I endure it with complete placidity as though . . . nothing. When do we endure pain with placidity, certain it will pass but not anxious for it to pass? I utterly accept it as part of the larger experience that will set me free.
You'll understand the title after you watch a bit. I'll buy the bronze lipstick after my hair. Eye shadow? I'm going to have to phase this stuff in, Mistress.
I confess, I'm fiddling with myself a little under the camera, but the reason is to show off the self-hypnosis stuff. I *really* think you'll like it, Mistress Lea.
"I hate all of this," Lea confessed, her voice breaking the silence. "I'm too uncertain it's what you really want. And now, it's true—now you are a slave to my will." Fate lowered the glass, her heart pounding in her chest. Her thoughts swirled with the gravity of Lea's words. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before responding. "Lea," Fate began, her voice steady but filled with emotion, "I have chosen this path, and I choose it still. My devotion to you, to my Goddess, is unwavering. I am not a slave in the way you fear—I am a…
First, Mistress, thank you so much for your phone call. It seems it was the death knell for Kathy. You freed me from a life of impoverishment. Here's a video if you want to see: My thought is to move after things settle to avoid, in my loneliness, being seduced by Elaine. But I'll wait to get direction from you on that. It's so wonderful, knowing I'm doing what you would want me to do -- you've given me some loose hints that I can sometimes make good guesses from. There's a certainty that I'm doing the right thing and…
You think that it would be wrong somehow to take me during our first encounter when you know it’s who you are and should believe it’s who I am as well. We both want it so bad. I know it.
I did what I could with the sound, Mistress Lea. I'll try harder to remember not to mumble. There's no sexual content. I thought that might be a welcome chance. There is something I need to tell you, a decision I've made after quite a bit of consideration. I think you want me to cum but don't feel that I should. I feel it is more important to do what you feel is right than to do what you want, so I won't cum anymore. Obviously, if this lasts two weeks . . . But the thought is an important…
She’s treated me truly horribly the last month. A week of prodding me for psychosis. So she wouldn’t look bad. She’s setting herself up to look like a complete whore the way she disavows interest in me now. So what does that make her? A superficial whore with an illusory private life that consists of a different set of lies for everyone? I honestly don’t know.
I have to get my hair highlighted ($150) and some dry cleaning and cloths mending ($100+) and I need to buy a programming book ($35) Then I can buy f**** glasses to read the password off the router, Mistress. I can pay for the clothes after I pick them up . . . or I can look for a cheap magnifying glass. Give me till Christmas for your card.
Mistress, I can't finish hooking the cameras up because I'm too blind to read the password on the router. They'll be up by the first of December like I promised, Mistress. I'm "cleaning till I find my glasses." Elaine will have access to the cameras too, so if you want to pan or tilt or talk through . . . . Audio in my end is always on. After the router password, I have to make them visible over the internet, and also create a webpage with a QR code for you to scan. There's a live help line, so…
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’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.
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 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 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.
‘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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
LeaLea as a girl, feeling sadLea as a girl feeling lostLea, well aware of what she wantsLea, drunk and cold and much too highLea approaching Lea in a moment of vulnerability Lea’s inner white woman who she’s too afraid to be as a Korean — trashiness issuesLea, resigned to sitting up all night, though the night will include sexLea as a girl, acting coyLea, on the morning of all three of her weddingsLea, aloof to the needs of the man who loves herLea, playing to winPossibly the Lea she knowsThe Lea I know
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.”
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.
