“Why have you come here?” Goddess Marquesa asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered, and it was the truth. She had agreed to a private meeting with me only after much pleading, but I could not identify the root of my pressing need. “The trance sessions I’ve had with you have been wonderful, but lately I don’t feel myself. Look…” I held up my hand, palm down. It trembled involuntarily. “I can’t make it stop. I have trouble sleeping. I can’t focus at work. What’s happening to me? Can you help me with this?” Read more…
A story inspired by Goddess Marquesa
This time I’ve bitten off more than I could chew, not to say I have any regrets because I don’t, but I was with people who have been at this for a long time and I felt like a freshman. The events of this week began with an invitation to spend time with Mistress M. on Saturday and that it was just for fun, a social gathering and that it was not going to be a session, “How could I say no?” 
It was 6:00am and the slave was still lying on the mattress in a corner of the room when Mistress Marquesa walked into the room. She wore a white sleeveless blouse and a white mini skirt which betrayed the flaming red underwear she had on. With a pair of transparent short spiked heel ankle boots.
It was a typical late summer’s night in New York: sultry, hot and humid. It had just rained, but the night was clear now and the bright light of the Moon snuck down between the rooftops and kissed the glistening, wet streets. As the special limo carrying my most beloved, adored, and worshiped Mistress Marquesa and myself, Her submissive, pliant, obedient, pink lingerie clad slave/slut girl Danielle careened downtown, I could see that the city was indeed alive, despite the obtrusive heat and very late hour. 
