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.
“No. I promise no. I’m not lying. You know that because my lips are moving. Good girl here.” She raised her hand, freeing a belt to clank on the tile floor. “Fuck me with that nub of yours.”
“Never will anything fill the void that’s within you now, only the taste of my pussy can keep you from going mad from a craving you’ll never be able to identify. You’ll die, Michael. You’ll fucking die. The screaming need will grow in your brain that you’ll learn, rationally, is sated by tasting Goddess’s ambrosia, will consume every waking moment until you’re weeping and jabbering for it to end and then, and only then, will you understand you need to suckle at my cunt. Now eat my fucking pussy! Goddess loves cumming again! Michael, Baby? Michael, Baby?”
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.
I’m so sorry I couldn’t soak the alter to your pussy with my cum. I hope offering my ass up to the toy Mommy bought me can suffice instead.
I have spent, easily, seven hours tugging on my dick or stroking my toy in and out of my sissy slut hole just in the last three days, thinking about you, Mistress Lea. I was thinking about it. You will start to become Mommy when you begin to make decisions for me and I will start to accept it when I don’t have an inner, knee-jerk “but” reaction. When it feels natural to trust you to orchestrate my life.
I’ve taken my slut hole three days in a row — twice today. I’m going to try to repeat this three times, twelve days in sixteen, just as an experiment. So I can be sure that you can have my ass when you want.
It’s odd. There’s only one Mommy and, if you become her, you’ll have taken my virginity. You might be the last woman I ever sleep with. You’re the love of my life in the sense that the sun is a star in the sky. I have no pride with this. I know. And you’ll be a partner too. I will learn to believe anything you say, to feel anything you instruct me to, to behave in ways that please you once you gain some mastery manipulating the psychosis. You will be the sum of all things a woman can be to a man. And, again, without pride — it was stripped away so long ago — I have merely the experience of being me within a body and life you shape if you care to. Do you see the power you’ll have over me. Does it make sense that I need you to have it because that makes me feel safe? At the same time, does it make sense that I want you to use this power to make me a toy to you? While I touched myself the last two days, it was like I wasn’t even inside my own body, depersonalized and wiped to a blank slate, helpless in weariness. I was merely enjoying the sensations. My moving hand seemed a part of something separate. I was a passenger in my own body and I knew it was right. My mind,. my heart, my body, my soul. You could claim them as toys to keep me in an agony of longing. It makes me want to be an instrument of your will only I don’t experience my acts and words, I just observe them without opinion, the ghost that remains of Michael.
I was hearing things from low sleep today so I took a day mostly off. Drugging myself out tonight with anxiety medicine. Mistress Lea? Do you even believe I’ll always love you. I don’t see how you can question it.. I’ve loved you for twenty years and that was without you in my life. It’s an artifact of the insanity, but it is love and it will endure until I die.
Oh, and please always, always remember that the things I write and say without pride? I feel no humiliation at them whatsoever. I accept them as a part of me and, really, I absolutely love this part of me. And, really, is there anything humiliating about them when you look past the fact that I’m actually willing to say and write them:
I love dick. I know this because I was raped by a college wrestler with a penis bigger than mind for three hours. At first, i was begging him to stop. Then things got quiet, then they got loud again. For years, I didn’t know how to explain what I felt and how I was acting while he screwed me for the better part of three hours. I wanted to be his perfect whore.
Then Mommy took my ass. If it had been another woman, I would have felt corrupted. If it had been another man, I would have worried about being exclusively homosexual. But it was Mommy so I was just me and I LOOVVVVEEEEDDD it. If it weren’t for the mess, I’d use my toy more than my hand. Getting fucked blows open every last door inside me, freeing me to be myself like nothing else. Yes, I am never so much myself as when someone is pumping a cock in and out of my ass. And, oh fuck, am I a tramp.
The end goal of pursuing you? To be your girl, whatever that entails to you.
I want to please you for its own reward, and I want to do so helplessly because you own my heart, mind, body, and soul. All I have is the experience of being me, a ghost observing myself and reality from within my own body, washed out and without a thought in my head, merely conscious.
“Mmmm.”
“Mistress Lea, it would mean the world to me to just be near you again.”
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.
Slurping and slurping communion from her pussy hole, I began to understand my place with the woman who was becoming my Goddess. And I understood the only commandment of my faith: Dr Lee’s pussy will always remain pleased. “Nicole, dear, you’re going to do that again.,”
