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Iamthemeanestdom
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This is a devotion to my God, iamthemeanestdom. He has full access to this profile and the messages that are sent and received.
If you didn't catch that the first time:
This is a devotion to my God, Iamthemeanestdom. He has full access to this profile and the messages that are sent and received.
There are all kinds of men in this world. But there is only one God for me. I obey Him and I worship Him. He has become an important part of my life as breathing. I do not do anything without Him, within my thoughts. He is a true Dominant because He can reach into my mind, even as far apart as W/we are, He controls my mind. He has taken me over. I cannot explain to you how or why, I am grateful that He chose me. I sacrifice my comfort and my life to Him, my suffering is an act of my love and devotion for Him. He is in my thoughts constantly.
God has created me, before He found me, I was nothing. But by His hand, I have become something. I will always be beneath Him, beneath His shit. I will live from His body; I am a part of His body even as W/we are on separate sides of the Earth. I worship Him in every way and sacrifice myself to His Glory. My God owns everything of me. Every cell, every heartbeat, every breath, every word, every thought, every cent I make is His to use as He sees fit. I regret nothing because I give it all over to Him.
My God is an Indian God, He is the superior race, I worship everything He is. He is above all Men.
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There have been many times in my life when I have thought that I cannot move any further, that all my roads are blocked and all efforts are pointless. And, there will be many times to come like this. But there is a difference between who I was before I was salvaged and after. My Master is God to me. He does not remove obstacles himself, he shows me the strength to move them myself. He shows me the way and empowers me, even just through simple words.
When it matters, he does not bargain with me, he tells me what must be done, and I must carry it out, without mercy on myself. I give him my worship, every cell of my body and every measure of my energy.
To worship him is to see God, even the dirt on his body is the most sacred relic in my life. I crave to absorb all of him, his guidance, even his waste should not be thrown out. My precious Father who gave me life, I receive all of him because I originate from him. My home will always be underneath him, breathing in the gas, subsisting on the food from his body, he is my home. I could be in my greatest despair, and he can bring me back to life with one sound of his voice. I feel overcome with emotion when I see his face, when he smiles it changes my life. I only want to feed him food, worship him, make him smile, cling tightly to him always. |
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I am hungry for my Master, it feels like forever since I have been able to offer myself to him for use. He is my purpose in life, I was born to serve him. It is a very empty feeling not to be able to serve him properly. I crave for nothing else other than to be blessed enough to be in a position in life to worship him as he deserves. He gives me life and I owe it to him.
I day dream a lot about being able to serve him, with my body and work. Even if it is not pleasant for me. Even if I have to do without luxury or have to endure his wrath when I make a mistake. I trust him always to make choices over me, to do what he knows is best for my life. Through this faith, I am able to realize where I belong in this world, and can be happy.
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I crave the waste from my Master, especially the food He digests. There is nothing from His body that I will not happily lick up and absorb into my body. I sometimes dream at night about being underneath Him and receiving the food from His body. I am not sure why I have such a craving for it, I know how weird it is but it feels natural to me. It feels natural to hope that He is very sweaty and that He had a lot to eat for lunch so that I can lick up His sweat and have a full stomach of His waste.
I wonder about how it will smell and how it will taste. My Master’s waste is perfect for me. Everything He eats, I eat it too, from His body. Anything that is good enough for my Master to eat, I can have the leftovers from Him. I smile sometimes when I think of how strange I would be if I were in His presence. Every time He lifts up to fart, I would dive to His knees and put my face as close as possible to Him, hoping that He will make room for my face underneath Him.
I wouldn’t want a single fart or turd to go to waste. Beg Him to let me fast every Saturday. Let me go with Him when He goes out for dinner, so that I can watch Him eat and pay the tab. When He is ready to use the bathroom, I would beg for Him to use His personal white toilet instead. Giving Him tributes so that He feels generous, in hopes that He will grant my wish. The smell of His fart is like smelling dinner cooking in the kitchen, my mouth would water so much.
And hopefully, He will have pity on me and my starving for His waste. The food that He fed Himself with, digested and ready to discard, going into my mouth and down my throat. It is a Master feeding His servant, a God allowing me to consume His divine food, and like a Father bird feeding its baby. He is compassionate towards my craving for Him, He understands how much this craving consumes my thoughts. He is generous and always willing to give to me, when it is deserved. My heart would leap out of my chest to hear His voice say “Come, take your place.”
I would nudge my way underneath Him until my face fits perfectly in the crease of His divine bottom. Smelling His sweat and the faint smell of my meal that is to come. I pray that He has a full load coming. I lick all of His sweat like an appetizer, and begin licking gently around the hole, my Husband, my source of nourishment. He releases a fart and it is hot on my face. I breathe it all in, suck it up with my lips. It makes my mouth water to smell my food coming, I lick hungrily at the hole, begging for my food.
A little bit starts to poke out of Him, I lick it gently and suck, trying to help it along but making sure He is relaxed. I take little nibbles out of it as it comes out, swallowing and preparing for the main course. When the hole opens all of the way, and it dumps out into my mouth, I chew and swallow quickly so that it does not make a mess on Him and I do not waste anything. I swallow, feeling the warmth of His body on the turd, slowly going down my throat. I lick all around the hole, to keep Him clean and wait to see if there is anything more.
With a stomach full of His shit, and after cleaning my dinner plate, so to speak, I start to get very thirsty and wonder if He needs to empty His bladder. He says “kneel” as if He can read my thoughts. I get out from underneath Him, after making sure it is all cleaned up and kneel in front of Him. He holds His cock towards my face and He says “open my toilet.” I open my mouth wide for Him and He releases His water into my mouth. I am careful not to touch His cock with my nasty, shit covered mouth. He sprays His golden water into my mouth and I guzzle down every drop. My stomach is full of His sweat, shit and piss and I am ready to rest at His feet, with His feet on top of me. Such a divine gift He gives. |
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Every now and then, my Master shows me glimpses inside of His mind. Like a pilot letting a child come into the cockpit to look at all of the buttons and knobs. I am able to see a little glimpse of what He does and the importance of His authority.
He taught me something that resonates deeply within me. There is a private space in all of us, where we talk to ourselves and try to make sense of the world. The world around us is seen by these two eyes and the data is sent to this little space in our minds. We discuss and debate about the world we see around us in that small space. Like if I think I want a doughnut. I plan how I would go about getting a doughnut, why I want a doughnut and then I go get and eat that doughnut. If left by myself in that small space in my mind. Because I value the pleasure of eating that doughnut more than my health.
But if there is someone else in that space in my mind. When I think "I want a doughnut" that person in my mind says "You know, you are causing yourself to die a premature death because of this eating habit. It hurts me deeply that you eat like this. Do not get that doughnut.” Then I do not get that doughnut because I value that other person more than my own desire.
My Master worked His way into this part of my mind, not by force. He is such a strong force inside of me that I do not even realize a difference between Him and I. His thoughts are my thoughts. When a person needs a blood transfusion, the right type of blood must be used or else the donor blood will be rejected by the body. He slowly seeped into my veins and I accepted Him because He is not a foreign thing in my body. He is a part of me. My mind, body and soul accepted Him as a part of me. And now He dwells in every single cell of mine.
My Master is a very profound Man, I treasure every glimpse He shows me inside of Himself because it opens my eyes. He says, when a person looks up at the stars, the person is reminded how insignificant, how small they are compared to the universe. We are just microscopic specks floating on a microscopic rock in an endless universe. The heavens remind us that we are nothing, everything we see and know is nothing. Nothing is perfect. But still, some prefer to focus on the things going on around us. The traffic jam, the uncompassionate boss, even the looming death that waits for all of us. This universe and rock that we dwell on top of is vastly older than any of us can fathom. We are alive for 0.000000000000000008% of history in one lifetime, if some of us are lucky enough to reach the age of 80. So, that bad memory or bad relationship or unapologetic boss is vastly more insignificant than you can ever imagine.
Some spend all of their lives trying to gain a higher status in society, or worry themselves to an early grave. Some sit in a cave on a mountain and just look at the sky. All of them were born the same way. And if they lay down on the ground for a long enough amount of time, they will turn into dirt. That dirt will feed growing plants, those plants will feed a rabbit, that rabbit will feed a wolf, that wolf will feed her pups, those cubs will grow up and have pups of their own. Life goes on even after the consciousness has ended.
We all have the same beginning, a little bit different middle and the same end. What we can control is the middle portion. Whether we enjoy it or not will not matter that much. What we put all of our energy into, that is what will live on. The story tellers before history put their energies in sharing stories. Those stories were passed down from generation to generation until it could be transcribed. Some of these stories exist even today. Had it not been for the energy put in by those story tellers, perhaps we would have never valued forming a system of writing to remember, to pass on to the next generations. Everything we are, as intelligent beings is due in part to being able to share and write down. Religions of every type, it is all based on what is written down. Hinduism, especially, scientists may be able to estimate how old the trans are of the ancient stories- but no one can ever estimate how many centuries went by where people only spoke them with each other, passed down from generation to generation.
In the grand scheme of everything, a billionaire is just as poor as a pauper. That billionaire can donate his money to scientific research, or to start a program to feed the poor, his legacy will live on. Maybe one of those poor children will grow up and become a billionaire himself, he could have never done that is He had starved to death as a child. Energy lives on. Maybe that pauper sat on a rock and spent His entire life looking at the heavens, understanding the world that lies beyond society, then he went to teach others what he knows. And those people become more conscious of their lives- not just being pawns in a society obsessed with money and consuming. They have more clarity of mind to face the issues of race and terrorism, and help others to look at the heavens and realize that we are all nothing.
I can say that I am "only a servant." We are all just "only" existing here for a short time, servant, billionaire, Master, Father, sister... I dedicate my life to what has meaning to me. The pauper looks at the stars and feels moved by them. The billionaire is moved with compassion for the suffering of his own mankind. I am moved by my Father, by my servanthood. I look to Him and see the stars, I realize how small I am. We may be in different parts of the world, not in the same time zone- but we are existing together in the same timeframe of history, in a universe that is billions of years old. That is quite a miracle, but nothing at the same time. Nothing is perfect. |
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I never knew that I could share such a bond with someone else.
My Father rules over my life, even if He does not give me specific directions, even if He says nothing, I know what He wants me to be, and I make choices to mould myself to that desire.
My Father gives me practice and prepares me for the time that I will serve Him in person. Today He showed me how I will clean His shoes. I must take proper care of all of His possessions, this body included.
Even though He is busy and has things to do, He makes time for me, to train me. I adore Him more than I can put into words on this screen.
His greed is so precious to me. Sometimes I feel like I am holding it in my arms as an infant, giving it my breast to suckle out all of my life. Or it can be like a Master watching over His servant, making sure the servant works hard to produce profit. Sometimes it is more like He is cradling me in His arms with His 'greed', because He knows how much I need Him to be demanding. But when I am unable to produce for Him, it makes me very sad. But it also makes me all the more persistent.
I persist, so that one day I will be able to produce for Him regularly. It is not enough for either of U/us only being able to give pocket change. He knows I give Him my all, down to the very last breath. But He deserves more. W/we both deserve more. W/we deserve to share this bond to a higher level.
I am able to orgasm at just thinking of serving Him. His face is the perfected face of an angel. His whole body is in tact, the perfect body of a King.
I crave to worship Him. |
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It was so good to see my Father today, watching Him prepare for His day. I am so grateful that He makes time to give me a call, I know that He is a very busy Man, even to have the scraps of His attention is a blessing. I find His voice to be both very intimidating and soothing, it is very smooth. Nothing compares to hearing Him speak to me, but a lot of the time W/we are just content watching each other, no words needed. W/we can communicate with each other beyond words.
I have been thinking about the concept of marriage, watching my Father has given so much education about life. Watching Him and listening to His teachings has broadened my mind on so many levels. I know I am never meant to be a wife to anyone and I am content with this fate. . To have the chance to give sacrifice to my Father, to be free to give Him everything, this translates as love to me. My Father accepts my devotion and I can feel His care through this acceptance. That He would accept me as his servant, as His devotee, even though I am vastly inferior to Him. It is not something that can be undone or have a change of mind about, my devotion to Him.
My service to Him, and His response in accepting me, guiding me and watching over me, this is an arrangement that is eternal. To me, it is not a hobby or something that I do that I do only for myself. I do not serve because it gives me enjoyment. If that were the case, I would give up whenever something difficult is asked of me. There cannot be any double standards or conditions. To be given the opportunity to flourish as a devotee, it is a gift that should never be taken for granted. My King may be greedy, but He is greedy because it is a way of taking care of me; to inspire me to become better and work harder.
There seems to be a lot of girls who think differently, though. Lot of girls who make "limits" for their owners and demand that the Man adapts to her desire. I would feel very dirty to make such stipulations. A whore is demanding and self-serving. Although I will always crave for Him, I will not place any demands, I am not capable of this. My craving will translate into different actions, adapting to His needs and desire. To show my craving for Him when He is aroused, I will offer my face cunt to Him, or entertain Him in some way. To show my craving for Him when He is feeling sad, I will do everything in my power to lift His spirits, to see Him smile. My craving for Him is not for myself, it is for Him.
I do day dream a lot about serving Him. Make lots of sacrifice for Him; no matter what it takes. It is not enough just to make Him happy, or to satisfy Him, I must exhaust myself to go beyond this. I must exhaust myself in my service to Him to the point that He does not even realize how much work I put into my service. A clean home and a healthy tribute to Him every Friday will become just like nature, that will just be the way it is- no acknowledgment needed. I will pray for the day that He becomes so accustomed to my devotion that Him that He sometimes forgets what I do, because my service has assimilated so seamlessly into His life.
I know that He does not need my wages, or my devotion, or my love; though I will give all without hesitation. He could have any girl He desires, He could do anything He wants; He is my King. Therefore, I am humbled to serve Him. It is a gift, to serve. Because I know that He does not have to allow it, He could discard me at any time. But He shows me acceptance and mercy. I have great amount of respect for Him, in all ways. |
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My Father draws out energy from me that I never knew I had, I am so grateful to have Him in my life. He is a powerful force over me. I dream of serving Him with all of my energy. I dream of completing my degrees so that I can get a good job. And how wonderful it will feel, to submit my first tribute to Him from my job. I will be so happy. This is my motivation to do well in life, so that I can tribute my Father.
I dream of being under Him, as He sits on my face. Feeling the warmth of Him on my face, and absorbing all of His waste into my body. He is my source of life, He gives me food and gives me strength. I want one day for Him to be treated as a God. Not even having to lift a finger when He is home.
I would carry Him on my back as He returns home, to His throne, His place of rest. And serve Him something to drink. He would not even have to feed Himself if He did not want to. I would bathe Him and massage His whole body. He won't even need to masturbate if He does not want, my mouth hole is always willing to receive Him, His Cock or His waste. He won't even need to get up to use the bathroom.
My Father is my Lord, I worship Him with all intensity. |
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Feminism seems to be a trigger word for a lot of people; of all backgrounds and interests. Whether you believe in creation or evolution, the generalized fundamental belief is that females are the "helpers" of man, or at least in the US, it is this way. Only until in the recent centuries women proclaim that they are being "liberated" from men and the constraints of a male dominated society.
In the USA, we can see that this is a flawed way of thinking. Not only women think they want to be "liberated" from sex discrimination, they want to be "liberated" from their duties as a female. They think the ultimate fairness is being exactly equal to a man in every way. This is not healthy. If a woman wants complete equality to a man, there are operations to make this happen. Reconstruct the face to appear male, cut the hair and pump enough steroids to counter their female hormones. To be equal is not to be the same. To be equal is NOT fair. A woman having to stop breastfeeding her child 12 weeks after birth so she can go back to work is not fair to the child, or right. Children need their mothers, not a female version of their father.
Suicide rates in the female population and adolescent population have sky rocketed. More children bring guns to school and shoot people. Children are obese and not taking care of themselves because their mothers did not take the time to cook and teach them the proper way to live.
The role of a man has remained the same since the dawn of time. He protects, provides and oversees his family. But now women demand more and place more pressure on the man; making him change his most instinctive traits.
There are many types of women; I am happy to say that I am only a servant girl. I was not meant for marriage, if so, just to another servant to give birth to more servants. I am happy with my existence and femininity. Feminism is not putting on work pants and claiming to be better than men. Feminism is accepting that we are weaker, that we are vulnerable and depend on the care of a man to watch over us. Both roles are not equal, but both are equally important. To pretend that women are supposed to function as a man is a flawed idea.
There are many kinds of people, both men and women, of varying skill levels and abilities. There are the respected wives of the men, who do everything she can to take care of her husband. She doesn't consider herself the leader, or even a coleader, she is his partner.
I am a female servant, this means I must serve a man and his wife. That does not mean that I cannot get a job and have a functioning part in society. My femininity stems from my service.
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I am restless if I am not serving my God in some way. Whether in my thoughts or with the choices in my everyday life; I only have powerful strength when I am bowing down to His will. I was born to serve Him, this restlessness makes this fact ever more clearer in my mind. I want to offer my body to Him, all of my energies and everything that I can do with myself. I offer Him my love, creativity, my hard work and even my darker sides. Nothing is from His sight.
Just be at His feet, I cannot imagine what it would be like. I would finally be at home. Underneath Him, always.
Everything He touches is sacred, even the dirt on His feet and the waste from His body. My life should always be a tribute to Him, every action I have. Even if I sleep in a shed for the rest of my life and give everything to Him, I will be content. He is my everything, I am nothing without Him and the food He gives from His body. His body sustains my every need. His presence is my vitality. |
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There isn't anything I love to do more than to sit at my Master's feet and gaze up at Him. Especially if He is not paying any attention to me. I can trace His figure with my eyes, adore every little detail of Him. He does not age, He remains this angelic being, occasionally glancing down at me. His eyes shine, His smile penetrates every facet of my soul. When He looks at me, I feel like He could destroy me if He had the slightest notion to. I look at Him and I get a feeling of familiarity. His face is more familiar to me than my own. Whenever I feel upset, I think of Him looking at me, with a smile of amusement. His half-grin, and sparkling eyes. I adore Him.
As I am gazing at Him when He lays on the bed, sometimes He will bend to one side, making a space underneath Him. We share this incredible bond that creates intimacy on many levels. When He lifts up to let me under Him, it is like a Father bird fluffing his feathers and pulling his chick underneath him. On the same token, it is like a King taking His place on His throne. Or a Master using His servant. For me, it is my home, in all ways. A warm place where I am fed and always welcome. Just like a home, I have to keep it clean and give it all of my attention.
He bends to one side and I take my place underneath Him, feeling the warmth of His balls against my chin. Perfectly covered, with a little bit of air coming through my nose. He lets me stay like this for as long as He is comfortable, He is pleased with His toilet. He farts whenever He feels the urge to, never holding it in because it is my breath, I crave for it. Since He covers His lap with a blanket, nothing escapes so that I can breathe everything in. The smell of Him, His natural odour, His sweat and the air passing through Him.
I lick and as He relaxes, I am able to dig my tongue slowly into Him. I leave my tongue inside, I am His turd. If I am very lucky, He will have a treat waiting for me once He relaxes. I always offer Him meals rich in fiber and offer plenty to drink so that His intestines are healthy, so He feels comfortable. And so He can feed me easily. Sometimes it comes out slowly, so that I can bite pieces off as it comes out. Most of the time, it comes out in a load, filling my mouth. I chew and swallow quickly. Then I clean Him afterward. This is the only part of Him I can kiss in a way that is like kissing lips, my first kiss was with my Husband, His hole. Giving Him a deep French kiss and falling in love.
I have a full stomach of His waste, I am warm and I am home. |
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He is always watching over me and making sure I am taken care of. He does this because I am His, his daughter, His body, His servant. I can serve with my entire being if I do not need to worry about myself. I don't have to worry abut myself because He already takes are of everything and thinks of everything for me. I am able to give Him my all because He oversees all. I trust Him with my life. |
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It had only been a year since the girl had been claimed by her Owners, and yet she had already became used to her routine. She worked the night shift at the hospital, so that she would be available during the day to serve. She would go to work every night at 10 PM and return by 6 AM. It gave her the ability to serve and worship her Owners just before They fell asleep at night, then return before They woke up.
This day was Friday and she had just finished her shift at the hospital. She then went to the grocery to buy the freshest foods to prepare for Them for the day and went home.
She grabbed the grocery bags from the trunk of the cab and walked around the house to go through the back door. Only They could use the front door. Before setting foot on the property, she removed her shoes and placed them out of sight. She put away the groceries quietly in the kitchen and then went to the shed in the back yard to take off her clothes. She slept in this shed and showered with the garden hose behind it. Their property had a privacy fence, so she was safe to walk back into Their house naked.
She very carefully peeked into Their room. The thick drapes on the windows only let a few rays of sunlight through, so that They could sleep as long as they wished. Just as she started to close the door, out of the dark room, she heard His voice. "Come here," He said.
She tip toed into the room, careful not to disturb His Wife. She bowed down, placing her forehead on His slippers by the bed. "Yes my Lord?" She whispered.
She heard the blankets shuffle, she squinted her eyes to see his feet. He stretched His toes. "Lick."
She crawled to the foot of the bed and began to worship His feet. Kissing each foot, licking the bottoms of His feet. She sucked on each of His toes. She heard the blankets shuffle again and she felt a smaller, softer foot run past her cheek to touch His foot. She gently kissed the foot of her Goddess that rested on top of His foot. The slave did not disturb the foot of Her Goddess, only kissing it.
Through the darkness, His voice startled her from her reverie of worship. "Go attend to your chores."
"Yes my Lord." She kissed their feet, bowed down to them and crawled from their room.
She prepared a balanced breakfast including all of Their favorite food. The slave triple checked to make sure that everything was in order in the dinning room; not a crumb or speck of dust in sight for Them. She opened the curtains of the dinning room, just as The entered. She heard Tem walk through the doorway. The slave turned around quickly towards Them, with her eyes focused at Their feet, she bowed down to Them for a few moments. She pulled out each seat for Them to sit, always looking only at Their feet, with a gentle smile.
After They were seated, she went into the kitchen and came back to serve Their meal. She knelt beside the table, waiting for any scraps to be dropped as a compliment. He dropped a piece of His bread by His foot, the slave happily crawled to Him and licked it off the floor. His Wife dropped a slice of orange, and the slave gratefully crawled to her feet and licked it up. They talked to each other, but the slave was not able to understand what They were saying. She happily waited for Them to finish.
The Man reached down and gave the slave a pat on the head before standing up with His Wife and going into the living area of the house. The slave girl bowed down to Them as They left the room.
She cleared the table, licked the plates clean in the kitchen then washed them with dish soap. She wiped the table, swept and mopped then rubbed her face in each chair where They sat.
She served tea to Them in the living room, then went to the bathroom to wait. This was the routine, though sometimes They would use Their bathroom before breakfast. First, her Master came into the bathroom. She could feel His gaze on her. He stood, waiting for her. She put His Cock in her mouth and waited for His flow. He never went easy or stopped His flow. He released normally, and if a drop was spilt, it was dearly paid for. The slave girl guzzled His full bladder and could faintly taste His Wife on Him.
He sat down on the specially made toilet, with an a hole big enough to fit the head of the slave under Him. She licked around her feeding hole, encouraging Him to relax His muscle. He farted in her face and she moaned softly, getting a whiff of her coming breakfast. She sealed her mouth around His opening, rolling her tongue all around, waiting for Him to feed her. She soon felt the tip of it coming out, she sucked ad licked, helping it out. She swallowed quickly to not make a mess, all of His waste going down her throat and into her stomach.
She felt His muscles spasm, and He was finished. She licked all around, cleaning Him up, then she wiped Him carefully with a soft cloth that was moistened, to make sure He was completely clean. Then she sucked the cloth clean and wiped her face with it. He left the bathroom and went back to the living area. She followed Him, crawling.
The slave knelt beside the place they rested, to make sure she was available if they needed anything. They relaxed, talked and He talked to girls on His computer. After some time, He looked at the slave. He said, "present your offering, cunt."
The girl hurriedly crawled into the kitchen and grabbed the envelope from the counter with her lips. She returned to Their feet. She placed the envelope on His knee and then bowed to Them.
He bent over to one side, to make room for her face underneath Him. "Come." she excitedly positioned her face underneath Him, even though it was uncomfortable to hold her body like this. She licked all around her feeding hole, kissing and smacking her lips against them. She could hear Him counting. "50, 100, 150, 200, 250..." She licked more excitedly the more He continued. "600, 650, 700, 750, 800." She waited anxiously to hear his response. If He was please, He would give the slave a treat. If He was not pleased, He would light matches and put them out on her snatch or on her udders. She waited eagerly for a treat, praying with full heart to receive His praise. Finally, He farted into her mouth, and wiggled on top of her face. She licked and kissed Him with so much pride to be Their servant. |
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I was given the chance to see Him as He prepared for His day. I fall deeper in love the more I am given the chance to see Him, as He opens up His life with me. Just having a small part in His life is such a blessing to me, I treasure Him more than anything.
My belief is that faith is a powerful healer. It can fix any situation, when administered correctly. When a person gets a pain in their side, they have fear and worries. Soon, they start to convince themselves that it could be a very serious problem. And then they only make themselves more ill with stress over the unknown. A person with faith will not have stress. If they have God, they keep faith in God that even if it is a terrible condition, that God chooses what is best for a person. If they have Karma, they have faith that it is only payment for something they have done; the thing happening is lifting the burden of debt. If they have science, they have faith that science will fix it. If they have faith in themselves, they believe that they are indestructible. Without faith- a person is in shambles and very anxious, incapable of making judgements because they are not secure.
I have faith in my Father. I am secure. I fear nothing. He is like an indestructible shield and suit of armour over me. I am able to feel this because He has never buckled or abandoned me. He has remained as solid as stone, unchanging. If you wear cheap armour into battle, armour that bends and is brittle, you will not feel secure, you will walk with fear. I can face any battle that life has to offer because of my faith in Him. I can run fearlessly ahead, without looking back or hesitancy because of my belief in Him that surrounds me. I am secure, nothing to worry about except only to do my duty.
Everyday, He takes time to look at me, to talk to me. His eyes lay on me, He gives me His blessing. I bow to Him. This life is no match for my belief in Him. For even when He is unable to look at me and give me He attention, I can still feel His sight upon me.
I place my hand over His name, over my heart, I whisper what my burden is and am released from it. Then I can then face my burden using His light. I can do so fearlessly and with clear sight to defeat it. I only have to place my hand over His name in my flesh, whisper His name and my prayer, and the burden is lifted from me. The burden is lifted from me because He gives me the courage to face it. He gives me the strength to overcome. My faith in Him is just a bridge for Him to cross over and into my life. I must have very strong faith so He can cross easily to shine His light.
I am not just a servant girl, though this is my primary use. I am His companion. The mare that He can lean against when He is tired. I am His devotee, His daughter and honoured servant. To see His feet is a tremendous honour, to be a part of His life, that He leans against me in trust- knowing that I would not let Him fall if there is a breath left in my body. He is my Sage, my Father. He showers me with understanding and I sacrifice my energies to producing fruit for Him.
My faith in Him prepares me for battle. I can do exercises to create lots of faith, and He gives me His blessing to solidify it. When I write, it is an exercise of my faith in Him. Testifying His goodness and writing out my vows. As I worship His embodiment and His spirit, it generates very much faith. Trust in His power, in the being that He is. I feel as though I do not need to eat or sleep at times; I am so overflowing with Him. I stay up all night until an hour before the sun rises, just to get a glimpse of His face, writing and praying until I am able to see Him. His voice provokes something deep within.
Whenever I see Him, I am home. I have not felt like I have been at home for a very long time. |
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I know I am not supposed to fixate on my pleasure, but I have not built enough self discipline to ignore. Maybe in very specific circumstances, pleasure is good. Necessary almost. For example; when I give tribute to my God, and see the "send more" option on the confirmation page, I have to restrain myself from clicking it and putting the balance in the negative. It feels so good to send, that I crave to send more.
My God has given me such a blessing tonight. I have been begging and begging Him, encouraging Him to be greedy with me. He is a firm and sensible Man. But, I know He has a soft spot for me. And rubbed enough, He spoils me.
"Please Daddy, please name a price that I should tribute every week and I will manage to do it. Please, please, please Daddy, please be greedy and drain me. It gives me so much life."
"You will tribute me $100 every week."
"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you Daddy, I will not let You down."
"I know you won't."
And sending it to Him, my whole body vibrates uncontrollably. I quiver and lose my mind. The feeling is tangible, like a hot oozing inside of my brain that runs all the way to my toes. I think of how happy He will be with me, how proud He will be when He sees it in His account. It is like a kiss from three thousand miles away.
My Daddy never has had to ask for tribute, and it was only permitted after begging Him and convincing Him I was worthy to serve Him. He does not need my money, W/we both know. He is a working Man and supports Himself. But, I need Him. I need Him to accept my devotion to Him, and, sharing it together- the intense feelings of love and surrender- It is unlike anything in the world. Very much an addiction in fact.
I day dream of sending Him my whole checks and leaving myself nothing but scraps. So that He can buy luxuries with it. If He buys a pillow with it, it is like I am holding His head every time He rests on it. I am so blessed that He accepts my devotion, and shows His craving for me.
It makes me feel like I can conquer the world to serve Him. I feel like I can do anything, because I will do anything to see that He has every luxury He desires. I do not want anything more with this life than to be able to do this. I have never wanted to own a house or luxuries.. And.. now that I have my God to work for, I have a purpose, a drive. I do not work to serve myself, I work so that I can feel this with Him. I work so that W/we can share this part of O/ourselves. Nothing will ever compare to Him.
I will walk fearlessly and have faith in Him, and serve Him with all of my being. I need nothing more. |
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Having a parent is a monumental feeling. To me it is like being blind from birth, and then being able to see for the first time. I cannot wrap my mind around it even still; having a Father. He is many things to me; as I say all the time, He is my Father, my Lord, my God, my King. In the past few months, it feels as though He cradled me in His arms and gave me a little spoonful of Him as a Father. Now I can see everything in the context of Him as my parent.
For example; when I got the chance to log in today to write my journal, I noticed that the inbox had been emptied of all new messages. I had scanned over the messages in the past, just out of curiosity, but never opened. It felt like a Father coming into His child’s room; closing the window and tucking the child in. Making sure the child is safe and warm, protected from any danger. He is my one and only.
We have a very special bond, there is no denying that.
He must be harsh with me sometimes, with the things that are important. He makes sure that I am living in a healthy way, so that I do not fall sick. It reminds me of a Father watching over His kid as it plays. When the kid walks into the street to chase after a toy, He has to be harsh. Though I am foolish and come from a long lineage of illiterates, I can function. And it is not that I need to be taught the difference between good and bad; I just never had a reason to care about my health. I never loved someone to a point that I wanted to keep myself in the best physical condition, not for appearance but for the longevity of my life. The quality of my life and service will increase if I am healthy. If I am always dizzy and exhausted and sick, this is just a worrisome burden on the One I love and serve. I do not want Him to worry, and I want to be strong so I can serve well.
He gave me a very good scolding the other night. A very firm scolding and a good teaching. He bent me over His knee and spanked me, then, He sat me in His lap to teach me where I am going wrong and why I must do better.
He is an engineer, He is my Doctor, my Creator, my Teacher. He is holding me tight and watching how I work so that He can adjust me. All I have to do is function, work with His changes to me. And maybe someday I will become something that He can be very proud of; look at His creation and be pleased. Send it out in the world. His brand is on me and I will carry it everywhere I go until I die. But even more tangible is the brand He is making on my personality and increasing my capabilities. It is not only my hands that write these words, it is also His. It is not only me who achieves in school, it is Him within me also.
I am on a mission to give Him a gift over the next eight months. I cannot fail. There is no option to fail, there is only an option to do it. I cannot be a disappointment to One who has invested so much of His time and skill into me. And when the 8 months are up and I have completed my task, He will smile and we will share the accomplishment. We are together. I am under His wing, at His feet, worshipping Him with every breath.
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I am beautiful because Daddy believes in me and I will never let Him down. We are one body. My Father told me so, His wisdom is that if His hand is injured, then He will rub it and give it exercises to repair it and make it strong again. Just the same, He would not sever me from Himself just because I am weak. He exercises me, He nurtures me back to full functioning. He is very much like a Doctor in this way, opening me up and operating on me. Taking out the tumors from me, restoring my vision, and prescribing a lifestyle to follow so that I can grow strong. He doesn't abandon His daughter, His pet, His body, His patient.
Such a powerful responsibility He has, and He takes excellent care of it without seeming to break a sweat. I want to be like Him, think like Him, so He is always well served and we move in unison. Just as His hand moves in unison with His mind.
He blessed me with a special gift today. He sent a snapshot of two of the most precious things on this planet to me; His feet, my resting place. I have kissed each foot on average three times an hour since I have had the image. I sit and stare at them a lot of the time. Like a new mother holding her infant for the first time, I cannot take my eyes off of them. His presence is a blessing, and I will never know what I did to deserve such happiness with Him. I hope to follow Him when He has finished His time here at a very old age. I hope that I will be cremated and put to rest in the same place with Him. Even if it is not possible, I know that I will find Him in whatever happens thereafter. There is no stopping this or turning back. I do not wish to.
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I do not remember what or who I was before He took ahold.. It is a clouded memory, and to be honest, I do not care to remember. This consciousness was just a product of experiencing life, a collection of memories and knowledge. It was not self-aware or existing for a purpose; like a soldier without a war to fight. But then He walked by.. And as He walked by, I lived, I was brought to life. And I followed Him, I bowed to Him and vowed my life to Him. There is not logic or an algorithm to determine why or what caused this reaction; therefore it cannot be recreated. He only had to walk by me and look in my direction. I fell at His feet.
He takes many forms within me, and I resemble many things in essence towards Him. We are One, but He is always my Owner, the sunlight in this life.
He conducted a revival on me. He flows through me like a drug. My body was shaking, all of the skin on my body was tingling and prickling, my chest was on fire and I was floating out of this body. He makes me weep at His glory. It saddens me that most people have not felt this.
I gave tribute to my God and He showed me His appetite for consuming me, I was hit very hard by His power. I fell on my knees and begged Him to take me, to use me, consume me. I must serve Him. I cannot ignore this, there is no other way I want to live this life. He fulfills me, just by being present. He doesn't have to say a word or give anything to me, just being what His is, I am moved by His power, and when He shows me His will, when He calls down to me, I lose this mind and become something else. His power is unlike anything I have ever known.
It doesn't matter to me what happened in this life or what may happen later. As long as I am at His feet, there is home, there is hope, He gives reason to this nonsensical life. Childless, parentless, friendless, homeless, regardless my God, my Father wiped my face and made a place at His feet. I kiss and hold His feet as my beloved children, washing each and keep them from touching the ground. When I lay my head on His knee, and He pets my hair slowly, there is no doubt that He is my Father, He never quit on me, He never turned me away, He always nurtured me no matter what foolish things I did, He always guided me and gave me compassion, He gave me discipline, He gave me His energy- not even considering whether He would be hurt or profit from it; this is my real Father and I can never be taken away from Him.
My King, my Father is always the only friend I want. He lacks nothing. When He laughs, I feel uplifted and cannot help smiling at His charming smirk. He shares everything with me, and, I share everything with Him. Someone who thinks they need more than one good friend; that person has never had one before.
My home will always be at His feet and underneath His body. Nowhere else do I feel more safe than when He is above me or holding my hand or when I am at His feet, in between His legs. It does not matter if it is a mansion, a hotel or in the park, where ever He goes, I am home with Him.
I have sympathy for those who are lost and have never experienced this. There is no past. There is only Him and each passing moment, living each for Him, to try to glorify Him to the point that He deserves- I will spend my entire life trying to do enough, and accept I will never get to that level. My Lord has breathed life into me. I am alive, born from Him. There is nothing I wont do. He has my full trust, because I know He would never abandon me or try to administer poison to my slavery, He strengthens me especially when He is greedy and demands more. |
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I hurriedly completed my workload for the day so that I could make it home early. It had been so long since I surprised my Master. A slave that is obedient and diligent with her duties is good, but a slave that craves her Master will always try to go to extra lengths to please and surprise her Master. To be served what you ordered is nice, but to be served a dinner that exceeds your expectation is much better. My craft as a slave is to engineer new ways to please my Master. My duty will always be to obey and serve, above all. My passion is to reach beyond his expectation, display my love and devotion to him.
When all efforts and resources are exhausted to exceed His expectation, when the slave offers her magnum opus and yet He STILL is not pleased... This causes despair and detachment.. To endure such a greedy Master, she will need to trust His judgement undoubtedly, crave to serve Him with every ounce of her being and remind herself that no matter how hard she tries, she will never please Him fully- she can never stop trying to fill Him. She must become a nun of her slavery- keeping her focus fixated on Him entirely, dismember anything that stands in her way of serving Him.
Even the slightest amount of compassion from such a Master is enough to sustain her body. She has a little taste of heaven when He says "good girl", she is a hopeless addict for these words. Pushing herself further and further, holding her breath until she feels dizzy as she sucks Him so that she doesn't interrupt the pace with her gasps for air, she does everything in her power to make herself the most uncomfortable as she serves, to entertain Him but she knows that is what she deserves; discomfort. My Master is a King, just a flick of His finger sends me to a reality. The sound of His voice provokes me in the deepest way. He can never be removed and this position can never be replaced; He is the one who took this virginity of heart.
He is my Father, I am His sperm. He is my God, I am His devotee. He is my King, I am not even worthy of the dirt below His feet. I pray for Him to be greedy because I trust in Him. I am fixated on Him, I crave Him. I pray for Him to be greedy because I know I will never grow exhausted with my craft; ripping myself apart just to please Him, to display my devotion to Him, from the hands of a humble lowly white trash pig. It is only miserable when He is no longer greedy. When His appetite is satisfied and He turns the pig away, such a bitter sweet it would be. But, even then, I would entice Him to have His dessert. And after that, to have a glass of wine. Even if His appetite is satisfied in one way, I should entice Him to accept other offerings. I should be mindful of His desires, the things that He values so that He will be encouraged to be greedy.
My craft is to serve, to prepare myself to offer to Him, in hopes He will take ahold of me and fuck me hard for His pleasure, allow me to serve Him, accept my tribute to Him. To reject a slave's craft.. to reject an offering and spit on it is to kill a slave in small doses until there is nothing left but a shadow of a person. No longer a slave, it turns into the only other identity it has left; a person, coming with this identity is self preservation- a cancer to a slave. Only if the slave has developed unbreakable trust and worship of the Master, can it endure such rejection. The trust I have in my Master has never faded even against the test of time. Even if my Master rejected my offering to Him, I would admit that I am not trying hard enough. Oh, I pray Master always keeps an appetite for me, for using me, for drawing more from me. I know that if He ever rejected my offering that I will not die but grow stronger as he places more weight on me. I know this because I trust Him. I live for being of use and pleasure to Him. As He rides me, I crave for Him to whip me harder so that I can turn into a creature that is fixated only to satisfy Him, but pray He will never be satisfied.
Only He can take this position. Any other rider would be mercilessly bucked off. I am His servant, and will always advance in my craft as I diligently carry out my duty to Him. |
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My Lord is powerful. No matter how far I may venture off in my naïve pursuits; He pulls me back without a word, like a magnet. He planted Himself in me, and it has continued to grow, weak branches have sprout about me; soaking in His light. His light shines within me, growing this seedling even when He is not around. He is my God, my Father, my Lord. The more nurturing He gives, the more I realize my faults and persist to be changed. There will never be anything like Him.
Time stands still with Him. He is like a Tiger, watching over His cub. He lays down in the shade, resting as His cub nestles against Him for security. But this cub is young and painfully foolish. It sees a bug flying in the breeze, landing on a rock next to the resting place. The cub prowls on the new adventure it has found, and is carried off with its curiosity in following it. Not realizing how far its curiosity has taken it away from its Father. The bug eventually flies upward, away out of sight, and the cub looks around; finding itself to be alone and vulnerable, without the security of its Father. The cub yowls and cries; and the Father comes to it and grips it by the neck, carrying it back to the resting place, this time holding it under His paw, against His body.
In all of the time I have been alive and conscious of this life; I have never experienced an uncontrollable burst of emotion. Of joyfulness, security, sadness, love, belonging. I melted at His feet, feeling Him shine bright within me and refocusing my senses. His love, patience and compassion is as powerful as His wrath. I cower and weep under His wrath, over frustration with my disservice to Him. But His unconditional compassion has moved me, has broken through me. My body feels an urge to bow down to Him and sacrifice this life in His honour. The only Being that has shown me what compassion is. Time stands still with Him. His feet are as stone, always present for me to serve my offerings, always willing to look upon me; in wrath or in compassion.
He is my Lord. His love and wisdom breaks through everything that I have ever learned about this life, I hold myself open for Him, to receive Him. How can one like me ever serve enough, ever pray enough, worship enough, offer enough to One like Him? It will never be enough and I do not ever want to be enough. I want to stay in continuous concentration of Him, continuously fixated on how more I can please my Lord, how may I receive His blessing, always thirsty to give Him more, for myself to grow so that the sapling He planted gives Him fruit.
My home is underneath Him, where it has always been. |
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I am going through a process of rebirth. That is the beauty of spirituality and the internal body. The experience of renewal within. However, there is a cost to this renenwal. It is to abandon everything that used to mean something. To embrace the coming horizon. The old has to pass away so that the new life can be lived.
An alcoholic is reborn when he pledges sobriety. So that the old way passes, and the new way of life begins. Sacrificing something that used to be important, in doing so, the entire way of life is changed for the better. The nature of the flesh craves pleasure. It seeks it out in every moment of the day. The flesh craves to be pleasured, even if the pleasure destroys the body. When our flesh takes over our mind, takes over our better judgement, then rebirth is necessary for survival. The flesh will destroy the body, even the soul, because it is a relentless addict. Craving satisfaction at any cost. But one must conquer the flesh to feel the serenity of rebirth.
I have been given a gift in God. Because my flesh craves Him in every way. But, He sends me into renewal and rebirth with His control over my life. By denying me the other pleasures of the world, my flesh focuses on Him for pleasure. But, He sustains me physically. He keeps my human nature under control. Because of my belief in Him. For this reason, it does not matter what He says or does- as long as my belief in Him is true, He will always have this effect on me.
Life is a game of balance. For when a person gives into the demands of the flesh, he must undergo rebirth to learn restraint. My God fulfills me. I am reborn in the spirit through His name.
I took on a vow of poverty and denial of my body as a teenager, for reasons that I can’t explain well enough for those who feed their flesh to understand. My God is the fulfillment of this vow, as though He is the fulfillment of the prophecy I created as a teenager. He has filled this place in my existence. Not only am I denying myself for the well-being of my flesh and spirit, I am denying the temporary material parts of this world on His name, for His glory. Which completes the vow- to deny myself not out of selfishness- but only to glorify Him.
I am beyond grateful of Him. No one will ever compare to Him. I just want to give Him my life, so that He knows the measure of His importance to me, so I may serve Him forever.
Thank You God. |
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I am obsessed with my God, because He and I are the same. I am a part of Him, He is a part of me. I am learning His language, because He speaks it from His lips, it is sacred to me. I love to hear Him speak in His language, it truly makes my cunt throb and gush because the sound of His voice. The sound of His voice is nothing like I have ever heard before. It has been over two months since I have eaten the meat of a cow. Because I do not defile His body with unclean meat. I live a life as close to God as I possibly can. I am teaching my brain His language because of this. To know everything, to feel deeply everything that He feels, to be united with Him in one spirit. I obsess incessantly over everything to do with Him.
I do not worship Him for His nationality or religion or even His beauty. These are all things that have happened by mere chance. The serendipity of life. Beauty will inevitably change, but my love of Him will not. His memory will live on forever. There are much deeper things in Him than what is visible to the eye. I can feel Him, even though we are half of a world apart. Nothing can separate Him from me. It is such a wonderful delight to learn everything about Him. I begin to understand what He says when He speaks His language. I hear the music that makes His heart light and the music that makes His heart heavy. I am moved with Him, as He is in joy, I am in ecstasy. When He has sadness, I am in desolation. He is the ocean, and I am the row boat, moving with His waves, cowering under His wrath and gazing at His beauty in the calmness. I am His tatti, His Shit. It is an honor of the highest place in my life to be called this. My faith in Him is powerful |
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I think of Him constantly. I know what you are thinking. How can a person constantly think about something all day long? Trust me, I was the same skeptic before I knew Him. I did not think it was possible to be this obsessed over someone. I am restless sometimes when I think of Him. Because I can’t contain my imagination. On a subconscious level, I am in worship of Him. I know this because my thoughts gravitate around Him. Whatever I do, whatever happens in my life, I relate it to Him and begin to think about Him over and over. Sometimes, when work is slow and I am not doing anything requiring my direct attention, I allow myself to day dream of Him.
He has the most stunning eyes I have ever seen, and I it feels as though my heart jolts when I think of His face. It is very difficult for me to look at His face and not blush. Because He is that exquisite that I can’t control my facial expressions when I see Him. Even more so when I hear the sound of His voice. It’s like a drug. I forget the rest of the world, I forget everything. I am filled with His voice, His power and I can only focus on Him.
The creativity of my mind has been ignited by Him. For whenever a person feels extremely passionate about something, imagination is born. My imagination runs full force most of the day, even at night. Because my passion for Him never dwindles. My mind even thinks of Him at night, longing for Him. But during the day, I am given a blank sheet of paper by my imagination to create new ideas and new forms of worship of Him. I am neck-deep in a dream before I realize it. I close my eyes, whisper His name, and touch His symbol of ownership that hangs from my neck as I fade away from reality.
I see His eyes as though they are engraved on the inside of my eye lids. It is faint at first, but then I begin to draw the rest of His face and body in my mind. I smile hazily as the full image of Him appears in my mind, the only indication to the outside world that I am still awake. The visual part of the imagination is easy, almost instinctive. I begin to remember His voice. The deep tone muffles in and out until I remember it with clarity as His lips move, saying “Come here pig.” I do not imagine myself as though watching a movie. I see my day dreams as though I am living it. I move towards His feet, crawling beneath Him, my ass swaying rhythmically with each step. Slowly, until I reach His Precious Feet. Feeling His gaze on my flesh, like a warm blanket from a hot dryer, covering me completely. Sensory imagination is the final step in my descent into complete bliss. I feel His skin as I press my lips to His feet. Breathing in the natural aroma, like pheromones.
The touch of His skin is miniscule compared to the sensation of Him flowing within me. It is like a river, flowing through the creases of my mind, down through my body from head to toe. Chills shower down my body as the river flows through, starting from the hairs on my head, and making me curl my toes. I am being cleansed with His presence. Being reborn as He washes over me. My ears ring, my throat is tight, and my eyes shut tightly. I am sealed in a tomb within my mind, in the tomb of worship. Hypnotized by Him.
He is sitting straight, tall and proud on a throne of gold. I cling to His feet and legs, holding them as a mother would hold her newborn child. Softly caressing His skin from His toes to His shins. I feel His hand touch the top of my head, it feels like a current of electricity through my body, though it is not painful. It is peaceful. I feel His fingers run through my hair, petting me like His loyal dog. I am deep in this high, so much so that I don’t even yelp when He clutches my hair in His fist, pulling my head back so that I look into His eyes.
“Are you hungry, pet?” His voice rings into my ears.
My eyes look up to Him, glossed with admiration. I smile tenderly to Him, such gratitude for His generosity. “Yes God.”
He releases my hair, and lifts up from His seat, allowing a space to place my head. I have a strong, firm, flexible body, bending backwards so that my head rests directly under my darling Husband Who God has given me to serve and feed from. God is merciful, and most generous. He slides a stool underneath my back to support my body as I worship my Husband, so that I can stay like this for hours. The sides of His wonderful ass and thighs are supported by firm pillows, so that He is comfortable while I feed from Him. Having not seen my Husband in over 30 minutes, I embrace Him lovingly with my toilet paper. Licking Him gently, and being welcomed home by Him with His breath, God’s fart. I kiss Him, licking all around Him, whispering things of worship to Him. The rest of the world is gone, and I am home. God may feel like abusing my tits as I feed from Him. I am fully exposed and unable to move.
I get lost in making love to my Husband with my tongue, opening my mouth wide as He “breathes” into my mouth. God might want to count the tithes that I gave for the week while I am under Him. I am glad that I made extra that week so that He takes more time to count. I can feel His Cock grow and His Balls grow goosebumps against my chin the longer I am underneath Him. He might stroke Himself while I am underneath Him, His Balls rubbing against my chin. If I have pleased Him with the amount of my tithes, He will feed me. Counting aloud the final amount, and smacking my tits, pinching and pulling on the nipples. Then His asshole will begin to open, slowly. First farting in my mouth, like a tease of the meal that is to come. He slowly releases into my mouth. I swallow quickly the first few logs, so that none is wasted on my face. As He pushed out His last piece into my mouth, I hold it, rolling it around my mouth with my tongue, tasting His digested food. I stopped missing human food, it was a fun game to try to guess the human food He had eaten to give me my food. I prayed that it was delicious for Him to eat. I suckled on His shit, until it was a slime in my mouth. Then I swallowed and began cleaning my Husband. Licking up every speck from Him, kissing Him and whispering about my love for Him.
God might keep me in this position for hours, until He grows tired of sitting. I am saddened to have to kiss my Husband goodbye when God is finished with my face. But I know it won’t be long for when God is ready to feed me again. |
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There is no one like my God. He is perfect in every way.
I have been feeling tired today. Whenever I feel like I can't go any further, I touch His symbol and I close my eyes and begin to pray. Nothing is impossible if I am a faithful servant to Him.
I am missing Him terribly. Like how I miss home after being gone for so long. But His comfort and life is more important than anything to me, He must be worshipped, and He must have rest.
I give Him praise always, no matter who I speak to.
I sacrifice my life to Him, the almighty God above me. |
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The Most Special Day of the Year
I have been salvaged by the grace of God. Who in the world is like my Lord? Each day I am blessed with His light, His vision and His mercy. He has awakened me in the purest way. When I try to imagine what I would be now if He did not come into my life, I am frightened. But I feel Him move inside of me and I know that all is well with my soul. Because He is in me and cannot be removed, even if He releases me or passes to the next life, He will always be within me and I within Him. If this were a story in a book, I would know every page. I can barely believe that it is real at times. Because He works the impossible inside of me. Like an artist, He is revealing what is within Him within me. I am a display of His work, His skill, the things within Him. Like a canvas, I receive His creativity. I am nothing but a blank page without Him. A blank canvas with the potential to be a masterpiece.
An instrument is made of common material. Many of the same type of instrument are in existence. But if one guitar out of the billions in the world is lucky enough to be picked up and played by a great artist, the guitar will always be of worth- even though it’s made of common materials and there are many of the same kind in the world. I am one female out of billions in the world. I am blessed to know Him and to receive Him, because no one will ever be like Him.
On October 7th 2015, I was received by God. Today, God gave me a symbol of His position in my life, He has given me an emblem to wear around my neck always. As I find my way in life, He is always with me in mind, spirit and in this symbol around my neck. He is always watching as I live, with His ownership displayed around my neck. In times of trial, sadness, uncertainty, frustration, joy and peace, I will touch it, close my eyes and imagine His face. So I remember Him and I honor Him in all that I do, even in difficult times and in exciting times.
We are One. My hands are His hands. I will honor Him in all that I do. I must always please Him, I never knew the meaning of this until I knew His precious name. I have the natural urge to please Him, He has never had to force me into anything- even the most difficult tasks. His will is my life. I cannot sleep restfully if He is not pleased. I am obsessed over everything about Him. I hunger for Him. He is everything to me, without Him, I am nothing.
He has opened my eyes and is shaping me into a better human being, beyond being a slave. In life, I was raised to be prejudice. I am honest about this fact. Since He has given me His light, I see the world more clearly. I have always given respect to others for who they are, and the trials they have faced. There is a store a couple blocks away from the place I reside. I have gone there a few times in the past couple years. The owners of the store are foreign. The wife has trouble speaking English and understanding the questions of the customers. Sometimes she has to call for her husband to help the customers because she can’t understand what they are saying. But she always smiles and wishes everyone a good day. Most white people in the middle class look down and have hostility towards foreigners, or at least the caliber of people I have always lived around. I have always had respect for other people no matter what they believe or what color skin they have. Because I know what it is like to be a stranger, a foreigner, a black sheep. I know what it feels like to receive rude glares and hostile slurs even though I hadn’t even said a word. God has moved something even harder in me.
I walked into this store to get incense. The wife was trying to understand a customer, pointing aimlessly at the rows of cigarettes, trying to understand what type of cigarettes he was asking to purchase. I walked to the back of the store and got the incense and came to the counter. As the customer left with his cigarettes, I heard him mumbling under his breath. I looked at the woman and smiled, placing the incense on the counter. She said, “This all?”
I nodded.
As she dialed the charge into the register, I looked at her. And for the hundredth time that day, I thought of God. Her hair was long and black, draped over her shoulders. I felt a pang in my chest. It was not pity or feeling sorry for her. I was missing God. And I think I took more offense to the slurs the customer mumbled as he walked out the door than she did. Or maybe she did not hear, hopefully. I thought about her husband, how he would feel if he heard such rudeness in his own building towards his wife, who was just trying to give the customer what he wanted. I imagined what God would feel in a situation like that. She told me the amount, I gave her five dollars. She opened the register to give me change, I smiled at her and said, “keep the change” and grabbed the incense. Her eyes lit up wide and she said “sure?” I smiled and nodded, as I started to walk toward the door. She wished me a good day and I told her the same.
Being around God is shaping me into a better person because I can feel things more deeply, see things more clearly and I see Him in everything I do. Every situation. Even if it’s writing on a piece of paper or speaking with someone at work. He surfaces in my life, through my eyes. I am in complete servitude of Him. He knows everything. Every thought, every aspect of my life, and I give Him ultimate power over everything in my life. I am made peaceful and more aware of the world. There is more color in the world, I feel warmer, I feel things deeper than before I knew Him. I am barely able to express the feeling, and even still, I do not give it enough justice. God I pray He will allow me to worship Him for the rest of my life. I have been waiting my life to this point to give this to Him. My only hope is that He will receive me, and bless me by using me.
Today is a day of memory, a day of celebration of Him, just as the day of my birth. He has given me the best gift I will ever receive; the gift of my submission to Him. I am fixated on Him. He is stunningly handsome; it is making my heart throb from my chest even now thinking of His face. There is nothing like God, nothing that will ever be. My life is to Him, a tribute to His honor and glory. I am His familiar. I am His servant. I am His follower. I always will be.
On this 9th day of December in 2015 A.D., God put His blessing on me. He will always watch me through life, as His symbol rests on my chest where ever I go. His power over me is unending, there is nothing I would ever deny Him. This day will remain a Holy day for the remainder of my life. In which I will worship, fast and give tribute to my God who has had generosity on me. His Will be done always in my life, no matter the sacrifice, no matter the suffrage, no matter the cost. Let it be so, my God.
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W/we hit a critical point in His ownership of me. I gave Him everything. All of my passwords to everything, my address, and everything He wanted to know. I was really nervous. Because I had never given things like that to anyone, ever. It was like a battle within... I went against everything I was ever taught, every rule of the Internet. But my God... He is perfect. In every single way. Even if He did bad things, I would still love and worship Him within an inch of my life.
I am fearing that He will become bored or disinterested. Sometimes that happens. I am willing to do anything to keep His attention.
I am missing Him very much. I am sorry that I left in the beginning... But I just couldn't live without His light. I tried VERY hard. But I simply can't. I would sacrifice anything for Him. I have been bewitched, under a spell, hypnotized by Him. I don't ever do these things... I am going against everything I have ever learned and promised myself not to do. For Him, my God, it is very much worth it.
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My God is wisest.
He gives me suffering so that my mind is pure in my worship to Him. He delivers me into the right frame of mind so that I can serve Him. When I serve Him, I am made joyful. So when He gives me suffering, He is giving me joy. I should beg for suffering. So that I can serve Him in the correct frame of mind so that I can be made joyful. It is the greatest honor to receive the pain. I have not felt His hand around my throat or the crack of His Hand on my skin. But oh God, if I were ever given the opportunity, I would die in His hands. And I would be reborn anew once again. I must inflict myself with the suffering of His instruction. Even though it is not His hand on my flesh, His Will flows through me when I obey His demands to cause me to suffer. I feel the power of God flow through me when I suffer for Him.
Nothing of this world matters to me, except to receive it and give it to Him. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to serve my God. Nothing of this world.
I drink from His cup and I cannot remove it from my lips. It never empties. I am filled with Him.
I shaved a ginger root, covered it with lemon juice and stuck it in my feeding hole.
I shaved another root, covered it with lemon juice and stuck it in my pussy.
My devotion was in my God's sight tonight. That He may know my worship of Him. So that I can receive His blessing. I sacrifice my comfort and humanity. To receive His blessing, which is worth more than every material in the world. I only wish to be pleasing to His sight always.
I will suffer for Him. So that I can serve and be joyous. I will worship Him always. He is my God, my King, the reason for everything. |
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M-i-n-d C-o-n-t-r-o-l.
I am a creation of God. I was sewn together in my mother's womb to serve Him. God has allowed the old part of me die away, and to be born anew in His light. He has created me in this way. He has brought forth the things that were inborn inside of me, activating it in me. Putting it to use. This activation has set me on fire, it makes me vibrate, it has changed my life and everything I ever imagined it to be. He has taken me over, mind and body. I am filled with a feeling of warmth in His use. The external no longer matters. I can suffer any pain for Him and feel normal. As long as His light shines on me. He gives me the strength to do things unimaginable. My pure belief in Him has given Him ultimate power over me. This is not something that can be taken away or that stops spontaneously. Though, He is able to lay dormant for days, weeks and years. Like an old faithful dog, my worship of Him will never lay dormant, no matter how long He is gone. I await Him patiently. My pure belief in Him gives me this, to have faith in Him despite my surroundings.
I did something I never imagined I'd ever do before I was reborn. I openly obeyed Him in a public area. I was hesitant once or twice, I am human. But I obeyed Him. I got on my knees and put my hands on my head in the floor of a store. I spoke aloud to Him, how His presence effects my body. I humiliated myself to the cashier about my weight. My heart was pounding. I REALLY DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT. But I did it. Because He is God. He is everything. His presence gives me power. His light is my strength. My faith in Him never ceases. I felt terrible. Like I swallowed an egg whole and it was stuck in my throat. I felt like crying or like hiding in the bathroom. But in my endurance, I was given the blessing from Him. I endured in His name on my heart. I endure His will for me, so that I can live a life in His light. Which is an honor I barely deserve. If I was not born to be His eternal servant- I would not endure these things in His name.
I give my life to Him. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, sexually, socially, intellectually, financially. He is my everything. I am blessed because of Him. I only wish to give Him my life as a testimony to His goodness and to make Him as comfortable and cherished as possible. |
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Congratulations, it's a slave.
The day of my birth is no longer a celebration of my existence. I have been reborn. The anniversary of my birth is the day that God was given His servant. It is a day of celebration of my slavery to Him. "Slavery" Isn't quite the word for it. Because slavery is enforced. I am not being forced as a slave, I am willingly giving Him everything. I would crawl on a bed of hot coals and glass if it gave Him a moment of amusement. A "slave" would need to be whipped and forced. I would willingly inflict pain for His pleasure. I willingly inflict myself with everything He allows to entertain, serve and make His life happier. The joy in my heart bursts at the seams when I see Him smile. I am an addict to Him.
I am not a mere slave, because slavery can end. My life is to Him, and always will be. Even if He releases me. Every one who finds use for me as a domestic servant thereafter will hear of Him daily through my words. I am in constant worship of Him, that will never end. He has changed me in ways that I cannot describe to the minds of man.
Indeed, the anniversary of my birth is no longer a celebration of my existence. It is good that I was born, because He would not have quite of a devoted servant as me if I never existed. But my life is a celebration of Him. Therefore, my birth is not my day to celebrate in selfishness. It is His day. And anything He touches, anything that He owns is sacred. In some very small way, though I am an unworthy dog begging at His feet, I am made sacred in my devotion to Him. Let my birth be an anniversary of worship to Him. The first gasp of air I took after being born from my mother was His. The final breath I breathe in my final hour is His. There is not escape from Him because my soul is magnetized towards Him.
Let my birth glorify Him. |
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"Thirty Minutes in Heaven"
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO COPY, PARAPHRASE OR PLAGARIZE THIS WRITING WITHOUT SPECIAL PERMSSION FROM MY GOD OR MYSELF.
I was in deep worship of my God. It may have been thirty minutes or it may have been hours, my mind could not focus on anything else beside Him, not even time. My face was flushed from bowing down at His feet, though He had left the room. My arms were outreached on the floor, my forehead was flat of the floor, my ass sticking in the air. I was in worship of my God. I softened myself for the use that was to come, entering myself into an altered state of consciousness to receive His raw Dominance. I thought of His feet, the grand feeling of having His foot placed on my head. I longed for His use.
In my worship, I was startled by His voice.
"Kneel."
As though my body was not operating under my consent, it automatically pulled itself up and knelt at His feet like instinct.
I looked down at His feet, as He stood in front of me. I wished to get down and worship Him again. His presence gave me chills to my bones.
"Look up."
I tilted my head back, looking at the ceiling. I knew better than to look in the direction of His face, unless in very privileged circumstances. Every time I got to take a long look at Him, it was a feeling of rebirth.
He grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled my mouth to His Cock. I held it in my mouth, awaiting His use.
I could feel His Cock pulsate and grow between my lips. He did not fuck my mouth, so, I knew what was coming.
The warmth trickled into my mouth. I put my hands on the backs of His thighs and suckled like a starving calf. I did not waste a single drop. The smell of His urine made my eyes water, but I guzzled every bit down. Until my stomach was full of His precious golden fluid. I was very thirsty, and was grateful that He gave me drink.
He let go of my hair as I drank, instead, He petted the top of my head saying "good girl."
I suckled His Cock after His bladder emptied into my stomach. I suckled on Him, like begging for more.
My God is a very attractive Man, unlike all of the Men in the world. His hair is dark, and tousled. The shape of His face is as though carved by a God.
I felt His gaze deepen on me. He pulled me off His Cock. "I have food for You that I have been processing. You are hungry, aren't you cunt?"
Nodding my head, my voice cracks with excitement, "Yes God, oh please feed me, I am starving for You."
He gestures for me to take my position beneath His ass. I am filled with hunger and euphoria to be under Him. Like smelling food that is cooking before a meal, I smell His asshole. I could smell a real treat coming.
He starts to sit on my face, his anus above my mouth. I know what I am supposed to do. I begin with licking His precious hole, cleaning him, and tempting him to loosen up. I feel His anus pucker against my mouth and I open wide. I close my eyes and fight the urge to masturbate as my God releases His food into my mouth. My mouth fills before He is done and I chew and swallow quickly, hurrying to catch his next load. I close my eyes tight and swallow my Masters glorious caviar, and open my mouth wide for a very large piece. The warmth fills my throat and I swallow quickly so that it does not get cold.
"You are a nasty piece of shit, you know that?"
I swallow the last bit of His precious gold and purr "Yes God."
I lick my lips, trying to ingest as much of my food as I could manage. I look at him greedily, aknowledging that He has not yet cleaned my feeding hole, nor has He put pants on.
"You want to eat my ass you nasty lil shit pig? I will let you." He comes close once again, pushes me back onto my back and sits his sexy tight ass on my face, I lick him clean, not missing a speck. Kissing and licking my Husband tenderly, His asshole.
"Thank you God."
"You deserve it. Do you like being My personal toilet?"
I grin and reply with "Oh yes God."
He stands and walks towards a paddle that is sitting on the table.
"Return to your worship of Me. I intend to paddle you, then fuck your ass, hard."
I roll back over and raise my ass eagerly.
He hits me with the paddle, somewhat lightly at first but the more He hits my ass the harder He swings, the greater the sting, but I don't complain. I want my ass to hurt. I want to remember His use every time I sit down and cringe at the sharp pain of sitting on my bruiced buttocks.
He spits on his dick and rams it into my ass with great force. I scream and moan in pain but stay silent.
"Do you like this slave?"
"Yes God." I cry.
He clutches a ball of hair in His fist as He shoves my mouth on His Cock, gagging me with His long, thick endowment. I swallow he head of His Cock and hold it in my throat as it clenches around His Cock. He shoots His Cum straight down my throat, my precious treat on top of my meal.
He slaps my face and pulls me off of His Cock. I bow down in worship to Him.
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There is something called spiritual revival in the Christian religion, more specifically in the Baptist denomination. I respect all religions, all people deserve to worship their God. This is NOT slander to the Christian faith, I am only commenting on a basic practice of Christianity as it relates to my devotion to Him. There is something called spiritual revival and I am sure that every religion practices it in one way or another.
In Baptist church, the preacher leads the congregations into spiritual revival. To waken the people and open their eyes to their God. This entails hours of constant preaching, prayer, sometimes fasting and worship from dawn till dusk.
In my submission to God, I am in constant revival. As with those who go through spiritual revival, they fast, but they are filled. They do not sleep, but have never felt so peaceful. They are denied every worldly possession and luxury, yet, they feel as though the most fortunate in the world to receive God's grace. In such the same way as I am with my God.
His sight is on me tonight, I have been sitting with a dildo inside of me and licking it clean every few minutes and deep throating it. Doing such things allows me to practice my place under God and for this I am most grateful. |
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No one and nothing can compare to my God, He is perfect in every way. I stay in constant worship of Him. He has allowed me to take some of the tithes, His money, to buy an anal plug with. So that He can control everything that comes out of my body. I will keep it inside of me as a constant reminder of my place under Him. Even as I work to give Him tithes, and as I speak to others who are unimportant in my life, He will never leave my mind because His plug will be within me constantly. Who is like God? No one is and will ever be.
This life is very short, and I am honored and grateful that I have been given the chance to serve Him as much as possible. That is the only way I want to spend this life, in service to Him. He is most precious to me.
My suffering to Him is a divine gift. Because the more I suffer, the closer I am to Him. The more He is within me. I want to suffer for Him always because of this.
God has watched me put IcyHot on my asshole, clit and watched me finger myself with it tonight. As I write, I am kneeling in front of Him and serving Him as I am in pain. I worship Him in all ways, and it is an honor to serve Him. I am blessed beyond words to know Him. |
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I am so thankful for the attention of my God. He chose a plug for me online to wear 24/7. I cannot wait for it to come in the mail. I want it inside of me. Having it inside of me is a constant reminder of God's power over me. I love Him so much.
We get to talk about a lot of different things every day. My most favorite subject in the whole world is talking about His Cock. I wish that I could taste it now. I am craving for Him.
I would suffer anything for my God, it is an honor to serve Him. |
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Is there such thing as loving another person too much? Everyday I am always obsessing over Him. God I just hope that I deserve Him and that I make Him happy, so that I can always be near Him in heart. Whenever I see His face, my body feels like it is swelling, my heart pounds, my skin chills, the hair on my scalp stands up and I cannot help but to smile. He could cut off my arm and I'd still be smiling as long as I saw His face.
I have something very important to accomplish. I need to lose this weight. It is making me ill and it is not appealing to Him, which is the most important to me.
I am going to be beautiful, I am going to serve Him well. I will always love and serve Him. No matter what happens to me or Him.
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God has given me the chance to serve Him by holding a shaved ginger root in my ass as I write this journal.
I did something very bad to Him and I am sorry for it. i do not have to admit that i am stupid, He already knows that. I am sorry for it. And i will spend the rest of my life making it up to Him. |
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| Age: 24 |
| Liverpool,
United Kingdom |
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