homptydumpty (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 16, 2008 10:40 am
I swear i wont fuck my life away! However sometimes i feel like the god of fuck~
To be within a harem would be interesting....
Mortuary cosmetology or mortuary science is what i will do, this is my calling. i was up all night reading about it!
Another thought for me was to join the navy or some service to obtain the money i need for school. it seems ti look like mortuary school is 2-4 years or training...
Humpty,
Now what exactually do you swear on? And what do you swear of and do you rage when you swear or is it more of a wimper? A pathetic whimper. A weak exhaulation of air in the the valley of darkness. You so willing to join with your captor with no WILL TO FIGHT, no WILL TO LIVE, no sense of a future? A sense that only comes later, a continuos spiraling cheap domestic spat!
I know a young man who broke his chains of bondage, quite literally (at least a pair of standard issue hand cuffs placed by the local PD). OHH, and I have the police report to prove it. But that my boy is another story for another day.
But, since you mentioned the military, and you are ohhh so cute and skinny, I will tell you one of my tales. A recent tale from not so long ago, that actually, well, starts just around the corner. It all started just around the corner from you infact. In a nice neighborhood, in the cleanest most educated land that turned into hell. But I grew up in hell, a secure hell with a gate, with security and a mother that only Walt Disney could imagine. Imagine and share with the rest of us. And a little glimpse of evil that's what the people like, right? Off to the theatre for a little entertainment. Right?
But what if it wasn't a theater, and the screen had four walls and a little fear was a full blown panic, would you become an animal to survive or would you escape into fantasy, or perhaps a bit of both? How would that affect the development of your senses?
But I was never a sleeping beauty in that sense, and the only time the witch defended me was the day the sisters gave me the makeover. I will always remember that day. The witch came home saw her little eunuch decked out in drag and became furious. Furious, is really not quite correct though. Her spirit left her body, flew about the house found the girls, returned to her physical state and berated them, but they were never spanked, never spanked that day or whipped like I was. And in this case I was not whipped she gently removed the masscara and lip stick then calmly sent me into the shower.
...Ohh yes, I was cute and precious like you once upon a time when I left hell errr...home. Cute and skinny, physically anyway, with the soothing pressence of a pit viper and the tenacity of a pitbull. Crack cocaine was at it's height and I was homeless. Homeless with the developmental age of a five year old, in a land where demons fueled with the fires that only modern man could stoke, soared the skys and roamed the lands. Armed and high or hopeless on crack. How I wished I could just be hip and away from where I was. Perhaps with enough encouragement I could be hip and cool bent over with an otherwise bored couple enjoying the fruits I had to offer. But no, these demons were searching for prey, prey just like you.
But I was lethal, the witch had trained me to fear no man, and I was an animal now with testosterone surging threw my veins. In the demons burning little world, the world built thousands of years ago, the one that is collapsing right before our eyes, they feared the wild. Ever get that close to a wild animal? And the dreams of getting life in prison eventually faded.
Perhaps I'll tell you more of this tale, but I really do need to load my truck.
I must go to work and fill my time taking care of the sick but mostly spoiled. DAMN GLUTTONS!!!! And Tomorrow I do some work on my sister's while my heart yearns for a loving intelligent witch, one who would keep me for herself, apprecaite what I do, and do not have, and let me lay in her lap in her beautiful home.
GOD BLESSED
Chilli
Mortuary Sciences, I think.