My Castle Vault

I have a picture for you lovely girly-pops to consider. 

This ‘scene’ is a full day affair.  I am not writing this out as a story, I want your imaginations to fill in the blanks where necessary. 

We meet up for breakfast, dressed in casual clothes, comfy and chill.  Food and coffee (or caffeine delivery system of choice).  I order your food for you (though we already discussed what you do and do not like for all of your meals), and we chitchat while I shift from zombie mode to something more human.  

Next is pedicures (if that is a cool thing with you, otherwise you can let me fuss over you and caress your hand and fawn on you while I get my pedicure) 
After the pedicure, we drive up to the cabin.  It’s a simple thing, a large common area (with a fireplace, which is lit cause it’s chilly in the fall), small kitchenette, large bathroom and a sleeping room. 

I lead you into the bathroom, and start the bathwater; while the tub is filling, I take the time to undress you slowly, for the bath I am going to give you once the water is ready for you.  I touch and caress your skin gently after each clothing article is removed too, my media deserves the affection and attention.  Full bath treatment follows.  Hair washed, scalp massaged, body cleansed and smoothed.  Afterwards, rubbed down and lotion applied. 

You relaxed yet?  I hope so.   

After all of that prep-work is done, you get wrapped up in a soft fluffy towel and set down on a comfy bean-bag sofa while I tend to your hair.  I might curl it, straighten it, braids, pigtails... Whatever fits the image of the art I intend to turn you into.   

Do you like to be talked to during my artistic workings? 
Do you want less talk and more tunes?  
Or maybe not talked to, but talked at? 

Lunch is likely next.  Something neat and easily fed to you, we cannot be messy before the make-up phase you know. 

Then make-up!  Proper facial care first of course, because that is very important for a good work of art.  I like a softer look most of the time, but a good goth or sparkle-pop look is fun too.  Whatever I am feeling at the moment, but you just have to sit there and let me make you my work of art.  (And tell me when you need a sips, cause gotta keep my girly-pop hydrated) 

Clothing, or maybe not clothing?  Jewelry too.  All curated just for you and this night.  I take my time fussing over all of the little details. 

Last thing is to pose my work of art.   Photos are awesome, but optional.  I stare at your beauty and heap loads of praise and affection on how good you have sat for me, posed for me, how lovely you wear my work. 

Poses change, in the common area, in the sleeping area.  Standing in front of the fireplace with the fire crackling behind you...  Possibilities are many. 

We share dinner.  I might feed you that meal too.  

The process in reverse then:  I undress you again.  Gently take your make-up off.  Manage your hair into something that would be comfy to sleep in.  Comfy clothes.  Hot cocoa/tea (snacks of course), and a movie to cuddle to. 

Challenge, write a silly poem containing the words huff and enough

Why are you in such a huff?

Was my joke just not enough?

"What do you call an empty can

of Cheese Whiz- Cheese Was!"  C'mon man

That really is funny as shit.

That joke shoulda been a hit!

The Seven Selves
By Kahlil Gibran

In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
 
First Self:  Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night.  I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
 
Second Self:  Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is
given to me to be this madman’s joyous self.  I laugh his laughter
and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance
his brighter thoughts.  It is I that would rebel against my weary
existence.
 
Third Self:  And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and fantastic desires?  It is I the love-sick self
who would rebel against this madman.
 
Fourth Self:  I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught
was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing.  It is
I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell,
who would protest against serving this madman.
 
Fifth Self:  Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self,
the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without
rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is
I, not you, who would rebel.
 
Sixth Self:  And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who,
with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images
and give the formless elements new and eternal forms—it is I, the
solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
 
Seventh Self:  How strange that you all would rebel against this
man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to
fulfill.  Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined
lot!  But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits
in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating
life.  Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
 
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with
pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper
one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy
submission.
 
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness,
which is behind all things.