A Paradise Lost 

“Where is it?” Claire was screaming out.  She was wearing a gold and silver Tiffany necklace the night she was raped and attacked.  The amulet had special meaning to her; passed down from generation to generation.  The dark entities were following her for some time but she was oblivious to their presence. 

In her sleep the dark spirits would entice her to a place where she could release herself and give in to her deepest felt pleasures.  Her reality would fuse with her fantasy realm.  She was addicted to the sensation and the excitement her inner goddess experienced surrounded by multiple hands caressing and massaging every molecule of her being; every cell in her fiber; every inch of her flesh; the closest feeling she’ll ever get to heavenly bliss here on Earth and her own orgasmic pot of gold at the end of her Rainbow. 

It was during these Delta stages where she had this overwhelming feeling of being in the middle of a forest, a garden of such intense beauty, of being unashamed of her nakedness as she dived into a crystal clear lagoon. 

 Sleepwalking used to be a problem for her when she was a young child as she would wonder around the darkness in the sanctity of the plantation grounds she called home in nothing but her long flowing white silk robe.  Under the moonlight appearing as an Angel sent from the Universe above.  

Requiring her parents to physically confine her to the bed with ropes, ties, and leather restraints.  Perhaps that’s why she missed so dearly those Sado sessions with Antoinette or ‘Toni’ to her.  This best friend of hers and the most sincere lover she ever let enter her secret place, her heart as well as her fountain was a practitioner to the age old craft of BDSM.  Also Wiccan during her college days, getting the nickname of ‘Sexy Witch Bitch’ in her group of lovers and Submissives.  

School of Innocence Lost 

The photo class was extremely popular at their high school.  The darkroom was the unofficial hookup spot to give or receive head and the teacher was so oblivious to the whole meetup, assuming photography was just so fuckin’ awesome.  This was before Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, MySpace, and ‘Selfies,’ so it was still a geeky, nerdy thing to do, however Toni found it an interesting conversation starter as she would do projects for the class; some abstract, conceptual, some more risqué than others.  Black and white photography added more leeway in her portfolios of her willing or sometimes not so willing subjects.  She would push the envelope as leather, whips, chains, straps, and clamps would end up as props along with her female Submissive types barely concealed, revealing more to this game than met the untrained eye.  

Her mission in this place, this school was to teach, train, and break new recruits; the innocence of the solitary, self-righteous country club life of these young girls would be literally stripped away from them within just a few hours of her role as the strict Dominant teacher with an eye for detail and order.  Claire was to be her most astute student; so young, fresh, the smell and taste of ripe virgin Mangos.  She was hers to own, her body to be her new ‘Emo Barbie.’

Room To Heal 

A beep from the nurses station stirs Claire back into consciousness.  She has been in and out; during these lucid moments, the angelic image of Toni comes back to haunt her-to taunt and tease her.  As if she is there in the physical present tense however her transparent naked self is merging into her exposed, broken, tender body.  She feels a cold still run over her own nakedness under the gown, from her feet up, between her sore thighs, gently touching her sensitive breasts, and a heat resonating across her parched lips as if an angelic breath is kissing her softly.  

Just then the nurse comes back into her room to check on her vitals and her IV.  She was still in a half-sleep, drugged up state due to the pain meds they gave her as she heals from a violently torn vagina which was still causing her immense torment; both physically and psychological.  This was the place she reserved for Toni since she was devirginized-first by her lover’s gentle massage, tongue, then pianist perfectionist hands. 

A Soul Cries Out 

The clock is moving ever so slowly.  She looks up and see it’s only 600 pm.  Some juice and water sits on a tray along with a dozen red roses.  The card reads, from your Dream GirlJulie Bee, Your Honey Comb. I love you so much, hang in there.  

She vaguely remembers the hotel room, being led by this guy J J…Jason, that’s it…I think.  She was so high and drunk, after that underground club they went to off the strip.  The girls on the stage were mostly college girls from the local communities stripping and giving lap dances for tuition, rent, car note, baby formula, food, pot, and other essentials.  Some of the fresh new talent within the 18-21 age range gave out their private numbers to arrange sexual trysts and BJs between their shifts or after hours.  The clientele included politicians, lawyers, cops, professionals, even pastors-mostly married types with children whom weren’t getting laid or their dicks sucked enough at home for obvious reasons.  The students whom hung out there were too dirt ass pour to afford anything more than a pole dance so they would take a hand full of dollars then go home after a couple hours of drinking.  

There were some creeps who went there just about every night and stayed well past midnight.  The owners wouldn’t do much about them since money talked, so when the owner Bob Jones would catch a patron ‘getting off’ in a corner table he would wait till they finished then have one of his bouncers kick him out of the club.  His daughter would then have the honor of cleaning up the messes left behind.  He would have her dressed rather scantily in a French maid outfit and nothing else on but never to get on stage.  She was barely legal but he had his high standards for his little girl even as fucked up as the situation appeared on the face of it.  Little did her daddy owner know she was involved with just about every stripper working there, sucking them off and getting a golden shower by the youngest of the ladies; Natasha and Sasha, exchange students from the Ukraine.  She loved how liberated they seemed to be.  Always willing to experiment and explore new territory and caverns.  

The Secret Meeting



After she had left the club and gone to the executive suite of this downtown posh hotel usually reserved for high rank and file city and state officials and occasionally the Donald Trumps and Bill Clinton elitists who were in town to conduct “Official Business” on behalf of their respective foundations.  The trafficking of young children and young adults is big business in the global arena of trade and capitalism.  Sex and greed were all a crucial aspect of The Art of the Deal and the blood money funding the Clinton Foundation; the Saudi ‘towel heads’ and ‘goat fuckers’ praying to their dead pedophile Prophet (King of the Goat Lovers) Muhammad.  Its as though their religion was based upon sex and the need to satisfy their big massive egos by violating runaways and foster children here during diplomatic visits (immunity) under bricks of cash and drugs transported under the cover of darkness courtesy of our CIA.  

Claire had full access to a myriad of drugs, alcohol, and sexual perversion.  She watched as one young girl whom did not look 18 but according to her fake ID was a student at Columbia University.  She was in the center of the main suite surrounded by close to 10 men, most middle aged, ethnic, and dripping sweat or ejaculating over her naked body with visible fresh red marks, bruises, and rope impressions as though she endured punishment for not giving in sooner to the penetration of her innocence and the Asphyxiation which these Saudi fucks got off on. 

What the general sleeping public doesn’t understand is our global system, our global economy, our stock markets, even down to our paycheck withholdings, taxes, and the additives and drugs added to our crap food meant to keep us in this drugged out trance state; out of our fucking minds.  The world government does not want free-thinkers, intellectuals, independents (you see how they bought out Bernie Sanders-throwing his young college supporters under the bus).  They figure its fine; just push for an election to ensure one of their own gets in over the drugged up old Hag Hillary Clinton.  The populace crowd fuels by an internal rage against the ‘Establishment’ machine-the gasoline of angst, fear, intolerance, hate, bigotry lit by both parties to keep the torch of broken, bruised, and raped Lady Liberty burning.  Madam’s new mantra; ‘bring us your criminals, ISIS, Muslim fundamentalists, rapists, pedophiles, globalist pig.’  Its as if a gun was held to her head, tied and gagged, on her knees, head between the legs of the POTUS while FLOTUS performed cunnilingus on her.

The Ritual

Claire was the unwilling participant in this sex fest; the sacrificial lamb in the perversion of the young cherry blossoms which were deflowered in an act of worship to their god of lust.  It has long been known that the elites among us work, live, eat, play, sleep, and fuck differently and more frequently than the rest of us.  Where do they; these teachers, politicians, evangelists, pastors, lawyers, doctors, celebrities, television personalities all find their willing and/or not so submissive subjects you might ask.   

Obviously its not like they advertise on Craigslist, the local newspaper, billboards, television, or in the public square.  Its more like a secret society; a brotherhood or sisterhood if you prefer, not unlike a union.  The allegiance they pledge to is a lot more sacred than the self-righteous, coffeehouse religious types.  This covenant of the most ancient of days has long been around however a resurgence has been seen.  Its not unlike the Church of Latterday Saints (LDS) as each member has the blessing and opportunity afforded them; generation unto generation, and if one individual person breaks this unholy chain by refusing initiation or the entrance into this secret society then this person is subject to a punishment unlike no other upon the Altar of the Universal Order of the Dark.  She is therefore sacrificed as a lamb upon the cold granite slab however not before being violated by as many boys and men (in some meetings even women) as possible till the point of exhaustion and death.  

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As a proud graduate of California State University, Chico with an earned BA degree in International Relations, Master of Arts degree in Public Policy, and a past study abroad participant at the University of Tuebingen, education has always been up front and center in both our family and my professional career. My blogging project is an eclectic work in progress and intended to increase global awareness through selections and stories of my studies and travels. As future global citizens we can seek first to understand one another through word pictures and engage our collective creative intellects to change our community; one blog at a time.

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