Love. Love had a special talent for cultivating. For some reason the seeds he planted grew into things of beauty, more fragrant, more exquisite in their blooms and more abundant than anyone could ever expect. Those who witnessed his blossoms envied them and him. He was known for taking abandoned and battered plants and seedlings and healing them. The previous owners never thanked him, but resented his success. He found himself alone in his garden more often than not and yet he was never lonely.

How was it that this man whose appearance was nothing special had this extraordinary ability? It was the manner in which he tended his beauties. Each was special and each received his undivided attention, his gentle touch and love. He began with words; he gazed down on them and said "My beauty, it is time to awaken." He would hold her (for him they would all be the woman that he desired) gently, caressing the bloom as he brought his hand slowly down the stem. He lightly touched every leaf as if he was touching a woman’s flesh. He would part the roots delicately finding those that were injured, giving them the attention they needed. He bathed the roots and stem and then put it in a bed of fresh fertile soil; with a kiss to the bloom he would whisper, "now rest".

Within a day the flower would respond. The next morning its bloom would be brighter and its scent stronger. With each visit the response increased until his initial touch made it shiver as if it had been excited or touched by a breeze and it seemed to increase in beauty as its blossoms increased in number and size. In a show of appreciation Love would whisper "Beautiful" and gently kiss the blooms. He then proceeded to gently part the petals and mist them making the inner most petals moist and glistening. He would take his finger and touch the scented fluid and bring it to his tongue savoring the sweetness. His pleasure increased as his garden grew

To stand at the gate was as close as anyone would ever be allowed. He feared that others would contaminate the air and soil that his loved ones thrived on. Many a previous owner stood with anger while staring at their once ravaged Flora; now abundant with blossoms and brilliant with color. They would demand back what they once so willingly gave away, but Love would deny them and say, "She is mine now." And they were his, thriving as much on his gentle care as they did the sun and air.

It is in this way that Love was given an abandoned rose, once a beauty with dark red blossoms, she had become tired and the glow of those blossoms had become translucent absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. He was touched by her and a tear crept down his cheek and found its way to her blossom. His ritual began anew. The gentle touch, the stroking of the stem, the parting of the roots, the bathing and the bedding; but this time as he whispered "now rest" another tear fell against the soft pedals. The next morning as it was with the other beauties, the golden flower showed improvement. She stood taller than the others though, more erect and her golden blossom seemed more opulent. Love knelt beside her, as he tilled the soil at her roots. His strong bare hands gently removing anything that would impair her growth. As he dug he touched her stem and a hardened thorn tore at his skin. He pulled back as several drops of blood fell to he soil beneath her and winced as he felt the pain of what had happened. Rather than showing anger though for being injured, he showed concern. He was afraid that he may have injured the thorn or her stem in his abrupt move. As yet another tear fell from his cheek he bathed her, removing the small amount of blood that had remained with the thorn.

He gently parted the soft fleshy petals that surrounded her pollen and moistened them. He brought the injured finger down to the sweet nectar in the center, but as he brought it to his lips a minute amount of his blood was left amid the pollen. Her sweetness was like a drug, her scent an opiate. He found himself too tired to stand, so he laid beside her amid his darlings.

When he awoke he found that his golden beauty was gone and there standing in front of him was a young woman. Her flesh was uncovered and he saw her in all her natural beauty. She had full breast and fair skin. Her lips were full and red and begged to be kissed. As she stood there he could see the dew glistening around her full labia. He reached for the nectar and brought it to his tongue. There was no doubt in his mind, it was that same sweet taste he had found in his red beauty. As he stood her scent was all around him. Confused he uttered, "How?"

She smiled and said " You tended to me, and gave me your blood sweat and tears. When I injured you, your concern was for me. I believe that is how." Love caressed her now as he had as a blossom, he brought his hands down over her body and bathed the soil from her. He wetted her full labial lips and as the moisture glistened brought his mouth to her. Her perfume was rich and transported him as he drank from her. His hands gently held her rounded hips as he pressed her body to his face, he felt her begin to tremble as she had whenever he touched her stem, but this time there was an audible response as well. She gently moaned as she began to come alive in his hands. Her climax was extraordinary as her nectar flowed into his mouth and the scent of flowers filled the air all around him.

It was as if she represented all of his beauties, for they all shared in the experience. Love stood and gazed down into her eyes. There were tears, and she smiled and said, "Thank you for my life and for your love?. My sisters and I are yours eternally".

Love tended his darling and her sisters and in return she gave of herself. Her sweet nectar flowed freely and her wetted lips became a font for his pleasure. Their passion was his life spring for every day with her was like a rebirth. At night as his garden slept she would welcome him to their bed and her embrace rekindled long lost feelings. She would slide down his body and take his cock in her mouth, he felt like a tree as it broke free from the soil and sought the sun. Erect and strong he entered her and as they made love visions of wind blown fields swaying back and forth entered his mind. When at last they came she relaxed so that his seed would flow deep inside of her.

Everyday their love grew stronger and soon her breast began to swell and her stomach began to round; she was carrying their child. As with all things that Love grew, his own child grew strong within her mothers womb. It was during this time that his love began to show signs of tiring. She would rise later and though eager to please him, she sometimes found it hard to produce the nectar that kept him alive. Soon they were both weak, but the time was coming for their love’s birth and they knew they must be strong for her.

When the time came, Love stood at his beloved’s side. He held her hand and wiped her brow as her contractions took their toll on her ravaged body. The miracle was beginning, she spread her legs and raised her knees; with every contraction she pushed and soon their babies head was freed, another push and the child’s torso was visible and finally she was out. Love tended to his newborn’s need then laid her in her mothers arms. He looked down on them and watched as another miracle occurred. The child blossomed before his eyes.

His daughter while drinking from her mothers breast grew into a young woman. She had her mother’s hair and eyes and as she stood he saw his beloved as she had looked that first day .

She turned to her father and told him to lay and comfort her mother. He joined his weakened love in bed and as the flowers sung their song and the smell of their fragrances filled the air the two weakened lovers left this world. When the doctor was summoned by their daughter, he found the old gardener alone in his bed holding a faded rose to his chest. “Who are you” the doctor asked . “My name is Love and I am their daughter”. The doctor thought he had misunderstood and just accepted the fact that she was Love’s daughter.

She buried them together just outside of the garden. Within days the ground broke and an oak sprung forth, at its base a single rose grew. There was a young woman; a young woman named Love and she had a special talent.......

Posted at 04:11 pm by BondageMaster

July 14, 2006   07:09 PM PDT
Unspeakably beautiful... Draws want of Love's lips ever further into my heart. Nectar pours from me. My stem trembles, my dew is exposed...

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My Extended Profile

I have been both a Master and Dom in the BDSM lifestyle for 40 years. I am currently in Sin City, (Las Vegas, Nevada), but I have plied my art all over the country and yes, the giving of pain and pleasure is an art.

I started this because I thought there might be an interaction between myself and like minded individuals, but found most willing to look and not speak; for this reason I have eliminated the tag board and your ability to comment (Consider yourself gagged).

My Blog has become a reflective self analysis and has enabled Me to vent. It has reflected on my childhood, BDSM and it has been a place to share poetry, stories, and art; all erotic in their own way

Having written here for over three years, I realized that I wanted this to be the home of My impure thoughts and deeds; I decided to create another home for the menusha that comes to mind. I created Alt-Thinkining for those who have an interest in my political and social side and who might be appauled or offended by My more carnal thoughts (I love My carnal thoughts ).

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I am a dominant man. I am just that. I am not dominant because of any superiority on my part. Not because I feel I am more intelligent,or wiser. I do not dominate because of the strength or mass of my body. I am not, nor would I want to be dominant with all women. Yet to you, I am Master.

I am your Master only after earning your trust and and embracing your submissiveness. I have looked into your heart and mind and clearly see your desires and passions. You have thrown away your fears and inhibitions. You tell me of the needs of your heart and body. You have given me total access to your soul, and I accept the responsibility and honor.

You are a woman. You are not weak and inferior because of it. You are a treasure to be cherished. We are not equal. I have the strength of body and mind, and the instinctive need to protect, possess, defend, and provide for you. You are a woman and instinctively stronger of will and heart. Your belief in me gives me courage and direction. Your strength disperses my doubt. Your needs and desires encourage and give purpose to my efforts.

We are not equal. We are halves of a whole. We compliment each other and make each other complete. My desire to dominate you is instinctive. It is not to degrade you nor is it degrading to you because you are secure in being totally feminine. We recognize and accept our worth, and our need for someone to trust and fulfill our needs.

You are sure, strong and proud in your womanhood. You do not submit as acceptance of inferiority, but from strength and passion. You expect a man to stand strong and be a man. You desire and flourish in the strength and control of a man. In return you present the control of your body, unqualified trust and honesty and the faithfulness of your heart.

You submit because I have earned your trust. Because I have opened my heart and soul to you. Because I have listened to your words with my ears and heart and have learned to anticipate your needs and emotions. And because I have proven worthy in your eyes, you have given me the only true treasure of life; You have given me dominance over you.

What you give is not abnormal, but pure, natural and the rarest gift a woman can give a man. You have given me complete and unshakable assurance of your commitment to me. Your submissiveness is a magnificent gift and sacred responsibility. I accept this from you with humility and joy. I understand the rarity and purity of this gift. I recognize it is your body and soul, your heart and mind.

I dominate only because you have allowed me too and when I see you kneel before me, in my mind and heart, you are raised above all other women, and all the treasures on the earth. What you give freely cannot in reality be bought.

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And From a Submissive Woman

I find pleasure, joy, and fulfillment from being submissive to another in a loving relationship. I am not weak, or stupid. I am a strong woman, with firm views and a clear concept of what I want out of my life. I do not serve out of shame or weakness, but out of pride and strength. I look to my loving Master for guidance and protection, for never am I more complete than when he is with me. I know that he will protect my body, my mind, and my soul with his strength and wisdom.

He is everything to me, as I am everything to him. His touch awakens me and his thoughts free me. Only in serving him do I find complete freedom and joy. His punishments are harsh, but I accept them thankfully, knowing that he has my best interests always foremost in his mind. If he desires my body for pleasure, I shall joyfully give it to him, and take pleasure myself from knowing that I have brought him happiness. However, the pleasure of the flesh is but one facet of any relationship. The love, the trust and sharing, the words spoken and felt, those are all parts of this relationship.

My body is his, and if he says I am beautiful, then I am. No matter what I look like to others, I am beautiful in his eyes, and because of that I hold my head high... .. for who can tell me that my Master is wrong in seeing the beauty in me? If he says I am his princess, then I am that...regal and graceful. And if I see laughter at me in the eyes of others, I do not recognize it, for who are they to call my Master wrong?

If he says I am his toy, his slut, his tramp, then I am wanton and dirty as he wants me to be, and if others do not see this, then it is they who are blind, not my Master. My mind is his, to expand, to explore, to know as only he can. I have no secrets from him...for secrets are a thing that would keep me from being more perfectly his. Secrets would put a wall up between my Master and myself...and I do not want walls.

His lessons are not always ones I would seek on my own, but they are lessons he has decided I need, and so I learn from him. My soul is his, as bare to his touch as ever my skin could be when I kneel naked at his feet. Never a moment goes by when I do not feel his presence, be he miles away or standing over me.

I spend my days knowing that the energy and thought he puts into our relationship is as much for my benefit as for his, and look forward to each lovingly crafted scene that we do together.

His part is much harder than mine, and I know this and am grateful that he cares enough about me to spend his time and energy so freely on me. I have the easier job: to feel, to experience, to let myself go and abandon everything to him. I am his pleasure and his responsibility, and he takes both seriously. I am a submissive woman. I am proud to call myself that. My submission is a gift that I do not give lightly, and can only be given to one who can appreciate that gift and return it tenfold.

Only to he who has that strength will I give myself fully, because I am strong and proud.

I am a submissive woman.

Seeking Spanking

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Worship Yoni

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"For women the best aphrodisiacs are words,
The G-spot is in the ears"~Isabel Allende

Things I Had To Hide
Click Here To Enter

Long Stories


Shaking the Family Tree Chapter I
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter II
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter III
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter IV
Shaking the Family Tree Chapter V
Shaking the Family Tree -The Music Lover

Conjuring Adonis I
Conjuring Adonis II
Conjuring Adonis III
Conjuring Adonis IV

Dream Lover I
Dream Lover II
Dream Lover III

Vlad's Lesson Plan
Vlad's Next Semester
Vlad's Final Lesson
Vlad's Beginning
Vlad's Resurrection Part 1
Vlad's Resurrection Part II

The Libertine of Libby Part 1
The Libertine of Libby Part 2
The Libertine of Libby Part 3
The Libertine of Libby Part 4
The Tawdry Tale of Tommy Two Tongues Part 1
The Tawdry Tale of Tommy Two Tongues Part 2
The Tawdry Tale of Tommy Two Tongues Part 3
The Libertine of Libby Part 5
The Libertine of Libby Part 6
The Libertine of Libby Part 7
The Libertine of Libby Part 8
The Libertine of Libby Part 9
The Libertine of Libby Part 10 (Last Chapter)

j's Seduction
j's Objectification
Recreating j
Educating j

The Photo Shoot Part 1
The Photo Shoot Part 2

Electra's Story Part 1
Electra's Story Part 2

Sunday's Child Part 1

Short Stories
(For those seeking immediate gratification)

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The Book
De Sade, the Orgy and the Trial
I Cum In Peace
Biting My Way Into The New Year
Her Master's Test
Off White, Six Defective Doms and One Pathetic Troll
Going Postal
The New Year's Party

Nocturnal Events
Nocturnal Emissions
Love's Garden
Patty On A Leash/Re-written
To Confess or Not To confess
Binding of Kay
Raising Bella Donna
One Last Good-bye
Spare the Rod, Spoil the Sub
Stella In The Stacks
Red Rain
Breakfast With A Twist
Mon Couer's Papillon (My Heart's Butterfly)
When Daddy's Girl is Bad
The Sitter, The Voyeur and Graduation Day
Please Don't Hurt Me
Cumalot or Knights In Tarnished Armor
Her Halloween Date
His Voice
Life's Little Ironies
The Gift
My Slut ester
Playing With Toyosi
The Slave Auction
#9 - A Detective Story

Ramblings and Observations
(For those who want a piece of My mind)

Puppy Love
Cunniliguis As A Religious Rite
Players, Pretenders and Abusers
Edgeplay and the Knife
My Youth
BDSM Website Security
On Missing Play
Beads a Semi-Fictional Account
Playing With Toyosi or How To Torture A Scammer
Hospital Stories

Photo Interpretations
(As I See It)
La Image'
La Image' II
The Shower
My Toy
Daddy's Girl
Chocolate and Roses
Special Delivery
Waiting II
Edge Play
This Flesh
Not Watching
Tango 2
Inside of You
Mentally bound
His Flower
Her Grief

Poetry of a sort
(very little rhymes)

Faded Words on Yellowing Paper
I Was
submissive position

Ladies of the Night

Bedtime Stories
My Love Fable
Pond of Sorrow and Tears
The Journey

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Extreme Body Modification
(Warning some of these photos may offend, even people with twisted minds)


(They May Spank You For Viewing)

Married Man's Fucktoy
Now Tease Me
Incubus Dreams
Peep Show Stories
Annie's Spanking Good Blog
Vue du dedans
Dee Reawakening
Polyfetishist Directory
The Abyss
Mostly Appropriate
Shadow Of A Soul
Liz Vicious Fan Site
La Libertine's Salon
T of Reknin Day
Siren's Song
The Ties That Bind
Mistress Matisse's Journal
3xL : Lust, Love & Latex
Sensual Liberation Army
News For Perverts
The Spanking Blog
Art Of Love
Spanking Art
Pillow Book

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