Your path, always...

"I feel Your heels, Your soles, the pressure. You stand above me, my pain & my pleasure. The cheekbones creak, awareness flies, my soul again soaring way up to the skies. No past, just present, no future will be. That calm intense beauty once more calls to me. You hear my soft cries, my moans of desire, the pain,it explodes with cool licks of fire. You've led me again to this far away place; a haven, a dreamscape, my own deep sub-space. All thought is gone only feeling is real, the child inside me again free to feel. I so long to stay here, our own 'Neverland' so soon You retrieve me, the touch of Your hand. Soft palm on my brow, so honest, so pure. for You My Dear Lady much more will endure. The taste of my tears & My Lady so sweet, forever submissive, to kneel at Your feet. A new, truer path My Lady has shown & together I hope our spirits have flown." micamino

No Other

he falls before Beauty.
Hypnotic, deep-eyed gaze
that unwraps to the very soul.
No longer himself, but more so.
Revealed. Naked. Hers.

She alone understands,
only Her intoxicating embrace
shapes the patterns of his desires.
Their glorious dance of Pain & Pleasure
Boundless. Indivisible. Perfect.

To be in Her shadow!
Captured. Controlled. Cherished.
he is enamoured, 
She his Queen
Beauty. Poise. Elegance.

All senses heightened,
Her touch, silky smooth
now harsh, biting;
fleeting sensual incandescences,
Only Her. Mistress. No other.

An Ode to Edgeplay ;-/

'I give You my life', breathes the sub,
as Mistress looks down from above.
Tied down on his back, chin up to the sky,
while She makes his choice; to live or to die.
The breathing gets harder, She feels his pulse race,
whilst standing serene, with angelic face.
No air for him until She so decides,
reality changes, awakes his minds-eye.
All senses full, no thoughts to explain,
but totally focused on Her & this 'pain'.
First blackness, then stars; a dreamlike place,
once more aware of slipping to space.
How far can we go? In Mistress will trust,
to bring me back safely & not 'dust to dust',
but pushing the limits, increasing the pain
and upping intensity, time and again.
So soon She steps off, it feels such a shame,
cool air rushes in & he's breathing again.
Her scent fills his lungs, as heart slows it's pace,
already missing Her squeezing embrace.
These experiences and loves are felt by so few,
so sad when he leaves Her, yet feels born anew.

micamino

Feeling So Alive!

I step in, a little nervous as always, take off my problems and put them in a neat pile in Her ante-chamber, take a deep breath and knock on the dragon-door.

Sweet siren voice calls me to Her and I bumble inelegantly through and onto hallowed ground. Such heavenly curves! Kneeling before Perfection, once more my heart melts. As I bathe in Her warm, sensuous glow, drink in Her beauty and breathing Her pulse-quickening fragrance, ever deeper until I feel I am drowning in Her.

Where lies the defining line between right and wrong; Pleasure & Pain? Let's pass beyond all, in awareness together. Vanilla is fine, it has its place, just as does magnolia. But what is life without a flash of red & black?!

The trivia of life; the work, the 'stuff', next years' holiday,a pay rise, a nice car forgotten - all becomes 'virtual'.
Stiletto's & dragons, silk & satin, leather & lace. A rush of adrenaline brings blood to a face. Salty sweetness, darkness & light, lucidity, dreamtime, agony & ecstacy.
All is replaced with what is real: The Thrill, Here & Now. Shared Experience and Emotion - the proof that we are Alive!

micamino )0(;-/ xxxx

The First Time

'Our' Friday morning comes after a whole month asleep.
My mind has been a wave of images and senses-tingling thoughts of My Lady.
Every curve, every flick of Your hair,
every click of Your stiletto heels; the way You move
is familiar to me.
And Your concentration, as deep green eyes search mine
to discover where we are.
I know this place.
And yet all is still as the first time,
as if hand-in-hand, You lead me through a beautiful dream.
Our Friday is upon us, as I wake from You to my dreams of You.

micamino )0(;-/ xxxx

"An ASDA Story"

Grey. It's all the same. Everyday a carbon copy of the last. I'm paid minimum wage to sit here and wave things in front of me until a bleep, tip them down the slope and ask if they've brought their own bags.
It's relentlessly unrelenting.
A tide of colourless humanity, with their predictable items; the economy tea, a copy of "OK" or "Hello" and their dishevelled clothes, lank hair and the modern look of defeat all over their sallow faces.

I glance out through the plate glass windows, past the trolleys, the coin machine and green and white bags and the herd of shuffling people, snorting and wheezing with the cold and the fashionably glum look about them all.
Still snowing. So beautiful and life-affirming in a way. Beautiful but dangerous.

God, I hope it won't stop Her coming today!
It's Friday. She always comes on Friday. My only respite from the drudgery of the week.

Sometimes I hear Her first. I tingle all over, starting with the back of my neck. Breathing gets deeper, yet quicker and my hands begin to sweat.
That 'Tik-Tak' sound of Her heels, reminiscent of something in my head...like a regal clicking of Her fingers when requiring attention; impossible to ignore.
I follow the sound of Her shoes as She rounds the corner, past the stack of shopping baskets and into the store, not 20 feet away from me.
I am captivated. Can't look away from Her. In all my years, I have never known a woman who could completely dominate my every thought just by 'being'.

She must come. She has to.
I hand a woman her receipt and points card and mumble the required pleasantry as the next glum individual shuffles forward.
Then, all is forgotten.
Store etiquette abondoned as I hear Her. It's Her!
Unmistakably my Friday morning shot of neat sunshine.
Moving this way, purposefully yet unhurried. 'Click-click-click-click'- I recognise Her pace - precise, almost hypnotically metronomic and once again, I feel myself slipping into a waking trance.

How does She do that? Why do I respond in such a way?
Then, She comes into my line of view. Heart melts, the hairs on my arms feel electrically charged and my breathing is too fast.
A flash of green eyes, faint hint of a smile...and She is lost. Basket over Her arm, long black leather coat which draws eyes and lingering looks rather than reflecting them and amplifies and enhances the blonde of Her hair. The flash of silver on Her fabulous stiletto heels. What a woman!

I spend interminable time looking for Her, listening, not concentrating and fumbling ridiculously with people's money and debit cards.
Sometimes She comes to my checkout. I am crushed when She does not. She knows Her power.
No words are spoken. Just a slight smile and look of knowing on Her pretty features. Moves like a cat; sublimely elegant yet there is a real strength here with something else underlying; an energy, like a live-wire seldom seen or felt around here.

I catch an occassional flash of the deepest green eyes that will haunt my dreams tonight, with a longing I don't understand. Yes, She is fabulous, but there is something more. Deeper, inexorable.
And I can see, reflected in the cold steel of the neighbouring checkout those beautiful shoes and just a glimpse of seamed stocking hugging a smooth calf and shapely ankle.
Her scent, I draw as deeply into my lungs as I can, as I almost sob at Her closeness. "Obsession"; truly apt if not ironic in this situation.

Then, She is gone. A soft polite "Thank you", a last brief flash of green eyes and I am left alone here, as so much flotsam in a sea of mediocrity and apathy.
Who is She? This sublime Lady, so close yet so out of reach.
This Lady who, like the snow is both beautiful and tantalisingly dangerous; life-affirming, yet filling me with such feelings of loss every time She goes.
My Lady awakens the realisation of the beauty of each and every second; the perfection of the universe in every moment. The movement of eternity, contained in the sound of those clicking heels.
My ray of sunshine. My brush with glamour. My spark of potential happiness. My reason for Friday's.

micamino )0(;-/ xxxx

"No Ordinary Commuter"

Would that I could sit opposite Mistress on Her train ride to where the streets are paved with gold. Observe Her in the vanilla world, where I used to be trapped, away from the comforting shadow and light of My Lady's chambers.
Does a Goddess stand out from the crowd? How does such a woman blend in with the grey 'normality' of life?

I would gaze for awhile into the thoughtful, mysterious green of eyes deeper than an ocean of tears. Those perfect, aristocratic cheekbones. That slight knowing smile of self-awareness. This is a woman of depth; of substance.

Down, down my gaze is drawn, over soft womanly curves, all the way down to where a floaty summer dress reveals shapely thighs. Legs crossed and I cannot look away. That curve from knee to ankle, once more holds me entranced; catching my breath.
Does anybody else notice the soft sheen of silk in the warm, fragrant light that surrounds Her and the soft sigh of stockings as She slowly, elegantly crosses Her legs?

And what of our carriage-mates? Men hiding behind 'The Financial Times' or the latest offering from Waterstones', trying to catch a glimpse of the most exciting woman they are ever likely to meet? Perhaps the odd brave or brash one; a young pretender who tries to catch My Lady's eye.

And the women on board. A stern once-over, or a casual glance? Barely concealing envy at Your natural poise, glamour and air of calm sensuality.
Some want to be You. Perhaps some with You. Sometimes one will get a spark from You and realise what latent power she too may possess...

Do You blend in, chamaeleon-like when required? or is Your vibrant sensuality constantly simmering under that flimsy material? A barely suppressed sexuality, like a beauteous garden in May where Mother Nature could never, thankfully, be tamed?

How many here would ever imagine that amongst them sits the Perfect Lady; the consumate Dominatrix? And that just the other morning, the adoring submissive now sitting opposite, gave You freely the power over his life or death, taking away his breath, yet breathing life into his very being. The position of ultimate control over another.

And of the ones who watch You, dreamily, as You move poetically, heels clicking across the railway station platform this morning, how many long to be with You; to be under Your spell, or to be under Your heels?
How many sit blankly at their desks, unable to concentrate after being near You, having been deeply affected by You?
Your heady presence which lingers like a favourite dream...

MiCamino )0(;-/