DIANA ORLOW [Lilith von Sirius] :

YOURS FOREVER

ONCE UPON A TIME : DIANA ORLOW, ALIAS LILITH VON SIRIUS

(06-06-1971, POZNAN - 30-03-1998, HAMBURG)

ONCE

I received in my mailbox, in France, in 1995 e.v., some erotic poems and a letter from an unknown girl. I became instantaneously fascinated by her writings. The title of the compilation was "Liber 156", her own "Liber 156", not Crowley's. I began to have strange dreams. Some invisible forces told me during some nights : "You will fall in love with her". I refused to accept, I was telling myself : "It's impossible to fall in love through mail, I'm becoming insane".

ONCE

Some months later, I met her. In an erotic gallery in Paris, called "Les Larmes d'Eros" (Eros Tears, a name borrowed to one of Georges Bataille's most famous writings). She just smiled and looked at me. I looked into her eyes. And this voice in my head : "This time, you're done for".

ONCE

A night, in her arms. A great part of my personality absolutely destroyed by her embrace and caresses. She was a Holy Whore, a Scarlet Woman, a Tantric Priestess. She was just incredible, and able to touch certain areas of one's mind, able to cure anything hidden deep into one's spirit. The following morning, the bad things, the old things in one's head, the things one had been suffering from for years, were just gone. It was like a kind of psychic surgery. I never understood how she was able to do that, where she learnt that practice.

ONCE

One day, I looked at her astrological chart, and I saw Pluto conjoined to the Black Moon (as for the japanese writer Mishima) in the Middle of the Sky . In fact, sometimes, she wore on her forehead, or on her belly, a piece of cloth on which was painted the japanese ideogram for "death".

ONCE

She was living with a big snake, a python called Aiwaz. One morning, I awoke in her bed with a strange feeling. "Lilith just seems to have changed shape..." In fact, I was embracing and kissing the snake. During the night, she swapped her body for Aiwaz's. That was her sense of humour.

ONCE

She was always creating strange constraint devices. The first gift she gave me : a metallic ring incorporated into a leather strip, which was to be closed behind the neck, conceived to let the victim's mouth wide open. The perfect tool for intensive deep-throat training. She loved so much to be used that way. It's not easy for a girl to bear Lilith's name, but, vicious as she was, she really deserved that name.

ONCE

Once, she wrote to me she wanted to open a brothel, runned by thelemic holy whores, in Hamburg's hot district!

ONCE

She reminded me of a scene in an H.H. Ewers'novel : "Mandrake". The main character, Mandrake, is kissing a boy, out of doors, in winter. She bites the boy's lips and blood drops fall on the snow. I have always been very impressed by this passage. At the time, I had no idea of Poland's flag colours.

ONCE

She made a strange ritual in Poznan to call Lilith. She received messages. One of them is as follows :

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.

"I, Lilith, Queen of Poland, the eldest woman of the Earth, shall unveil.

"I am the first wife and beloved of Adam, as ELOHIM built us both, and he loved and desired me, but I desired him not for he was gross. Thus ELOHIM disincarnated me, and since then I am free of reincarnation and my soul eternal as yours bewares the same identity for ever and ever.

"Then ELOHIM created Eva, who kept docile and willing to be Adam's wife and slave. Eva lived and died and she was created for males to serve them, to fulfil their low needs and so she is filthy. Eva was the first man-slave designed to satisfy the earthy needs of man, and with her started the slavery of the women of Earth.

" May she be dead and damned!

"And to this planet on which I appeared, particle of dust among the intergalactical nothingness, and gained eternity, I am bound by a spark, and the name of this spark is LOVE. And it is my will, and it is the will of an infinity of unincarnate beings, to work on this planet Earth, unical, manyfold, wonderful, and to bring Her back to the state in which ELOHIM found Her, as they came from their home star Sirius, and to deliver Her of the woundings made by the children of Adam and Eva.

"And as a base and home and beginning of our work on Holy Earth I chose the land of Poland, and the Holy Black Mother is one of my Avatars.

"Come forth, o children, under the stars, and take your fill of love.

"The unveiling of Lilith is at an end.

"Love is the law, love under will."

ONCE

Once, Aiwaz got away from her flat, using the toilets'hole, and reappeared, by the same way, into the neighbor's apartment. And scared him to death.

ONCE

Once, I offered her a book about magickal use of menses, whose title was : "Her blood is gold". She began to paint canvas with her blood. I have one hanging just above my bed.

ONCE

Once, I wrote this sentence : "Loving you is trying to play Russian roulette with an automatic".

ONCE

After her death, I was resolute to kill myself. I had made my testament. I was really ready. One night, my Holy Guardian Angel appeared to prevent me from committing suicide. Just as in Gustav Meyrink's book : "Das grüne Gesicht".

Philippe Pissier, 21 june 1998 e.v.

[Preface to the polish and american editions of "Yours Forever "]

YOURS FOREVER

I am writing these lines which You shall read.

I would like to know myself what possessed me, why I kept on remaining faithful to You. I could not tell myself lies with a boyfriend since I could think of only You. Once one has found something that feels right, it's impossible to get satisfied with any less. I wasn't even idealising You, there were things about You which I didn't especially like (it reassured me to note this) - yet beyond that there remained a feeling of uttermost proximity, a feeling to be composed of the same matter as You, a visceral ability to leave everything behind me which I could identify to, in order to get closer to You; and things that I don't understand entirely, a desire of surrender, in which I perceived myself as a babe...

All this did not mean that I required from You an affair which wouldn't have brought any good to anyone, to me the least...

I tried maybe somewhat naively to continue something with You which seemed very different to me since I had extinguished my desire and developed towards You a platonic enthusiasm. Still You remained my favourite one, my would-be-best friend, the one who gave me the most psychic power. I developed this readiness, also, why not, even not to sleep with You, for this seemed to me the necessary condition to give You a certain freedom and comfort with me. So proud of that new control over my thoughts, as I imagined us more in tender, romantic situations and not in the hottest ones anymore, I wanted to drink cappuccinos at Italian terrasses in Your company again.

Then I sat at a Spanish terrasse and that was in Hamburg. I had just called You but You refused any meeting with me pretexting lack of time. I was frustrated. Your tone made any insisting merely out of place. But I had already written You letters and I liked this. The fact letter was something in itself, and in that way I could express as I wished to.

It was perfectly logical that the dogged passion that moved me was no evidence after this long period of separation. I first thought that after the first usual sorrow time I would forget You, I was even looking for a new boyfriend already - but nothing worked, and it wouldn't work because of me.

I quickly had to realise that there remained something unfinished between us, that the one I really wanted was You. It took me time, and pains, to see this, for You were also tough towards me and gave me to understand clearly that it was over with us two. Yet the only honest way I had was to talk about it to You again.

I saw no other way towards You, so that You would understand how important You were to me, that I thought often and a lot about You and that I needed to meet You again, though differently, that what brought me to You again was no change of mood. On the phone it couldn't do. It was too easy to understand it wrong, and impossible to express all I had been feeling during the last year; I had the feeling You thought I just wanted to go into Your bed, and tomorrow I wouldn't think of it anymore and would want into any other bed. I also knew You were always intensely active at the office, and not free for any deeper discussions.

Thus I began a letter for You.

Darling,

I don't know anymore when and how it came. I was away from You, thought of You, desired You. The habit was easy: lying quietly under a blanket, my fingers slip over my clitoris, the film begins at some time to unfold itself and with it comes the drunkenness of lonely lovemaking.

The film is one without a beginning or an end. I belong to You. At the beginning You were just brutal. Then You went cynical. The film is always on. I can feel Your collar around my neck in the street, and Your order, I know then, any resistance is senseless. You have complete control over me.

I want to tell about it with details.

You imprison me. You can order me coldly in your flat: "Undress!" I obey, hypnotised, or resist... Most of the time no... Then You grab me, twist my arms, and You've already prepared... rings of leather and metal which make my arms motionless, collars and gags which dive as far as the inside of my throat... The gags feel so incomfortable that I can't thrash about anymore, I have to remain quiet ...

Then I know : obey - and survive! I notice straight away that any rebellion, be it a mere look, makes You wild and insane... It is, so to say, a sign of my wanting You to deal harder with me...

Your method is efficient and easy. A couple of times at the beginning of my dressage I get punished, just for nothing, only for me to know what could happen to me if I ever behaved in an undisciplined way... The punishements are hard, You tie me utterly incomfortably, whip me, put those cruel clamps on my breasts, on my pussy, drive woodpieces into me which are much too large anyway... After a while the pain changes, I lose any notion of time, Your contact becomes extasy. You touch me, cut me with the knife, rape me, take my mouth and my throat, and all this so that I can in no way escape, I just must stand it, whether I can or not. I learn staight away that Your moods are everything and my needs nothing.

The pain is great, unbearable, yet through it, whether I am consentant or not, You bring me to orgasms of a kind I would never have experienced or even supposed to exist. Yes, then You set me free, You sleep with me and it is absolute happiness. You are everything, You are my world...

Days go by, then weeks... One day You explain to me that it's time for me to be a whore.

You've disciplined me for that purpose. From now on, men will come over here, and my duty is to satisfy them utterly, to treat them in a way they won't ever be able to forget. They pay up to 3000 $ for a couple of hours, and such a price makes it evident that they may insult and beat me, and take me in any way they wish to. I am a submissive luxury whore.

Then I protest: I love You only, I can't touch anyone else! Then You tie me up and leave me hanging for two days, without touching me or even talking to me. You just say I should finally get useful, You want to get the money of my prostitution, and I'll get free only when I get reasonable. Two days and one night. I screamed I could not take it anymore. You gagged me without a word.

At some time You untied me, massaged my numb muscles and spoke to me with an absolute tenderness... You said I had to accept it, I should learn how to satisfy all men and You would help me for it to be all right... You held me very close to You and I slept for a long time... You then let me walk around freely for one day, without tying me. You just lock the door and take the telephone with You. I rest, bathe, lie in bed and sleep.

In the evening You come home. You are nice and tender, kiss me and caress me all over. Say then, Steve comes tonight.

I've always liked Steve and found him sexy. You undress me, penetrate me, stop - I am so wild! It's all so tender this time, so playful. I let You put metal rings around my wrists, You do it slowly, I breathe so quickly and moan, I almost scream as You fold my arms behind my back and lead my hands up to my neck. My whole bust is bend backwards and You kiss my breasts. Bite them. Slowly You wrap even more ties about my body, until I can only sit on my heels , I hold You in my mouth, suck You and this is extasy, it's just as good as when You take my pussy.

The doorbell rings.

And Steve comes in, beholds me naked and tied, from the first look on it is clear - this is a love night!

Steve is quiet, patient, he can lie close to me for a long while before he takes my bottom... You watch us from your seat, then come over and take me as well, once my belly and once my throat...

It was very beautiful, intense and extatic. For the first time I was loved by two men, imprisoned and prostituted. Other situations took place... In the morning You tied me on the treetrunk, bound my eyes and kept my mouth open... During the day two guys came in, I didn't know who they were... They first whipped my bottom, then one of them took me, my bottom was dry, it hurt, while the other one dived in my throat, it lasted for such a long time... They took me as a puppet, I was afraid, I knew neither who was there, nor what might ever happen to me later on... After they had taken me that way a couple of times without even touching my pussy, they just went... I was still crying when You came home...

I just adapt to all of this, that's the only possibility, I merely belong to You and perform exactly anything You tell me to.

There is then that secret castle where the fiveheaded band meets sometimes. Sometimes, when it gets nessessary to bind the ties closer together, when it is possible to get a woman for this... Now I am here, as if by chance, me... often in the room with the enormous baldachin-bed, the food is so great, the wines and the dope just as well, and all of you come there and sleep with me, all the time... Day and night I get fondled, kissed, taken, almost pauselessly I feel you within me... In all of my holes, on my whole skin... Sometimes you decide we should go down to the cellars. Yes, I am used to it, supple, robust, though... The cellars are very tough, dark and chilly, and these antique torture installations which you place me into... Almost always gagged, but the times one of you feels like hearing me scream my throat off... Each time in the cellars I cry from pain, many times you have to carry me out... I try then to be as active as possible in bed, to avoid a new session to take place out of boredom... It takes place anyway...

At some point in the movie I come. It is always an intensely painful part, a part in which I have to tense all of my muscles in order to keep a vital position. Yes, it's been like this for more than a year, this fantasy is all I know about sex now, I don't let anyone touch me, and without the film I don't get turned on at all... I need to feel that You can do anything with me, I have to be Your toy... I would like to experience it as well! I would like us to conceive the ties You want me in, and then would like to make them with leather, wood and metal, and to come to You anytime, whenever You order me... To be available straight away on Your order, thrown out whenever You hold it for right... I am possessed of You and want to remain such, even to intensify it!

Your slave, Lilith.

I wanted to write something totally different.

After a quarter of an hour I was still sitting there in front of my white page. I wanted to write a warm platonic letter. How then?

I merely changed technique. If I cannot write in the direction of my goals, then I shall put down what I actually want to write, what I need to communicate to myself, even what just goes through my mind. Began.

Golly , at least it was honest. It also seemed to me genuinely beautiful and everything but talentless; it gave me, very usefully, an overview of what happened within me.

Of course it was not to be taken literally. It was a literary novel that You had inspired me, a magnificent piece of erotic writing art. That's how You were meant to understand it. I ordered a second cappuccino, wrote, this time with a light and swift pen, a short commentary, my telephone number, greetings, and that was what I wanted to send You, something joyful and lively... Yet in the evening I added a clean-written copy of my art to it and walked to the post box. A beautiful walk.

I was enthusiastic in the following days, happy, proud of my innocent spontaneity. I was waiting for a call from You and my tension was easy to cover with enthusiasm. It wasn't obvious for me to talk spontaneously on the phone with You. I thought of You too much.

I would of course confirm You that I would respect Your quietness, that I missed Your mind and needed a spiritual closeness with You. Erotism was a secondary matter.

I was all the same irritated, tense, awaited a contact from You, whereby I knew I would not bear a silence coming from You, I wouldn't be able to call You myself nor to do anything with that desertion . Enthusiasm or nothing, or the darkest despair. I wanted to bet on enthusiasm , and not to let come in me any black thoughts which might come through in the conversation in that most crucial moment.

I remember these two nights. I was lying in the dark, felt an excitation, something strong within my heart, jumped ... It was something intense which made me doubt about my control, for it was violent and stronger than myself. I whispered Your name, couldn't sleep for a long time, I realised how much I loved You, the importance You had in my life. Once, I used to masturbate over days when this feeling took possession of me; now I wanted to keep my passion checked. Above all, not to have any erotic fantasies about You, certainly not; we wanted something else. It was also stupid, it must be possible, from time to time... But not today. I had to prepare my psyche to accept You with the most chaste intentions.

At a time I did it, exactly like the writing: to get rid of the tension. I was doing something that I suddenly left, went on my bed, took off my clothes and deliberately wanted a new film with penetration, sodomy, fistfucking, deepthroat, bondage, beating, insults, an ambience of compromiseless rape, invited friends and extra time.

All began again, Your ties, Your beating, Your violence; then Your voice on the answering machine. Right then. I jumped on the machine and You were on it.

Here I stood, red on my cheeks... It was an unsettling moment, a burning chance that You caught me in the middle of my back-held extasy.Of course I didn't confess You what I was doing there, told I was virtually asleep... You laugh, make fun of my decadent literature, then say "It's all right... come and visit me..." Your voice is so kind. I said almost nothing, but actually sounded like the freshest joy, which pleased me. This omnipresent fear of doing something wrong.

Then You say I should come over this week-end, for until then You'd be overloaded with work, "as always"... "See you on saturday..." Your voice tells more than Your words. So warm.

I could hardly believe that I had just spoken to You.

The short phone talk; a date on the week-end. An eternity. Your tender voice. Your existentially missed warmth. Your loud laughter. I fell back on my bed. The days between the phone conversation and the date were the worst ever in my life. I was totally possessed by You, could not get rid of You at all. Tried desperately to control my wild excitation, to catalogue it into the past phase of our relationship; then not again. Exhausted myself consequently with selfsatisfaction. Didn't answer the phone anymore. I'd be unable to tell anything about You, my passion was already always my secret; at the same time I didn't suffer anymore : once, You were away and I missed my own existence : now You were back in my life! These days were one single trance. What tortured me most was the uncertainty about the setting of our meeting. Your voice was joyful and tender, Your invitation kindly. But I had wanted it for an eternity, and hadn't touched any man for an eternity, and wanted nobody but You, and beyond all this I did not want to... disappoint You, shock You, demand too much of You, I didn't know myself.

Confusion, days of confusion. A certain sense of pride mingled into all this, an image to respect. But in the moments of clarity I was happy. Merely wait. Soon I would see You, talk to You, and I prepared our scenarios thousands of times in advance. I was looking for a psychic stability, for my obsession seemed equal to madness to me; or did my love find its accomplishment? It was a unical state, mightless, fragile, delivered like a babe.

I'm just arriving. Afternoon. Saturday. To Your home in Rostockerstrasse. I walk through San Georg. You make tea, talk about work and office... You make a very charming impression on me... You are far, I'm far away, confused... It didn't last any ten minutes.

Facing me at the table (You get so cynical), You say:

"Undress."

So peacefully You speak out, I look at You, astonished:

"Pardon ?"

"Undress and do anything I tell you. Come on, Lilith, begin now..."

Our looks. Yours vicious, amused and cold. From the third chair a crop suddenly appears in Your hand - a delicate butterfly wing's flap touches the corner of my lips. I throw a panicked look at You, say :"You have these funny ideas, Thomas!"

You stand up and come towards me around the table. Half trying to keep my self-control and half paralysed I remain seated, or better said I don't remain seated : You catch me by the wrist and throw me down from the chair, twist my arms and push violently to the ground with your foot. After the first seconds of surprise I yell in pain, You're really tearing my arms out of my shoulders.

It must have lasted one minute, I could nothing but scream Then You let me fall, I moan and breathe quickly, perfectly shocked by such a tough lightning attack.

Oh, it hasn't stopped until now, if I listen into myself. Now only a resignation that has become customary remplaced the surprise. I remember the hours, the infinite ones, I was attached like a mummy, my eyes bound, gagged, without being able to escape in the slightest way from the unusual positions into which You used to pour me, cristallised into a living sculpture during Your office times... I also remember those when I was no inanimate object, but... half a rind cadaver hanging at the slaughterhouse , stuffed with wooden and latex dildoes at least twice as voluminous as a human penis in all of my holes, bitten by metal clamps at my most sensitive organs, striped red by Your whip, crying in trance during Your pain max volume sessions... A horse whose communication capacity with the outside world was restricted to the intensity of the burning feeling of my tits , by which You led me, which You often let run into the wall with a heartful laughter - the many stars in front of my eyes - my feet crushed in these implements imitating stilletto shoes, out of breath through the effort and the tightness of Your ties and corsets about my body... an object of Your household that disturbed indeed, stowed folded in a box for the time of Your visit which used to stay overnight more and more frequently in the times not long before my exile ...

Yet on that day, as I saw You again after one year of an absence which was separation for You, obsession for me, I was just very tense and perfectly surprised by Your sudden, irresistible power assumption .

One thing has regularly amplified since then, the feeling of happiness to be in Your hands, to experience Your contact that I had missed so much, to experience You as my entire universe.

I would not have thought that it would be so easy for me to leave everything that occupied me to adapt my life to Yours. But the atmosphere of the last year, Your persistent haunting in the loneliness of my nights, the faith that had become obsessional which moved me, made of me a good body.

In the first days I was obnubilated by the present, Your intense contact filled me and made me blossom. I wanted nothing but being Yours, limitelessly Yours. As You said to me that You wanted me close to You all the time from now on, it was the greatest thing that could ever happen to me, the crowning of my hopes, the perfect reward of my courage.

There was not even the resistance concept. I could define as integration what I felt as You presented to me the outlines of Your concept. I shall live with You, yes; You had a nice memory of our previous weeks, and You felt touched, flattered and deeply glad of my faith and my coming back to You.

Now You talk to me about You, in a tune which enthusiastic intonations shine as sun rays into my soul, full of sincerity and warmth, of this peaceful warmth that represents for me the core of Your personality, of which I was thirsty, without which I can't live anymore, without the rays of which I don't exist completely anymore. As I listen to You that feeling of uttermost proximity overcomes me again, where identity melts and there is hardly ever a limit anymore between Yours and mine.

You love my letter more that everything, and You love my spontaneity to write to You again with such grace despite all the hard words. These hand-written lines, which were the last thing You could expect, touched You, gave You the wildest pleasure while reading, and the power of my words released pictures within You which You had held buried for a long time.

Yes, one can feel freer with certain women; yet until now it had always remained a limited freedom. You were frustrated not to even be able to approach Your ideal, so much, that You'd moved away from the whole scene. These egoistic semblances of slaves whose only motivations were a more physical therapy of their neuroses or a zealous fulfilling of their heat had nothing to do with Your dreams. For You dreamed of the absolute surrender.

It was incredible to listen to You, a complex feeling took possession of me. From one side it seemed all very close to me, it was all logical, yet the ferocity of this logic erased something within me. Then I knew already the seeds of that feeling which I know even more completely now: an egoismus that certainly seemed very seductive yet let a certain rebellion feeling come up in me. You can't treat people like this. But I wouldn't say a word.

I had for long already no longer the means to answer You but with a kiss. I was already totally hooked on Your influence inside of me. A hug erased all doubts and rebellion thoughts thoroughly.

Also I had thought a lot, and cried, that I had lost You by lack of cleverness. I could not afford a second separation. I couldn't state You any terms . You also had, in Your way, given me to understand clearly by the beginning of Your talk that this was exclusively the level on which You wished to meet me, anything else excluded. To oppose You in that moment was to lose You.

And, last but not least, I was deeply willing.

I really thought that we would meet from time to time from now on, certainly be close, but on a friendship level. When I had walked into Your flat and You had attacked me, I hadn't resisted You at all. Your way took my words away from surprise, then - then I felt Your body's weight upon mine, You said "I rape you", devoured my mouth with Yours, did with my body whatever You wanted. My body reacted straight away to that more direct sexual attack with the most provocating sensuality, and its control escaped me. The remains of psychic resistance melted quickly under Your, then my own passion.

Until late in the night, long hours on the next day You give me the caresses which I have missed so much... are the most skilful lover ever... I am myself in a state of absolute receptivity, and see You look astonished how deep into my sensations You can reach...

This wonderful scene : You've tied my four members to the corners of Your bed, You take me passionately, You talk to me at the same time , say what a swine I am, and that You want me, bite me, lead Your fingers over me... observe my reactions all the time, and my loud moans... withdraw from inside of me, kiss my clitoris and gag me as my screams get too shriek, which I am grateful for. Screaming is quite an affair, it's impossible to refrain, but it 's tiring, it distracts, and it's very sensual to have something to suck on. The intensity of Your kiss gets somewhat bearable.

You leave me before I come. I moan several times and tense myself - I want more! You touch lightly my whole body. Push Your fingers into me, and I push myself onto Your fingers; You stop, leave me again. My uninterrupted murmur and my lascivious movements are a supplication for more. More penetration; then sodomy, and a patiently prepared fistfuck over it all. Again and again pauses. You stop any movement, which makes me hysterical of desire, or even go away from me to later make me almost come by my tits only, this neither in one time. Every couple of minutes You change technique, and bring me, as I wrote, to orgasms of a kind that I have never experienced before.

I stay tied, motionless, transcended , in trance... After the lull of the tempest You didn't free me, and this continues the tension, and the drunkenness, and the excitation; this motionlessness has an extremely erotic effect. You look at me, so proud of Your work, and of my surrender . Your hands give me the caresses of post-coital tenderness but show a continuity of the erotic tension; I know I shall feel that wave again which I see come up in me, I dance with Your fingers. Yet You decide differently.

Your movements get quieter. You bite my lips. "You... I have also written something!" As You were reading my letter with enthusiasm again and again, You wrote an answer to it, which You want to show me now. Before You loose Your body from mine, You kiss me deeply and massage my vagina from inside. You're straight away back here with seven printed pages in Your hand. Lie by my side, push a cushion under my head so that I can turn it comfortably, and tell me about Your answer... It's a slavery agreement which describes what we can experience, if we want to; something unusual. I shall read it aloud, sentence by sentence, while You roll my clitoris under your fingers, which occasionally drives me out of breath.

Slavery Agreement

Be it known to all that I have requested this agreement of slavery of my own free will and wish it be enforced by the master mentioned below in the manner he sees fit. For this agreement the word "I" refers to the slave and the word "You" refers to the master. For this agreement the Master agrees to enforce this agreement and look after the slave's needs (food, shelter, clothing, etc) and to punish and reward the slave as the master sees fit.

I am now Your slave. I shall obey You instantly, totally, without hesitation or reservation. I shall accept whatever punishments and rewards You choose to give me.

My goal and purpose in life from now on is to serve Your sexual pleasure. I shall concentrate all my attention and initiative toward attracting, arousing, stimulating, intensifying, and satisfying Your sexual lust.

I shall at all times wear a slave collar symbolising my status as Your personal property. I shall not handle or attempt to remove the slave collar except at Your direct command.

I shall acknowledge that I am a sex slave and that You are my master whenever I am asked. I shall identify You as my master.

I shall greet You with the words "Master, please command me" whenever I meet You or when answering a phone call from You.

I shall come quickly to You and kneel before You whenever You enter Your home.

I shall strip and remain naked whenever I am in Your presence. While there I shall wear nothing that covers or conceals any part of my breasts, my pubis, or my buttocks.

I shall never wear panties, pantyhose, or any undergarment that covers or conceals any part of my cunt.

I shall never wear a bra or any undergarment that covers my nipples. Some clothes may require support or shaping of my breasts for best effect; I shall wear stick-ons or an open-front bra for this purpose.

I shall expose and display my naked breasts, cunt, ass or body to anyone at any time at Your command. I shall not deliberately expose my nipples, cunt, ass or body in public at other times.

I shall wear, whenever possible, garments that can be removed from my bound spread-eagled body without my active cooperation.

I shall actively seek out and present for Your approval sexually provocative clothing and accessories. I shall maintain a collection of catalogs of sexy clothing.

I shall acquire waist-nipper corsets that reduce my natural waist measurement. I shall wear them with those outfits that You select.

I shall acquire a grope suit designed to tickle and stimulate my cunt and breasts and keep me in a state of intense sexual arousal.

I shall wear anything You place on me, whether clothing, jewellery, corsetry , or restraints, until You remove it or order me to remove it.

I shall keep my cunt, my asshole, my mouth, and my entire body scrupulously clean and free of bad odour at all times.

I shall at all times wear perfume; I shall choose perfumes that are bold, provocative, and sexually suggestive. I shall use moderate amounts.

I shall wear my hair very long, and shall style and maintain it to enhance my attractiveness and sex appeal.

I shall exercise regularly to meet the strength and endurance requirements You establish for me, because fucking, cock-sucking, bondage, and punishment are physically demanding activities. The initial requirements are 10 pushups, (from toes), 30 situps, 3 chin ups, and 30 minutes for a two mile run.

I shall control my weight and measurements and clothing sizes to meet Your requirements.

I shall maintain good posture at all times, keeping my head up, my back straight, my shoulders back, thrusting my breasts up and forward, and my tummy in. I shall never slump or slouch.

I shall study and practice the female arts of sexual intercourse in all their variations. I shall work at enhancing Your pleasure in fucking me. I shall learn to stop all motions at Your command. I shall learn to move my hips in perfect synchronisation with Your fucking strokes, and to adjust my movements as Your rhythm changes.

I shall exercise my vaginal and anal muscles to meet the size, strength, endurance, and control requirements You establish for me. I shall learn to squeeze with my cunt and my ass in many ways. I shall practice and record my progress using instrumented dildoes.

I shall study male sexual anatomy, physiology, and psychology. I shall apply what I learn to enhancing Your sexual pleasure.

I shall study Your body, Your penis, Your other erogenous and sensitive areas, Your sexual likes and dislikes, Your emotional triggers, the pace and timing of Your arousal and orgasms, and Your moods. I shall learn to maintain You at a high level of sexual arousal for extended periods, and to bring You to orgasm rapidly upon command.

I shall study and practice the art of fellatio in all its variations. I shall learn and practice the deep-throat technique. I shall train to retain Your semen in my mouth or to swallow it at Your command. I shall suck Your cock on command or gesture.

I shall kneel whenever I see Your penis and kiss, lick, and suck it until ordered to stop.

I shall study and practice the arts of massage, including all ways of stimulating You sexually with my hands. I shall become an expert at stroking and squeezing Your penis and scrotum with my hands. I shall become an expert in massage to relax You. I shall acquire and maintain a collection of creams, oils, and lotions for massaging Your body.

I shall study and practice the arts of erotic body kissing. I shall learn to stimulate You by nibbling, kissing, and sucking Your nipples, Your neck, and other sensitive areas of Your body.

I shall study and practice the art of French kissing. I shall always accept kisses with my mouth open and I shall never break a kiss. I shall invite intrusion by Your tongue, and use my tongue to stimulate Your mouth.

I shall study and practice the art of sexually provocative walking. I shall hivel my hips, strut, and flaunt my femininity whenever I walk in Your presence or in public.

I shall adopt a variety of sexually provocative postures for standing, sitting, and lying down, both clothed and naked. I shall at all times keep my legs and my lips at least slightly parted to symbolise my constant sexual availability to You. I shall actively seek out and invent new sexy poses.

I shall study and practice the feminine arts of flirting and cock-teasing. I shall exercise these arts whenever You are in my presence.

I shall study and practice the art of double-entendre and sexy word play. I shall practice the use of teasing sexy talk before and during punishment to enhance Your pleasure.

I shall study and practice the arts of erotically stimulating moans and exclamations and colorful language during sex play and intercourse.

I shall research aphrodisiac and stimulating foods for me and You. I shall acquire and use the most effective ones.

I shall study, collect and practice, the use of all sex toys, and offer them to You for use whenever appropriate. I shall actively seek out new sex toys and suggest them to You.

I shall submit to bondage at any time and any place. I shall place myself in bondage or restraints at Your command.

I shall acquire a collection of bondage equipment, including leather blindfolds, ball gags, bits, bridles, thumb cuffs, wrist cuffs, elbow cuffs, ankle cuffs, single gloves, arm binders, neck cuffs, posture collars, spreader bars, racks, stocks, waist nippers, crotch belts, partial penetrators, butt plugs, devices that hold my mouth open, harnesses, ropes, straps, buckles, pulleys, chains, and locks. I shall actively seek out ideas for new forms of erotic bondage and suggest them to You.

I shall arrange it so that I can stay at Your place or at the location of Your choice at Your command.

I shall keep all bondage equipment neatly stored and ready for use. I shall clean, maintain, and repair all bondage equipment.

I shall submit to punishment at any appropriate time and place. I shall place myself in position for punishment at Your command.

I shall acquire and maintain a collection of sexual punishment equipment, including whips, cat-o-nine-tails, crops, canes, switches, paddles, tit whips, pussy whips, breasts clamps, nipple clamps, nipple weights, labia clamps, clitoris clamps, cunt stretchers, anus stretchers, tight corsets, remote controls, cold packs, heat probes. I shall actively seek out new ideas of erotic punishment and suggest them to You.

I shall remember the punishments You impose on me, remind You of them, and request performance of them. I shall administer punishments to myself at Your command. I shall thank you each time You punish me.

I shall maintain and use a collection of punishment jewellery.

I shall masturbate on command up to orgasm or multiple orgasms, with or without the use of vibrators, dildoes, and other sex toys, on command, for Your amusement. I shall stop masturbating on command.

I shall study and practice the arts of on-camera sexual performance for video recording. I shall actively cooperate with video recording of my sexual performances.

I shall model each new outfit of clothing and strip it off teasingly at least twice, showing front and rear views. I shall model the use of each new sex toy, each new piece of bondage equipment, and each new piece of punishment equipment. I shall model each new piece of jewellery, each new piece of public slave jewellery, and each new piece of punishment jewellery. I shall perform these displays in Your presence.

I shall model and perform each new kind of erotic dance, sexually provocative walk, and sexually provocative pose that I learn. I shall script, plan, direct, and perform these displays for maximum sexual impact. I shall perform these displays in Your presence.

I shall keep a slave diary recording everything that I do and everything You do to me, and my feelings, moods, and reactions.

I shall record in it any observations and research You may require from me. I shall keep this diary available to You at all times.

I shall decorate Your bedroom or other living area with sexually explicit, provocative, erotic, and suggestive paintings, photographs, posters, quotations, and sculptures. These will include likenesses of myself and of You. I shall actively seek out and acquire such works and vary the selection on display frequently.

I shall not go to the bathroom either to urinate or defecate without Your express permission. I must ask for this permission by using a signal given by You. Furthermore I shall urinate on command whenever or wherever You wish.

I finally sign over the ownership and control of my body including breasts, cunt, ass, mouth and any other body parts not mentioned above to You. For exposure, discipline, pleasure or for any other use that You wish.

I shall do everything and anything else that You may require from me.

I further grant You the right and relinquish the right to decide for myself my actions (e.g. clothing to be worn / not worn if not previously specified) for as long as I am Your slave.

I shall remain Your slave from . . . . . . . . . . . . to . . . . . . .

My Master who now totally owns me is . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Signed by slave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dated by slave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Master . . . . . . . . . . . . . now accepts this person as a slave.

Signed by Master . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dated by Master . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The place for our signatures is already marked.

As I finished reading, You push Your four fingers into me, move them so quickly and instantly I scream of desire; You ask me: "Do you want to experience that with me? Say yes!", and I answer"Yes!" Of course I answer now to Your fingers that distend me...

I don't know anymore how You made me sign this. I vaguely remember a scene when, always attached in the same position, I wanted nothing but more stimulation, my tits firmly pressed under Your fingernails, when You said in a brutal, excited tone that You would go on touching me only after I've signed, and that You wanted me as Your slave, when You took Your hand all away from my pubis as an answer to my spasms , to pull even stronger on my tits ...

I can't remember exactly anymore what happened. This state of extreme excitation, when I did not know anymore what I did, kept already in our past weeks systematically erased from my consciousness.

Yes, this is a scientific fact; from a certain point in the praxis I had no memory at all about what happened, regularly. On the next morning, if we call it so, on the next waking up I knew about the previous session only that it had been intense, and no details; diffuse impressions of main colors, like dreams.

In all cases on monday morning I had a cup of cappuccino prepared by Yourself, as a breakfast, and a scar on my left forefinger; and a mad contract that I had signed, obviously with my own blood. Under Your signature there was blood as well, but only later I could check whether You had a scar too; but I didn't find any.

And a story with You beginning again, first by the most magical of all nights, which lasted one entire week-end, unimaginable from the first minute on. Your tenderness, Your hugs, Your sweet smile, the white of the sheets in contrast with the golden color of Your skin... Your tongue looking for my tongue, and the long minutes when You held me tight against you... Your attention is something wonderful.

Yes, it's monday, and actually You should go; I know from experience how motivated You are. But when You notice that my morning kept - on a rational plane - more sober than Yours, You take two hours free just to talk with me.

You call the office; fall down beside me and say clearly: it's marvelous to see me, You are sorry if You hurt me before, but now You want me expressly , You want more than everything to keep on that wave length that has just begun. You seem passionate and fragile. I say that I felt hurt, yes, but I forgive You while there is nothing to forgive, that my deepest wish was... to be with You...

So suddenly and so magically starts again our relationship, and my detailed dressage.

I feel anxious, I don't know what You mean. Punishment! What will You do to me? You are still with me, and I try to keep You with me. Then later, I know, a wall will be raised between us ; each word, each look with which I might express something, will be destroyed, I must remain passive, no matter what it costs me... I love it when it's about sex, but now You want to extend my pain limits, I can feel that... You are close to me but forbid any discussion. All right... I must surrender, it's too late, there is no coming back.

I program myself internally on it, keep lying quietly and relax, I find back my infinite endurance again... You are sitting on a chair by my side, but not too close... Caress me with the end of your crop and its tickles on my breasts excite me, as usual, as taught... I breathe deeper and think not anymore. The way You work on me!

You kneel on my breasts, press my lips and pull on them. Softly push a gag into my mouth and play with my face in the extasy of esthetic delight. It's so flattering; I forget the whole drama and enjoy You; I enjoy your tight knots about my elbows, the thank God light pressure around my neck, and the warming contact of the cat-o'-nine-tails, as unbearable as the moments of nervous short circuits that You give me when You take me. The breasts clamps and the dog collar, the one with the inward nails, hurt me . The firm bit of the metal into my flesh seems unbearable to me; but strong hits on my bottom distract me completely from it, totally under this burning I forget straight away about all the rest. How relative all is. You lead me now, irrevocably , by the leash whose lightest tension forces me to immediate obedience. "Turn around! Kneel! Bend forward!" You ponctuate Your orders with whip hits, which makes me wet, and the leash makes me swift ; then vivacious ; then I am even more that willing.

When You penetrate me from backwards, insulting me, I am wildly active, press You within me, and the pains that seemed intolerable to me little time ago only sharpen my extasy. How relative all is.

You want me cooperative. The more I give, the more pleasure I will get, which is not to ruminate on when You give me a clear choice between sex and torture. Be a nice wanton chick and convince me, otherwise you'll get each time longer punishments. Please no more!

I had two until now, I could hardly believe it. Max volume.

You want the perfect never ending blow job. You press my breasts, forbid me even to moan , I have to work with concentration, can myself not give any sign of excitation. You threaten me... If I have the imprudence to come without Your permission I shall have serious problems... I feel how close to it I am, I am silent but so tense, my breath is light and fast, I almost shiver... Yet I manage not to give any expression to my desire. For that I only need to concentrate on the hardest parts of my garderobe. On the breasts clamps which You have tightened again and again. On that long thin whip which You pushed dry into my bottom. On the dog collar around my neck. All this is pain, but I feel it as pleasure, begin to shake my body to better stimulate my breasts and my bottom until the caresses of Your crop bring me back to quietness. You push the fine woodpiece a little deeper. It's just fine enough for it, I feel it moving forward and stretch my anus consciously towards it, which You commend with a little laughter.

I stay there on all fours, my vagina squeezes that second woodpiece, I feel a wave coming up, tense myself, moan softly, a second time. An internal orgasm. I remain still. Your fingers on the collar.

"At last!" Your fingers shake nervously the metal leash that joins up the collar to the clamps on my breasts, on it You lead me to the toys chest and I crawl obediently. The burning of my breasts kills any concept of resistance in the bud. You want me to turn around and to crawl to the chest, with one finger You carry it out and there is no escape, it's real, it's true and nothing else exists in that moment. Some spanking with the red strap, the one with the thumbtacks on it, a soft punishment for I've been quiet and courageous and know how to hold bravely my screams back.

Then it's over. You set me free of all toys, comment.

Stresses on a particular technique, as You say. I learn active deep-throat. An exhausting practice.

It costs me a lot to overcome the instinct to escape. However, You help me generously. With clamps, with whips, with pressure. I go to a lot of trouble. Better collapse than seem too lazy to You. I can't afford any punishment anymore.

So innocent, the handcuffs in my back, so tender! First You get me used to contact in my throat as You open my jaws in a firm, unavoidable gesture and put two fingers into my mouth. You massage the back part of my palate . It 's new for me, exciting, I liked it already before as You moved into my mouth, so I thought, naive pet , that I knew the deep-throat.

I stick my tongue to Your fingers which You make come and go smoothly. I breathe deeply through my nose, concentrate not to give a jump , and relax my whole body to stand this strange, deep and precise contact. It is not easy, as I said. You watch me closely and I'm aware this is only preparation for what will follow. I notice that You want to show me how I can put up with that feeling, You give it not too hard but begin to set off light but regular starts in my stomach. It's something terrible, I am thankful for the softness but pray You silently to spare me.

It is still bearable, but I know, it will be merciless! We discussed what You wanted and I entirely agreed... but You touch me differently from before! Once, You were shy, now self-assured, too self-assured... I feel destitute and perfectly fragile, I feel no courage at all for this session as Your fingers feel even more freely into my throat, which gives me a strong cough similar to vomiting. So quietly You look at me as You keep your fingers in the back of my throat, which extends the spasms wave that shakes me. I cry, press my tongue tighter against Your fingers. My wrists hurt.

You lay me on my back, caress me playfully. I am lying, passive, awake but motionless, as You like it. The tension rises, then subsides. You play an instant with my wet pussy.

I am so seduced by Your sovereign attitude. Your excitation manifests itself with restraint and this opens me to You. I offer myself entirely. You kiss me deeply and bite my tongue.

Nothing happens ; I am awake and concentrated on You. I know you are thinking about something.

An easy position, simple and not to be missed ; aimed so to say. A big cushion under my bust, my feet fastened one far from the other. So my head is bent all backwards and my mouth opened by itself ; You lie over me, penetrate my throat, as deep as You can, as I can... First You withdraw a bit when I need it; then no more; as You move following Your own sensations only, the spasms that shake me belong merely to this form of coit... Sometimes I can breathe my fill... The more inertia I can develop, the more harmlessly it goes.

And I like it, when I can take it, I am delighted by the mingling of tears, saliva and sperma over my face...I know, soon I am trained to it, soon it won't be the last new game but a usual part of my service to You, of my duty.

You decide not to satisfy me. Come home. I am quietly kneeling in front of You, You caress my chin. Order me with an innocent voice to clean the kitchen perfectly. As I know Your moods, understand Your insinuations, I think that sweet tone is the oracle of a new surprise that can be anything. I put housework gloves on and clean the sink . Remove the dust from all the shelves. Wash the floor. Shall make You a coffee and go on? What then? I apply a duster with dilute beer on the leaves of the plant. Rub each glass anew. Everything shines. What shall I clean any further? You're lying in the livingroom and watching TV.

Finally I come to kneel down before You and announce the kitchen is perfect. You look at me... I see in your eyes that You have no plans for me tonight. You look for something for a couple of seconds. Until now You've always planned all in advance, and Your orders flooded my hormones with their swiftness. I can rest. Should lie on the bed.

You don't talk to me anymore! Soon You switch the television off and start to work on Your computer. I stay here, lying down in my dreams and fondling my ribs. Occasionally I look in Your direction, roll my body sensually, take poses... When our eyes meet You seem satisfied with me, yet, as, biting into a cushion, I invite You to me without possible misunderstanding, Your eyes get darker, You shake your head and from now on Your look is hard.

It puzzles me a little bit, but I know how to adapt instantly to Your moods. I'm lying quietly, watching You working or keeping my eyes closed. Of course I can in no way disturb You. I have to wait quietly for You to order something. It's new that Your presence is so quiet, yet though my body would like to get some fondling I have to adapt my behavior to Your will. These psychogames!

My extinguished spontaneity. When You stand up for a while to set clamps on my breasts, it gets almost impossible to control myself under the strong, very erotic pressure. I open my legs slightly, begin to play with my clitoris.

"You don't masturbate." You send me to the bathroom, put the chastity belt on for me, which key disappears in Your pocket. Now I shall clean the bathroom. I wash the white tiles in a sensual frenzy, I hurry, for I am certain that straight afterwards I will get the satisfaction for which You are preparing me.

When I've finished, and come silently to kneel before You, You play for a while with the clamps hanging down from my breasts; I react very sensitively. After a short while You turn your machine off: "To bed!" It's pretty late already in the meantime. The see-through plastic shows all my excitement.

You shake the clamps while I give you Your good-night blow-job, as you call it. You fasten my hands, with handcuffs, to the upper side of the bed, and my feet to the lower side. I can't keep from You how hot I am. "Yes, but I need to be quiet tonight, you will sleep" is Your only answer. You gag me again with the ball gag and wish me a good night.

It's not easy to sleep that way ; and I didn't know what contributed more to my sleeplessness : the discomfort of the ties or the unbearable excitement. The latter disturbed me much more in any case.

In the night I half wake up, feel a firm scratching in my bottom. I am ready for more contact; yet before I wake up properly it stops. When I'm conscious, there remains only the memory of Your scratching, and the strap of the gag in my cheek. I don't want to wake up just to suffer. I manage to sink back into unconsciousness.

But this happens a second time, many more times. You wake me up systematically with your dry finger, but never completely. You stop as soon as You notice that I perceive anything. I find myself in a terrible state, I'd like to move, to get rid of these ties; and rest, I am exhausted, stupefied by lack of sleep. Then You stimulated me stronger, pulled on the clamps when You were sure the sensation was no pleasure to me but torture.

A deep-throat which I attend unconscious without being even able to moan. Then I can sleep a little bit. Without gag.

Locked up. I haven't been out for weeks. I don't know anything about the outside world. Isolated. No information.

Only me and You, or better said only You. An absolute lack of whatever. Nothing happens. I am allowed to eat, I am allowed to go to the toilets twice a day and I am allowed to sleep. I am not allowed to move, nor talk, nor see, nor to feel anything.

The control You have upon me.

Your contact is minimal. Two days ago, maybe, You told me not to react as, feeling Your hand on my neck, I rubbed myself against it, brought my face on Your thigh in a request for caresses that came from the past phase of my dressage. You've also punished that out of place tenderness outburst. "That won't do, Lilith... Punishment..." You said, I felt the touch of your crop on my left shoulder, then the hit; and the second one on the other shoulder. So strong. Bits. I had to cry under such hits. "Be inert", You added, and went for a new for ever. Control, nothing but control. You've just taught me to manage my pain, to keep it silent and to tame it, You show me how soft You've been until now, and that other dimensions of pain exist. Those hits were not those of a lover, they took me more strength that two hours of active cat-o'-nine-tails dressage.

As I tried to tell You that it all started to be too much for me, I got only a sharp look back from You, and the leather mask. Then I discovered its contact. It wasn't even discomfortable; it was erotic. The mask occupied me, the movements of my eyelashes against the leather, its noise, the light pressure, mainly about my nose, stronger around the back of my neck, which speeded up the rhythm of my breath. It pressed my jaws together so that I could not speak. Breathing got more difficult, which made me thrilled and hot, begin to move my body lasciviously . One order: "You don't move!" You yell. Straight away I freeze, cancelled by the violence of Your voice ; I am excited, wet, my vagina gets tighter and streams go through my tits, but I am not allowed to show it, not to mention any hope of satisfaction. I stay here motionless. I hold out, that's all.

I sometimes think of the way back... The way I live now... I am Your possession, a perfect fantasy machine; I have only You in my life ; nobody else. No family and no friends, and most of all no identity; I left behind me all I was to be just a part of You. Of course I don't want anything else. I love You infinitely, absolutely, more than myself. Even this counts only insofar as it makes my offering more perfect, and that way more as You want it. I don't exist without You.

Yet I sometimes think that I might one day live without You, purely theoretically... A job, a social life, a couple of hobbies... It all seems galaxies away. I cannot live without You, am persuaded that I wouldn't be able to do anything, not even to communicate in the simplest way with people, not even to formulate any own goal... I am basically hooked on the experience of Your absolute control. I get mad when You don't bind at least one collar about me, that I can feel. Your absence, when You go to the office, is only bearable because soon You'll be here.

I see how much I am influenced by my libido which You've made the sense of my life. I notice also that I am really better and better trained... I control my emotions better, develop merely more endurance in bed... know to calm myself down on Your order to delay my coming that always brings a certain pause in the game... Know better and better to pull myself together quickly after orgasm to be operative again, ideally straight after it... A little bit more and I can do that too...

This morning I can see You're in no hurry at all. We have breakfast, miracle. I think confusely that our relationship is really strange. We are both at the same table, are lovers, but I don't even know how to talk to You. The only theme between us is sex. Anything I do is directly commanded to me. It is not obvious to find oneself in such a world, especially as a curious young woman. Sometimes You lead me outside, during which I am not allowed to speak to anybody; and I watch TV. But I am fondamentally isolated from the outside world. You grant me no social contacts.

Beyond that You are inscrutable for me. I know Your likes and Your ideals by heart; but never know what You will do at once . Most of the time You look sovereign and serene; when You consider me with sparkling eyes I never know what I should think.

"You, I took a week of holidays for us. We're going on a little trip", You say to me. How kind, I did not expect this... seems exciting... It is true that You had such lots to do the whole last week, came home late every night. And you minded it as much as me. You want a time just for us two. God, how nice You are to me. A surprise full of joy.

I shall pack up my bags. Astonishingly few clothes, proportionaly lots of toys. Golly . So I can take only one pair of shoes, certainly very nice, but shall I be able to walk around one week on three inch heels ?

I look very sexy, just as a Stanton drawing. You have an excellent taste for clothes. I am the slim elegant companion behind which many men turn round as they walk by, a jewel for You. It's really very exciting to be that figure... My behavior gets more feline, more playful, I am simply in an excellent mood and I feel free and happy. Now I am really Your beloved, a person that You love, and I find contact with my personality again.

How perverse You are, so insisting. Are we ready? Fine. The taxi is here already, we can go; but I shall wait : You open my corsage, catch the two rings on a hook - ow! Is this necessary? The hook is prolonged by a leash, one I didn't know until now, a perfectly invisible nylon leash; its other end is fastened to an easy bracelet that You slip on to your wrist with an irresistible smile. You take my luggage and pull me, speechless with surprise, a couple of steps forward.

We sit in the taxi in silence, You play the amorous lover... My chest looks a bit out of shape, one can hardly even notice it, yet to me it seems strikingly obvious... Your conversation is a theatre play that I must play with You... Just chat with You about all and nothing, but almost nothing comes to my mind... I have been nowhere for a long time, just in the one trip... I go red but control myself again. As always. I have to entrust You with everything and all will be fine.

The airport. The leash is hardly longer than a metre. You take my hand, all of it looks natural, and I notice how admiring looks follow me... This situation is like a dream, and again I am, after the first surprise, perfectly in harmony with You.

Your look into my eyes, just before the passport control, as You take my leash off - a question, a verification; a greedy smile, for my eyes shine... that incredible thing that I feel. You take me by the waist, give my passport to the customs officer and take it straight back. A few steps after the customs house I am physically bound to Your body again.

While we're waiting until we get in the plane, we talk about it, express verbally how sexy this situation is for both of us... You look at me with enthusiasm, say "you, Lilith, one can do anything with you..." And I feel happy, happy about us, about our dimensions, about our courage... I feel extremely privileged, for men like You are so scarce... I have to masturbate in the plane... Your indications are so minimal, we understand each other almost telepathically...

Then we land in London. I don't worry anymore, neither about this travel of which I didn't know anything, nor about my luggage without compromise. However, Your behavior changes a little bit, You seem harder and more distant, but I am used to these sudden changes.

We're not alone anymore. On the car park You meet somebody; with a nod You greet the man who suddenly stands here with his car key in his hand, and push me on the back seat of a limousine with dark windows.

As soon as the guy drives off, You open the chest , take the handcuffs, instantly You close them on my elbows... The one in front of us, who is he ? I get aware that You've planned something, something that You didn't tell me about; but it is no ordinary sightseeing that we shall do here...

All my helplessness reveals itself to me.

Now You talk with our driver. I - I am perfectly offered , unable to get free, I lick and suck Your penis... Almost all the drive long, merely a long time. You don't mean to come at all, You enjoy me as You would enjoy a glass of wine aboard a cruise. It's all like a dream, it feels to me as if we were playing in a movie; we're travelling (home there was a frame), something that You stage happens and I can but guess what... but know for sure... actually I don't know anything at all... Only Your fingers that tickle my neck, and Your taste. I split inwardly. On one side are the shock, the fear, the uncertainty; but that other aspect of my personality shows through , the one You shaped out of me: not think, feel nothing, obey Your orders blindly, whatever they may be.

I feel extinguished... During that drive I get aware that it can all go very far. I have never, never resisted You. I have each time taken the greatest trouble to satisfy Your expectations with the most stubborn motivation. I am unable, unable to resist You in any way. I live for You, through You. What else? You've always very consequently taken me any physical possibility to escape from You.

It's not that hard for me to calm my confuse thoughts either, for it's my nymphomania that You touch; in a few seconds I lose control over my sensations and am hot enough to be ready for anything, anything.

Something happens now. The car stops. Everybody gets out. "Take off your clothes", You order me, harshly. Of course, Master, straight away. I throw all my clothes off. On Your gesture I lift them from the earthy ground... I perceive that we're in the countryside, there is a kind of cowshed here; but I remain inert and stare at the ground; it's a kind of trance which I don't know yet.

At the time everything works, it's much less psychically exhausting to leave any thought and to obey You within seconds without thinking. To stand naked on that field, in the presence of an unknown man, was a splendrous feeling, I felt free and beaming ... All of a sudden I felt what all my stupid hesitation, my illegal reserve, costed me.

I get prepared... I am treated as a puppet or an animal. You talk about me to each other, but you never talk to me personally. And how you talk about me. I must make a good impression - to whom ? Think not, let happen. You dress me up slightly, lace up the ten-inch waist belt around my waist, hang weights to my breasts and my clitoris... My elbows together... The leash that keeps my ankles together, short, allows me only very short steps, and I have to hurry to follow your rhythm. You walk before me in the sun, up to the castle that I can't see properly because of my head bent backwards.

Yes, You lead me without caring about me; I have to go quickly, to learn a new balance to follow you; it's really too fast - but it's too fast only once.

As I stumble , it 's as if You hadn't noticed it. My breasts feel torn; the persistent pain makes me accelerate the tempo of my feet even though I am for sure already out of breath.

You ignore me merely. And how you talk. The man didn't even greet me, nothing. What you say. It turns true now. You talk of me as of a thing... an object with advantages and limitations which value you discuss. The guy says I look well-trained and very well-educated. You answer that this is so indeed, yet I am unexperienced in what concerns true dressage. And this perfect stranger comforts you, so politely, this is the aim of our stay here and by the end of our visit I will be irreproachable ...

The level on which you talk is striking. One cannot say that I count here at all; I feel it clearly; there is a clear, absolute, insurmountable separation between Master and property, between all-might and perfect surrender .

As we penetrate the shadow of the house, our host sets a mask on my eyes, one of his own ones. It covers my eyes, fills up my whole mouth, and after closing at the back of my neck I get two hooks in my nostrils that are thus stretched upward. While the guy closes it tight on my head, he describes it to You in its complexity. You remark that the gag might be a little deeper. "Yes, yes, I trained her specially for that", You say as You fill my throat carefully, just deep enough for me not to vomit straight away... but I have to concentrate on it now, and consequently... I breathe faster, pull myself together, for I am not far from falling in swoon...

We spent four days there. So much happened... I don't know what anymore. I know only approximately what I felt. It was a new dimension of submission.

I got led by my most sensitive body parts, by my tongue, my clitoris, my breasts... I got, masked, almost raped by - somebody, several people, I got pressed and felt by hands I didn't know... I could recognize Your voice among other ones... These hands gave me pleasure, but I kept looking for You, for Your voice...

I got taken without the slightest possibility to express anything at all, by voices I didn't know... I felt little... Sometimes physical pleasure, resignation, missing You, and gratefulness for being only raped and not tortured...

In the night I got led outside, I felt the freshness of the air on my naked skin... My mask was taken off from my head and I laid on straw ... In a loose box... Two other women were lying there, they looked in my direction for an instant. Their looks impressed me. How empty they were.

I'm cold, too cold, the harnesses on me are no comfortable sleeping suit. I think this is the even harder stage . I've already slept tied up. Here I have no bed, no blanket, nobody looks after me. I get what I need to survive. I am gagged all the time.

The moon shines clear. I feel something... The smell of the straw, the freshness of the night... Irresistibly I fall back in the world of my sensations, with no coming back. An animal sensibility, no thoughts, no words; body signs and rudimentary orders are the official language here. It's a mystical experience. I fall asleep like a little child.

Whip strokes wake me up. What now? A female voice orders me to follow her; I stand up as quickly as I can, move my legs, at the same time I try to wake up, for I see nothing but white. She whips me just as hard all the time though I do my best.

I am all nothing but survival instinct.

I am trained as a horse.

I know You're around, for I hear somebody explaining things to You, and Your short answers. I am in a stranger's hands. These are so resolute , so ... It's merely absolutely impossible to offer the slightest resistance. Later on, a visit to the cellars confirms my intuition. Here rebels are rewarded with hours of torture. Far too hard for me. I want to be good .

I get a handful of porridge oats, or something similar, and a glass of water. That should give us endurance, as I hear. I get dressed... The costumes are complex, pull on my muscles, stretch my body, fill all my throat up, impede my movements and the depth of my breath.

I can't hear You well anymore, but feel the pulling on my breasts that means "forward!". And the strokes on my bottom that mean "faster!" So I am forced to trot until I am out of breath. Well, how hard it is.

A new glass is poured into me. Now I get bent forward. My thighs get slightly opened. Suddenly there's a bigger thing in my bottom. I must stand upright again. You do something more - I feel a cold inside me, I don't know what it is. I don't know for a long long time what is what. So, this is a special dildo one is supposed to hitch up a carriage to. Pardon ?

The tugging with the leash : I have to go forward! Strokes, the tugging. It's clear. Voices encourage me. Strokes fall on one of my legs, then on the other. My body reacts, obeys. I get pushed, I am screamed to move.

What happens with my ass takes me everything. I am distended; on top of it all I feel inside me a row of thorns, something like this. The carriage is hitched up to it. The hard, cold and enormous contact moves my bowels.

I can't stay that long in my surprise and my mightlessness. I have to be here, strong, awake. As everything functions anew - I react again perfectly to the taught signals - the carriage gets suddenly heavier. Someone sits in there. I bend forwards under the effort, clench my anus not to tear it; I am whipped, pushed, insulted; I succeed to move the carriage. The first steps were the hardest, now it wheels, I hop forwards.

A new proof of Your absolute might. I would never have thought it possible to pull such a carriage with my anus alone, as I could hardly believe in Your hand in my belly in our first night.

It becomes an habit.

Today You would like to show me a video. A movie and a demo of a dance troupe.

We settle in bed in front of the video recorder.

Come on. Again! You tie me up.

Again! I'm beginning to have enough.

Soon I am comfortably settled on all fours.

You telephone for a short while. Turn on the visual distraction. Houses, dancing houses with exotic music. Houses from southern countries. A sheep, a knife, the young man and the child. That apparently wants to save the sheep. Runs. Knocks on a blue door, repeats screaming : Mama! A long time.

Knocks on our door. You open.

People. Two. Who? I can't move my head away from the TV, and, to be honest, I don't care. I'm used to it. My body reacts already by itself, I breathe quietly but deeper, feel my breasts getting harder, and get soaked! Contract my vagina rhythmically.

An arab takes the tube. The boys behind us whisper and laugh. Undress. A kiss! You're lying against me as if nothing happened. The arab walks up a street and climbs some stairs. Rings. Fingers move within me. The mouth sucks my clitoris in. A blond woman opens. Is obviously not delighted to see the arab, but lets him in. He can sleep tonight in the children's room and there's food in the fridge, but she would go out. Is with someone else now. He slips into me. With or without rubber? Feels like without. I don't mind. He has the strength and the energy of a perfectly sane man. The arab looks at the child. That one does it well and with power, shakes me, lets himself be captured within me... Not all Your friends make themselves feel that good and that's much more fun than torture sessions.

The girl who cried by the fire in the evening vanishes in the morning with the arab's bike. He kidnapped the little blond boy. He goes on walking, steals a wooden cart. Pulls the little one, who cries sometimes, through an empty and desolate landscape, until he arrives to an industrial station.

Tries to talk to people, screams towards huge machines that dig out earth or coal, mountains of metallic flesh, whose violence makes one fear for the little man in front of them, as if he could be torn to pieces at any time. An excellent montage and an incredible music, five screamed tones...

Your face against mine, we watch this movie together, follow the story, You listen also to my breath and my sighs, clasp me stronger, but very softly, kiss me tenderly... You feed on my pleasure, You absorb it greedily, that resignated pleasure of mine.

The guy takes my bottom. His fingers open me and he dives into me. I'd like to ignore it. That contact distracts me from You and from the movie, it requires a certain concentration whereas the swing in my wet pussy turned into drunkenness intoxicating as wine. Idiot. Take me as before. He does so.

I start to doubt whether I have limits at all. Your leading is something incredible. I am almost each time astonished by the capacities of my body, of my each time raped yet again and again functioning endurance. You can imagine anything and I carry it out in the simplest way ever, as the most evident thing on earth... Of course You don't let me any choice. Rebellion would mean nothing but punishments without any end, and the barest mightlessness. There isn't any anymore. There is only surrender, even if a certain idea of Yours means nothing but pain to me. That's a part of it.

Certain side effects are pretty experimental. They work on the way I feel. I take it all with a certain distance, as if it all was a scientific experiment.

That scene comes to my mind, I held my body in tension through the complexity of Your diverse ties, I had to kneel, bent backwards, my arms high, and You wanted from my sex a particular performance... First I received that inflatable gadget, that forced my vagina to relax, then the base-ball bat which You pushed in and out again and again, more and more quickly, and it hurted me more than I could take, but not only, even not only... I know that I'm bleeding, it doesn't count anymore for long... I am half unconcious when You push that wooden horn into me, of an infant's head's size.

The surrender, the total assignment of anything I can feel, the limitless confidence. It's beyond description, beyond intensity, it's a mystical dimension in which I dance, blinded in a white field of light and energy, the shining and white world and rainbow of light and energy. Is.

As my eyes perceive the world established as real again, it seems to me that the visual impression reflected in my pupils is nothing more than an animated surface comparable to the linen of a cinema, that one gesture could reach and tear the fine veil and reveal the true face of the existing world, the fields both warm and fresh.

The impression persists a couple of days. Five days. Reality comes back.

I'm here all the time, know all Your gestures, but it's as if I was sleeping, my body is off. First I land in the bath tub, soak for a while in the hot water. Then You dry me, lay me well wrapped up in the bed and pour a warm, acid and slightly alcoholic beverage in me, that makes me slightly drunk, euphorises me and increases my body's temperature. I fall asleep progressively, yet perceive how You unfold my members and move your fingers almost imperceptibly, but very efficiently, along my body.

It's the yin massage, upside down the flow of the meridians, one like these You've received before a thousand times from my hands. Your expert hand stops at my ankle, my calf, my knee, Your thumb presses softly but rhythmically the points that penetrate inside of my energy body.

Little by little, progressively, a serene happiness fills me. I observe how, parallel to the relaxation and the well-being in my physical body my mind becomes calm and cools down... Dead the tormentor , hanged up the victim... We are the lovers, children at play, butterflies that might indeed burn up in their dance towards the sun but whose death is rehearsable again and again to infinity, lusty and dynamic, extasy of the liberation and auto-destruction... We fall asleep in the morning sunlight... You.

I notice I haven't spoken a word for weeks, and written even less. Once, I used to write in my diary every day... Now I often have the opportunity to do it, but no motivation.

I can't say either whether I articulate thoughts or not. The day-night rhythm is so animally primary, I have no occupations at all. At the beginning, my moods used to make me tidy the flat in a nonchalant way, out of pure habit. I also spent most of the time tied up...

Now we've tamed each other. You have got mild, like a good wine that matures. Everything is so obvious... A horizontal life, sometimes put upside down by Your fantasy, with an overflowing sexuality as unique form of expression... Your endurance doesn't ever make me wonder anymore, we spend finally undescriptibly extatic hours together... whose numberless details remain erased from my memory.

Yes, maybe we are both prisoners, I in Your firm control, You in Your workoholic energy...

My time has stopped. Time turned into an eternal post-orgasmic Now hung up in the present. Can I even describe it as an orgasm spread in time - here more intense, there more peaceful, or punctuated by an intense discomfort that nevertheless remains the bare opposite of ill-being ?

Never could I have imagined living that way, peaceful and consenting, but it just happens, gets to be the evidence itself, spreads in timelessness, in infinity...

I hang around in Your empty flat. I keep it perfectly tidy. Much more meticulously than before. I have nothing else to do.

Why don't You come home? You stay away for so long, it's already several nights You have not slept at home. I don't know what to do. I wait for You all the time. When I go out for shopping, it seems a crime to me. Am I not the houseslave ?

I don't manage to accept that You've installed a mattress for me alone. Not to hug You anymore, not to sleep next to You, not to recharge myself on Your skin is for me a torture much worse than anything You could have inflicted on me before. I miss the little tenderness like water in the desert.

Sometimes You come in and ignore me, You don't talk to me, don't care about me at all. I don't understand. But despite the confusion I keep on being faithful to my duties and behave without flaw.

I know I have to talk to You about it; but it's not easy for me to talk to You, especially about my needs. It's not easy to speak my pain out, for I don't know how You will react. If You tell me any harsh words now, it will hurt me so much that I'd rather forget it.

After the five days in which Your behavior towards me changed so suddenly, You come home at about eight as usual. I have to cook You something; after dinner I have to roll You a joint; You lie down, call me up to You and I can suck Your penis. After orgasm You hold me very quietly against You. It's so different, tensionless, all that ultraerotic dimension lacks. I put my face against Yours.

"Thomas..."

"Lilith."

"You are so different."

You laugh, kiss my cheek and explain in a soft voice : "I have a girlfriend."

Of course I have thought about this, I've thought a little about this... I don't say anything. I look at You. Yet You notice that I expect something; turn towards me, explain that I sleep myself with many other people, and that I can't have any pretensions; to which I answer straight away with the mildest voice: "I have no pretensions."

You look deep into my eyes, Your look checks me. I actually have no exigence towards You. I'd only like to know what's going on; and I'd like to be well-treated. I know that my eyes look quiet and warm in that moment. Finally You kiss me again and declare: "You are my slave. She's my adventure."

I had no trouble accepting this at all. I was sure that the relationship we experienced guaranteed me, in its unicality and its intensity, an unshakeable place at Your side. I lived through Your other relationship with a peace that even surprised me, but that I appreciated and of which I was proud; proud to be that free, that progressive, that intelligent, proud of the freedom I knew how to grant You.

Jealousy, the fear to lose You, were simply not there. You were away a lot; I started to show interest for cultural life again, used a part of the money You gave me for my living to go to the movies, and was sorry that I couldn't register at the library, for that purpose I needed a lodging certificate.

Thus I asked You to make me registered at Your place. You answered with a dark look: "What ?" I explained it was only for the library; but I saw You did not like this. I felt ill at ease... I felt a back-held anger in You, You said: "That won't do at all, Lilith... You allow yourself far too much these days anyway..."

I went pale, confused, then I realised You weren't that satisfied with me as I was myself. I let myself go down on my knees and spoke with a soft and low voice: "Order me so that You're satisfied with me."

This happened at about eight thirty; for the first time since a long time I got hardly whipped and tied up with gag and dildo for the rest of the evening. I had lost the taste of it. But I had found You back, Your consecration, Your attention. You didn't sleep with me in the following days; but You attended to me, and I felt Your influence on me during Your absence again. From that time on You've systematically impeded my movements, even if that put the duty of shopping back to You again.

You went harder, firmer and more exigent. You gave me no satisfaction, and You humiliated me more than before, as if You wanted to teach me again to obey you without brake. I was happy to get some intellectual distraction as I went out more; now I didn't miss it at all. I loved the constant sexual overdose, and I loved to feel You intensely, to be telepathically submissive to Your will.

I believe that it's only then that I really left all my inhibitions behind me and became actually ready for anything. I appreciated the pain, differently from before, I was merely in a state into which I was basically willing to do anything, in the same state as the horsegirls I'd seen in England. I took enormous trouble to fulfill Your orders, for Your anger made me feel unsure, and a rivalry-oriented behavior sprouted in me. I wanted to be better than the other one.

I poured burning wax upon my breasts, masturbated with any vegetable You held out to me, called myself a shameless swine under Your slaps in the face. You could torture me without having to tie my hands and I could all of a sudden take much more pain. I could at last talk dirty without the slightest modesty. I was happy to have become better. I didn't miss at all what I used to indicate as honor feeling. I was happy to get rid of it to be a better swine.

I fight not to go mad; if it's not too late. I have the feeling I am made up only of suffering. I torture myself every day with the thought to call You.

Maybe it's the fear to know that holds me back, to know that maybe You don't want me anymore; your forbidding to appear at Your place was formal; I have to obey You, I can't break Your order out of weakness. Or You might be upset, and then I would have lost You. My silence was my only chance.

The doubts, the terrible possibility that You don't want me any longer; and my manual activity in which I let myself fall like in alcoholismus. I even feel pride about my work. But that thought that You might have liked best not to let me down like this, that it seemed more elegant to You to give me a working therapy and a source of income in the hands, for me to extricate myself with the disconnecting from our relationship, and my dependence on You, in such a way that You could keep a clear conscience... I don't want to believe that, I don't even want to think of it. But maybe I'm telling myself lies, maybe I should consider this possibility, this probability, this occasional certainty. I don't know.

The passion for working ; the time I spend in the workroom, active, creative, delighted by the new forms that come to life under my fingers, the success feeling when a certain model reaches its final most perfect state... My work is something that belongs to me only, through which I get to know myself, which gives me a sort of lost self-worth feeling back.

Isolation is the worse. I have no friends in this city. I am so different, so different from them. They wouldn't even dream of what I do here or did at Your place. It's not that I feel dirty or more worthless than my companions for what I went through at Your place, all the opposite; but I think and feel so differently from them... Polish men have that, that despite Your teaching I find them all anything but erotic, and gross. Who should I meet here? Questions would fall, "Who are you ?" as the first one, to which I can only answer that I am my Master's slave. Maybe I can't speak with people anymore. And I want to be here when You call. I go and buy some food, or materials, and come home straight away. Walks ...a forgotten situation. I haven't gone for a walk for months.

There are times when I can only cry. I am incarnated forsakenness. I don't get up, don't eat, yes, sometimes I could let myself starve. The phone is so dumb, it never rings and I never use it. The tortures my thoughts prepare for me are reflected in my body. My spine goes stiff, my back painfully tense, my solar plexus hurts. I feel like a ghost. I don't even want to live anymore.

As I was at Your place; that bitterly missed time was not easy, it was sometimes even pretty tough, but now it's the golden past for me, the splendor phase in which I want to return. You were here, You were hard... Sometimes I could not even touch You; but I saw You, I knew every day in which mood You were and how You were going. I have attacks, attacks of something that might well look like withdrawal effects... My body and my soul yearn for You, I look for the telepathic contact with You, I try to perceive what goes on at Your place... I know the woman comes to Your place, and it's probable that You're forgetting me.

The conscience I should have done it differently. So I went that boring; I have in the easiest way loved You, I didn't take much trouble to seduce You. I was so impressed by all You did with me... Was it all just a question of sensual satisfaction for You, was the passionate love I feel for You nothing but a means to get what You wanted ? What are Your feelings towards me ?

I wonder if I didn't do some mistake I didn't even notice... Did You interpret my lack of jealousy as a lack of interest? I can remember exactly some situations when we didn't understand each other through our wordless language, when You thought something, and reacted emotionally on it, while I had meant something absolutely different...

I am doubtful of something that is the basis of my life; of my relationship with You, into which I've melted, for which I left everything; I am doubtful of the future of what we developed in these months. Is it the past? Will I see You again? I'll get mad if it doesn't happen. I can't stand a separation.

I will wait, no matter how long it will take. But I invoke You every day. My head, my consciousness, all my energy is with You.

I can stay in bed for hours; I wake up and try to go on sleeping. I try to dream of You. I masturbate and think then of the scenes I used to go through in reality little time ago; then a second time, and one more. Until my clitoris is inflamed . But that way I can slip myself in a sleeplike state, and try to remain lying, unconscious, sensationless, for as long as I can. I don't want to wake up, I don't want to live when I don't know what I live for. I wake up every morning and don't want anymore.

Sometimes comes a dream, an allusion to Hamburg, an edge of Your coat, a ray of Your energy... Then I look for You even stronger, remain lying, look for the sleep that doesn't come anymore after 14 hours of rest. The sun shines brigther behind the curtains, but I want my dream, the astral contact with You.

Sometimes I lie down, try to get out of my body, visualise my soul flying to Hamburg, stoping in front of Your flat and coming in... I try to perceive what happens at Your place... After these tries I am especially empty, especially weak, as my body, my life, my surviving instinct catch me back. Hunger bites deeper in my stomach and I get up as it's late afternoon already.

I call You with my entire psychic energy; but I wouldn't touch the phone.

I am unable, in those crises, to go up to my workroom. I have no inspiration, no concept, and no concentration at all. Yet I found a way to operate myself out of that state between life and death.

I take some of the accessories that are ready, I tie myself up, tighten especially narrow corsets about my bust; I invoke Your voice, that gives me all kinds of orders, which I follow; the pain increases the intensity of my sensations; in my autistic movie I experience You even if You're not physically present; when I come in these sessions I free myself straight afterwards and relax for some moments; then I make a cup of coffee and go to the garden, appreciate the nature and the sunshine. And life goes on.

I've thought lately that I should really be careful not to lose contact with my body. I've alredy lost several pounds; slim as I already was, I look a little too skeletal now, not very attractive. My breasts went smaller. I am often really dirty, the house is full of dust and I have no motivation to clean it up. Yet I've been here for three weeks already. How long anymore? To clean it would mean that it's worth doing it; and I want to come back as soon as I can! And I hang around like that, always in the same careless T-shirts, with my hair dirty, my feet black, my teeth sticky from lack of care. I really neglect myself. When I rib my skin with a friction glove after my weekly bath, black particles keep sticking on it. My fingers too are black and harsh, and the hair about my genitals are bristly. I was better at Your place.

I feel so sick, I see the syndroms of a lack of motivation to live... I can't master my thoughts. Sometimes I act constructively, cook something, tidy a bit the chaos surrounding me, and I think of my coming back to You, which You promised me, and then everything is normal, hard indeed, but right. Then I grow towards my ordeal. Or I find myself really stupid to let myself be manipulated to such extent, stupid to be that servile, dumb to believe You anymore, now, when You've obviously chosen another beloved. An anger comes up in me, an anger against myself, a hate against my mildness, and I would like to have had more character and a louder mouth. Then I don't love You anymore, I feel raped, exploited, made use of, but not loved. I hate these thoughts most. It hurts not to love You anymore.

I feel so lost, I don't know what I should think. The only mooring post is my work. There are phases when I can rivet, cut, try on and perfect 16 hours on end. I learn a new job and I love it, this learning does good to my mind to which You've forbidden any occupation but sex. I learn to move my grey cells again. This is wonderful. But I am so lonely; and work is the only thing that keeps me from madness.

Then I'm peaceful again, and think about my suffering crises that it's a waste of energy to indulge myself in such depressions. I see how far I've progressed, see that my hard work is crowned with fruits. That's the goal of my staying here. I have to strain to fulfill it, I do it and it's crowned by success. But I have no control over my sentiments, nor over my extreme and contradictory moods. When I go to bed, I never know in what state I will wake up. The mornings are the worse.

Seven hours already that I have been sitting in the train, minus twenty minutes, the twenty minutes before Hamburg, and the arriving in this city is a materialisation in Your world. The lights seem to be the stars of Your galaxy. Here and the house in Poznan are two worlds, different like two planets... You're present on both, that's not the question, but now I will experience You again, experience Your presence in flesh and spirit... I think of You all the time when You're away, and You know it, this is not the difference...

It is because the threads I used to knot about my breasts didn't compare to Your left-right-stop-signs to Your little pony, because alone I could always stop to hold the warm shower on my clitoris , and because alone I've never lost consciousness while doing this...

The stuff I bring to You... Masterpieces, metal bars sawed and pierced, flat and 12 millimetre wide, made up in leather to be real cage-clothes... A luck that the customs officer didn't show any interest in my luggage. There are only impossible black clothes in there, apparatuses imitating high-heel shoes, that skintight cage and of course Aiwass... He's been coiled up for such a long time, I check again whether he has enough air. I can't even fondle him, the bags are big and lay on the luggage rack above me. It's so nice that You permitted me to take him along, I don't like it when he doesn't feel me for too long, that also makes me think that You want to keep me at Your side for a longer while... I imagine that You'll leave me, tied up, alone with him, Which will probably happen... Fear is absent, I've spent two months every day with him. He won't do me anything.

I walk to Your flat. My luggage weighs like hell. I called You from the station and You've forbidden me to take a cab or even a caddie and ordered me to carry it. I do as You say. Slowly I walk through San Georg. Prostitutes stand around, it's nighttime, on Hansaplatz sit several silhouettes whose arms are tied up and who push syringes in their veins.

I'm almost there. With the weight of the bags I feel my heart beat, it's the only thing I hear and through it I feel a chain going that pulls me towards Your windows.

The whore at the door greets me, she's often seen me. I greet her back, ring. A second time. You don't open straight away, but I know exactly, You make me merely wait.

The door closes behind me, I start to walk up the stairs as You appear on the balustrade, say : "Stop."

I stop. Look towards You. You stand there, Your eyes into mine: "On your knees." I kneel down.

"Go up the stairs like this!"

You're testing me! I do it, not too slowly, You don't rush me either. Our looks in each other. The fire of Your eyes burns. Is it hypnosis ? You caress my chin as I walk past You, in the flat. It was only one floor.

I let my bags slip down on the floor, stand up, we clasp each other, You hold me against You and say: "Lilith... It's so beautiful to see you again..." You laugh of pleasure, kiss me and say: "come on, quick, take off your clothes!" I smile and start straight away to undress. I haven't spoken one single word and here I am again, under Your command... Oh, Thomas, this never stopped... You go and get my black patent shoes, You put them on for me and You're tender while doing it, You kiss my feet and my ankles ... kiss my pubis - a short instant...Stand up again, say: "Show me what you've brought!"

I propose to start freeing Aiwass. You agree and I open his bag, catch his head and take him out, hang his body on my neck, as he's used to. I hold him on me for a while and fondle him, You look at us with hallucinated eyes... Then he creeps away to explore his new home. I empty my bags on the room's floor.

First now I am surprised. I've brought now four times as many things as I had left at Your place, and all of it is the kinkiest SM stuff. The patent dresses. We look at all of this, discuss, You're pleased when I've perfected on my own initiative a model designed by You... What You like best is the overall metalcage on which I worked for three weeks... It has to be erected, but we'll do that tomorrow, it's late and the trip has been tiring. I take a shower and we go to bed. Your contact, the warmth and the softness of Your skin, the passion with which You love me make me forget the tortures of loneliness. Now I can release all of my passion...

When I wake up, we lie down very close ... I fondle You, still in half-sleep we start again to make love...

You and Your way to stay in me for hours, to feed on my pleasure without coming Yourself... You get up late, rush to the office. I sleep until noon. Stay a whole while in bed. I feel so happy, I'm at Your place again.

A fresh shower, breakfast... I start to erect the metal cage. Aiwass has coiled up in a corner and sleeps. In one hour and a half I've finished. The shape awaits my flesh.

I try to read, to sleep, even to watch TV... I'm unconcentrated, nervous, I don't know what to do with myself. Now I realise how much one single minimal detail disturbing me in a welcomed way could occupy me. I put away the newly brought equipment, I lay it on the table in the room with shelves, pack out what I had left at Your place.

The decision falls late in the afternoon. It must have been about five and it went very quickly. You can only praise that kind of spontaneity: I will stage myself erotically for You. I want nothing but to be Your toy, to continue that state that germinated between us so unically, to let myself fall into You, to give up any responsibility. I don't want to be Your girlfriend, I can't anymore after the conditioning ; I want to be Your hot bitch, Your perfect sex toy, I have to keep alive that tone betwen us.

I can't stand freedom anymore. Masturbation is no help against this. I want to hang down helplessly when You come home; and I want to suffer, so that You have that absolute power to torture me more, to relieve me, or, everything but neutrally, to let me wait for my liberation.

My plan is ready. I choose what I need. The bar that will keep my legs away from one another; a leash that will draw my arms upward from the back, a gag of the deepest ones; a leather harness that will carry my body weight; the little brush for my pussy. The breastsclamps. I prepare the image, hang the harness to the trunk under the ceiling, pick up the chair from which I will let myself slide down in full equipment, which will stretch my arms and my breasts suddenly, but irrevocably , stronger, until You come.

This idea germinates in me and I have to follow it; it's my duty towards You to seduce You, to surprise You. Such a thing can only enchant You... And I am much too excited to leave it, try to avoid that thought. I have to do it, it's stronger than any doubts, stronger than anything, an irresistible pulsion.

Then You confirm something, a new magical chance happens...

Oh, Thomas, less than thirty seconds before I wanted to get upon the chair. You call - I know then that today I shall meet again the woman who now shares Your life. You have the delicacy to come home first, seeing you both arriving together would be a little bit brutal... How You can afford this, sunchild... I see it now, I've left my own life and anything that I was far behind me and this is the death of the initiate. Die daily! I am as easy to shape as water within You, yes, which illusion of a chaste freedom or even identity can amount to the lights that You are ?

Lilith von Sirius, 1995.

DIANA ORLOW [LILITH VON SIRIUS] : CURRICULUM VITAE

Born 06.06.1971 (Poznan, Poland).

Work as a composer, musician, singer, dancer, costumier, writer.

Writing of poetry, songs, novels, film and theatre scenarios, LPs.

Creation, choreography, performance of dance shows and stage costumes.

EXPERIENCES '95

Dancing performance of four Tarot cards for the theatre play "Conte de Fée" ( Fairy Tale ) by Myriam Brown, on December 22-23, Paris.

Exhibition of clothes, accessories, photographs and poems, dance with snake [Aiwass], bat dance at the private viewing of the exhibition "Aux Carrés d'Hélène" on December 14, Paris.

Bat dance on the full moon techno event by the Pokhara Lake in Nepal in September.

Novel "Yours Forever" written in German in the course of the year, then translation in French, English and Polish.

Collection of poems "Liber 156" written between '92 and '95, translated in German, French, English, and Polish.

Extra part on the shooting of the film "Happy Weekend" in August, Berlin.

Appearance in the report on the photographer André Chabot for the German TV program "Peep" as a succubus haunting the Père Lachaise Cemetery, in july, Paris.

Dance with snake at the party "Freiheit, Gleichheit, Geilheit" ( Liberty, Equality, Lust ) organised by Ludwig von Tetzlaff, in July, Berlin.

Dance show at the "Exotica" party organised by the bar "Lili la Tigresse" in March, Paris.

AND ALSO...

Trilogy for the Catalan troupe "La fura del Baus" including the video showing of a poem, a dance with snake and a bat dance, in September '94, Berlin.

Participation in the literary compilation in the polish magazine "Czas Kultury" including poems by young authors from the city of Poznan (Poland), in October '93.

Styling and creation of the bat costume, then dancing performance for the "Spacenik" club in Münster, Germany, in January '93.

Co-writing, translation from German into French, and interpretation of the song "Blume" for the German band "Einstürzende Neubauten", published on the album "Tabula Rasa", in March '91 [and on the album "Malediction" in 1992].

Styling and creation of a series of theatre costumes for "Le Décaméron" ( The Decameron ) by Boccaccio directed by Bepi Giuseppe, in August '90.

Work with the theatre workshop of the Lycée Fénelon [Secondary School] and the Maison du Geste et de l'Image ( Community Arts Centre ) by Jacques Hadjaje on a staging of "Légère en août" ( Light in August ) and "Portrait de famille" (Family Portrait), two plays by Denise Bonal, and interpretation of a part in the final performance at the Centre Georges Pompidou, in June '90, Paris.

Styling and creation of a fashion parade in collaboration with Hung, in June '89.

Translation in French and Polish of "The Book of the Law" by Aleister Crowley.

[Deceased March 30, 1997, Hamburg.]

[Posthumous publication of poems in the french magazines "Le Miracle Tatoué", "Alexandre", etc.]

[Collection of poems "Human Woman with Human Feelings" ( translated by Philippe Pissier ) published by ON A FAIM ( BP 47 / 76802 St Etienne du Rouvray Cedex / France ).]

Posthumous corrections by Elise Ghiringhelli, Philippe Pissier and Natalie Y.

© The Estate of Diana Orlow.

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