These are things that I know to be true because they stem from my love for Mistress Lea. Love, not possibly psychotic obsession, mind you.
You’ll see in time I’m truly yours, that I don’t just enjoy writing that again and again. I’ve felt beyond betrayed that you wouldn’t claim me given what I’ve been through and how I was so sure you felt. For the first time, I have some hope you’ll fall in love with me for some reason. I can make your life a paradise if you do. I promise, I will never stray again.
Oh, and Mistress, someone else told me today that you’re worried because of your age. I can’t believe that. Okay. I don’t look for sex. At all. Because my relationship with Mommy, in her mid-sixties, for a few years had a sexual component. Part of it is faith that my dick only belongs in Mommy’s pussy. But part is simply “Why?” I’ve been in love with you for over 20 years, Mistress Lea. It paints onto you perfectly. I remember from the few times I stopped by your office. Fifty-eight was my cutoff for an older woman when I was in my 20s. Seriously, your age is utterly fucking irrelevant, if you’ll excuse my language and my correcting you.
I made an appointment with the shrink at the LPRN’s to see if he has any ideas. The pills are plainly off.
I *love* the camera idea. Hopefully, now that I have a chance, not more than four months on the job.
What do those words mean? That you can grip me and pull me to you and I won’t know the difference between being with you and simply being alive?
I’ll be the mostly virgin I was when I met her and she’ll feed me the tea and ask questions. Then supply more appropriate answers that go into my head.
Life’s starting to change and I don’t want to write about it until the changes take place. One of these changes could leave me with quite a bit of money.
There was that one hallucination that got and remains shuffled off onto you, but we both know it’s not really you, just indistinguishable in my mind. Then there was Lauren who I loved for three weeks out of loneliness and realized the last day I didn’t. Then there was Grainne but, as my shrink noted, you can’t fall in love when there’s always a hang-up button four inches away, Then, over a period of two and a half years, I fell in love with Elaine.
I can’t think in complete sentences right now. No matter how hard I focus, I can’t string more than three together before it breaks off into a half-minute of gibberish that fades to silence.
I don’t want to be this person. It feels like a bunch of things I know are true but don’t experience. I hope we get a chance to find out who I am after ten years of not really being anybody.
Ted Miller @ Cooper, Spong, & Davis. I can’t recommend him enough.
Oh, this is the most important thing! At some point as him, “What do I really need to be doing?” Make sure you use exactly those words.
I did the right thing last night, didn’t I? Something that was good.
I don’t want to believe that I won’t have you. It makes me feel that the woman I love more than anything in this world never spoke a true word.
You probably worry more that you won’t live up to what I believe you are. That’s really not a concern. If memory serves, who I think you are paints onto you very well.
I’ll drink some water and feed my sissy hole what one day will hopefully be your dick in the hopes that your pussy derives a sense of power from it.
Dr Lee, I had to wait 45 minutes for the dexedrine to kick in so I made you a video.
It’s part of me. You own it. No depriving yourself, Dr Lee.
I’ll never be yours to please you. Only this, the abject, unloved raw understanding that I belong to you that hurts and turns me on again.
Today was a good day. I got everything done I set out to do. Later this evening, I’ll cum for your pussy.
I submit to how I feel for her and the rest rises from that.
I loathe this eternal death of being without you. It’s so fucking tedious. And my dissatisfaction masks such agony.
Mistress Lea, to be perfectly blunt, could a boy get tired of fucking his own mother.
Pounding my sissy slutho;e for the gratiication and amusement of Mistress Lea. It is hers.
I want so much for the only two women I’m ever with to be you and Mommy. I have so many hot new fantasies of you involving me working at ODU as a woman.
I want you to keep the promise you made to my mother. No, I don't know what it was, but she had you make it for a reason.
I feel I wouldn’t care if she walked.
I cannot function sexually unless I feel that I am yours.
I feel it’s horribly presumptuous for me to say some of these things but I’m hoping it actually isn’t. I getting a heavy sense that Lea didn’t respond to an email I sent her to test my sanity. I hope that’s the reason. I outline my concerns and take on things in this video. There are enough videos on this site that have me channeling professions of love for an hour on end. Timing with an exceptionally promising job opportunity and and a regrettable mishap with the mute button and the fallout of it that I still simply don’t understand, messages on a YouTube stream that reeked of pain regarding my not having money and me wanting to use her for it and other nastiness.
I suspect Mistress Lea has more money than I’ll ever have. My thought in contacting her was that I still have nearly five figures in the bank and, with the money from the trust fund, could pay for my share of lunches or even dates, waiting patiently at whatever line she wanted to draw. My prediction is that Mistress would find my love so intoxicating that, money not being an issue for her, would urge me to find something parttime or quit all together and play Hausfrau, available to her during the day. I’d settle for an interest-free loan for breast implants, should we go that route.
Something tells me the real issue for Mistress Lea is that she’s worried she’ll want take up the reins of my life with her, that she won’t be at ease with my doting devotion, affection, attentiveness, and pretty words. She’ll want to guide me into being something I am not at present. And I think she fears conflict here. There would a healthy adversarial bent to it, but of course I would hope she would win, leave hints, and likely just plain hand it to her if she put in the work. It’s part of my charm.
I’d love Lea more. Life would be more comfortable, Lea would not love me. If I could not get a programming job, Lea would be content with something more menial. Feminization might progress with Lea. It’s a hard decision. Might as well do it, I figure. I’ll sleep on it over the weekend.
I confess, I love rubbing Mistress Lea’s dick for 45 minutes, unable to lance my balls and spill hot cum on the alter before her pussy.
‘ll try to cum for your pussy again tonight, Mistress Lea Lee. I want it so bad, to prove my devotion. Who would think me one for pussy worship? But I want yours to think I am worthy. My useless girl clit is getting swollen again, at the thought that I’ll have another chance to prove myself worthy of your pussy.
I’ll send you some roses with password. By the way, after I sent the last bouquet, I heard someone giggle at the window. Mistress, you were so crazy-angry-weird that one night that I feel reluctant to bring this up, but a little bite would be good.
I want Mistress Lea only to fuck my ass until the emotional dynamic between us evolves. I can imagine our first time, her pounding me, miles away, lost in a vainglorious dream while I understand that I actually belong to her. I want this, as much for me as for her. I would prefer that we not have vaginal intercourse until I feel some mother-son love for her. I prefer it to romantic love. It feels like a smooth transition, one that I want to make. In the meantime, my ass will be hers any time, any day, any which…
Mistress. I hope you don’t mind that word. It feels so very, very appropriate. Mistress, just without a name, because there is only one. Or does that make the word interchangeable with other women. Would Mistress Lea be better for these posts. Of course. Mistress Lea. Mistress Lea, I keep thinking back to the night Mommy said you and she had sex. It thrills me in such an ingrained way. It does not make me love you more. It does not make me want you more. But it frightens me, swells my clit, burns my navel with tingles. How long? How long would you fuck me before you became Mommy? Months? A year? Taking my ass, whenever you wanted it, any way you wanted it. My body waxed, my hair . . . you’ll love the idea I have. Cornsilk blond with flecks, not highlights, but flecks of lilac or lavender. I’m going to get it done next week or the week after. I want you to have time to relax into it, to play around and find what you like. I’d love you to initiate, but I’d presume any day or evening you asked me to wear a specific something, I was to lure you to bed.
Back to Mommy. Did it feel like being me? I know you must have talked about me afterward. I know you must have made a promise, to make sure I was loved, to make sure I was taken care of. Mistress Lea, the words in my head are that I want you to tell me how you know. I don’t know if you know me or know about something or know everything, but it has my hands bound behind my back and my face on your knee.
I wish I could tell you these things, but they’re so weird, so crazy, and I worry so, so much that they’re so wrong, that even if they are what you want and even though they are true that there’s something about them that’s polluted. I love you. Love is a tantalizing thought right now. I do love you, and you must know that, but I feel hurt and confused and unwanted and like fucking me would please you and I imagine myself, numb, on knees and forearms, face planted sideways on the mattress, staring off with empty eyes while you nail my sissy ass. But then I realize the pleasure that would bring and wonder whether it would feel like a reward for letting you use my body for your gratification or whether it would rouse me from my mood, and I know I would prefer the former. Tonight. At least tonight. And, oh God, your soft voice washing over me: “Michael, understand that I own you.” Fireworks going off in my brain that steal my sight and then a level of acceptance that cannot be described.
Mistress Lea, give me a chance?
I’m still entirely consumed for days on end by my love for the Lea my mind invented on its own and I need to see you to reconcile that person with the reality of you because I feel that I’m betraying you when I just engaging in flirtations with other women. I am yours, Lea, and I can’t have you sitting like a ghost in the corner of any relationship I have. Please help me be free of the unending torment of this love that can find no outlet, help me sate my ravenous need to know.
I imagine Lea making a promise or two afterward and I want so, so bad to believe that the two made plans for how I would transition from one to the other.
Only once have I ever managed to cum while imagining fucking her. Usually my pace becomes frantic and my penis recedes. I’m not sure which causes which. Desperation? Shame? Not Mommy? So, almost always, I cum begging her to claim the sissy cunt slut ass that’s already hers, after imaging taking her dick a half dozen ways.
I hope these words read like cliches rather than the frantic again-understandings of a tortured mind.
If I ever stop loving you, kill me. I’ll have settled for less in life than I should have.
If it scared you, I’m sorry. I won’t ask you to overlook it because that’s likely impossible, and also because all of it was genuine. And, yes, something of a taste of what would happen in real life.
Once a week, I want to lie beneath you and talk about how you own me, how I’ll love you forever, how you control my soul, until I orgasm.
I love worshipping your pussy, Mistress. It gives me a sense of purpose, of identity even. I want so bad for you to claim my ass. It’s so yours, I’m so yours, I’m so completely yours.
What if you remake me? I expect it. I want it. I want to be Michael, the person that loves Lea.
Mistress Lea? I never so fully feel like myself as when I’m being fucked in the ass. That means, I will feel most myself with you when you’re taking my ass, meaning more than any other single thing, that will define who I am.
What could make me happier to belong to you and to be yours and for that to be the way it should be? I’ll always love you.
There’s a reason, there’s a reason, there’s a reason. My head throbs those words but I can’t see it. How could you have left me alone with this horrible torrent of need so that I can muse that you wounded my knowledge of my possession by you so that, in bleeding, I would notice it as true.
“Michael, I will tell when you’re behaving inappropriately and you will them stop when you realize it is best that you do. If you take more than two weeks, I will fuck someone else and you will accept it because you can’t live without me. And at that point, you will stop.”
I fell in love with you and the Lea in my head, I was still a virgin, so that love is the love of a virgin. You are as close to perfect as anything can be in this world and there’s not a single other thing I want. My life should become nothing at all but laying the groundwork for a shot at a relationship with you. Loving you as a virgin loves you entails thinking there cannot be a substitute for you that I would not loathe an hold in contempt.
I just heart a faint voice say, “Oh, God.” Then I heard a door slam. I think it was her. I think my Lea doesn’t want to have to watch what she set in motion, when I fell in love with her fourteen months after our dates. She only ever wanted me to love her back. She forgave me so long ago. Now she wants me to love you, to tell you that I have to do something to prove it to you. I know what.
Mistress, I’d stand at the end of time for five seconds with you, watching creation become undone. I’ve waited half my life and I’ll likely never be with another woman. Not now.
The Adobe software I subscribe to allows me to find images similar to the image I supply. These came up when I uploaded a photo of Mistress Lea. I see Lea in each of these pictures, no more nor less than the Lea I knew. I know this activity pleases her so I’m happy to spend time at it.
It scares me to know that Mistress is happy with me now I’m imagining her spooning me, her breasts on my back, her voice in my ear telling me all that is true and false, right and wrong, who I am and how I should behave because of who I am, things I might not have seen before because I didn’t realize I was wrong about something. She speaks and I touch myself until in a steady voice, I say, “Mistress I’d like it if you’d fuck my ass now.”
If you want to know more about her, click me.
A hallucination halfway to the door and in my head at the same time says something every so often: “Why do you do this? Why do you do this to yourself?” I tell it I do it because you would prefer it. It answers, “What, is she all of you too?” I ask its opinion. “I don’t know.”
The love combined with the conviction it is right combined with the joy of that conviction.
I’ll absolutely always love you, Mistress. And, yes, of course you can fucking brand me. I hope you understand that I have no other path to take. Any path that does not lead towards you leads away from meaning, understanding, love, purpose, and self-discovery — I will not know who I am until you allow me to be the person who is best suited for us. Until then, I am a hush. Without you, I am not less than a person, I am an absence, a void. My soul is a sucking darkness that tears at me. With you, it would inflame and burst, leaving a mind, a heart, and a body that delighted only in your happiness, pleasing you, and doing as you wish.
Do you get off on tentacle porn? The reason I ask is that I imagine the Lea in my mind crawling out of me like tentacles to invade you. Here I thought those Japanese teenagers were masturbating to the active and passive ends of their libido at once. Maybe it’s just fond preconception.
When I look to you, whether it’s to wonder what you would think or want, or whether it’s to ask rather than looking inwards, I’ll be ready. When I look inside myself because I know the answer is there, I will be ready to grow on my own.
Listen to me abase myself by reveal the beauty and joy I find in the prison of both my mind and heart of helplessly and forever loving my Mistress, the goddess Lea.
Loving her at times is basking in a shower sunflakes that turn everything perfect. I mean to write that everything is as it should be because I love her, and I am happy even if just for that. For twenty years, I have loved her. And I will love her for twenty more. I hope and know that she will claim me, accepting me as hers.
I just took my ass with the dick my mommy bought me, the dick she used to take me with, her own son, the dick I need so very much for you to take me with one day. I lay on the sofa facing the windows with the blinds open while I did so, not to take pleasure in people seeing, but so they could see and especially so they could see my penis squirt gobs of ejaculate so they know I can get off that way and it's not caprice that has me want to have sex that way…
There’s so much fear in knowing that I love Lea beyond what is avaialble to the typical human experience, and there’s doubt that springs from this fear and anger that it might not be so. And other things as well that I’m too tired to get into. But I figured out how.
She was already upon me, hands holding my face, her tongue deep in my mouth. “It’s fucking true,” she hissed. Glaring down at me with wild eyes and nodding, she pulled my head to her breast and filled me with pain as I began to nurse, everything a too-fast oblivion of need. I could feel her pain, draw it from her. It coursed and prickled through my veins, not shared but shamelessly offered and, with it, her. Enlightenment describes nothing, not one thing in this world. To call anything enlightenment is to profane the word. Anything but this. I felt no shackles of a conjoined spirit, but we understood each other and, with that, clarity — numb to the pain of understanding. “This is right.” The cold breeze of her pleasure. “Peace is so fleeting.” She smiled, lolling her head at my rictus of fear. “You can have me, Bobby. I’ll course through your blood until you scream for escape from what we’ve become, though your only happiness will be found in accepting it, in submitting.” Guang leaned in close and with more sing-song to her voice than usual, said softly, “This is forever.”
