As I'm sure you already know, I finally got around to updating the MyRealityPlane gallery with a set from the super fun photo shoot I did at Sully the Genius Metal Worker's pad a couple months ago. (Thanks again, Sully!) Benevolent as I am, I have decided that none of you should have to exist in a world with less photos of me, and will be posting archives of all retired gallery sets here, so you can look at them forever and ever and ever.
Pause for standing ovation.
You're welcome.
There's a reason why this set is called The Top.
It's not just because I am The Top,
though clearly that's an integral part of it.
But another quite overwhelming part of it is how
I adore putting on tall shoes and boots,
making myself as tall as possible,
crashing through the ceiling and scraping the sky,
swatting at airplanes and King Kongs and such,
a momentary distraction until
I turn my attention back to swatting at you,
puny, small, exposed, vulnerable,
all the way down there.
These are the boots I like to wear when
you're on the floor at my feet,
and the best part is when I trap your wrists or neck
in the space between my boot heel and toe,
forcing you to be still, to stare up at me as I tower over you.
I do so love to tower over you.
Just about as much as I love to hover directly above you,
looking down on you, watching you struggle to remain still
as you do your best to assume the state of a nice, comfy,
sturdy piece of furniture, if that's how I've decided
you'll best serve me in the moment.
Giddyup! And don't make me use my spurs!
*finger wagging*
(As if you could make me.
I'll use my spurs when I fucking well please,
and you'll fucking well thank me for it.)
I am always on top,
sometimes less than inches away from you,
restraints holding you perfectly still in place,
reminding you that an inch may as well be forever,
because an inch from forever is as close as you'll ever get.
(Now that's torture—ha! Deal with it.)
This one's a gift, for obvious reasons. Happy Holidays!
Posts
4 comments:
Just for one second, I was Fay Wray, cupped in that latex covered glove, a white dress blowing in the breeze, staring up at you. You had just told me with a surreal but kind yet totally wicked smile that a nearby smokestack was about to be slid into Your harness.
And then, the planes... those damned planes...
Next thing, I'm in a dumpster pulling a melon rind out of my ass muttering about the fickle nature of the Goddess. I always pick the wrong photo to imagine I'm in the middle of. I hate that. Not that every moment wouldn't be worth it.
Your latest photo, the one I call "Stormy Sky With Blond Bombshell", is another Giant Step forward. Fuck the baby steps. Plod with abandon. It's only through our squashing that the wine of Your sublime satisfaction will be fomented.
Thanks for the new location for the photos. The captions left me wanting more.
With best regards, and awe,
An admirer from... well.. not THAT a-far.
As a submissive male, I must confess that I love looking up! Your words have made for a wonderful start to my day.
Wonderful photos and captions, Mistress. Thank you for posting them!
NV2
Your mind is quite delicious ....
Post a Comment