Lost in Darkness: A Duet

Her soul mirrors the moon’s shadows
Waxing and waning with love’s plight
Shining on high, buried in lows
Lost in darkness, found in his sight

His soul slithers through dark alleys
Trudging on, seeking angel’s light
Blinded, searching for her madly
Lost in darkness, found in her sight

Her past devours hope’s sly contours
Assuring her dreams are finite
But his voice leads her to detours
Lost in darkness, found in his sight

Heaven’s rays break open dark skies
She now appears, ending her flight
To absolve his soul as he dies
Lost in darkness, found in her sight




I once again had the very good fortune to write a duet with Dana at Love Letters Lost at Sea.  We wrote together in kyrielle form.  She wrote the first and third stanza’s and I wrote the second and fourth.  If you don’t know Dana, she is a very fine poetess and has been a close friend for many years now.  I encourage you to visit her blog and read her great work.

The painting is “The Tree of Forgiveness” by Sir Edward Burns Jones

Posted in Duets and Guest Authors, Romantic Poetry | Tagged , | 31 Comments

Helga’s Peonies are Blooming

For those of you who are new to my blog, each year when the peonies are blooming, I remember my relationship to my 86 year old neighbor and holocaust survivor, Helga Bessac.

Mr. Modigliani's Private Studio

In 1993, I purchased a beautiful little Scandinavian tudor in an artsy urban neighborhood of my city.  Just to the north of us lived Helga Bessac.  Helga was already 86, frail, and needed a walker to get around.  She had no family that we knew of and her only visitor was a slightly younger older lady that would periodically come over to help her.

After living in my house for a short while, I naturally wanted to check in on her to make sure that she was okay and see if there was anything we could do for her.  Helga had a thick German Yiddish accent, was reserved, but still very bright and a pleasure to speak with.  She greatly appreciated that I took an interest in her and our relationship slowly grew.

I became more curious about her life and her history.  However, when I asked, she would only talk about her life…

View original post 978 more words

Posted in Uncategorized | 9 Comments

Let Me Drink

My mind
is parched
in the mundane
Small minds seem to float
like skulls made of cork
in the trivial, the inane
their eyes empty
mouths hollow
And so I wander
drift endlessly,
on parched,
cracked earth
tricked by
the visions
of oasis
My burnt,
cracked lips
thirst for just one drop
No they thirst
for all the clear
cool waters
of you
Let me drink
even just a sip
of the real you
Tell me
of Thoreau
or Nin
Let me drink
from your
gorgeous mind
to confess
and to live
your unspoken
End my quest
sate my thirst
for you
Let me drink
from your cup

Posted in Uncategorized | 57 Comments

I Feel You Near

I feel you near
like prey in the forest
As I stare into the thicket
a host of sparrows scatter
each singing your name

A horned owl
Turns his head, half cockeyed
as though he already knows
and his great golden eye
Reflects your image

I know you’re near
I can smell you, taste you
Lifting my chin, my nostrils flare
the sweet, wet musk of your sex
draws me, pulls me

I hear you sing
You are prey wanting to be caught
inviting this old bull satyr
to mount and thrust
your pink wanton flesh

Posted in Romantic Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 60 Comments

Mr M’s Progression of Work


Many of you know that about four months ago I started studying at a studio program for fine artists. The program teaches in the classical French tradition (called Atelier).  Here is the progression of work from my first drawing in the program to my second.  I am pleased with the progress and I expect that the next piece that I do will have an even higher level of finish.

Posted in Uncategorized | 21 Comments

Mr. M’s 2nd Grade Art Class 5/4


“Hello kids.  Hi Mr. M!  How many of you have been to the zoo?  Raise your hands.  Can you tell me what your favorite animal is at the zoo and why?  {takes answers}.  Okay, now looking at this jaguar, how does he make you feel?  Is he scary? fierce? pretty?  What are some of the features that you notice?

Does the jaguar represent strength or weakness?  Why?  Did you know that two of these statues sat next to the king’s throne in Nigeria long ago?  The king was called an oba and had ultimate power.  All the men and women of the kingdom worshipped the oba.  He was both their king and their religious leader.

Can I tell you something?  Do you know that he had real live jaguars as pets on a leash in his royal court?  The king’s royal court was in the city of Benin, which was called Edo a long time ago.  When the British arrived, one of their artists did an etching.  Would you like to see it.  Yes Mr. M…


Do you see the jaguars on the leashes?  Did you know that this city was once one of the greatest cities in the world?  What do you think it would have been like to live in this city?  This city had an enormous wall around it much like the Great Wall of China…

and so this is how the conversation went today.  The kids were very attentive and engaged.   

Posted in Uncategorized | 39 Comments

The Cold Dead Weight

There have been far too many times
when I felt the cold dead weight
of well intended compromises
crushing my life and joy

And it was not the condemnation of Zeus
nor the evil trickery of Heracles,
it was really me. I simply declined 
to boldly confront reality

Quick drawing and poem by me

Posted in My Development | 34 Comments

A Fascinating Read on Spanking

I was actually reading in the “Discover” section of WordPress, which is something I rarely do, but this article was toward the top of the list.  I find it to be very thoughtful and intelligent and thought I would share it with you.  For those that are exploring, I think she does an excellent job of communicating her perspective in such a way that most people would understand and accept it.

Jillian Keenan on her new memoir, which delves into her lifelong obsessions with spanking and Shakespeare.

via An Exegesis on Spanking Fetishists — Longreads Blog

Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments

Mr M Teaches Art to Kids

In the city where I live, we have a world class museum with attached art school.  I was recently contacted by the director of the museum and asked if I would be interested in teaching art and creativity to elementary school children.  I jumped at the opportunity and so, for the next several weeks until school ends in early June, I will be teaching an art class to second graders.  My first class is tomorrow!

Posted in My Development | 39 Comments

39 Images from Paisley Park

I was there today and find it difficult to describe my emotions.  There was a feeling of reverential mourning.  Many artists had rapidly produced artwork to honor him.  Love letters were pinned to the fence.  Without even attempting to share my thoughts further, I will simply present 39 images that I took at Paisley Park.  If you click on the first image, you can go through it in a slide show format (if you prefer).



Posted in Uncategorized | 20 Comments

A Little Encounter at the Drawing Studio

Most of you know that I spend my Sundays drawing live models in a studio.  This particular setup is called a “drawing coop” and it is where artists gather to practice their figure drawing.

A couple Sundays ago, I busy drawing and during one of the breaks, I wandered around to look at the work of the other artists.  I remember commenting on the watercolors that a fellow artist had done, as well as some of the charcoal and oil pastel drawing of other artists nearby.

A couple days later I received a message on Fet from a woman saying, “Were you at the drawing coop on Sunday?”   I was stunned and replied, “What? How did you know it was me?  Were you there?”  And she said something to the effect of “Well I was a couple easels away from you painting and was also admiring your hands, then I looked up and recognized you.”

Since then, I’ve learned that she is taking a class to become a professional Mistress (the female equivalent of a Dominant).  Really?  You can take classes for that?  She says is a Top that is into bondage, sensory deprivation and spanking with her play partners (umm… that’s my job).  She actually is a really good watercolor artist also, though she said she likely would not be coming back anytime soon.  Our encounter was quite brief and focused on our artwork, but I am amazed at how the world works sometimes.


Posted in My Dominance, Uncategorized | 29 Comments

My Grandma Is a Baby Girl

I have written in the past about how I occasionally use my Dom skills on my 95 year old grandmother. Well a couple weeks ago, I took a vacation and went to visit my parents at their second home in a warm part of the world.

While there, my mother commented that Grandma was missing me and was having a tough time emotionally. We were in the car at the time and I immediately took out my phone, called my grandmother, and put my full Dom skills on display right in front of my mother and father. Continue reading

Posted in My Dominance | 29 Comments

The Slave Auction Begins


My friends and followers, thank you for attending my gala, art and slave auction.  We have already raised over 100,000 Euro for distressed migrant families here in the Paris area.  The purpose of this auction, though it is quite erotic, is to raise money to help these families find safe housing, employment and education opportunities. Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | 135 Comments

Mr M’s Slave Auction Rules

20131002-075010.jpgIf you have been reading my blog, then you know that I will be auctioning my beautiful female slave to one of my followers for a night of pleasure. The purpose of this post is to lay out the rules for how the auction will be conducted.

The actual auction will be conducted here on WordPress beginning on Monday at 4:30 pm GMT (London/Paris time), 11:30 am Eastern time US, 8:30 am Pacific time US.  The auction will be intense and last about an hour.

The story of the auction will actually be written by you, my followers, via WordPress comments, so you are cordially invited to participate as a contributor via those comments.  The compilation of your comments will become the story.  If you would like to contribute, it is helpful that you be available during that time. Continue reading

Posted in Erotic Stories | 18 Comments

Mr M’s Auction Begins

This is a sequel to “You Will Be My Art “.  

Once a year I host an evening gala and art auction at my estate. It is an elegant affair. The men come in black tuxes and the women in shimmering gowns with plunging necklines.

The event has this Bacchanalian secret society aspect to it. Many of the women wear a masquerade mask and leave any jewelry betraying their marital status at home. Guests are free to use any room of the house, except my master suite, for any liaison they may desire. Continue reading

Posted in Erotic Stories | 40 Comments

You Will Be My Art


You have been summoned and told to arrive at my estate by 6 pm wearing a simple black dress with your hair up, tall black spikes and no panties, bra or jewelry. Your presence is needed for the entire evening. The nature of your duties has not yet been disclosed, though, as my slave, you have already agreed to provide whatever services I require without question. Continue reading

Posted in Erotic Stories | Tagged , , | 23 Comments

Power And Magic


I am still on holiday, but I just wanted to say this. The dynamic that naturally exists between a man and a woman is immutable. It has a natural essence of chemistry, desire, passion and fantasy. Or it simply does not. Words may be spoken and behaviors may be altered, but what exists between those two people cannot be fundamentally changed at its core. And it is when we live within this natural essence and let both its beauty and ferocity flow, both sexually and spiritually, that we finally find ourselves at peace, deeply satisfied and inspired by its power and magic.

Posted in Other Musings | 23 Comments

Your Crown of Thorns


You have suffered so deeply.
Do you know how beautiful you are?
Roll the stone away from your pain
and come to me.
Take off your crown of thorns.
I will brush away your tears,
kiss you deeply and make you remember
what it means to live once again.

Posted in Romantic Poetry, Uncategorized | 28 Comments

You are Forgiven


There is no pain
worse on this earth
than the judgement
of your own mind
How many times
have I told you
that you are beautiful
and worthy?
I would die
a thousand deaths
to relieve you
of your own crucifixion
so drag me
bind me
nail me
to the tree
I will suffer
and die
only to offer you
the gift
of your own absolution
and the return
of your grace
you are forgiven
my sacrifice
the gift of my life
my blood
my flesh
even my spirit
are yours


Posted in Romantic Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 26 Comments

Would You Remember?


Too many moments
just float away
gray and lifeless
like another cloud
on a cold November day
But what if I tied
and blindfolded you?
Would you feel alive?
Would your body tingle
with anticipation
if I whispered in your ear
and slowly tormented you
with wax from the flame
or ice from the tray
each hot drip
and freezing touch
getting ever closer
to your feminine ecstasy
Would you remember
the moment we shared?

Posted in Erotic Thoughts | 25 Comments

The Slave Girl from Tuscany

(written by the persona of Mr Modigliani)

My studio is in the hills of Paris in the district of Montmartre not too far from the Basilica of Sacré Cœur. But I am not French. It is my adopted home. I am originally Italian and was raised in the coastal city of Livorno in Tuscany. Continue reading

Posted in Erotic Stories, My Artwork | Tagged , , , | 16 Comments

Studio Sketches Mar 20

This gallery contains 7 photos.

Gallery | 30 Comments

Recognition of Male Bloggers 2016 – Final

I want to thank all the contributors who sent me names of male bloggers that they follow.  There is something here for everyone from general life poetry to the romantic, the sensual and even some BDSM and D/s material.  What is wonderful about this is that I discovered a whole set of new bloggers and it is my sincere hope that you use this list to also discover new blogs that may be of interest to you.  I’ve tried to organize these blogs by some key attributes that are differentiating and found that process quite challenging.  Please contact me if there are any corrections. Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | 56 Comments

You Will Dance for Me

i am
the choreographer
and you
are my dancer
on the fierce stage
of my passion
your beauty
is a swirl
of form
and submission
for me
my will
my artistry
and my desire

you will dance for me

Posted in Romantic Poetry | Tagged , | 20 Comments

Studio Sketch Mar 13 (revised)

I posted some pictures earlier using my phone, but at least one did not post properly, so I’ve corrected on the computer.  The first two are 10 minutes sketches, the final two are 20 minutes sketches.  The model today, Kari, was exceptional.  I am mostly pleased.

Posted in My Artwork, Uncategorized | 9 Comments

The Queen and the Stag


Some say
That I am a myth
Or the spirit of ancestors
Appearing Continue reading

Posted in Romantic Poetry | Tagged , , , | 21 Comments

My Customer’s Vixen Wife

She was blonde, hot and knew what she wanted.  I was on a business trip in the foothills of the Rockies and had been invited to an evening party at the large mansion of one of my largest customers.  A renaissance man, he also painted and thought of me like a son.  It was an elegant affair with a hundred or so chosen guests.  Men wore dark suits or tuxes and the women low cut shimmering dresses.  I had been invited at the last minute and so wore a jet black suit, expensive black cowboy boots and a bow tie.  It was the closest I could come to a tux on short notice. Continue reading

Posted in Erotic Stories | Tagged | 11 Comments

Sunday Sketch Mar 6


My special thank you to the model today.

Posted in Uncategorized | 20 Comments

My Religion

her beauty
…is my faith
her service
…is my communion
her sweet moans
…are my choir
her suffering
…is my worship
her gift
…is my religion

Posted in Romantic Poetry | Tagged , , | 19 Comments


a relationship
in my past
reminds wistfully of
Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina
dashing and
ultimately though
a terrible tragedy
much too good
and far too
to forget

Posted in My Pain | Tagged | 15 Comments

Each Other’s Muse


Like the sight of a white tail
Bounding thru the woods
Or a sunset’s colors and hues
There was an undeniable joy
A spiritual gift really
Of being each other’s muse

Posted in Romantic Poetry | Tagged | 16 Comments

Wild and Free


At night I gaze upward
to a tapestry of a million stars
while the moon casts its glow on the hilltop
and filters through the trees

By day I race through the valleys
and trot through clear mountain streams
I raise my head and hear my own whinnies
echo through the canyon

And though I see your approach,
The land is too beautiful
my heart is too wild
and I love the wind in my mane
wild and free

Words by Mr Modigliani

Posted in Romantic Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 29 Comments

The Eighth Time

His older hands are so gentle
And his steady devotion
Has been sort of a flaccid shelter
From the hard pouring rain
Of a beauty’s life
In her prime

But my artist’s hands are firm
And quite demanding
I clutched and commanded you
Yet held you so close
When you came for me
The eighth time

Posted in Erotic Poetry | Tagged , , | 18 Comments

Give Me Your Pain

Give me your pain
I will carry all of it
to Hades and back
Nail me to the cross
I will bleed and die
Crucify my flesh
Burn my body
It is yours
A human sacrifice
and testament
of my devotion
I give it all
For you

Posted in Romantic Poetry | 17 Comments

Bound and Tied


Shield your eyes
from me if you must
for I have already
peered past
your protections
I am sorry
to have left you
bound and tied
naked in the forest
your pretty ass marked
by my belt
It rained so hard
that day
but every drop
was one of my tears

Posted in Erotic Poetry, Uncategorized | 11 Comments

I Studied You As An Art…


I loved this brief poem from Christina Strigas on Twitter @christinastriga or on WordPress at christinastrigas.wordpress.com.  In reading it, I would have sworn it was written for me.  Also, there are many good poets on Twitter and some are close friends.  This particular poem just hit me square between the eyes and I wanted to highlight it. Poem is posted with permission of Christina.

Posted in Reblogs, Uncategorized | Tagged | 4 Comments

Mr M Needs a Stylist

Seeking stylist service submissive. Submissive must have advanced training in hair styling from an accredited organization, preferably Aveda, and be skilled in scissors cutting and all matters of male grooming, including straight edge shaving. Submissive must also be fit, attractive and stylish, follow all of Master’s instructions and take delight in pleasing all of Master’s needs. Master anticipates that services will be scheduled every five to six weeks. 


Posted in Erotic Thoughts | Tagged , , | 35 Comments

An Elegant Sadist


I keep coming back to the idea of how one combines feelings of love with the fiercest desire to do the most vile of things with a woman.

“But you aren’t vile.  Even your most violent perversions aren’t vile.  You are an elegant sadist.  And I mean that in the very best way.”

Posted in My Dominance | Tagged , , | 34 Comments


A new follower reminded of some of some of my earlier writing and collaborations. This one was one of the most fun and got quite a response (for my little blog). And Hasty has always been one of my dearest friends, even to this day.

Mr. Modigliani's Private Studio

photo (4)

This is a duet co-written with Hasty Words.  Please visit her blog.  There are so many wonderful things to say about Hasty as a woman, a generous spirit and a talented writer, but the most important is that she is a wonderful friend.

Your toxicity is a rush
Fueling desires touch
Guiding my painters hand
With each stroke of the brush

Silently I lay for you
Taking your every command
I’m thrilled to be your muse
And lust for your hand

Watching your chest rise and fall
My heart pounds hard and fast
You haunt the canvas in front of me
The hard lines of your beautiful ass

When I look at your artist eyes
I wonder what you think and see
Is it simply my naked form
Or something deeper inside of me?

I settle on your face, your strong jaw
I see desire and curiosity watching…

View original post 226 more words

Posted in Reblogs, Uncategorized | 5 Comments

Remembering Marcus

We have hunted these woods as friends
Stalking the prey to sate our need
Our yips filled the emptiness of night,
While the great horned owl opened an eye
The deer turned their heads to listen
And the moose ambled deeper into the thicket

There is a mysticism deep in the forest
And though lives may end, spirits are never lost
They are collected by the forest’s great caretaker
You, my friend, have simply entered a higher realm
Where your awhoo’s will forever be heard
As a spirit wolf, High in the Woods

This poem is in memory of Marcus, the playful and friendly writer of High in the Woods.  Felicia, this is also for you.  I want you to know that you are still thought of and all of us hope you are well.    

Posted in Other Musings | 26 Comments

Power, Strength, Beauty & Determination

I admire these attributes so much in a woman and no where is it expressed so beautifully as in the world of dance.  Here is more work from the incomparable Misty Copeland.  She grew up poor, nearly homeless and doesn’t fit the archetype of a ballerina, yet she is strong, powerful and beautiful and has risen to the top of this spectacular art form.

Posted in Other Musings | Tagged | 15 Comments

The Amazing Work of Misty Copeland


Those of you that know me personally know that I am both a painter and a board director of a dance theater.  Edgar Degas is perhaps my favorite painter, so when I saw this work by dancer Misty Copeland of the American Ballet Theater for Harper’s Bazaar, my heart started palpitating.  You can see more of her work by following the link below.

Link to Misty Copeland’s replication of Degas paintings

Posted in Other Musings | Tagged , | 16 Comments

Cleopatra Seduces Marc Antony


Drawing of sculpture/bust of Marc Antony by Mr Modigliani, 2016 (in charcoal)

The story of Marc Antony and Cleopatra is a fascinating read.  Here I have provided a small excerpt describing their relationship and have done a charcoal illustration of the ruler himself.

“She had faith in her own attractions, which, having formerly recommended her to Caesar and the young Pompey, she did not doubt might prove yet more successful with Antony. Their acquaintance was with her when a girl, young, and ignorant of the world, but she was to meet Antony in the time of life when women’s beauty is most splendid, and their intellects are in full maturity. She made great preparations for her journey, of money, gifts, and ornaments of value, such as so wealthy a kingdom might afford, but she brought with her her surest hopes in her own magic arts and charms.

…she came sailing up the river Cydnus in a barge with gilded stern and outspread sails of purple, while oars of silver beat time to the music of flutes and fifes and harps. She herself lay all along, under a canopy of cloth of gold, dressed as Venus in a picture, and beautiful young boys, like painted Cupids, stood on each side to fan her. Her maids were dressed like Sea Nymphs and Graces, some steering at the rudder, some working at the ropes.

…perfumes diffused themselves from the vessel to the shore, which was covered with multitudes, part following the galley up the river on either bank, part running out of the city to see the sight. The market place was quite emptied, and Antony at last was left alone sitting upon the tribunal; while the word went .through all the multitude, that Venus was come to feast with Bacchus for the common good of Asia.

On her arrival, Antony sent to invite her to supper. She thought it fitter he should come to her; so, willing to show his good humor and courtesy, he complied, and went. He found the preparations to receive him magnificent beyond expression, but nothing so admirable as the great number of lights; for on a sudden there was let down altogether so great a number of branches with lights in them so ingeniously disposed, some in squares, and some in circles, that the whole thing was a spectacle that has seldom been equaled for beauty.

The next day, Antony invited her to supper, and was very desirous to outdo her as well in magnificence as contrivance; but he found he was altogether beaten in both, and was so well convinced of it, that he was himself the first to jest and mock at his poverty of wit, and his rustic awkwardness. She, perceiving that his raillery was broad and gross, and savored more of the soldier than the courtier, rejoined in the same taste, and fell into it at once, without any sort of reluctance or reserve.

For her actual beauty, it is said, was not in itself so remarkable that none could be compared with her, or that no one could see her without being struck by it, but the contact of her presence, if you lived with her, was irresistible; the attraction of her person, joining with the charm of her conversation, and the character that attended all she said or did, was something bewitching. It was a pleasure merely to hear the sound of her voice, with which, like an instrument of many strings, she could pass from one language to another; so that there were few of the barbarian nations that she answered by an interpreter.

Antony was so captivated by her, that while Fulvia his wife maintained his quarrels in Rome against Caesar by actual force of arms, and the Parthian troops…were assembled in Mesopotamia, and ready to enter Syria, he could yet suffer himself to be carried away by her to Alexandria, there to keep holiday, like a boy, in play and diversion, squandering and fooling away in enjoyment that most costly, as Antiphon says, of all valuables, time.

“Cleopatra Seduces Antony, 41 BC,” EyeWitness to History, http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com (2006)


Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments

Mr M’s Coloring Showcase and Gallery

This was such a joy to put together and I want to thank everyone that participated. It feels like a little party complete with confetti, glitter and treats. All of the entries are wonderful so please take some time to view and compliment others. If you click on the first picture, you can go through them sequentially in a slideshow mode if you are on a computer.  Also, thanks to Dawn D for pointing out that it is possible to comment on individual pictures.

I also know how sensitive these things can be so the pictures are presented in random order. If there are any corrections that need to be made, please let me know right away and I will take care of it (especially if I did not include an entry!). Finally, I always appreciate the trust that you put in me to do these types of things.

Mr Modigliani

Posted in Duets and Guest Authors, My Artwork | Tagged , , , , | 43 Comments

Overheard in the Studio

On a cold crisp day in the Montmartre neighborhood of Paris, she came bounding into my studio. “Good morning Monsieur! How are you today?”. Good! The sun is shining through the windows of my studio and I have a beautiful muse to model for me today.

“What will we be painting today Monsieur?”. Today we’re doing a quick painting that is a color study in preparation for a larger, more detailed painting later. I am going to show how the skin tones of your breast transition from pinks to whites to orange tones. And I’m going to offset the skin tones with a sharp contrast to the black and red of this nipple clamp. “Oh you know how much I love the clamps. Whatever you wish Monsieur!”

Leave your dress on the chair and come over to the chaise lounge. I’ve already set up the lighting and have my palette ready. The clamp is right there on the side table if you could put it on your left nipple for me. “It will be my pleasure. May I put the other one on my right nipple?”. Of course you may.

“Monsieur, I am having great difficulty with these as they are different from mine. Might you be of assistance?”. Yes I can help. I want the heart locket to dangle down and reflect the light just perfectly. There. How’s that? “You can make them even tighter Monsieur. I don’t mind.” A soft moan is heard in the studio as I screw them tighter and begin painting, applying different layers of color.

“Oh Monsieur, they feel so good. You know how much I love suffering for you. May I touch myself while you paint?”. You may use your right hand, but not your left. Your left shoulder is in my painting. “Monsieur, do you get aroused when I sink a finger inside myself? Does it give you any thoughts? Does it firm your manhood when I withdraw and suck my finger like this ever so slowly?”.

Slap your clit five times. “Yes Monsieur” (as the sharp slaps echo through the studio). Now put two fingers in and bang yourself rapidly ten times. “Oh Monsieur, I need your cock in my mouth.”. Now work your clit rapidly until I tell you to cum. “Yes Monsieur….please….please Monsieur..”. More. Now. Cum for me now. “Aaaaaaggghhhh…” Do it again now. “Aaaaaaggghhhh…”

Good girl. Lick off your fingers.  Now we will continue painting. “Yes Monsieur, but I will take your cock in my mouth before I leave this studio….”. Yes you will.


Posted in Erotic Stories | Tagged , , , , | 20 Comments

The Beautiful Girl Inside

Tell me.  Who is that little girl inside of you?  Behind those beautiful eyes, I see reflections of a child in your tears. When I listen to your life’s struggles, I hear the whispered echoes of a precious, sweet girl hidden away.

Bring her out and let her twirl and dance before me.  It is the deepest form of trust to share her.  Let me hold her close and wipe her tears, read her a poem and tell her a story.

I listen.  I do hear your declarations of independence as a strong and capable woman.  I only know some of what you have endured, but I’ve felt the wounds of your heart many times.

Where did you hide when you needed to cry? When you fell off your bike and skinned your knee, who was it that brushed away your tears? Did your Dad bounce you on his knee and tell you how much he loved you? Did he tell you that you were his girl?

I understand.  It sounds too easy, like a promise whispered in the wind.  But I hid for decades and also suffered.  I don’t speak of it often, but my strength came not from success, but from many failures. I chose to embrace my vulnerability.

Sweet dear, let your little girl out into the sunshine.  Let me hold her hand.  Let her cry.  When she is done, we will laugh and play together.  We will color and draw, and then go for long walks in the woods. I’ll point out all the wildflowers and the birds.

Let me know her.  Let me cherish and adore the very special girl inside.

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The Granddaughter of Vlad – Final

If you did not read part 3, you may find it here:  http://wp.me/p3XBZ6-18R

The demon, now drenched in Jusztina’s blood flew about me, looking for its opportunity to strike. “You will die wizard and she will still be mine,” it hissed.

Raising my scepter with its mounted crystal high above my head, I drew upon my deepest powers and invoked “lumen de lumine, ad hunc daemonis sui.”

As I spoke the incantation, my white eyes and the crystal on my scepter emitted the most intense white light, and then shot a concentrated pulse of that light at the demon.  The demon howled and screamed, fell backward and then flew off into the night and back to its master.

With the demon gone, I removed the bloodstone from inside Jusztina and held it between her breasts.  Kissing her softly, the incision began to close and heal.  Jusztina was regaining her strength and was no longer possessed.  The true beauty of her eyes looked up at me and I felt I was holding an angel in my hands.

Bending down, I bared my own vampire fangs and took her breast into my mouth.  Her nipple was warm and inviting and I sunk both fangs into the breast just above it.  Small amounts of Jusztina’s blood flowed into my mouth.  Then taking the knife, I cut my own own hand and drew my own blood into my mouth.  Mixing the two together, I knelt further and kissed Jusztina, sharing my blood with her.

As she looked into my eyes, I saw her look of trust, respect and adoration.  Wizard, man or beast, there is nothing that stirs me more.  Then I spoke softly in her ear, “Simul erimus mundi” and together, both of us transformed into bats, and flew away into the night.

Notes from the author:  All of the incantations are in Latin and can be translated.  I wish to thank the beautiful and talented Garbo for her help with the story concept and research of the effect of various rune stones.



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The Granddaughter of Vlad – Part 3

If you did not read Part 2, you may read it here: http://wp.me/p3XBZ6-18J.  This particular portion of the story is quite dark and will not be for all readers.

img_0527I had heard her cries from my dark hollow and knew that she was suffering.  But it was not my place to save her. That was UNTIL she summoned me using the Dominus invocation.

I had taught Vlad the Impaler the way of fear and conquest during his rule.  But ultimately I could not save him and as he lay dying, slayed by the Turks, I promised that when I was summoned, that I would destroy anyone or anything that threatened his family.

Transformed into a bat, I circled the tower a couple times and then flew through the lookout opening.  As I flew through the window, I returned into my human-like form, part wizard and still part beast, and looked down on Jusztina.  Her eyes, now near death, looked up to see me and I heard the demon within her hiss and spit, fearful of my presence.

I held in my hand an ancient scepter with a powerful crystal mounted in a brass setting at its tip.  I also had a large knife, a small leather pouch with a half pound oval-shaped bloodstone and a leather whip made of dozens of long strips of leather.  Wizards have used bloodstone for centuries to expel demons, but they don’t go easily.  They hide deep in the body.  Sorcery and force are needed and many wizards have been killed by demons during the exorcism.

I had to move quickly and knelt down to cut off Jusztina’s dress.  I could seen the demon stirring deep beneath her skin.  Removing the bloodstone from my leather pouch.  Holding the stone in my hands, I incanted “Malo relinquas spiritus”, then placed it deep inside her driving the demon from her womb, away from the bloodstone.  The demon was now agitated and I took the leather whip and swung it across her body several times, striking at the demon and repeating my incantation, “Malo relinquas spiritus”.

The demon, now furious, rose to the surface between Jusztina’s breasts.  Jusztina looked up at me and weakly implored me, “Get it out! Take it out!”  I nodded to her and taking my knife, I cut a shallow “X” between her breasts.  The demon burst through the cut and let out a blood curdling scream, its wild red eyes threatening imminent attack….

to be continued (one more chapter…)

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The Granddaughter of Vlad – Part 2

Jusztina struggled both against her chains and the demon that occupied her.  It had been days since she had last tasted flesh or drank human blood and she was growing weaker.  She remembered what her grandmother Ilona, wife of Vlad, had told her before she died.  “They will fear you Jusztina and many will try to kill you.  You are the granddaughter of Vlad the Impaler.  In your weakest moment, cry out for the Lord of Light and he will fight to save you.”

And so when all hope of survival seemed lost, when Jusztina would either die a forgotten captive or be consumed by the demon ravaging her body from within, she waited for the church bells to ring, pulled against her chains then summoned her Latin and cried out: “Domini Lucidum me liberabit it de daemone”.

And though the church bells had rung, not a single bat took to the sky, for they knew the Lord of Light had been summoned.  They did not dare fly in the presence of the the Lord.  All the city was still except for one large bat with luminescent white eyes, that made its way from high in the mountains, then circled high above the city, its dark silhouette visible in the light of the moon before it dove for the tower.  

To be continued…

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The Granddaughter Of Vlad – Part 1

It had been nearly forty years since the rule of Vlad III Draculea in the kingdom of Transylvania. The residents of this small city of Sighisoara remembered his reign of terror, how he had beaten back the Ottoman Turks and impaled any invaders. Stories circulated of him cutting out the beating hearts of captured soldiers and then devouring the flesh in front of the remaining prisoners before they too were tortured or killed.

So it is not too surprising that anything or anyone associated with Vlad was feared. Many thought that Vlad’s spirit still haunted the city and Sighisoara’s dark Gothic architecture with its many spires, towers and gargoyles only fed the story that one day Vlad would return to take his revenge.

At night, as the full moon and stars illuminated the old cobblestone streets, bells would ring and clouds of bats flew from one tower to the next. It was high in one of those old bell towers, that shackles were secured to your wrists and ankles and another tight around your neck. Short lengths of heavy chain secured you to the heavy stone blocks of the tower.

You were chained and locked away because a woman in the village saw you eating a heart. Another woman saw the red glow of a demon spirit in your eyes. And they were right, for you are Jusztina, red haired, curvy, beautiful and beguiling.  You are the granddaughter of Vlad and it is true.  Though your heart is pure and your spirit kind and beautiful, you are possessed by a demon and do drink the blood of humans….

This tale will be dark and violent. Be forewarned. To be continued…

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He & She

My friend, Freeing Excalibur (or FXC), tends to disappear then reemerge to write something beautiful. I remember being moved long ago by a post she wrote about her grandfather. I am also moved by this one. It’s vulnerable, poetic and tender. I hope you give it a read and comment on it at her blog.

freeing excalibur

blog130 “Love makes the wildest spirit tame and tames the wildest spirit.”  Alexis Delp

He a farm boy, watched in shock as his father passed from this life

She a farm girl, filled with terror of her father’s rage and strife.

His mother moved He to the city to keep his world afloat.

Her mother moved She to the city, her world in one big tote.

He took two jobs and worked to support.

She took two jobs and worked to thwart.

He skipped college to be by his dying mother’s side.

She went to college, running there to hide.

He gave and he loved, he suffered and lost

She loved and she gave, no matter what the cost.

He hid his soul behind walls made of iron

She hid her heart from all the outside ire

He lived as a debaucher with spirit wild and free

She lived as a prisoner, a captive longing to flee


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A Challenging Muse Position

It’s just fine with me if your back falls off the corner of the bed. Now hold that position.

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Mr M 6-Word Story

Calligraphy in Chancery script using India ink on parchment. (my first attempt in many years)

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Tender Violet Petals

tender violet petals
fold over inner sanctum
her sweetest nectar

Original artwork (in watercolor) and words by Mr Modigliani (I’m going to add some leaves)

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Muse Sketch May 18

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Quick Studio Sketches May 15

I had only a short while to draw today and my schedule is quite full.  I am beginning to this more about “gesture” when I draw, and not just technical accuracy. The first one is a 2 minute sketch, the other two are 10 minute sketches. 

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Journal: May 13, 2016 (Meeting Mr. M)

Selina surprised me that day when she told me she was in town. Her hotel was only about 10 minutes from my primary residence and I had an extra hour to meet her before heading north to my northern studio. Selina was a joy to meet, very kind and respectful and it is a pleasure to have her as a friend. Plus she did a fine job on her coloring assignment and completed it on time.

Searching 4 Selina

So many times over the last 3 weeks I have sat down to write and the words won’t come. I can sit and think of what I want to say but the minute that I sit down, the words won’t come. Its a little weird but I guess the best way to say it is that I have felt SO LOST, and the longer that I have been stuck in big mode, the most lost I have felt.

For Mother’s Day I was stuck traveling for work and invited my Mother to go with me, to try and build a better bond between us. She invited my grandmother to go and I did my best to put on a happy face about it….I wasn’t happy. I always feel “wrong” with my mom. She still say’s things to me like

  • “Good girls don’t flirt with strange men”
  • “Good Girls don’t display…

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