Aww, my former stomping grounds! #MansionMaid #WDWcastmember
Disney’s Haunted Mansion art and sketches by Marc Davis (1969)
LOVE MARC DAVIS!
The Troubling Message in Fifty Shades of Grey
http://www.blogher.com/troubling-message-fifty-shades-grey
This hits the nail on the head. Beyond the skeevy feeling of fanfiction being taken down and the names change to make a quick buck, the story itself is damaging.
I put aside my problems with fublishing and my recommendation to just read Master of the Universe if you want to read it so badly… the heart of the matter is exactly what AV Flox shares on her blog.
Please read and repost.
They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.
See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.
I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________
To Whomever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.
Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”
He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.
I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.
If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
Thank you,
Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.
The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
“C’mere boy.”
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.
“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.
“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.
“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”Oh, my heart. </3
And I’m crying at work
ugh, that hit me right in the feels :(
Ugh bawling.
Oh, my heart!
This is what I want in my life.
See how Sir has been thinking of you.
Alone in his office, when people thought he was lost in work, he was thinking of pretty Miss. Thinking of parting her lips with his cock - and feeling her tongue snake around, smooth right down - to elicit the gasp she and he desires.
I couldn’t help but squeeze my cock through my suit, alive with the memory of you begging me to let you touch me over the pinstriped cloth. You knowing I was hot to the touch I wouldn’t let you have. Watching you cast me that pleading look, press your thighs together, say “please”
That throughout an important meeting I was thinking about fingering you, faster and faster, your knickers pulled aside, breathing heavily into my neck as you gripped me for dear life, your thighs spread in surrender.
Of how I was aware of how sticky my cock was against my underwear. Are you as wet in your knickers, pretty Miss?
You’re thinking about me wearing such a mask for so many people, yet my mind is alive with deflowering you.
Perhaps if I undo my belt. Unzip a little. Give you a peek.
Do you like seeing Sir so undone, Miss. Both in mind - and now in the physicality. You can see him throbbing under and against the cloth of his boxers. See how wet they are are for you. You did that. It’s all your doing.
I see you lick your lips, Miss, but - yet you’re not allowed. I won’t let you.
Perhaps if you close your eyes, then I will give you a taste. Skim my finger over the front of my boxers. Or perhaps reach under and smooth across the tip.
Then you must keep your eyes closed, move over to your bed - and let your imagination run wild. Imagine going further, think of me watching you.
Fingerfuck for Sir, think of taking him all in your mouth, deep in your naughtiest areas - and run wild.
Remove no clothing. Play over it. Under it.
These are Sir’s rules.
For Sir has been thinking about you.
And now Sir wishes to watch just how perverse your thoughts are of and for him.
Perhaps, in your darkness, Sir will play over you.
Mmmmm…. THIS, pet. Welcome to my day.
LOVE this.
As you kneel there, in front of me, the position is not new. You have done it at home, for practice: knees spread wide, pussy exposed, arms behind your neck raising and presenting your beautiful breasts, head tipped down… the position of your body is not new, but now… every posture, every motion is infused with new meaning. Now you kneel in front of me, and I tower over you. You can feel your wetness drip down the inside of your lovely thighs, and you wonder, with a mixture of shame and excitement “does he notice that?” (Of course he does babygirl… I notice everything about my girl…)
As I tower over you, you dare to raise your eyes ever so slightly, and you see my crotch in front of you. You realize, in that moment, that more than anything in the world you want your Master’s cock in your mouth. You want me to use you, to use your body for my pleasure… you want me to take your mouth… and in that moment you slip a little deeper and you feel in your bones that which we’ve both known for a long time—you are mine. I own you. Completely. You have never wanted to suck a cock this badly in your entire life. You didn’t know you could want it so much. You strain to hold still, the hunger in your body for my cock causing you to tremble… you would do anything to touch me…
And I know this. I smile, a combination of satisfaction, affection and victory… knowing you are one step closer to being broken, and just by this simple act of kneeling. I stroke your hair… petting your head… “Good girl. You are going to be such a good girl for me here today, pet. Yes you are.” I pause for a moment, imagining what it would be like to unzip, to slide the head of my rock hard cock between those beautiful, half parted lips… your tongue hungrily lapping at the bead of moisture I know is on my tip… who would have thought that such a sense of… union… fulfillment… could come from the act of a woman sucking a man’s cock?
And I entertain these thoughts for a moment… and then I walk across the room, sit in the chair, and pour myself a glass of wine… leaving you trembling, on the edge of tears with desire and frustration.
And then we wait.
Beautiful
You inspire me. Your tenacity, and your strength, are inspiring things. To go from where I take you, with my words and my hands, with the whips and the ropes, and rebuild yourself, and put on your everyday clothes and your everyday smile, to slip back into the persona and enjoy yourself as an everyday person, after that.
It’s astonishing, really. It doesn’t seem like something that should be possible, to go from that sobbing, begging, beautifully broken thing into the well composed, well adjusted person that I see when others are around. To hide the bruises, both the ones on your body and the ones on your mind, under pretty, loose, pleasant clothes, and just go about your day.
The most amazing thing is how you do it with me, how you can go from what you were into what you are, and just be with me as a woman and a friend, despite what I turn you into when we slip into the bedroom, especially after I turn you into what I do. After all that begging, and pleading, and whimpers and moans, after the climax after climax. The spankings, the bindings, the whispered words.
I love that I get to see both sides of you like that. And I love both sides of you, because of that.
Damn….
Fuck it, let’s make a mess. Let’s leave all the protocols and the rules, the balls and chains at the door, and make a tangle of limbs on the floor, just the hairs on my arms giving the slightest inkling as to what belongs to whom.
We don’t have to be always on, with it at the forefront of everything we do. Sometimes I’m going to just want to make a mess of things, and shed those roles like snakeskin. Not completely. Never completely. But just a little, sand away the edges and glide against one another.
Because it’s all just window dressing, when we really get down to it. They’re wonderful, life affirming bits of window dressing, for sure, but they’re not the core that we build on. It’s not my dominance that defines the relationship, nor your submission. No more than my music taste or your cooking.
Ok, maybe a little more.
Either way, those clothes are coming off and we’re making a mess of that rug.
What beautiful words
I need you to do something for us today, pet.
Start in the morning when you see that girl in the mirror. I want you to think about her then, and all day. I know what you see when you see her, but let’s not talk about that—let’s talk about what I see. Let me lend you my eyes for just a minute… try to see her as I see her. Don’t worry about whether I am right or wrong… start today by trying to see a little bit of what I see.
I see a girl who is gorgeous. What I see physically—her eyes, her lips, her breasts, her figure—are not what we are talking about. Yes, your is beauty is beyond the power of my words to capture it, but your Master sees beyond those things—I see your heart. We need to talk today about things you can’t see in that mirror.
I see a girl who is strong. She has been hurt. She has made some mistakes, and has the scars to show for it. I see a girl whose trust in herself has been destroyed, who has been, at times, almost ground down to nothing. But you were not ground down to nothing… you did endure. You are far stronger than you realize. You must see that you are not your mistakes. I am in awe of the strength inside that girl in the mirror.
I also see a girl with a bright future and infinite potential stretching before her, if she is just brave enough to reach for it. You must trust yourself and your potential. I can lift you a little higher at times… support you and carry you a little ways… but you must do the work. You must be fearless and brave, pet. Dare to dream a wonderful future, and we will work toward it together.
I see a girl I want so much it scares me. I know you are terrified I will wake up one day and be done with you; whether tired, frustrated or bored, but those are the demons of your fears and insecurities whispering lies in your ear. I will love you more every day.
I know that girl in the mirror scares you, and I know you don’t quite trust my vision. Give me time. Give me your trust. In time, you will come to know her and see what I see.
Trust your Master. There is a reason you are mine. I love you, my sweet, sweet pet.
Is this it? http://www.amazon.com/nail-polish-Deep-Space-NGP102/dp/B003ZORZCO/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1326584158&sr=8-2
GTFO with this. Seriously one of the coolest things ever. WANT!!
SRSLY???? Omg, I love this!!!! I WANT IT!
