we can just add this to the list. another thing to add. there was a gorgeous woman walking up the steps of the subway today. and i just died wanting to be her. She had on a very military style knee-length jacket, cinched around the waist and gold buttons down the front. Large dark glasses over her pale face. Dark stockings in 5 inch patent black heels. the ones with a little strap across the foot, like a mary jane. sigh. i was feeling better just to not be coughing like the plague child and then i see that. i felt like a blob of cotton wrapped in a long black bag of a coat. wearing pants slightly too big, sneakers, and a work appropriate shapeless brown v-neck sweater. her power was just awesome. at least to me. thats beautiful to me. not playboy. not jessica simpson. but a strictness, assuredness, a confident tap of shoes with devastating stilettos ready to punch a hole in any logic to your argument otherwise. i didnt want to be owned by it. i was jealous. i wanted to BE that.
how do i get there from here? where is it that im going? how much can f take from me and will I have to look elsewhere as well? would he let me push him?
read mistressyin's last livejournal entry. i got chills up my spine. i want to contact her to schedule a session as a voyeur, but i dont feel worthy yet. it's important to feel worthy first. i dont know when that will be...hours days weeks. but hopefully soon. ^ ^
As a sidenote--I think some of you were right with your comments about my dream the other night. The nightmare was so vivid and methodical with it's point. I am going through a change. and it's going not going to be easy at all. I think I have to decide that my past life as vanilla (or whatever blah) and all those things associated with it are pointless in the face of a new reality. a new reality that will bring true bliss physically and mentally. if i can only 'fess up and dive honestly and bravely into my new explorations...it will be there for me. But attending TES meetings by ones self is hard. Contacting a pro domme as a novice is kinda scary. And stressing out the guy who got me to this point to begin with feels awful. But, its emerging from my heart. Not a catgirl into kinky sex, but something else. Something else that gleefully enjoys the stretcher machine. Maybe those torture devices were symbolic toys hanging from the ceiling. Maybe this was the heaven I was to inherit. Im not sure. I try to go forward with a brave heart and open mind. and steer clear of codeine or otherwise induced nightmares.