mia loves henry miller
Letter 8 – Ponygirls, A Dominatrix, Winter Sleighs & Naughty Toys!
12-10-2011 8:00 a.m.
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in the retrospect.” –Anais Nin
Dear Henry Miller,
It was approximately seven years ago, around this time of year. I lived in Wisconsin in a modern townhome, with a beautiful, large yard, full of deep, fluffy snow, and a large assortment of trees. The limbs of large pine trees were heavy with white, wet crystals. It was snowing, large flakes of snow, which was perfect for the photo shoot we had planned. We lived near the upper part of Apple River, where summer time beer and intoxicated piss hadn’t polluted the water. MJ wanted to do a photo shoot for a new Christmas card, which she loves sending out to her friends each year. She was peeking in her career as a prominent fetish model. I knew the card would be unconventional. So, of course I wanted to be a part of this when she asked me to do this photo shoot with her. I also could not resist the chance to be a pony girl!!!
We began the photo shoot early on a Saturday morning. My schedule during the week, had been busy with my burlesque, writing and art work. I no longer had to work hard raising my two children, they had moved with their father and his parents, who lived over an hour away in Minnesota. My children were young in their teenage years – they hated me and motherly rules and discipline. They wanted the freedom their father and his parents offered. Which, even though it hurt me beyond belief, was a good thing – Wisconsin wasn’t accepting of mixed raced kids. My French–Asian mixed kids looked Mexican, which was also considered a bad thing in the rural areas of the Midwest. We had some terrifying moments with racism, gun threats towards my son by a student in the high school.
My stepson spent most of his time at his girlfriend’s home, or his grandmother’s home, who, before he got diagnosed with cancer, took care of her, or spent his time inside of hospitals. My stepdaughter lived out of state, finding herself, living life, escaping a bad relationship, attempting to deal with the diagnoses of her brother. They had always been close. These were dark times for our family. Once my husband and I adjusted, climbed our way out of the darkness, we finally had the time to enjoy each other. I was no longer stuck in a deep depressed state, sleeping 24/7 on the living room couch. In the beginning of our dark times, I had difficulty with coming to terms with a stepson who was enduring cancer, doing his best to recover, and two children who abandoned me to live with their father and his family.
When the darkness began to break, my husband and I converted my son’s bedroom into a kinky playroom for us. We were finally getting the private time we had longed for. I was finally getting fucked on a regular basis and loving it. My mood was elevating. We had the house to ourselves and loved every bit of it. The toy room was as natural to me as any other rooms in the rest of the rooms in the house.
“Life is the process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.” –Anais Nin
MJ brought a beautiful, antique sleigh which had been in her family for a very long time. She did a fabulous job restoring it, and wanted photos taken of her in it – Dominatrix style, with two pony girls pulling her sleigh. I loved being one of the pony girls, with a bit in my mouth, so I was happy to volunteer, my home, my time, and my picturesque yard. Miss D was delighted to join us. I loved being naughty with her!
The photographers arrived shortly after MJ, her boyfriend and Miss D. They brought a young, attractive model named Miss F. I had never met her before. She seemed very nice – but, extremely young, naive and inexperienced in life. Not that it’s a bad thing. Sometimes I don’t think things completely through and react on impulse – not giving much thought to my decisions or actions. I often live in my own world. MJ, Miss D and I were busy getting ready for this photo shoot. My living room was a mess, full of costumes, make up, mirrors and accessories. My bedroom was a mess with my piles of clothing, winter coats from the guests, and four small, barking dogs. My other room was full of show props, costumes, wigs, hair, accessories, and other things. When the photographers asked me where the young model could change for their photo shoot with her, I guess I could have told her to use the bathroom upstairs, unless, it was being used by another guest at the time – I can’t recall. But, instead, I led her upstairs, passed the bathroom, opening the door to our newly converted toy room, not thinking much of it. MJ and Miss D knew what I was like – a highly sexual creature – I assumed everyone was okay with it – especially if the photographers were friends of MJ’s. If only I was a fly on the wall to see the look on that poor, young girls face when she entered the room and I shut the door behind her.
I hadn’t put anything away – I had been so busy with other things throughout the week. So, what she would have observed was kinky furniture, black leather bondage cuffs, colorful rope, a variety of dildos, vibrators, floggers, whips, leather, vinyl, lubricant, and lingerie. I must have scared the shit out of her! What was I thinking? Afterwards, I thought to myself, ashamed – well sort of ashamed – naughty grin – what a dumbass I can be! Poor girl!
A photo shoot like this had never been done in my quiet, Wisconsin neighborhood. The teenage neighbor boys had the lust in their eyes for MJ. I don’t blame them, so did I, and so did half the world. They couldn’t help but sneak glances out their back door and windows. We were quite the kinky vision – appearing like lascivious holiday lawn ornaments in my snow filled yard. MJ was costumed in a very festive, sexy, corset, her long, beautiful legs reaching long, tall and lean like the spiraling pine trees in the yard. The sexy pattern of black fishnet stockings protected her legs from the bitter, nipping wind. Her feet, calves and possibly thighs (I can’t recall if her boots were thigh high) were sheathed with shiny black, glamorous high heeled, fetish boots. She appeared so tall, beautiful, graceful and regal in her sleigh.
Miss D and I wore vibrant, red and black pony girl attire – corsets, petticoats, and long, black silk gloves – our hair decorated with feathers and frills. We bit down on the pretty, black leather bits in our mouths – drool dripping slowly from the corners of my mouth, chapping the cold skin my chin, as we pretended to pull MJ in the vintage sleigh. I had twinkles of delight in my eyes! At that moment, I did not get care about how cold I felt. I felt no stupidity or foolishness in being barely dressed for such a long length of time, posing for photos, in the Midwestern cold – only joy and ecstasy!
After our photo shoot, we tried to warm up, drinking hot coffee, tea or cocoa in the house. The photographers asked if anyone wanted to do any other type of photo shoot, as long as they were there. A naughty idea popped into my head. I ran upstairs to my costume room, collected a beautiful, red, Christmas cape trimmed with white faux fur and a matching pair of panties. We dashed out the door, my barely clothed body soon resting flat on my back, upon mounds of cold, frozen snow – small heaps of frozen flakes and glittering crystals covering my small, perky breasts, which Mr. C cruelly tossed on me – large flakes of snow were still coming down fast upon me from the cold, slate grey sky. The photos turned out awesome! But, I was sick with the flu for over a week afterwards. I was unable to go to work that night as a Go–Go dancer, which I hated to miss during those times. I can still remember how sick I felt hours after everyone went home – Oh! the pain and pleasure of living and experiencing life to the fullest!
“I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom which feelings is much stronger than reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I cannot transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.” –Anais Nin
I must end this letter, Henry. I need to rest for awhile.