It's like a kinky fairytale

April 29th marked the one year anniversary of meeting the love of my life, the man who keeps the moon and stars in the sky, who owns my soul and demands my worship. 

This year has completely changed my life. I am not the person he met one year ago. I'm better and stronger, emotionally and physically. Words cannot express how grateful I am. To show him how much I love him, I continually strive to deepen my service to him. 

We get closer and closer everyday. Last night, we stood together in the shower and laughed like idiots. He's my best friend. He takes better care of me than I do. He taught me that I was a slave and has gently and firmly helped me to deepen my position below him. 

He's been forgiving of my weakness, understanding of my pain, all the while encouraging me to be a better version of myself. 

When he kisses me, the same electricity still shoots down my spine, weakening my knees and wetting my pussy. I still get the same thrill from the way he looks at me, the way he can be tender one moment and stern the next. 

I never expected to find love like this. I had given up. I had decided never to marry again. I wasn't willing to make that kind of commitment to anyone. 

I remember the day we talked about it. 

"When I ask you to marry me, you will say yes."

"Yes Sir," I said. 

That was it, end of discussion. I felt the fear quiver in my belly, the uncertainty in the back of my mind... But trust trumped it all. I let go.

We aren't engaged yet, but it has become a fact on the calendar of our lives. It's going to happen. Only he knows when. And I'm alright with that. I'm in no rush. The idea still frightens me, but it doesn't come close to the way that I love and trust him. 

Sometime in the next few months, I am going to get my first tattoo. Yesterday, I made a decision about it. I want Daddy to choose it. I want him to place it. And I don't want to see it until it is a permanent decoration on my body. I think it's a beautiful picture of the trust that I have in him and my desire to be marked as his. It will be a permanent I love you. 

Daddy, 

I cannot imagine my life without you and I don't ever want to try. I love you desperately and without reservation and I know you feel the same. For the first time in my life, I can be 100% me. I don't have to hide anything. I've never experienced transparency like this before. Thank you for loving me more than I have ever been loved and for accepting me for who I am. I cannot imagine a better person to have as my life partner, my PIC, my monster, my sounding board, my strength, the father of my children, and my beloved. Thank you for this beautiful year and thank you for all the years to come. 

I love you.

Mortal Combat: Catlytt vs. Anxiety... FIGHT!

Hello all, 

It's been too long since I have written. We have much to discuss. 

The past few months have been emotionally hard for me. I don't have a particularly good reason, but I have been struggling with my anxiety in a very overwhelming way. To ease the struggle, I have been filling my spare time with bad habits. I've been drinking too much... getting high enough that I cannot function... finding other ways to free my mind and my body from the constant feeling of butterflies in my stomach, racing thoughts, acid reflux, and intense, chronic fatigue. 

So I apologize to you, my dear reader, and myself for not respecting my body and mind as Daddy's priceless treasure and caring for myself as he cares for me. I have sorely neglected my duties. 

They say that bad news always comes in threes. It's been a little over a month now, but I had a week that totally wrecked me. It was a work week, so it was already fairly stressful. Master texted me on a Wednesday morning.

"My mom got diagnosed with lymphoma."

WHAT!? Who texts that sort of thing? So I called him and I was met with an almost disturbing calmness and a matter of fact acceptance(I was crying). 

Reeling from that discovery, Thursday, I got a call from the county jail. One of my best friends had just gotten arrested. He used me as his one call. The man has been going through a horrible divorce and his ex is a witch. She found a way to ruin his life, yet again. Angry and in protective mamma bear mode, I called his girlfriend. I called Master. I was livid that his ex was yet again able to grab him by the balls and do something like this. 

Monday: I called my mom to chat on my way to work. 

"Did you hear that your cousin had a stroke?"

WHAT?! 

"Last night, her husband called us this morning." 

My heart was racing... How could that happen? She's 36! She has five kids and a husband that need her. This is horrible. I got to work at 0700. I talked to my boss. By 0830, I was on the road north. I spent the morning at the hospital with her, her husband, and my uncle who few in from Montana overnight. 

She's alright. Thank goodness. She has a few lasting deficits which are resolving. The upside of this is that she is now getting the therapy that she needs to cope with her life and the massive responsibilities that she is always carrying.

Needless to say, I have been run ragged. Something had to be done...

I completely tapered myself off of my ADHD medication. I have been suspicious for some time that it was contributing to my anxiety (It is a stimulant, after all). This has significantly helped. I've also been very deliberate about taking time, every 2 weeks, to take time for myself: go get a manicure, a massage, something relaxing. It's starting to make a difference and I can feel the tension that has been a constant in my life beginning to unwind like a spring. 

An exciting side-effect of taking care of myself... is that each time I make a decision to prioritize my mental health, it opens up additional possibilities. 

For example, I have been going to the gym. I haven't been consistent enough to really call it a success yet, but I have noticed something that I hadn't noticed before. Last time that I tried to use exercise as a stress management technique, it made no noticeable difference. I think I was just too far gone. When you're in the middle of suicidal depression, lifestyle changes don't seem to help that much. This time, it's different. I actually feel amazing after I go to the gym. I didn't go first thing in the morning yesterday and I had a pretty crappy mood day, until I went to the gym in the evening. It completely fixed it.  

I'm feeling encouraged, for the first time in a long time. Thank you, my lovely readers, for waiting so patiently. 

Much love,

cat

You took me

I met you at the door. My hand slid behind your head as our lips met. My tongue pushed past your lips. I felt your body rise against mine. Then, your arms were around me. Surrounded by your strength, I released what little control I had. You explored my mouth aggressively with your tongue. 

Both your hands were on my shoulders. You began to push down. I fell gratefully to my knees. I smelled the leather of your belt as you worked the buckle. Jeans unzipped. Cock in my mouth. I greedily and eagerly sucked your cock. My tongue swirled around the head. 

"Get your gag."

I had received a dental gag in the mail the day before. You met me in the bedroom. You knelt beside me and fastened the buckle behind my head. Near my left ear I heard the steely click, click, click and the gag was opened further and further. With the gag in place, you took my throat. I love the feeling of your cock in my throat. I tightened and released my throat around your cock. I heard you moan. My saliva was coating your cock. Thick slippery gobs fell from your head. 

"On the bed."

As I rose, you roughly threw me forward onto the bed. I was bent at the hips, my torso on the bed. Saliva fell from my mouth in a puddle under my face as you entered my dripping pussy. 

I felt your hips slam into me at the same time I felt your cock strike my cervix. I moaned in pleasure. Again and again, you slammed into me. My moans turned to growls. With each thrust, I clenched my pussy tighter and tighter around you. Your hand fell repeatedly across my ass as you pounded me. Faster. Faster. I could not think. Drool streamed from my gaping mouth. I remember searing pain as you continued to spank me. Each thrust of your cock brought me closer and closer to the brink. 

I waited. I always wait. I don't want to cum without your command, ever. 

"Cum, bitch!" you growled. 

I let myself fall right off the cliff. I lost myself in my orgasm, my body twitching and writhing. You fucked me so hard that I could barely stay on the bed. I felt your body tense and your cock throb as you pumped your cum into my hungry pussy. You stayed there, with your cock as far in me as it would go, for a few seconds. Then you were gone. 

I slid from the bed. My knees buckled and I landed on my side on the floor. That's where you found me when you returned, exhausted, high from the depth of our passion, crumpled on the floor in a heap. 

"Good girl." 

"Thank you Sir." I whispered. 

Poetry from darker times

As a preface to this: I wrote these poems late one night after getting into a horrible fight with a loved one. It was a very dark time in my life. I am not there anymore. I hope that in allowing people to see the darkness that I have escaped that they might have hope.

1

my life is fucked beyond all reason

like a man in his twenties who is losing his hair

the sex appeal dies early

all that is left is a sea of pale smooth skin

glistening by the light of the moon

2

orgasm

such a sinful word

or-gasm

as though you had a choice

get on with it girl

they are waiting for you

3

i met a man once 

whose eyes were full of promises,

kisses, dreams,

all the things for which a girl creams

but he was no different

the dreams were lies and 

the kisses screams

tear my heart out baby

without you it is dead

but it was dead anyway

4

tears kiss me sweetly

my eyes my face

streaming with joy or pain

screaming the same

the world is a dull dull grey

full of digust no play

kiss me darling

kiss me sweetly

for tomorrow brings nothing but the same

5

harness

rock

penis

break

scream

die softly

bleed

slowly dissolve into the soil

flesh to dirt

blood to water

just the same

no different than any other

6

cliché

that same hackneyed phrase

don't test me darling

i know your name

you cry you preen

your skeleton shines in the 

moonlight gleam

you are empty i say

but your face only smiles

cliché

eyes empty like pits

get away from me with your dreary kiss

take your grin 

take it away I say

there is no room in my life 

for such a cliché as

once upon a time

7

fortune favors the prepared

what about the rest of us poor fucks

what about the meuling creeping public

what about the worthless self-saboteurs 

we get to die in our own shit

with no dignity and no choice

your laughter is cheap and hollow now

your voice it merely stings

my heart is in a ruin love

beside all of our things

what use to plan a life

when fate you can't predict

to hell with human nature

that is what truly reeks

you cannot know yourself until 

you have truly seen your darkness

your filth

your smut

disgusting sour putrefying shit at the bottom of your soul

that filthy tar baby that sucks you in

smothering you and all the light that is left

as the filth closes over your head

you gasp your last breath

the tar flows around you now

in you

the ghastly taste is in your mouth

creeping down your throat

you can feel your life receding from its onslaught

8

there are different types of darkness

the mother's womb quiet and safe

the blackness of lace at a funeral

dusty and cloying

and the blackness of death

destroying decaying

taking all that was precious and turning it to dust

no matter how you hide in the light

darkness will find you

what is light without its antithesis 

but for the sunlight streaming in your window

you couldn't see the dust

the fragments of your life

no fallen apart and dying at your feet

you may try to hide your face

but the sickening smell creeps into your nostrils

it tears your heart and rends your mind

separating you from all your kind

your pain a stain upon a fresh cotton cloth

no washing will remove

just as your blood burns your heart

leaving an eternal scar

an altar to those you lost

Hold me so tightly that it hurts

It feels like someone staring at the back of your head, that feeling you get when you just know that you are being watched. Just a little bit of tension in the shoulders. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You feel the need to whip around suddenly, but the idea scares you. 

That is how I feel. 

It's just a little too familiar. It's too similar to the past. It's setting me on edge. Depression is wrapping its shroud around me, lulling me into pitiful despair. 

He said it today... or maybe it was yesterday, "You need to talk to your doctor. It seems like you are getting worse." My heart sank. I have been trying to not see it for weeks now. He is so patient, so understanding, so much kinder than I feel like I deserve. He doesn't get upset when my moods keep me from helping around the house, or when I have surprise anxiety attacks, or sudden anger... when my words turn to shards dripping poison. I get a gentle reminder, a firm hand on my arm, a whisper in my ear. "I should spank you for this." 

I feel like my discipline is fading. I feel like I am losing my purpose: to serve my Master with everything that I am. 

It's a difficult line for him to walk, trying to protect my mental health and still provide the discipline and structure that I crave. I don't know if there is a right way. I don't know how to deal with my fragile emotional state. All that I know is that I want his hands on me. I want him to take me. I want to be his plaything. I want to be helpless in his arms. I want to be used for his pleasure, to satisfy those carnal cravings for fear and pain. 

I want to serve! I was born and raised to serve! I'm so frightened that I will lose this... lose focus on something that brings me so much joy. I am beginning to feel like I'm not contributing anything... I don't know if this is just depressive chatter in my head or if it is the truth. I have never really felt that I had much to contribute... but I felt safe and secure in my slavery. I feel as though that is slipping away. 

Oh, Daddy. I am frightened. Your little slave girl is frightened, and disappointed in her weakness, and so desperate for you. 

Bipolar... Just like Earth!

I imagine my consciousness as a ship in the middle of a huge ocean. For most people, the seas are generally calm. Not for me. All around, the sea batters the ship. Winds buffet the sails. I feel as though I am tossed thither and yon by the waves of emotion. 

Thankfully, I have Master. He is my anchor. He is the person who weathers my moods. He holds me when I am laughing and crying hysterically. It's been over 6 months now. My mind is just now beginning to grasp the fact that he isn't going anywhere. Not only that, but he isn't letting ME go anywhere. To me, that's a really big deal.

Bipolar disorder frequently causes impulsive behavior. In my personal experience, this can mean that I suddenly stop valuing very important things in my life: my health, relationships, physical safety... A promise to keep me means that if I fail, he will be there to keep me from doing something stupid, reckless, or ill-advised. 

It is hard for me to express my gratitude to him without becoming very emotional (Ha!). 

Thank you, Daddy. You have saved my life. You have saved me from myself. 

Worship

The pain went through me like a hot coal: searing, burning. 

I bent over playfully and presented my ass for Master, just the way he likes. I moaned with pleasure as he ground his cock against me. 

Hands on my knees, I moaned as he toyed with me. 

His hand struck my pussy. Hard. I yelped. 

Again. 

Again.

Again.

"Cum bitch." 

I began to shake as I let the orgasm roll over me. 

Again.

Again.

My knees started to give. 

Again. 

Again. 

"Stay up bitch!"

I shrieked. I screamed. He had no mercy. 

He commanded me to keep cumming as I struggled to stay standing. I clutched a box before me on the floor for balance. 

Again.

And again.

And again. 

He stopped. 

I fell to my knees before him. He held me tightly. My face pressed against his crotch. I could feel his erect cock through his jeans. 

"Good girl."

Those are my favorite words. 

"Good girl." 

Weak with endorphins, I sat down hard and I worshiped.