Lonely Thoughts at 12am.

I need you. My soul aches for you, and I don’t even know who you are. 

When will you come into my life? Are you already in my life and I haven’t looked hard enough? Is the answer obvious, and you are right in front of me?

I’m waiting. I’m 21 and already impatient. I can’t imagine how I will be when I’m 31 or 41, if you are still not in my life. 

Only your words that tell me I will be okay, and that you will protect me, will get through to me. 

I’m waiting. Have you thought of me? Am I in your mind at all?

I know I don’t need a person to be happy. I know I can be happy on my own and I see that now.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you still in my life. 

Love me. Fuck me. Bow to me. Intertwine your soul with mine. 

Find me.

I’m waiting here. 

I will wait for you: My Love

Creating Myself.

Wrap me tight in your arms. Tell me everything will be okay. Kiss the spot on my neck that never fails to make me swoon. Graze your fingers up and down my arm, leaving trails of goosebumps. Whisper that I’m beautiful as you kiss your way down my body. Kiss my nipples, kiss my stretchmarks on my stomach and thighs, kips my lips below… that belong only to you.

Tears that are traitors slip from the corner of my eyes.

I don’t want you to know how much your existence has affected and effected me. I don’t want you to know how much those simple words you have said, have broke down a shield I have kept up for years.

You make me vulnerable and I don’t like it. You make me feel like putty in your hands.

I hate you.

Why are you doing this to me? Why do you love me? What do you see in me that I can’t see within myself? Tell me! I want and need to know.

Slid effortlessly inside me, and kiss my lips slowly. Let me accustom to you.

Your babygirl is no more. Your Miss is here to stay and play.

I rake my fingers up your back. I know you like when I do that. I slap that ass that belongs to me, to give you a sign I’m ready.

Yes, you are top in this instance, but I’m the one in control. And you know it.

You know I like to be fucked and used ruthlessly. You know I LOVE to be pounded.

Fuck missionary, take me from behind. “You are such a good boy”, I whisper in between thrusts. You are always polite to your Miss and say, “Thank you, Miss. I’m your good boy”.

And the good boy you are, you grab my favorite vibrator next to us, turn it on, and hold against my clit.

This moment.  I want to freeze this moment. It’s not about the sex itself that makes me want to savor it. It’s the fact that I can be myself with you. That I don’t have to pick between my submissive and dominant nature. That you accept and embrace all of me.

This is the exact moment that I begin to cry.

Not in sadness or from a dark and horrid place, my trauma lives in. From happiness. For the first time in my life I feel like a Goddess. I feel like your Goddess. Your queen. Your temple to worship. I feel love. I no longer associate mental and physical intimacy with trauma and pain. The trauma that has took and destroyed and hindered relationships in the past, regardless of what kind…no longer has a hold on me.

I’m free.

I’m reborn. 



*A piece I wrote tonight that is fiction. Though, it would be lovely if this happened to me, hehe. I’m optimistic I will meet that person in my life. When I least expect it perhaps.*

Life Update via Audio!


Hello! Beautiful, sexy, vanilla and kinky people! I have today, a 40 minute audio. In the background you can hear gentle rain…from my computer, lol. This audio has the topics of:

  • Kitty’s!
  • Update on my submissives. Includes drama with one of them. Gotta love the drama (heavy on sarcasm)!
  • New Apartment?
  • Still Interested in Wicca?
  • Learning Tarot
  • Personal Trainer?
  • Belly Dancing?
  • Update on Mental Health.
  • A Hungry Falyn!

Plug in some earplugs or not. Let my voice guide you on my journey of my life, hehe.

Link to audio: Life Update!


P.s. Some topics may be NSFW. Viewer Discretion Advised! 18+ only!

I Need A Major Life Change?

I feel like I’m just existing in my life. Not really living but just being here. I’m thinking about starting a new life. Changing my name, my first name, moving to Europe. Starting a new chapter in my life.

Am I running away from my past? I don’t think so in a way. I would still carry with me the trauma, still work through the trauma the best way I can for me, medication for the anxiety and therapy for the trauma.

I still have that image of myself sitting on the porch of my cottage, reading a book and enjoying some tea or coffee. Feeling the cool breeze and hearing the beginnings of rain.

It’s silly, I have actually done some research to what the process of changing your name is, as well as the financial cost. I have also even been brainstorming names…Katerina, Viktoriya, hehe.

How realistic could this all be? Well, I’m thinking about a graduation present to myself, I will go on a solo trip to Europe. So, somewhat realistic?

Then I have thoughts how it would be interesting and fun to be a dominatrix. Have a vanilla job full time, and part-time whipping men and women’s asses. 16333309

Very fun indeed…

Switching off.

I want to shut my feelings off. To feel nothing. I do it sometimes when I feel hurt. It’s a defense mechanism and all the pain goes away. I feel nothing.

I don’t understand why people let the emotions in? I have been told by many people to feel the emotion that I’m in. To feel the hurt and pain. I don’t want to. I’m going to shut my feelings off. 

I made the mistake of letting it slip yesterday. I’m not going to let that happen again. 

Where do I begin?

Tonight…was horrible. I guess I was triggered. I still hate using that word.

I attended a domestic/sexual violence event at a coffee shop that my school was having. I attended to show support. During this event they had open mic, where victims and supporters can come up and tell their stories.

I thought I had a handle on my emotions. I shed some tears at hearing these women’s stories. Most of these women were college students. One story really got to me, and all of a sudden a high pitched cry of pain came out of me. A few high pitched noises. I have never in my entire life made those noises when crying. But the emotion of pain and sadness and loneliness just took over unexpectedly. Yes, I was sad because of her story, but a specific part…something about it…triggered me.

Everyone in this packed coffee house, turned around and looked at me. I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life. I have social anxiety. I have a natural fear that everyone is staring and judging me, that every word that comes out of my mouth is stupid, that people think I’m fat and ugly. So when everyone turned to look at me…I felt like a freak.

Some women nearby me asked if I was okay. But that makes it worse for me. When I cry, I’m at my absolute vulnerability. I don’t want to be hugged, or to be asked if I’m okay…I don’t want anyone to acknowledge what is happening to me because on top of that heavy emotion, I’m feeling a heavy emotion of embarrassment.

The head women of the event walked over and tried to console me and asked me questions that I could not even process. My brain was just stuck on the fact that I made a loud sound of pain in a packed, popular coffee house that in my city people attend; because it’s hipster and queer friendly. Yes, other people were crying throughout the event. But I…ME…made a noise that you thought I was about to be killed or something.

I keep rehearsing in my head, over and over and over. Playing the scene, over and over and over.

I thought I was strong. I hate showing my weakness to people. I don’t like when people show love when I’m in a vulnerable moment. Any other time I welcome it. But when I’m vulnerable and my protective shields are down, I don’t like knowing I’m loved.

Now, everyone in the coffee shop knows something happened to me. Either domestic or sexual violence. Including some classmates and coworkers.

This clip I’m attaching to this post, it scares me. If you want to know why. Read the above again.

Good Will Hunting- “It’s Not Your Fault”.

“she’s a Queen with a little bit of savage”

My boy (Miss/submissive dynamic-BDSM), misunderstood my instructions. I as his Miss, had to punish him so, for failing to complete his task.






The results. Look at my glorious cock. Purple and swollen, bowing before me to its Miss. 

Perhaps next time my boy will read twice when I instruct him with tasks. Or else punishments like this will ensue.


*The title of this post is a quote by the author, r.h. Sin. I take no credit.