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Phoenix’s Friday fiction – Last Night In Fog With My Goddess (part 1)

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This written offering is part one of a somewhat fictionalized account of my recent trip to Portland, Oregon in the company of an eager and devoted pet of long acquaintance…

LAST NIGHT IN FOG
Oh it was foggy, just like you hear. Of course, i only know this from the brief forays into the outside world. Most of the time was spent inside at the beck and call of my Goddess, the divine Martine Phoenix.

After picking Her up at the airport with a vibrating plug shoved in my ass and chrome ring tight around the thickening meat between my legs, (Her orders, of course) we drive to the hotel. As i accelerate, She increases the amount of vibe for the plug in my ass. The faster i go, the more vibe She gives me…laughing Her delighted laugh all the while. As you might imagine i am moving as fast as i can to get us to the hotel and myself on my knees at Her feet. The buzzing increases to maximum.

i have to use all my concentration as She starts to unbutton my shirt to gain access to the clamps on my nipples that She has also instructed me to wear. Curling Her finger around the chain connecting the pincers, She tugs lightly and laughs Her throaty, wonderful, laugh of pleasure.

Once back at the hotel, She continued the onslaught on my nipples as if She had been thinking about it for the whole plane ride. The feeling was incredible. Kneeling at Her bedside, making those small sensitive knobs of flesh available to Her as she relaxed from Her flight, my Goddess immediately had my cock rigid and throbbing purple-headed. Soon, fresh drops of pre-cum started to ooze out the engorged tip, adding to the already dried layers that already were there from thinking about My Goddess all the time…

…and She instructs me that for the duration of our time together, whenever i sense or notice that pre-cum is dripping out of my prick, i am to gather it on my finger and lick it off, and make sure that i am a noisy slut about it.

i think it was at this point that She reached between Her royal, svelte, never-ending legs, gathered up some of the evidence of Her excitement on the end of Her fingers and proceeded to stick those sacred juice covered fingers up my nostrils…making sure to wipe any excess across my top lip just under my nose.
What heaven i was in. To inhale the essence of my Goddess with every breath…most intoxicating…yes. Dream inducing…quite.
That’s how it began.

Next up, next several hours of heaven/hell that my Supreme Goddess, The Esteemed, Martine Phoenix, put me through…

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Play and Inspiration

I’ve been holding myself back for so very long, haven’t allowed myself to play for my personal pleasure in quite some time. It feels like a whole section of myself just shut down, dark and waiting for inspiration which I got in spades this past week on my first trip to the Pacific Northwest with a long-time devoted pet. When I think of him during that 5 day period, my memories bring a smile to my lips contemplating him decked out in lacy panties and stockings keeping him on the edge while I came over and over filling him with plugs and cocks fucking him wearing nothing but my knee highs/patent leather heels/strapon/smile compressing his skin with my arsenal of clips and clamps leaving the most delicious marks on his body with my riding crop and whip and my essence in his nose and mouth in as many ways as I can think of to amuse myself.

Sigh.

Now that I’ve returned, it’s a slow re-adjustment to the eastern time zone, brain still floating on a cloud of nearly continuous play and good service and toothsome food and attentiveness and no sleep mixed in with the excitement from that new city and its dramatic mountainous landscape. My focus shifts and I feel that something sleeping inside begin to stir as I contemplate my newest amusement, a young, eager boy, wishing to become my slut and fucktoy. Nothing has happened yet, it’s as if I’m taking the time to savor and enjoy our initial intercourse from a distance, fully appreciating the anticipation being created. However, when I allow myself to do so, I will take pleasure playing with him, mouse to my cat.DSCN0330

It’s good to start feeling balanced again.

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Passing thoughts of my slave

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I see you, my beautiful curvy smooth skinned slave, naked and roped to a point in the ceiling with arms over head, raised up just high enough so you are forced to stand tippy toe. A ball gag is placed between your lips forcing them open; drool streams steadily while it is strapped firmly to your head. I slip a vibrating egg into your equally dripping cunt, making sure it’s busily working. My partner and I exchange glances, then move into position; him pressing into your back, seating your ass on his thigh, allowing you to feel his hard cock while your legs are lifted and spread wide to facilitate my flogging breasts, pussy and the soft skin of inner thigh until you screams for mercy or permission to come…

…a smile crosses my lips.

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Remembrances

Going through boxes of papers and old Vault magazines filled with ads of Mistresses from long past, I happily stumbled upon a nondescript, black envelope. Within in were 40 poems, each individually printed on delicate transparent stock, written as an odd mixture of declaration, barely veiled plea and love note from a slave client lover man who, once upon a time, was very special to Me. As soon as I pulled the seal open, removing the unexpectedly heavy bundle, I was struck by a wave of remembrance of our time together.

C. was a large part of My life during the years 1999-2001; someone who managed to move past professional relations and learned defenses right into My romantic considerations. Scary thing, that. I ended up pushing him away and, by omission, into the arms of someone else. He got married not too long before dropping off the radar (which definitely signaled the end of our relationship) and is probably married still. The two of us are lives away from those countless hours spent in quiet, mutual contemplation of his bound self within The Pit in Arena Blaze’s Byzantine Room. However, reading his words so many years later brings Me back to an almost sensual remembering of C. How he looked at Me in a certain way, with open anticipation and many unformed questions in the back of his eyes. The wave and scent of his hair. His skin under My fingers. The rush I felt giving him pain. My delight in his humiliation.

As I sift through each page, I sense Myself sinking deep into his always unspoken feelings for me. I realize I was never very far away from the center of his thoughts.

#1

I am resigned to loving what she has left behind. As space, a phrase, discarded mannerisms. I will populate her absences, and weep for the scent that trails her. This is how I get used to her with another. I, too, am what she has forgotten, at home in areas she has passed through. There is so much country to occupy. Of course others see her as I do, and spend their nights speaking of new goddesses.

#3

Mine is a contained affair. Framed by walls of another’s choice, and a decor of so many timed screams. Can my love ever be equal here, more than local, and meant for every spot you once were. If my intentions have been improved, by better men, and in this same place. Perhaps it’s time to accept an impossible struggle, and a love too ferocious to forget by morning.

#6

This was planned for centuries, give me permission to believe. My blessings mean more if they were thought of through time. A final expression of an emotion, too old now, that waited for generations to rest at your feet. I am comfortable as something inevitable. Let me adjust to this sudden swarming of grace.

Maybe I’ll share more selections as a quiet remembrance of all that transpired between us. Or, am I just longing to see him again?

e-relationships

Just thinking about how relationships move at light speed here on the “interwebs”. Seems like a great deal of energy is expended to try and get to know someone one day, then, more energy is expended ignoring them the next. Call Me old fashioned, but if I take the time to give you a virtual tap on the shoulder, it usually means that I want our interaction to go further than a flurry of emails followed by deafening silence.

As My beloved dad would say, “that’s just rude”.

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Mistress Martine Phoenix

Professional NYC Dominatrix, Mistress Martine Phoenix available for one-to-one sessions in New York City

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