REGARDING MISTRESS ULTRA VIOLET:

Okay, boys and girls,

Fooling Around Time is over. (Unless you want to keep fooling around, poor fool.)

So… you will enter Her presence, and you might have rehearsed your normal ,” I-like-a-lot-of-this-and-a-little-of-that-but-not-so-much-of-this-and-none-of-that-please,” but knocked-stupid by the pale and furious fire of Her beauty, you will forget all that. Her stranger-than-human eyes will already be stripping you down and all you’ll want to say is “Just have your way with me. Whatever You want. Please.” And you will mean it.

Still, She’ll ask poor you about your limits, and mention some safety words, and maybe you’ll imagine that, in a pinch, you’ll use them, but a few minute later, when She has you bare, and slithering, and stripped of your bullshit, you will prefer to give up your last remaining claim to humanity rather than use those silly, ignominious words. You will end up on your knees, whimpering and begging, but you won’t use those words – you’ll be praying for more. And She might give you more, or She might not, but She won’t reply. Because when did a Goddess ever answer a prayer with words?

And as this Being of so much more than human beauty has Her way with you, it will come over you that what She’s doing to you is exactly why you started down your perv path in the first place. You’ll wonder how you’ve wasted your entire life until this moment. And you’ll desperately ponder how you’re going to live the rest of it without spending your every remaining moment of life in Her presence. And if you ponder that aloud, She might let out a little laugh, or, like a Goddess, She might just give you the gift of silence. Because She’s beyond words, occupied with using you to get what She wants. Or maybe she doesn’t want anything from you. You will try to understand, but it’s beyond understanding.

And because She’s so fucking beautiful, and so fucking real, there will come a point where your poor body will just give it up between the pain and pleasure that She’s bestowing on you, and you will start to shake out of control, and at that point, you’ll know you’re Hers, whatever She is. And wherever She descended from and took on more-than-perfect human form. And you will wonder about that, as well. And wonder.

But the answer will elude you, even as She reveals more and more of Her Goddess beauty. You will realize that She’s Venus playing with a troll (no matter how good-looking you might have thought you were before you entered Her presence). And She will gaze down upon the out-of-this-world mix of pain an ecstasy she’s giving you with utter, Olympian indifference, except to issue a little two word command to get you back in line. And you will do it, shaking as you are, without hesitation.

I won’t lower the tone of this paean to Her by going into blow-by-blow specifics – that was our mystery, and yours will be yours. I’ll only say that I flew 900 miles to see Her. Now I would crawl twice that distance. Happily. Go to Atlanta by whatever means you have. If you know what’s good for you.

I knew a great artist once who told me that, as a child in church, he’d lurk behind a pillar near the statue of the Virgin, getting crazy, murderous jealous of the people worshiping Her. And that’s exactly how I feel. And so, motherfuckers, my brothers and sisters, I’m only sharing this because the Mistress told me it would please Her. And every word is from the bottom of my soul, because you know what Goddesses do to mortals they catch in a lie.