And the party favors just keep dropping in my lap like kisses. What a lucky girl am I!
I have been Warholized by none other than the Artful Dodger himself. How awesome is this? The only thing that would make it yet more perfect would be if it were poster-sized and I could hang it on my bedroom wall right next to my lava lamp.
I love it. Now I really am a Chelsea Girl.
My lovely, mysterious and infinitely gifted Ravenna has written me a sonnet, appropriately. Leave it to my favorite 24/7 D/s slave to do her best work whilst bound by iambic pentameter, an ABAB rhyme scheme and other Elizabethan conventions. She's created something beautiful and historic (she even takes the title from this post and dedicated it to me, Prof. Hottness). Gosh, Ravenna, I'm so very taken by this poem.
Better My Bedder Be Better: A Sonnet for Professor Hotness
If badder in bedders be better, then my bedder be best.
Where bedding and beating by lovers be tested aright,
My master who beds me and beats me doth beat all the rest
In bedding me better and harder by day and by night.
Oh sweet are the women, like butter their cunts and their eyes,
Good girls with their mouths full of honey and thighs full of love,
Bad boys with their innocent pricks and their hearts full of lies.
But better by far he whose chains fit my soul like a glove.
His fetters make wetter and hotter my sheath for his sword,
His orders make faster my fetters and sweeter my tears.
In badness and goodness and madness the best be my lord,
And truer and better his heart, for he masters my fears.
If masters be better in matters where slaves may be mad,
Then “better my bedder be better than my bedder be bad.”
The great blogmaster of the Pacific Northwest, Figleaf himself, has sent me a song, spurred, he says, by images of my “perfect valentine ass.” How effing sweet is that? Fuck children singing. Let’s hear Figleaf’s original composition “Kneel Pretty,” which just happens to be my third favorite command after “bend over” and “open your mouth.” Kisseskisseskisses, Fig.
Powered by Exquisite Bitch Productions
Et si vous avez un besoin pour une de plus grand défi, lisez ceci, une poésie de ma amie, Acid. Tous ce et lesbianisme trop...
La moiteur des draps abrite mon visage,
Je perçois l'échos de ton so uffle,
Le murmure du sang couler dans tes veines
Ma langue parcours le réseau de nervures fines,
Reine de mes bras
Je n'y crois pas ...
Tu me dis que c'est vrai..
Je sombre, épuisée, ta jouissance est ma satiété nocturne.
Et ta peau, mon tombeau...
... Délicieuse Princesse.
Skyboy, who is not pictured, as far as I know, and has only recently found my blog, has gifted me with a cunning little haiku. Thank you, Mr. Skyboy.
Up late reading til
my eyes blur with passionate
lust for Chelsea Girl.
You all rock with a profound passion. Thank you so much! I feel utterly overwhelmed and charmed. And loved.
Again with the weepiness and speechlessness…