mia loves henry miller
Letter 5 – Mr. C: Submission after Midnight
12-7-11 5:00 p.m.
“True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself.” —Henry Miller
Dear Henry Miller,
I never really knew the true meaning of submission until I met Mr. C. I had always fantasized about being dominated by a strong male or female up until I had met my husband. I was young when we first met in person. I had just turned the age of 30. I didn’t really know how to ask for what I wanted sexually. I wasn’t very experienced. I spent most of my life fearing sex and intimacy. (I will explain more later). Mr. C has always shown me so much love and respect, which has liberated me in so many ways.
We initially met on the internet via an online dating website. We spent a lot of time emailing and talking on the phone before meeting, and in between our first couple of dates. I think I fell in love with him the moment we first met over drinks and dinner.
It was early on in our dating relationship when we were talking on the phone late at night. It was near midnight. Mr. C was working in an IT computer career field and needed to get up early in the morning. We were talking about sex, giggling and teasing each other. I told him how I wished he would drive to my home, which was about an hour away, and tie me up and fuck me. Before I could say, “good bye,” Mr. C was in his truck and on his way to my home. I could hardly wait!
“It fired out hearts, illuminated our thoughts, magnetized our souls. Its warmth would last far into the night, would flow back from below the curved horizon in defiance of the night.” –Henry Miller, Sexus
My desire to be fucked was intense by the time, Mr. C arrived. My propensity to be submissive felt completely undeniable! We barely said a word to each other. I asked Mr. C to roll us a fat, juicy joint to help relax us – mostly me. We smoked until our eyes would hardly open and were stained with a high pink gloss. I was extremely relaxed and very aroused!
Mr. C was a true boy scout and found whatever was available, such as scarves to restrain my hands securely to my antique, oriental coffee table in my living room. My naked body was shivering with apprehension and anticipation – my firm, olive shaded legs widely splayed, pushed apart sternly with Mr. C’s firm hands. Soon, I felt his extremely skilled and talented fingers and tongue torturing me for hours. I danced on the edge of orgasmic insanity. A deluge of wetness soaked the carpet below me. My erotic moans sliced through the dark blue shades of the night. But, not for long – Mr. C quieted me quickly by tying a scarf around my mouth, tightly. My arousal only ascended higher – much higher! We played until we saw the dark blue sky disappear and the sun begin to rise.
In the beginning, our sex life generally consisted of bondage and extreme pleasure. Several months later, we began to experiment with spankings, toys, etc…
Several years into our marriage, I wrote this poem. I thought that you might like to read it.
Skin; smooth as silk, unadorned for the artist,
Fettered limbs with rope as if a pencil sketch,
Submissive body, taut, much like a canvas stretched;
Awaiting patiently for my Master’s kiss,
My soul’s on fire when I hear him hotly hiss,
My body writhes when I feel within his fingers etch.
His hands are rough, yet, careful, like a first draft,
Deeper we dive into Imagination’s abyss,
“Please, my Master, just one more kiss?”
Being naughty has become my craft;
Wishing to feel within his ascendant shaft,
To deeply sense his stroke of anguished bliss.
Now silenced by a piece of tape,
His muse stands guard in the twilight air,
His whispers sound as if an eerie prayer,
Pain defines me in this erotic scene-scape,
Candle wax drips hot, there’s no escape!
And his eyes burn into me as they stare.
Floggers aesthetically deepen the scene;
Whips stain my flesh with welted red,
Limbs taut, fettered to my Master’s bed,
My mouth is silenced, I cannot scream,
My nether-lips are thick, laced with cream,
Sweet, sweet adrenaline intoxicates my head.
Posed am I, trapped deep inside a frame;
Aesthetic for the eyes to see,
Our passion shapes this sinful theme;
The paint’s the pleasure and the pain,
Endorphins race inside my veins,
As my need grows strong for him to kiss me.
My body’s trembling, my muscles strained,
Desperately wishing for some relief,
My lips so swollen, ravenous for a feast;
A wild emotion I can’t explain;
The covet for pleasure. Oh! The pain!
“Your submission,” he spoke, “is my Masterpiece.”
— Mia (Whispers from Venus, A Collection of Erotic Poetry)
I must go now Henry, I will write more when I get the chance.
“Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation … The other eight are unimportant.” —Henry Miller, Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch