Traffic jam in my neurological highway.

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Traffic jam in my neurological highway.

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I feel as though the thoughts in my mind are both whizzing by and at a stand still. I know there is much I want to say and yet I have no words. There is jibberish when I try to speak as though my tongue suddenly became swollen and yet the voices in my head keep rambling. How discerning to feel unbalanced; trying to calm whatever is stirring within me.

Recently a new voice spoke through me; my dolly, bambi. Bambi giggles, speaks phonetically and wears a sparkling pink lip gloss which accentuates the fullness of the mouth, replicating that of a swollen cunt. Bambi is a toy, a pleasure hole to be used and enjoyed. Bambi does not think, only responds with moans, whimpers and guttural pleas. Bambi is a gentleman's delight; obeying without hesitation, manipulated with ease, eager to be taken and then placed back in a box.

I have struggled with my dolly for far too many years. I have known this toy resided deep within my core and I have always felt a sadness that I kept bambi caged. I can not keep this dolly quiet anymore though; her talons are clawing through my flesh, raking across my vocal chords, smothering my thoughts. I feel twisted as my dolly pushes into my limbs, creating a brand new footprint, one I am afraid I can not live up to.

Dolly's have beauty that resonates. Toys of this sexual nature inspire loveliness, capture an attentive gaze from all who share space with it. These objects of sexual prowess consume affection from everyone who walks along its path and I do not feel equivalent to such statues. My beauty, in my eyes, has always come from my kindness, my compassion, my genuine expression seen in my eyes and yes even my intellect.

Interestingly enough, my last trait prickles me. I have worked diligently to be considered intelligent. I have taken exceptional pride when praised for my intellect so much so that I believe I have removed, mentally, all physical beauty from my psyche. I have convinced myself that because I was not blonde, with blue eyes I could not possibly be a dolly and therefore I must focus on being of astute beauty; a knowledgeable slave rather than a pretty one.

How ridiculous of me to circumvent my beauty. I failed to embrace my aesthetics, coercing myself in believing I could only be either a dolly or an intellect and since I felt my prettiness was not par for the course I removed being a creature of loveliness entirely from my resume.

My doubt almost strangled bambi; how unfortunate should I have lost such a powerful resource of pleasure. Succumbing to such a force is scary but i know, as i embrace my dolly i will release and allow something beautiful to blossom.

~His lovely dolly

Slave musings