Alexa’s Bitch

I was glad to be home-finally from the beauty salon, even though maria got started late on my waxing i felt like i was home in time to finish my chores. The feel of my smooth balls tickled by my nylon panties was delicious.

I reached down into them and adjusted my cock so that the sensitive underside was now dancing and jostling against the nylon as well. shit, that feels good, i thought–shaking my hips back and forth in a sort of ‘hands off’ masturbation technique.

Running behind, i knew my current semi-stiff meat had received all of the attention it would get for the time being–i needed to finish my chores before mistress returned from her trip.

I scrambled upstairs and tugged off my sneakers and socks, pants and shirt. Instead, i put on a peach and white lace demi bra, seamed black stay up stockings, bright pink bikini panties and my short, slutty maids skirt–then stepped into the spiked heels that Mistress Alexa loved to see me in.

She said they made my ass stick out just perfect and it metamorphosed into a hypnotic mobile for her eyes. I reached back behind myself and grasped the waistband of my panties and gave them a bit of a tug-upwards-so that i was certain she would have an unfettered view of her ‘mobile’.

I hustled into the kitchen to finish the floors, and remembered other occasions when i had not finished my tasks before her arrival. Once i had gone surfing because of absolute macking waves due to a storm. I mean, 8-10 foot waves, you go out! I was 15 minutes late. She made me lay my board against the back of the couch, strip down and mount it. Then ordered me to fuck it-while she whipped my bouncing asscheeks, brutally.

She had delivered about 50 lashes and recalled having seen me wax my board down and now ordered me to jack my cock for her and i was to cum on my ‘beloved’ surfboard. i did. She laughed and told me-“go on, rub it in. with your face!”—and there i was, naked reddened ass in the air while i smeared a batch of warm spunk into my favorite o’neill tri-fin–with my also red face.

My other punishment for being late was being spreadeagled, facedown and staked, in the middle of the back lawn in the heat of the day. She also drove a stake between my knees and tied my balls to it–ensuring my permanence. she then took suntan lotion and spelled out ‘B-I-T-C-H’, on my back and left me for 5 hours–coming back to release me only to inform me that if i loved the beach so much then i was to go back tomorrow–shirtless.

I miss my bitch, she said, as she walked into the house, hours later….

So your want your Mistress to humiliate you?

I. Here are some of the things I will make you wear….:

1.Black or dark colored bra under thin white shirt.
2.Black or dark colored panties under thin white pants or shorts.
3.Pantyhose worn with shorts.
4.Wear a frilly bikini at the beach. [or just the bottom.]
5.Naked or dressed in lingerie beneath a cape or raincoat.
6.Wearing an obviously feminine blouse (malesubs).
7.Little girls’ dresses with high heels
8.Baby hats/bonnets.
9.Obvious female flat heel shoes, worn with everyday male clothing.
10.Standard male shirt, tie, jacket, with obvious female trousers.
11.Diapers, noisy plastic pants.
12.High heels.
13.Females, braless, with a sheer white or light colored blouse.
14.No underwear or lingerie, while wearing very thin white or light colored pants, shorts, or skirt.

II. Here are some of the props I will make you use to reveal what a sissy you are….

1.Slave collar ( can add owner tag.)
2.Narrow cat collar with bell.
3.Single handcuff on each wrist.
4.Butt plugs. Can be worn at a business meeting.
5.Feminine necklaces and bracelets.
6.Feminine rings.
7.Cock rings.
8.Baby pacifier. Carry or tied around neck. There is a doggie “squeek toy” like this available.
9.Baby rattle.
10.Nipple clips. [even better when seen through a sheer shirt or blouse]
11.Clip on earrings [for the pierced impaired.]
12.A “kitty” collar with bell, worn around the cock and balls.

III. Here are some of the shopping trips we can go on together (with me on the phone…)
1.Shopping for and trying on lingerie or dresses.
2.Trying on high heels while wearing nylons or pantyhose under male clothing. Works better at times other than
Halloween.
3.Shopping for makeup, perfumes, and other female items.
4.At adult toy stores, purchasing buttplugs, cock rings, and BD gear, while she watches from a distance. [see #7]
5.Having a manicure or facial.
6.Buying adult incontinent supplies. [works for both genders]. Have the sub ask the clerk what size would fit best.

IV. What I will make you do…

1.Must use “Mistress”, Madame”, or “Ma’am” at all times.
2.Handcuffed to the shopping cart, while shopping.
3.Handcuffed or tied to a pole outside store. (waiting for Mistress)
4.Handcuffed, hands in front or back, while shopping.
5.Metal cockrings, collars, chains, or leashes when going through airport security.
6.Having him get a good tan while wearing a bra, for later exposure at the beach or while washing the car without a shirt.
7.When at a restaurant, eating in an unusual way; being fed by the Mistress; using your non- dominant hand, no utensils.
8.Forbidden to speak in public.
9.Kneeling and kissing her boots, shoes, feet, or hands, at odd moments.
10.Kneeling, massaging her feet at the mall.
11.One arm tied or cuffed under your shirt. Or cuffed obviously behind you.
12.Pockets cut out of pants, and hands tied or cuffed to your thighs so you can’t remove them from the pockets.
13.Binding your cock inside your pants with the string or rope end available to tug on.
14.Wearing a vibrating butt plug, with the controls in your pocket or available for her use. [still dreaming of a source for a
remote control plug ;} A Vibrating Beeper was recently suggested]
15.Your right [left?] hand is tied to your cock and balls through a hole in your pocket. Might look like you are playing with
yourself.
16.Being forced to masturbate beneath the table cloth while at a restaurant.
17.You both are sitting in a restaurant, dressed completely normal. She hands you a bag of ‘stuff’ and tells you to go to the
restroom and change. You worry that everyone who enters will know what you are doing.
18.You are sitting drinking a beer or apple juice. When the glass is empty, she orders you to take it to the men’s room and
fill it up. You must return and then consume your “new” beverage with your meal.
19.You must take your beverage to the men’s room, masturbate, and cum in the glass/cup. Return and then consume it, This
would also work with the special sauce from that famous place.
20.You have to take your panties or underpants off, return to the table and hand them to her. She leaves them on the table in
plain view.
21.Female subs in skirts, ordered to remove panties while seated at the table, hand them to the Mistress, then sit with naked
ass on the seat.
22.You must undress prior to entering your/her car when going home for the evening.
23.She calls you at work and says you have ‘xx’mins to masturbate and cum.
24.On a special evening, as you travel around in a rented limousine, you are required to masturbate, trying not to be seen by
the driver.
25.You are required to masturbate in your panties and continue wearing them, disregarding any spots that may appear.
26.You are diapered, taken out to a restaurant or bar and have to consume a large quantity of liquid, and are not allowed to
use the restroom.
27.Traveling by car naked or dressed in lingerie.
28.You are obviously hand cuffed to the car as you travel, or are parked waiting for her to finish shopping. A key can be
attached to a thread for emergency purposes.
29.Wearing lipstick or make up so that it appears you have just tried to remove it, but missed some.
30.Having your picture taken in Santa’s lap at Christmas time.
31.She hands the controls of your vibrating plug, dildo to another person.
32.Having to show another person what you are wearing beneath the raincoat or cape.
33.Shining her boots at the mall.
34.She spanks you.
35.She slaps you.
36.You have to eat a doggie snack at lunch.
37.You have to kiss the ground whenever you leave a car.
38.You kiss the seat of her chair whenever she stands.
39.Ordering warm milk, or some other almost impossible item, claiming dietary need.
40.You have to eat a bite of something that has had an ash flicked on it.
41.The Mistress takes her female sub into the restroom and performs an on the spot vaginal/rectal examine, attaches a variety
of ‘toys’ or clamps.
42.You are taken on a nature walk, tied to a tree, for a quickie spanking.
43.One hand is cuffed to the chair or table when you are eating.
44.At a cocktail lounge, you have to sit at the bar next to the serving station and you are cuffed to the rail.
45.You are instructed to eat a meal alone, reading a copy of Domination Directory International, other Dominatrix
publication, or a transvestite magazine.
46.Smoking long, obviously feminine cigarettes.
47.In a parking lot or similar location, just before you will be safely hidden from spectators, she has you pause and wet
yourself. You have to walk the last few yards with wet clothes.
48.On your ‘x’ anniversary, you renew your wedding vows, this time you are dressed as the bride.
49.When you travel alone, you are required to leave lingerie or stockings drying in the bathroom.
50.You are instructed to buy a halloween maid’s costume. Whenever you travel you must leave it hanging in the hotel room
along with your regular clothing. Leaving a pair of high heels out would work too.
51.Tape rough felt or very very fine sandpaper inside a shirt over the nipples. Effect should be stimulation, not damage.
52.Reciting all your rules in front of others, at her whim.
53.Temporary “slave” tattoos or other markings, hidden or not.
54.Always walking a foot or two behind her. speeding up to open doors.
55.She pays for everything, with possible comments like “Oh I never allow him to carry money!”
56.If no seats are available, puts you on all fours and sits on your back.
57.Doing some of the “hidden” little things like plugs, nipple clamps, cock rings, in the church of her/your choice.
58.Keeping your legs shaved.
59.Keeping the genitals shaved.
60.Having ribbons/bows braided into the genital hair.
61.Carrying a doll around, brushing its hair, playing with it.
62.When dining out, sub is not allowed to order, is fed little bites from her plate.
63.While she is sitting on a chair, you sit on pool deck beside her, even though there are chairs available next to you.
64.Wear a cock ring with a very long, strong, almost invisible thread attached. She can pull on this anytime. Use it like a
leash.

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From Francesca’s Pizza: the loop

From Francesca’s Pizza: the loop  

(From http://www.francescaspizza.com )

During Patrick’s fateful Saturday afternoon visit with me, I set up a situation that demonstrates a little-considered truth about the relationship between the sexes—a truth of prime importance to a woman seeking sexual power: If a man is horny to begin with, and the sexual chemistry between you is such that you naturally turn him on, and he’s physically unable to resist, you can make him have an orgasm; his will alone can’t prevent it.
It’s easy to see why this truth is so obscure. The situation doesn’t come up in most people’s lives. A man is rarely put in a position where he’s unable to resist what a woman might do, and when it happens, it’s not in the presence of a woman whose intentions are sexual. Even among couples who play at bondage the situation is rare; when the man is tied up, the woman doesn’t create in his mind a need to resist the stimulation she offers.
Besides, we’ve been acculturated to a view of masculinity that tells us that men are always eager for sexual release. We’re not used to thinking that a man might be subjected to sexual stimulation and try to resist it. This in turn feeds the rarity of the occurrence; the situation has so seldom been set up because only a few women have thought to do it.
Not all societies share this view. Anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski, in his 1929 tome, The Sexual Life of Savages, describes the yausa of the southernmost villages of the Trobriand Islands—a ritual sexual assault committed upon a man by a group of women. According to Malinowski’s informants, the group would first tear up their victim’s pubic leaf, so that he would have to go naked afterward and be unable to conceal what had happened to him. Next they would hold him down and display their genitals and stimulate his penis until it got hard; then one of them would mount him and fuck him until he came. If that didn’t exhaust him, another woman would take a turn. Eventually the man would be completely worn out. When he was, the women would urinate and defecate on him, paying particular attention to his face, and often beat him as well.
This sort of pastime is a bit much for so gentle and fastidious a person as me, and I wouldn’t like to see it become common in California, but it does prove my point. A victim of the yausa, once set upon by the gang, knew the script. It was, after all, a ritual, and notorious throughout the islands. Still, even though these women had destroyed his pubic leaf, even though he knew the pollution to which they were going to subject him, he couldn’t help but get hard when the right sort of stimulation was applied, and he couldn’t help but come when he was fucked. The power of femininity is truly irresistible.
There are two reasons it’s important to understand that you’re irresistible. One is that it builds confidence. Confidence gives you an even sexier aura and makes you even harder to resist—an effect that’s magnified still further when your man is unable to interfere with what you might do. Confidence also keeps you from being bluffed off course. If you set up the sort of scene that I did with Patrick, especially if you do it for the purpose of gaining leverage in dealing with a problem in your relationship, many a man will try a bluff to get you to stop as soon as he sees what you’re up to, and he’ll do it even while tied naked and helpless. He’ll ask in a disappointed tone, designed to make you feel guilty, whether you’re “that kind of person.” He’ll tell you that what you’re doing turns him off, hoping to stop you before you’ve had a chance to make your own observation of the intensity with which it turns him on. He’ll tell you you’ll never see him again. He’ll tell you more things than I can warn you about. Whatever he tells you, it’s best met with a confident demeanor. You won’t always succeed this way, but almost always. If you lack confidence—if you let yourself be bluffed—you’ll never succeed.
The other reason it’s important to know you’re irresistible is that if you’re to control your man completely, he has to know he can’t resist you, and he has to know that you know he knows. It’s actually necessary to demonstrate this to him, as I demonstrated it to Patrick, and to do so repeatedly throughout your relationship.
It might not be all that obvious that Patrick was trying to resist me. He certainly made no great show of it, but that’s because if he had, he would have been all the more embarrassed when the inevitable finally overtook him, and he knew from the outset that it would.
Patrick was trying not to come for several reasons, all of which I had given him for the purpose of creating resistance that I would defeat. One was that I was going to continue playing with his cock, in its state of sensitivity, until he promised to be my love slave. Continued stimulation would be distressing. Being forced to submit and make the promise would be embarrassing in itself, and it would also open up the possibility that I might use his sensitivity again in the future, either coercively as I used it that afternoon, or simply as a toy. He had never before had a lover who was aware of that possibility, much less interested in it, and it made him feel terribly vulnerable.
Another reason for his resistance was that I was going to watch him ejaculate, and that embarrassed him too. Sure, he had come in my pussy a dozen times, but I don’t have eyes there. Sure, he’d had other lovers, and it’s certain that some of his previous lovemaking had included manual stimulation that led to orgasm. Sure, it was obvious from my age and skill that during my life I’d witnessed the ejaculations of many men, and many times each. Still, on that afternoon, his emotional reality—the scene as it felt to him—was that he’d been tied up by a curious teenage girl who was going to make him have an orgasm so she could watch him ejaculate. And she would tease him about it afterward.
There was yet another reason for Patrick to resist, and it’s the big one: His orgasm would confirm that what I was doing to him was indeed an irresistible turn-on. It would confirm that he was turned on by the idea of being my love slave, by the fantasy of having to stand before me with his cock sticking out, by the expectation of having me watch him come, by the awareness that I knew how sensitive his cock gets after he comes, by my intention to play with that sensitivity. All these things were running through his mind and, because of what I was saying to him, he knew that I knew.
He was embarrassed in the extreme at being so obviously turned on by all that, and he was turned on by his embarrassment—by the feeling that all my attention was on him, that I’d taken control of his body, that I knew his most private thoughts and feelings, that he had no place to hide, that he was so intimately exposed to me in every way.
Stripping the last bit of commentary from that explanation, we’re left with the simplest possible description of the psychological Loop in which a man finds himself when placed in that sort of situation: He’s embarrassed at being turned on and he’s turned on by his embarrassment. I call it the Loop because that’s its shape—a self-reinforcing cycle made up of two components, each of which fuels the other. The way I take control of a man’s sexuality is to set up this Loop in his mind and feed it, doing this to add to his sexual arousal and that to add to his embarrassment.
Reduced to ultimate simplicity, the Loop might sound silly, far-fetched. With an appropriate context of circumstances and events though, like the circumstances and events of the afternoon Patrick promised to be my love slave, it becomes quite credible—different, to be sure, from what most people are accustomed to, but as credible as any obvious truth.

In the coming chapters, you’ll find a number of scenarios that illustrate the sexual dynamics of female domination, and the Loop figures prominently in all of them. You’ll also find a wide range of technical advice, and much of it will be focused on the Loop. Perhaps some of the scenarios will be built on circumstances that so closely match your own that you’ll be able to enact them almost as presented, and with good results. You’d do better, though, to use the scenarios only to help you understand the Loop and its possibilities, then steer your own course. Your circumstances, after all, are at least somewhat different from those of any couple described in this book, your personality is certainly different from that of any other woman, and your partner’s personality is different from that of any other man. If you develop a good understanding of the Loop, you won’t have to follow a recipe; you’ll know what you’re trying to accomplish and you’ll be able to find your way as you go.
An understanding of the Loop also enables you to feed it optimally—to say and do all the right things to enhance your lover’s perception that you control his body, that you know his most private thoughts and feelings, that he has no place to hide, that he’s intimately exposed to you in every way. Of course! If you want to create the impression that you know a man’s most private thoughts and feelings, nothing could possibly help so much as actually knowing them.

If that were the whole story of the Loop, its potential would be awesome enough, but there’s more.
First, the Loop has a way of getting burned in—it quickly becomes a man’s habitual mode of arousal. If you press your body against his and kiss him, not only does his cock get hard, but he gets embarrassed by knowing that you can feel it. Without additional prompting he gets further excited by his embarrassment, by knowing that you know he’s embarrassed, and by imagining what you might do with both his hard cock and his embarrassment. Even your smile, by itself, teases him about the secrets you know and becomes a powerful erotic stimulant.
Second, the Loop is addictive. Your lover begins to fantasize, even crave, scenarios in which his loss of control turns out to be especially embarrassing. His fantasies keep him turned on, and his awareness that it’s you who transforms fantasies into reality keeps him turned on to you in particular. As a consequence, his need for you is much stronger than it would be in an ordinary relationship. Because he needs you, he wants to please you. And his addiction to the Loop (and to you) can sometimes be made to compete with other, destructive addictions he might have, giving you a degree of leverage in getting them under control.
Third and best of all, the Loop can make a man love you with truly phenomenal intensity. We women have traditionally been more in love with our men than they, with us. This is because we’ve opened ourselves up to them, shared our secrets, and been accepted. At least that’s how it was early on, when love was new. Later, if things went according to the usual pattern, we continued to share what was important to us, and our words were barely heard and dismissed as trivial. Not as good as what we started with, but a pretty fair substitute when you consider the alternatives: it’s better than being rejected and it’s better than feeling obliged to keep everything inside as men do.
At the beginning of their relationships with us, men, too, open up and share their secrets. Love involves an exchange of vulnerabilities, and a relationship that doesn’t begin with mutual self-disclosure doesn’t get off the ground. Men, though, are raised to seek mastery over everything they encounter, including their women, so they soon find it necessary to erect barriers against us, hide their vulnerabilities, and do what they can to control us. In the process they lose the feeling of being in love, and it’s a great loss.
(Women who are bitter about being downtrodden will argue that men have done immeasurably more harm to women—stripped us of our humanity to a far greater degree—than they’ve injured themselves. I don’t disagree, but the question doesn’t interest me. Men don’t dominate me; I dominate them. And I do it to the good of both and the injury of neither. One of the thoughts with which I nourished my enthusiasm for writing this book was my conviction that few women who take control of their men will be so stupid as to follow the male pattern of depriving themselves of the closeness that initially made their relationships appealing.)
The Loop is a vulnerability that your man has to share with you. Unless he goes to the unlikely extreme of ending your sexual relationship, he can’t avoid the Loop; you can make it part of any or every sexual encounter. And once you’ve got him turned on, he can’t refuse to share his feelings; even if he’s as reticent as Patrick, his body will tell you everything. When you comment on what it does, even if only by saying, “Mm-hm,” he’ll know that you know.
It might be less than clear that the Loop is a vulnerability. We women are more matter-of-fact about such things, but men invariably experience it that way. A man is supposed to be in control—of himself, of his woman, of his whole world. The Loop is a loss of control over his own body and psyche that, unlike passing out in a drunken stupor, isn’t socially sanctioned. It isn’t regarded as common, either—at least not yet—so he worries that he’s perverted. Horrors! He has a dark secret! Other people might find out! Maybe it shows! He can find any number of reasons to feel vulnerable and insecure.
And so there you are, the two of you, and he’s sharing a significant vulnerability with you. He starts feeling that he’s in love with you. If you let him know that you find the Loop an endearing part of him, if you let him know that you don’t care that he’s perverted, if you let him know that his arousal and embarrassment together make a neat plaything, if you let him know that you can be trusted—that you appreciate being trusted—to give him a safe place to enjoy what he’s feeling, he’ll definitely fall in love with you, and in a big way. Don’t go so far as to tell him he’s not perverted, or that you wouldn’t want to lose such a neat plaything, because that will dilute his feeling of vulnerability, and with it the feeling of sharing his vulnerability with you, and with that the feeling of being in love.
When your man is both habituated to the Loop and in love with you, his love becomes a part of the Loop. When you say or do something that intensifies his embarrassment, he feels a rush of love as well. If you see this happen, you can tease him about how he can’t help but love you for embarrassing him. Do this with acceptance and affection, and it feeds the Loop, adding further to his arousal, his embarrassment, and his love.
There’s another way in which the Loop helps build a man’s love for you—one that’s more primitive. Love is nourished by sharp images of the beloved—snapshots etched in the consciousness, if you will. That truth is probably as little considered as the truth with which this chapter opened, but truth it is nevertheless, and if you think about it, you’ll recognize it as such from your own experience.
When you set up the sort of scene I did with Patrick, one of the things that happens is that your man pays attention to you. He doesn’t close his eyes and get lost in his own world, as men so often do during ordinary sex. He watches you. He listens to you. He builds a sharp mental record of everything that happens. When it’s over, he remembers every word you said, every move you made, every detail of how you looked, sounded and smelled. And for reasons buried deep in our brain stems, it makes him love you.
Patrick continued his relationship with me, as my love slave, for twenty-seven months. Obviously the reason wasn’t that he felt bound by the promise he made while tied to my bed. He stayed because I was the most sexually exciting partner he’d ever had, because he was more intensely in love with me than he’d imagined he could be with anyone, and because he felt more loved and accepted than ever before. That’s what the Loop can do.

© 1997 by Georgeann Cross. You may reproduce this material, in electronic or print form, for your own use or to give away, but only if you include the author’s copyright notice. You may not reproduce or print this material without including the author’s copyright notice. You may not sell copies of this material in any form. You may not make this material available for reading or viewing in exchange for a fee.
Georgeann Cross finished writing Sexual Power for Women in 1997. No one would publish it. The reasons are left to the reader’s speculation. A few copies on loose-leaf paper have been in circulation ever since, passing from woman to woman. One early attempt to post the work on the Internet was aborted in July of 1998 by the sudden death of the Webmaster. The entire text of this long-suppressed work can now be read at http://www.francescaspizza.com

The Massage Table

The Massage Table

 

You have booked an appointment at a local Salon for a massage — it has been a long hard week and you are in pain. You walk in and I smile and ask you to undress and lie down.
“Just like that? Here? In front of you?” you ask.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“While you’re watching?”
“Yes, I want to see how you bend, how you lift, how you move your arms, legs, joints, muscles. Every part of your body comes into play in the simple act of undressing. Interesting, isn’t it?”
You have taken off your shirt, your socks, trousers. You are grimacing now, at a crouch after your removals and coming back up puts pressure on your knees and back. I stare at your body unashamedly.
“You have left your boxers on.” I say.
“Yes,” you say.
“Take them off and lie down on the table, make sure to place your cock in the second hole.”
You look down at the table. There is an expected indentation for the chin and face, and indeed, a second recessed opening, where a cock could conveniently fit.

 

..to be continued

 

Call Alexa and ask for a role playing session about The Massage Table

Imagine your Mistress licking inside you

As I was looking through xhamster yesterday, searching for a sweet way to train a new cocklover, I discovered a video of a Mistress preparing her sissy to be penetrated by a dildo.

And how she does this…? Look: http://xhamster.com/movies/1173714/cuckold_sissy_gets_dildo_fucked_by_mistress.html

 

Can you imagine  your Mistress licking inside you, preparing you with her tongue?

Then inserting an inflatable butt plug and blowing it up… and up…. and up

Call Mistress Alexa and ask for a phone fantasy about your Mistress licking inside you

Trained For Service

Keywords: female domination, Mistress, Watersports, enema, training, surrender

Two women and three men sat around a table nursing drinks. Emma and James had been married for seven years, Kay and Peter six. Darla, a widow, had just remarried.
We miss you, Darla, Emma said.
Darla shrugged… “well, its not to be helped, ” she said.  John is still adjusting to married life…
“As I see it,” Emma said , we have three problems. One, we were all happy with our former arrangements, but your new husband won’t play. Which means that you wont either. A pity…”.

“The other problem is that we crave it more than our husbands do… and can’t do with just a few times a week…” She paused to take a sip from her dacquiri. ”

And then.. well.. number three is: we like anal and oral, with swallowing, B and D, humiliation, coming on demand, no limits…, and well, our husbands aren’t going to give us everything we want any time soon.” Emma fnished.

Here’s what I just found out. There’s a woman, a trained nurse who was at a boys school in Switzerland. It seemed she like to experiment with the boys, capture them, brainwash them, make them into total sex slaves. She had the little boys serving all the female staff members. It excited her, I suppose.” She was caught and had to leave the school, and she’s living here now. In Connecticut. She was hired as a housekeeper except that her employers who happened to have a teenage son, found out t hat she had this weekness for bondage… and brainwashing… and fired her. But now she’s available and I think she can work a miracle with John.

 

To be continued…

Ava Taurel

Ava Taurel:  Visiting My Childhood Home by Eva Norvind

As I stood there and stared at the old wooden house where I once lived as a child, the impact was very strong. My mother had never made me forget I was born the daughter of Price Paulovi Chegodaf Sakonsky, and we lived in my mother’s stately family home where we couldn’t afford the maintenance. I was afraid to enter the building which had now become government property and declared a national landmark. This was my first trip back to Norway after having lived many years in different countries.

With the exception of the big chestnut, tree, the large garden was completely run down. Gone was the gazebo where my mother used to tell me fairy tales, gone was the doll house where I first played mommy and daddy games with the neighborhood children. The ground was hardened courtyard now, while in those days the earth was pliable, as my younger brother and I would dig bones out of the garden and hide them in the basement. We had quite a collection of skeletons from the monks that had been buried here a century earlier, when our property was a monastery. Next to the doll house I had found a dead bird which I had brought to my mother. It was my first encounter with death aside from the skeletons. Sometimes I had been visited by a long gowned, dark clad woman with the face of a dead bird. My mother had convinced me this was not a dream but the ghost of one of the monks.

This day I rang the doorbell of the building where I had spent the first seven years of my life. A man in working clothes opened the door. He told me he was a sculptor. All the rooms in the house were now studios for artists with scholarships. I explained my visit and asked if I could walk around. I was grateful he opened the doors for me and let me be by myself.

I looked out of the windows that once had seemed so large. I saw myself as a little girl running across the yard with food coupons for the nearby store. I didn’t remember the bombings by the Germans, nor the shelters where we would hide underground, as I was one year old when the war ended. I did remember how scarce the food was during the years that followed as we used to present coupons in order to eat.

Both my parents had worked as translators for the Nazi party in Norway . They wore Nazi uniforms and had read “Mein Kampf”. They claim they never knew the horrors that were happening then. A an adult I have often asked myself which were the values of these parents who had engendered me and who had given me so much love. Even if they were ignorant of many things, what could motivate anyone to work for someone who invades your homeland? As a Russian refugee Prince, living in fear of Communism and without a work permit, my father worked for the Nazis because only they would give him work. But what would excuse my mother? My father fainted once when he was asked to translate during the torture of a Russian who was believed to be a Communist . As both my parents slowly awaked to the Nazi injustice, they starting passing information to the Resistance.

After a time in prison and after the war, my father was completely cleared through a process in court which showed his many courageous deeds. He was therefore granted Norwegian citizenship. In the years to follow, they both developed strong favoritism towards anyone who was Jewish, to a point which makes me wonder if they unconsciously tried to compensate for their initial guilt feelings. My father is now married to a Jewish woman from St. Petersburg. He claims he might be Jewish himself as he believes he is the son of a Jewish physician with whom his mother had an affair while distanced from her husband.

Most of my mother’s paintings and sculptures were commissioned by Jewish people. She has also had several Jewish lovers and talks of being Jewish as being better than anyone else. I’m almost afraid of letting her know who of my friends are Jewish because she tends to forget that they are normal people, and treats them as Superhumans.

I walked around in the space that had been our living room, then filled with heavy antique furniture, now filled with heavy memories. In this space the family had been united. We had spent loving moments together here and had decorated many Christmas trees. It was also in this space that my father told my brother and me that there was no God anymore, as he showed us a small wooden figure which he called Bugada. “This might as well be God,” he claimed. It was here I secretly cut out pictures from my father;s newspaper of Stalin, which I hid under my pillow at night. I worshiped Stalin as one would worship a forbidden fruit. I found him terribly attractive, and I was fearful my father would find out.

It was in this same living room that I met my father’s women. Their beauty made a memorable impression on me. Astrid, with jet black hair, white skin, red lips and dressed in deep violet, reminded me of Snow White grown up. Her sister, Ella, had curly brown, short hair and a friendly smile and dressed in pink. While Astrid would talk to me, Ella sometimes would give me a bath. They were both my father’s lovers. Confident that he would faithfully return to her, my mother introduced him to women she knew he would find attractive.

My father was a virgin when he married my mother. She found it natural for a man to know more than one women in his life. There was a succession of beautiful women, but my father never returned to monogamy. Once my mother contemplated suicide. She was thinking of jumping off the train when my father let one of his mistresses join us during our summer vacation. He dreamt of going to Morocco and having a harem. My mother, who was wonderful with the children, he thought, would educate any offspring he might have from other women. With this in mind, he assiduously studied Arabic and only allowed Arabic music to be played at home. I spent hours looking at his complete and illustrated collection of 1001 ARABIAN NIGHTS.

One day a tall, blond Viking delivered sand for our sandbox. As I looked out the window at the hard ground outside, I bitterly remembered the sand which was the instrument which would change my life. My mother took us to the sand mountain and asked us what we though of the man who had become her friend. Naturally we like him since he let us glide down the mountain. Little did we know then that soon afterwards she would run away from my father, take us with her, and eventually marry her new friend. We were not allowed to see our father again until many years later.

Alexa’s Note: One cleans one’s storage spaces. One finds things. These typed pages were given to me to read by Ava several years before her Mexican death.