A XXXmas tale from ole Deity

When ole Deity was little, he absolutely loved Christmas. He would lay under the tree in the living room and just stare up through all the twinkly lights, the shiny ornaments and the velvet green pine needles all night long. He loved the Christmas songs that came out of this electronic sound box his parents had bought that synced the twinkle of the lights to sharp-pitched tones. He loved how this was the only room in the entire house he could lay and feel alone, but not in solitude. He loved that not far away he could hear the plates and glasses from dinner being cleaned and put into the dishwasher, and even further in the distance, the blurry vocal static of the television that his dad was watching. Not even his lovable orange tomcat came and broke his sanctuary. Hours and hours were spent underneath that tree, all in anticipation for the morning of Christmas day.

Now, you might think that the little boy was excited about the presents that he would be opening once Christmas arrived, but that was not what was going through his head. Every year, before the presents were opened, his family held a little ceremony where the little baby Jesus figurine was put into the handmade Nativity scene that sprawled all over the coffee table. Nothing could happen before this took place - no presents, no hot cocoa, no cinnamon rolls, no carols - NOTHING. The honor of placing the baby Jesus into the manger had always fallen to the little boy, and he considered it magical - he was the one who started Christmas.

One year, a few days before Christmas, the little boy's mother informed him that they were having to make a slight change to the way things worked on Christmas morning. She told him that his older sister had asked if she could place the baby Jesus in the manger this year, and his mother thought that it made sense to share the duties. The little boy didn't think it made sense at all. He erupted, screaming, hollering and tossing about the entire room. This response took his mother by complete surprise, and she saw that she needed to come up with a solution quickly. She told the little boy that he could carry the candle into the room that was used to light all the other candles around the manger - something his mother told him also needed to happen in order for Christmas to start. Until now, that role had been one of his parents, an adult role, and she thought he was a big enough boy to handle that important responsibility. The boy quieted down and accepted the role, but only after his mother told him that next year he'd get to be the one to place the baby Jesus (they'd alternate years).

So, on that morning, he stood in the hallway with his sister. He watched as she opened her hands, and his mother placed the beautiful figurine in her out-stretched palms. He then watched as she bent down and carefully lit the white candle he gripped tightly. His sister turned and began walking into the living room, and he followed, making sure to step carefully so that the flame didn't get blown away by his movement. He kept one eye on the bright fiery light and one on his sister as she stopped in front of the manger. And just as she bent down to gingerly place the porcelain child into his cradle...

...the little boy lifted the candle to the back of her head, and lit her hair on fire.

A very, very bad girl!

You come to these pages to be aroused, don’t you? I know! I’m one of you; an avid reader. But, now I return to you here (as opposed to here ), to fill in for Deity whilst he is away. It was all a bit short notice this time, and he doesn’t know what I am writing, so let’s have some fun over the next week. It may lead to a tongue lashing later, but I’ll worry about that later. (“My God, she is so brave!” I hear some of you say. Or, stupid.)

I see that some of you girls loved being scared in a recent post.

“I imagine you sitting there wondering if I am speaking directly to you...”

Alfred Hitchcock could not have done it better, don’t you think? We girls love to be scared half to death. It gets our hearts racing a little faster, and yes, it gets us very wet between the legs. What a f**king rush! That’s why we giggle, right? Maybe they are saying the things they say and it is all a lark. And, maybe it is not. Maybe, they really are going to do the things they say. We don’t know and we love that we don’t know.

“Do you willingly open that door and feel them rush upon you, succumb to them, allow them to bind you and then drag you off to be delivered at my feet?”

Well, girls, do you? Of course you do...at least in your thoughts. So, now you are at his feet. What now? Do you have any regrets? Are you just a tiny bit worried? What the hell is he planning to do with you, anyway? Do you care? Or, do you lay there, breath shallow, heart racing, wishing that he would just get on with it?

Well, relax. He’s going to take his sweet time. He’s going to ensure that you are well and truly worried. Just a little worried is no use to him. He wants you vexed. Yes, my sweeties, vexed!

He wants you to pause, and reflect on the fact that only a bad girl would be here, waiting to have clever tricks and wicked deeds done to her.

Only a very bad girl would be hoping that he plans to order you to undress. If he orders you to undress, then it is out of your hands, right?

Only a very, very bad girl would be hoping that he plans to make you bend to his will; to make use of your body for his pleasure (and yours, too).You know all this. You know what he will do to you, and yet you stay.

That door that is ajar, allows you to go. You may go. You are dismissed. And, yet you stay. (You are still reading, right?)

I think he may be right. You are a very, very bad girl!

Don't answer

I imagine you sitting there, wondering if i'm speaking directly to you.
The room around you is dark, the only illumination coming from the monitor.
Your eyes peel over every curvature of these words, looking for a hint at my meaning.
When it first comes to you, that darkness, that lack of light that surrounds you suddenly grips you.
It holds you firmly, like the words on this page, knowing my intent.
You read the previous sentences, over and over again, in order to distract you from the thoughts that now creep into your head.
But they are there, gathering outside your door, outside the confines of your safe, secure mind.
Lurking.
In the shadows.
Summoned by me, to do my bidding. To tempt and haunt you.
Do you let them in? Do you willingly open that door and feel them rush upon you, succumb to them, allow them to bind you and then drag you off to be delivered at my feet?

Did you hear it? That door...it just creaked, as if something were leaning on it.

How much kink can you accomplish in the dark?

I occasionally use this venue for "good" as opposed to "bad". It is the former purpose i dedicate this post to.

Earth Hour

Have you heard about it? Basically, wherever you are, on Saturday, March 28th, from 8:30-9:30PM (Local time), you are encouraged to go without power. The House of Deity will go dark during that time, and i ask all of my readers to follow suit. However, i don't think the organizers of this event are going far enough. If you look at their home page, they are encouraging you to document and share your experience using your digital devices. Well, those take power too! For every mobile phone call you make, there's a cell tower that has to use power to provide you the bandwidth. And taking digital pictures? But, Deity, you're saying, those are rechargeable batteries. Yes, they are, my friends, but they have to be re-charged eventually, and if you use them, you're really only delaying the use of that energy (kinda like charging on a credit card).

If you're reading this, you have at least the propensity for kinkiness. What does someone who's kinky do with an hour of darkness? A lot of groping and pinching and fondling and all sorts of skin on skin is what i encourage. Leave me a comment and let me know how you passed those 60 minutes of pure darkened delight.