mia loves henry miller – Letter 18 – Caged Infatuation, Goodbye My Mistress, Anais Nin, Henry and June

mia loves henry miller

Letter 18  Caged Infatuation, Goodbye My Mistress, Anais Nin, Henry and June

“The last afternoon in Henry’s hotel room was for me like a white-hot furnace. Before, I had only white heat of the mind and of the imagination; now it is of the blood. Sacred completeness. I come out dazed in the mellow spring evening and I think, now I would not mind dying. Henry has aroused all my real instincts, so that I am no longer ill at ease, famished, incongruous in my world. I have found where I fit. I love him, and yet I am not blind to the elements in us which clash and out of which, later will spring our divorce. I can only feel the now. The now is so rich and so tremendous. As Henry says, ‘Everything is good, good.’” –Anais Nin, The Diaries of Henry and June, page 77

12/20/2011 8:45 p.m.

Dear Henry Miller,

I’ve accomplished much today, cleaning the house, hanging pictures, re-arranging the furniture. It’s been almost a year since Mr. C’s mother died. We had been taking care of her for the past few years, living downstairs, in my mother in – law’s small suburban home, in a small, basement apartment. I have not done anything to the upstairs of her house, to make it my own, until now. It’s looking really good. I like taking a zero budget, using whatever is already in my house, to transcend the plain and ordinary into the decorative and sublime. It’s like transcending tin to gold. It’s kind of a creative rush.

Last night I was going through some of my files, diary entries or letters to you, which I have written over the past ten years, to find material for the letters I’m presently writing to you. I found a diary entry which I published with Mindcaviar.com almost a decade ago. I really enjoyed writing this one. It’s a memory worth re-living. It will give you a deeper understanding of my relationship with MJ.

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness” –Kahlil Gibran

* Beginning of MindCaviar.com Diary Entry *

September 6, 2002

Dear Diary,

After performing at GZ for nine years, MJ has decided to take a sabbatical from the nightclub – from being a performance artist/Dominatrix. Her career as a fetish model/actress is soaring – she’s travelling frequently. I’m genuinely happy for her. I completely understand and accept her reasons for leaving, but I still feel sad because I’ll miss her so much. Lately, I’ve been experiencing many uneasy changes and losses in my life. Mr. C finally got a job in a new career field, which he seems to enjoy. The pay is significantly much lower than we would’ve preferred, but, in this economy, Mr. C is lucky to have a job. I’ve had him home with me for the past couple of years – the economy has plummeted. I’m happy for him, for us, for my family, yet I miss his constant companionship, which I’ve had for quite some time. He’s been working long hours at his new job, and couldn’t be with me at GZ last night, which enhanced my sadness concerning MJ’s departure. Awareness of these painful changes seemed to be coming as fast as last night’s hard rain.

Yesterday it was difficult for me to distinguish one emotion from another. Feelings of fear, sorrow, anxiety and helplessness all merged together like the many tears which blurred in my eyes most of the day. I did all I could to keep my thoughts and emotions balanced and my mind calm, but nothing helped. Rain had inundated the city streets, drowning me with so many overwhelming emotions.  As I rode to my performance at GZ last night with my good friend, Mr. D, lightning sparked, dashing hauntingly across the slick-oil sky, charging the atmosphere with its high voltage strikes. It caused a nervous, almost fearful, surge of energy to awaken deep inside of me. It felt as though the world was weeping my sorrow as the rain down-poured upon the car windshield. The tempests of change blew fiercely and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

“I failed to go to my last appointment with Allendy. I was beginning to depend on him, to be grateful to him. Why did I stop for a week, he asks? To stand on my own feet again, to fight alone, to take myself back, to depend on nobody. Why? The fear of being hurt. Fear that he should become a necessity and that, when my cure was finished, our relationship would end and I would lose him. He reminds me that it is part of the cure to make me self-sufficient. But by not trusting him, I have shown that I am still ill. Slowly he will teach me to do without him.” –Anais Nin, The Diaries of Henry and June, page 189

I arrived early at the club; the doors weren’t even open- it was at least a twenty minutes before 9p.m. MJ had called me in the afternoon, requesting that I be there early. She had a new, round cage, which she had shown me before. She wanted to put me in before the upstairs opened with a crowd of people. Just the thought of being locked in a small, circular cage sent shivers of apprehension through me, as well as warmly flushed me with a curious arousal; I’d never been imprisoned in one before.

It was 9:30 p.m. when I went upstairs for our final performance. Awkward silence filled the air as I undressed, down to pasties and panties. MJ harnessed my body with thick, black rope, binding my breasts eloquently in a sideways figure eight. She brought the rope tightly up between my legs, pressing the stimulated, heated crevice between my thighs. My excitement trickled wetness – my sex swelled thick with arousal. I ever-so-slightly oscillated my hips in order to cause friction–to feel the rope’s pressure. At the same time I attempted to conceal my desire from my Mistress. All my senses felt on fire! My wildly beating heart eventually slowed pace, concentrating on my breathing -not my fears of confinement. Suddenly, I felt my elbows strictly bound behind my back with strong, black tape making me feel helpless and frightened. Even so, soothing warmth washed through me, surrendering my independence.

MJ’s man slave, FB, used his strong body to lift me off the ground, placing my helpless, vulnerable body into the cage. My limbs were huddled close, knees pressed tightly to my compressed, latex and glitter covered nipples. My bare buttocks pressed hard against the iron bars at the bottom of the cage. At first this position was thrilling -pulling the crotch-rope tighter against my wet, engorged flesh. But soon the pain began to slowly crescendo. I could feel my body weight resting on my arms which were pinned behind me against the curved, iron bars.

My sense of sight was blinded with a soft, black blindfold. My speech silenced – my mouth impaled with a rubber ball gag. Dread shrouded over me when the top of the circular cage was shut, closing me into a claustrophobic ball of darkness. As time ticked on, my mind pulled and tugged between the polarities of suffering and acceptance – the small confinements, restricting rope, and binding tape, taunting my mind and body. The throbbing ache in my bony butt made my body shift in attempt to find a comfortable position, sometimes grinding the rope more tightly against my hard, glossy clitoris. I couldn’t find any way to rest comfortably– no position was even slightly bearable. I also couldn’t seem to find relief for the insatiable ache pulsating between my two, firm, dancer thighs.

It seemed as though twenty minutes had passed before the numbness and pain in my arms seemed too much to bear. My body grew weary, pressing its weight into my arms even harder, torturing my patience, aggravating me beyond my miens. The closer my mind neared my panic and my anguish – I began to feel immense anxiety. I was hyper-ventilating. When I thought I could no longer endure, my soul whispered sweet solace in my ear, telling me to surrender my fight – accept my situation. Eventually my breath rate slowed, acquiescing to the pain. My agony was actually becoming exquisite, even euphoric. My state of mind grew peaceful, and my spirit resigned to a serene place deep within. The noises in the club were nothing but a gentle hum in my ears. I couldn’t tell who was speaking and what was being said. I felt as if I floated gently, serenely in time and space, becoming one with my mind, body, and soul.

“True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself.” –Henry Miller

Thirty long minutes seemed to pass. The euphoria lulled. It took all of my energy to continue my surrender – the severe, tingling pain in my arms and ass began agitating me again. Chaotic thoughts chattered incessantly in my head: despairing thoughts about MJ being gone from the club; mournful thoughts about my husband’s new career and how much I missed him; resentful thoughts because the DJ was playing my favorite songs and I couldn’t dance to them, due to being locked inside a small, fucking cage. I shivered with frightened thoughts about the possibility of losing my home in a few months. Distressed thoughts about taking my erotic web site down flooded me – due to cruel, close minded people in this world. (I will tell you more about my past, erotic web site, the family fiasco , and its downfall in another letter) Inside I screamed with furious thoughts about how much I resisted all this ceaseless whirl of changes in my life. No longer did I feel content and at peace.

“The struggles of the human being to emancipate himself, that is, to liberate himself from the prison of his own making, that is for me the supreme subject.” –Henry Miller, The books in my life.

My heart raced with panic once more. A sickening swirl twisted, knotting in my lower belly. My sex throbbed from neglect and starvation. Fear was like a monster waiting to pounce and devour. And then once again I heard calming whispers begin to chant inside my head, “Acceptance, surrender, endurance, fortitude, calmness, peace, silence and balance.” Those words seemed to soothe me into a sublime state beyond the conscious mind.

My solitude didn’t last long. A tremor of panic struck like an unexpected storm when I heard MJ’s sweet, comforting voice say, “How’s it going, darling? Can you make it another ten minutes?” Immediately all my thoughts zeroed in again on the pain in my arms and the intense numbness I was feeling. My breath rate increased behind the ball gag. I felt as if I was suffocating. I didn’t think I could endure another ten minutes. It seemed forever to me. I was caught within the eye of the storm, of a twisting, whirling panic attack. I could succumb to no more! MJ sensed something was wrong. Instantly, my gag was removed. I told her about my arms– how they were numb. How I had lost all sense of feeling.

At once, my arms were released from the bound tape. My face pinched in an excruciating grimace, sensing the blood rush back into my agonized limbs. I gasped for air while struggling to bring my arms around my body and to raise them in order to grip the bars near the top of the cage. Hot prickles of pain shot through me. My fingers felt paralyzed, cramped in the claw position, which made grasping the bars nearly impossible. When I managed to do so, MJ gently massaged my arms until I had feeling in both of them again. Her touch was soothing and comforting, making the pain worth just those few moments of tenderness.

“I really believe that if I were not a writer, not a creator, not an experimenter, I might have been a very faithful wife. I think highly of faithfulness. But my temperament belongs to the writer, not the woman. Such a separation may seem childish, but it is possible.” –Anais Nin, the Diaries of Henry and June, page 12

“In Athens I experienced the joy of solitude; in New York I have always felt lonely. The loneliness of the caged animal, which brings on crime, sex, alcohol and other madness.” –Henry Miller, The Colossus of Maroussi

Soon, I was left alone again inside that small, cramped ball of darkness. My blindfold was still on, but the ball gag dangled loosely, unbuckled around my neck. I felt a bit disappointed. I’d succumbed to the suffering. I wanted to please MJ, making her last night a great one. I felt as if I’d failed somehow, flushing hotly with shame. Of my own free will I placed the ball gag back into my mouth, attempting to buckle it behind my head, beneath strands of my hair. I was relieved when MJ’s husband assisted, finishing the task, for my fingers were still aching with numbness. Afterwards, I gripped my hands on the bars above me; regaining my focus to finish the last ten minutes inside those curved bars of steel.

The pain in my ass throbbed immensely, nearly causing tears to form in my eyes. I had to surrender all thoughts once more to make it until the crowd formed upstairs. I had no time for self-pity or shame of failure. I regained my focus and concentrated on my breath, trying not to think about how I appeared to the crowd–vulnerable to eyes I couldn’t see. I tried to steer my focus away from how helpless and mortified I felt barely clothed and completely confined.

“You make me tremendously happy to hold me undivided – to let me be the artist, as it were, and yet not forego the man, the animal, the hungry, insatiable lover. No woman has ever grated me all the privileges I need – and you, why you sing out so blithely, so boldly, with laugh even – yes, you invite me to go ahead, be myself, venture anything. I adore you for that. That is where you are truly regal, a woman extraordinary.” –Anais Nin, the Diaries of Henry and June, page 61 and 62

MJ’s voice soothed my turmoil of emotions when I heard her say, “The crowd is in awe of how beautiful you look in my new cage,” which she had personally made just for her in L.A.  A great sense of pride washed over me, graciously smiling as best as I could with the ball gag, blushing from so much attention from the crowd. I heard incessant chatter from the crowd ricocheting from wall to wall. The voices vibrated, creating a loud, fervent hum. From the sound and their energy I could tell the upstairs was packed with people.

I knew my time inside the cage was coming to an end. I sighed with relief when the top of the cage was finally opened. I felt triumphant that I’d made it through without serious panic. My emotions switched once again. I felt so helpless – almost embarrassed – when slave Mr. FB lifted my body out of the cage and carried me to a chair. He embraced me with his strong, muscular arms. My face pinched again into grimace, my mouth opened wide with a silent scream, and my body writhed in pain when I was placed into the chair. I experienced the exquisite agony of my sore buttocks pressing into the seat of MJ’s metal chair – the coolness of the metal soothing the feverish heat on my ass.

Still blindfolded, fear inundated me once more as I felt small pieces of flash cotton (used in fire play) being carefully placed on my heaving chest and quivering stomach. My skin was still very sensitive ever since MJ and I had done fire play the Saturday before. I wasn’t so sure my skin could endure it again so soon. Still, I craved to go farther into the scene. I had to still my excitement and exhaustion, so that the cotton pieces would remain in place.

“Women have a world of their own. What we men owe to women and why we should adore them and put them in high places is their intuition. That is what men lack.” –Henry Miller, People Magazine

I gasped for air when I felt a massive surge of hot energy pulsate fast through me. The first piece of cotton was lit – a passionate warm, intoxicating wave of flames danced over my scorching skin. Immediately my body relaxed – my sex moistened even more from the blissful agony. My breasts heaved heavily – my body shivered uncontrollably, yet, I had to still my body as I felt more flash cotton being placed upon my skin. My body tightened with apprehension once again, anticipating the feverish rush of sordid heat. With a deep breath and a long, slow exhale, I surrendered just as I did in the cage. My body jolted and heaved when the flash cotton was lit and flames of fire danced over my body again. I languished in the balmy, soothing sensation. The quick rush of fire is intoxicating. It’s a very powerful sensation that’s difficult to describe. I barely felt any pain – just the sensation of moderate sunburn, hours later.

“I have had masculine elements in me always, knowing exactly what I want….” –Anais Nin, the Diaries of Henry and June, page 50

Ecstasy overwhelmed me when MJ tortured me with her vibrator, which she placed under the tight rope, still rubbing hard between my thighs, twitching with lust – my hips gyrating against its delightful vibrations. I drowned my senses in the pleasure, trying to lap up the bliss. Just when I felt I’d explode into a sea of euphoric waves, the teasing vibrator was removed, and I felt MJ releasing me from her chair. My drenched sex still ached without satisfaction. I didn’t have time to think about my needy lust, because an immense sadness subdued my spirit. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to have to say goodbye. This was the worst of the pain I’d experienced the entire night.

I didn’t cry in MJ’s cage when the pain became unbearable. I didn’t cry when the fire inflamed my body. But I did cry when I finally had to say goodbye to her. Quickly, I gathered up my clothes before MJ or her, tall, dark, handsome, man slave could help me back into them. My mouth trembled sadly, nearing her. I tried to bow to her with grace and appreciation. I even tried to kiss her hand to say thank you for the evening. But I could do neither. All I could do was quickly embrace her then sob like a baby in its mother’s arms. But not for long; I didn’t want to make a spectacle of myself, nor demonstrate to the crowd any more of my vulnerability, to let them know how much I truly loved MJ.

I raced, scampering through the crowd, cheeks wet with tears, my eyes blurry. I tried to focus my eyes to find my husband, but they welled up even more with tears when I remembered he wasn’t at the club on this night. My sobs came harder and fiercer as I descended the nightclub’s steps, making my way to the dressing room with a deluge of tears now pouring down my cheeks, faster, harder. When I finally composed myself as best as I could, I left the dressing room, snuggled up to my friend Miss M for awhile, then danced the night away on that catwalk and silently cried. My pain fueled my feet to dance as my heartache dissolved into the music. By the end of the night I was feeling that calm feeling I felt in the cage: the feeling of complete surrender, joy, passion, love and acceptance. I danced with all my heart in tribute to MJ, wanting her to be proud I didn’t remain in the dressing room, crying all night.

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world of possibility not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” –Anais Nin

When I put my head to rest on my pillow last night, I thought about how I can’t control the changes in my life and how I must learn to accept and learn to find the bliss life offers, regardless of all the misfortunate events which occur. These past few months have stripped me bare of most everything. They’ve made me naked, exposed to the ways of life, feeling a vulnerable humility to my situations. Regardless of how much I cry, kick and scream, I know deep within that the ultimate thing to do is surrender to the struggle, and accept what comes to me minute by minute with as much dignity and as much courage I can find within myself.

“Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.” –Joseph Campbell

“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.” –Joseph Campbell

* End of MindCaviar.com Diary Entry *

Some people may think that the BDSM lifestyle is a dark and kinky ritual. For me BDSM is spiritual and light. I honestly feel it has made me into a better person. MJ, my husband, Mr. B, and at times, my difficult path in life, have been, in my mind, akin to fine artists who’ve taken stone that is very hard, ugly and cold, and began to chisel and sculpt the stone into something made of warmth, grace and beauty. I am that stone, for I have come alive through their efforts of love, and through my participation with them in this way of life.

MJ took a very long hiatus from the club to further her career as a fetish model, actress, etc. She was travelling a lot, mostly to Los Angeles – sometimes she travelled to far off exotic places. She eventually returned to GZ, and we played together again, for a few more years. I faded myself away from the nightclub as I approached the age of forty – other obligations were calling me – I needed to move forward in life. MJ and I have been adventuring upon different paths, for many years, but every now and then, we come together to play, seeking pleasure in the sensuality, liberation, and the beautiful power exchange between us. I cherish those moments!

Wishing I was June

My body burns a white heat for you,
I’m a voyeur in the midst of your diary,
The one you wrote about Henry and June;
I read your thoughts beneath a French Vanilla moon,
Felt your idyllic words of passion – so fiery,
All my senses flood like Pirates at Barbary.
Your pages of beauty make me swoon,
Kissing my soul with your sweet, sweet poetry,
My heart pounds fast like a charging cavalry,
And my sex rains hard like a summer monsoon,
Wishing it was I, whom you once adored,
Whom you yearned to touch your inner core,
Craving to be the one who possessed you: June.
It’s you, Anaïs, whom my heart desperately implores,
I would have crawled to serve you on all fours,
Let you slowly sip me like hot tea in the afternoon,
Lay naked beside you, embracing in the ocean dunes;
Please, whisper in the wind to me words of paramour,
Take me now upon your eternal wings – let’s soar!
To paradise so sweet, like the pages in your diary.

–Mia, Whispers from Venus

Good night Henry. Thank you for breathing exhilaration and inspiration into me during the Holidays. It helps me forget about how much I dread the hustle, bustle, shopping and cleaning.

Much love,

One response to “mia loves henry miller – Letter 18 – Caged Infatuation, Goodbye My Mistress, Anais Nin, Henry and June

  1. Reblogged this on mia loves henry miller and commented:

    I am reblogging my first collection of Letters to Henry Miller, via blog, as I finish the last letter- Letter 50- in this first collection of erotic letters written to Henry Miller. This review of stimulating letters will end with Letter 50. Once I finish editing my manuscript and prepare my book for publishing, this first collection of letters will be removed from my blog web site Mialoveshenrymiller.com and transcend into a book. Once this is complete I will begin writing, Mia Loves Henry Miller, Book 2, beginning with Letter 51 – Thank you for all of my readers support.


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