Seasonal Transitions, Sadistic Admissions
I so relish these days of delicious transition, the glaring vicissitude of the seasons. Clocks tumble backwards. Autumn and Winter’s dark delights spring forth. It awakens something primal in me, my nocturnal appetites unleashed and my thirst for pain enhanced. Candles flicker, their wicks come hither. It’s a time for harvesting souls and turning up the screams.
The British summer, I have deduced, leaves me in a state of eternal confusion and dismay. And this past offering didn’t help. The perpetual gloom of a season most Gothic. Windswept and wild. As melancholy and murky as the wildest of moorlands.
Dresses hung hopefully as rain smashed its head against the glass, it was jumpers in June and over-used umbrellas, desperate for annual leave, crying in the corner.
And so I was forced to seek refuge in a land where summer reliably delivers sparkling sunshine and glittering seas. I bathed under bright blue skies unpunctuated by passing clouds, and ate Feta by the bucket load. Syrupy golden days sprawled languidly, sun-kissed skin and bare toes tickled by soft sand or smooth pebbles.
As you’ll see, my trusty whip came with me…my ever dependable and perennial sidekick.
Queen of the Crop
September though, now we know where we stand. Crisp air, cool mornings, The allure of darkness, sinister shadows closing in. Afternoons saturated with the now sickly sun, illuminating the falling leaves and paving the way for the start of the new term.
Oh how I crave the shiniest, sexiest new wardrobe additions. Boots, and gloves and nylons, leather and latex. Layers of all things smooth and skin-tight and shiny for me and my slaves…all wrapped up and ready to suffer and serve me as I see fit. New equipment calls too, if only I can find room for it. I always do. Licks lips lasciviously.
As an official so-long to this Gothic summer and a hailing of the Harvest, I thought I would treat you to a veritable festival of photos over the coming week and some postcards from my travels too. One will be added each day.
Monday’s Mistress is…Imperious and intimidating. All hail Alice Malice, Empress of the harvest and Queen of the crop. I stride over the backs of my cowering minions as they offer themselves for sacrifice or slavery or both. Their backs burn in the baking sun. Hands hard from gruelling labour. Hearts hungry for recognition from their Goddess, the embodiment of the divine.
Tuesday’s Mistress is: A latex clad siren summoning you into the shallows…
Wednesday’s Mistress is: A sublime yet mischievous Mermaid.
Thursday’s Mistress is: Queen of her country pile and Lady of the Manor.
Friday’s Mistress: Has you captivated (and captured) from every angle.
Enjoy. And I very much look forward to inflicting, teaching, tormenting, summoning and sacrificing you in the most devilish months ahead.