In another world...

There is a world, relatively unknown to civilized humankind. Or perhaps it is a known world but because humankind considers itself to be civilized, then it sometimes chooses to be extremely myopic. That doesn't make it less of a world, but it makes it a very difficult world to understand. Because what is different doesn't come with a manual instruction leaflet, hence the people living in this world and following its lifestyle prefer to keep it under wraps. Quite understandable, because it is no lifestyle for just anybody, it is a lifestyle based primarily upon instinct and its awkward perceptions, the pleasure and the pain of the flesh, and the twists of the mind. Yes it wrecks all superimposed beliefs of what should have been and what should be. Nevertheless, it is a world of rapture so high that one finds total freedom within the shackles. Within this world opposites survive, for the same reason that if one had to never know the darkest of sadness then one would never be able to grasp fully the meaning of happiness. It is the world of obedience brought on by disobedience, of becoming fearless through the fear, of lusting after the welts after being turned on by the perversion of the lash. A girl is there to do all, all that is required of her. In return she will be given her freedom, only to walk right back to where she belongs. Her mental thoughts are not hers, her feelings are always shared, and she proudly bears the pain of the lash which provided the welts which in turn give way to extreme lustful pleasure. Because the welts are her reminder that she's been taken, broken and she is His. She looks to Him, in Him for direction, and He is lost without her. And the ache is over and the tears have been wiped down gently with a hand like no other. His hand, caressing with soft brush strokes, fingers tracing the path to Neverland, taking their time, moving fluidly, articulating a carnal code so unique, because the strong hands possess a giving girl on the edge of a shimmering note.

Real-life Wanker

Have you ever desperately wanted toast in the middle of the night? Let's say 4 am? Well probably not because at that time, people will be sleeping like angels. But since I don't sleep and also since I am not an angel, I started craving for toast in the middle of the night. But you need bread to make toast, which is the one thing I didn't have. But the south is just unbeatable for these type of cravings. We're so advanced that we have 24 hour convenience stores which are actually bakeries who know all about our southern cravings and have been clever enough to open up a shop full of goody goodies to die for. At least I'd die for them, but there's no need for me to die for them. The Euro does just fine. So I just when down to this shop. The smell was heavenly, the smell of bread being baked is probably as close to the Pearly Gates as one can get. And since I was there, then I didn't just stop at the bread. Don't these shop owners know how to display their wares. And don't I just walk into their trap every single time?! So I was looking at the ham, the cheese, things like that. And somehow I dropped a 2Euro coin and a 5 cents Euro coin. Instinctively I bent down to pick them. And swore at my nails in the process. There is a lot a girl can do with long embellished nails, but picking up coins isn't one of them. And I tried tried tried and finally I managed to get the 2 Euro coin. Seeing I could sense this man very intent on what I was doing, or on what my butt was doing, I just left the 5 cents and proceeded to pay. I felt terribly shy, this man was looking at my butt, and let's put it this way, it is not my best asset. So thoughts of a stranger laughing at my butt at 4 in the morning were not very welcome. Stranger finally left.. phew. I paid, smiled politely at a joke the shopkeeper cracked and left. Now, at 4 in yesterday's morning I wasn't exactly dressed to kill. Just a pair of pants and a top probably 4 years old. I didn't want to kill, I just wanted my toast. And then it happened. I went back to my car tried opening the door and this silver car almost rams into me. An old man, as old as the hills of all the countries of the world pokes his head out and says, 'ejja, ha dduqu, ma nhallikx b'xejn ta, mitt Euro' while fiddling with his nether parts. And I, stupid I, couldn't even scream. Worse to come... he grabbed my arm with his hand and God knows where that hand had been. He kept insisting, I just said no no no no let me go. He wouldn't, and kept pressing me. Until i finally decided to open my car door anyway, to hell with my car, I wanted to damage his. He deserved it. That was probably the best move I've ever made, he left off. What a wanker! And I still couldn't move for a couple of seconds. Then I just threw my goods on the passenger seat and left off. Now I'm not exactly a prude, and I know that things like these happen. But they haven't happened to me in probably 5 years now. I thought that the dirty old men had grown up and died. Seems not. A stranger offering you to be groped in the middle of the night is not something very welcoming. It really shook me up. There was no way I looked like a whore, more like a mara tad-dar buying bread to feed her imaginary kids. So.... did I look so desperate? Oh God, did I really? I hope I'll never find out. Because I do not go off with strangers offering me a 100Euro in the middle of the night. One thing, a 100 Euro is way too little for my efforts. Another thing... now if only it had been a Mr. Big.....

Bad girl

I was bored, took a stupid Facebook quiz called, 'You a good girl or bad?' The result was 'You are 100% bad!' I wasn't expecting that. I wasn't expecting 'You're an angel' kind of result, but neither a totally bad one. All right, let's get things straight, Facebook quizzes are something crap, they always have to ask you your favourite colour, as if liking red would make a girl bad, and liking pink would make a good girl. But still, a 100% bad? I haven't killed anybody, I haven't sinned against someone's dignity (except perhaps for the woman in the pearl earrings), and still I'm so bad. And I've asked a couple of people what they think, they think it's funny, they have smiled and said of course you're a bad girl, that's why you're so good. As if that makes sense to me. I get a smile for a reaction. Somehow I don't think my mother would be as amused. So it boils down to possibly one reason, and that is that men like bad girls. In the same way as girls like bad boys, seems it works the other way round too. Why? Probably because we've been round the block quite a few times and know all about it when it comes to getting down to it. Experience is a very good teacher. Experience in the bad boy field is an even greater teacher. But most times we aren't even looking for the bad boys, they are attracted to us like magnets. Somehow, the clever bad boys know. My men-C.V. does not explain why it happens, but it is proof that it happens. My first man is now locked up in a cell somewhere. That bad. I learnt my lesson and substituted bad for another type of bad. Which was so much fun that it intoxicated me for many years. Getting at the forbidden (not illegal) fruit at some way or another is a fun way to live life. It, of course, does not come without the heartache if you're a fool. But you learn. And learn more. And suddenly you're not bad anymore, but just a good girl with bad tendencies. Or a bad girl with good tendencies. And you think the bad girl is over. And bang comes in another one who knows you're bad material. And it goes on and on. It never stops. Because you finally realise that good girls might go to heaven, but bad girls go everyfuckingwhere.