Dominance and submission “Coveted Diversions”

 

 

To be bound

unwavering helplessness

tethered and held in place

hands

legs

a site to behold

~~~

To be Blindfolded

giving of sight

a darkened fantasy

a sense of unknown

it’s my vision now

~~~

To be Silenced

a gag of sorts

you voice stricken

nothing to say now

my voice speaks for you

~~~

To be Penetrated

an anal plug

filling you with my diversion

feeding my lust for you

quashing your sphincter

and harnessing your will

~~~

To be Whipped

across your back

down your thighs

over your hips

and your bottom

a colorful array of stripped diversion

~~~

To be Invaded

my hands

roaming everywhere

your breast and nipples

your bruised and reddened bottom

your wet and aching labia

your clitoris throbbing ~

hardened  and swollen by dominance

~~~

My Covet

attuned to the bonds

satiated in my vision

calmed in your silenced fantasy

energized in your struggled submission

~~~

My Lust

powered in my swinging whips and implements

verbalized in the markings and hews raised

scented with my invading hands

your body’s tethered struggle

sweetened in submissive nectar

and wanton in release

~~~

My Dominance

enhanced in your surrender

satiated in submissiveness

confirmed in a given will

and transformed in trusted faith

~~~

Your submissiveness

has quenched that ache

feeding that lust-filled thirst

shared in a kindred and quested

life-style and will for each other

~~~

Our mutual Covet

Complimented in design

bonded in our mutual desires

and transformed in coveted diversions

~~~

“Marked Eloquence”

~~~

 

Your spanking is happening, and your body is alive, moving and accepting the colorful change. Your ache to submit is coveted and your yearning desires nurtured in the life-style that naturally flows from your being. 

The sound of Dominance in the whisk of the implement as it shrieks through the air and lands on your bottom, echoing in your ears as it comes down again and again. Your voice adheres to this dominance in the breathless sigh and glance. And your body is renewed as it is marked with bright and freshly colored hews in the landscape of Dominance and submission.  

The paddle, whip, flogger and restraints are placed by the bed, readied for that incessant ache in and out of every season
~~~

Your body is bound, securing your submission, and helping you attain that heightened level of boundedness to your covet


~~~~~ 
Soul-Mates ~~~~~
~~~~~ Soul-Mates ~~~~~

The ropes are finely placed

enveloping a soft nurtured body

caressing with mindful restraint

confined and positioned

warmed to the touch

flavored with a yearn

and salacious need

carefully patterned marks

surrendered submissively

to a coveted desire to please

The ache of submission

explored with wantonness

and carved with dominance...

  

Salacious need

carefully patterned marks

surrendered submissively

 

To a coveted desire to please

Wolf in the Fold

Last night, I watched you in line at the supermarket. You met my gaze momentarily, then pretended you hadn’t.
I’m in a contemplative mood tonight, so I wonder: what did you see in those brief moments?
Did your eyes pierce the veil of my soul? Is that why you turned away?
Did you see as I ran a decade of film through my mind of your enslavement, locked in a dirty basement, never to see the sun again?
Did your wrists feel the cold, unyielding embrace of metal permanently locked against your skin?
Did you feel the sting of 100 strokes all over your body? Could you see the same red-welted beauty as I? Was the exhaustion real, as you sagged against your bonds, with no relief in sight?
How many hours did your eyes plead with mine, only to find no mercy?
Could you feel the rising panic as days went by locked away in a tiny oubliette, wondering if this time I might just leave you there to die? Did the panicked screaming feel as real to you as to me? Did the rush of pitiful gratitude overwhelm you as I finally opened the door so you could suck my cock, and be less confined for one merciful moment?

Did you turn away in revulsion after staring into the eyes of a wolf?

Or is it because your psyche craves when your being is tested to within an inch of your very conscientious state?



 
I brought the flogger down, again and again, across her back and bottom globes and as the hews of docile submissiveness began to appear and the marks of our tryst came into focus for “our” new world here, I came alive in such a personal and endearing way for her. 

Dropping the flogger, I slid my thumb and I traced my finger down her submitted crease to her warming center, moistened in humility and trembling in embarrassment at this point.

I picked up a leather paddle and brought it down twice on each stripped and hewed bottom cheek, stopping to ask my lover, “Are you enjoying this, my love.”

My Very Precious Thing was very frail in her response, almost crying, and yet her demeanor was staid in submission and yield. 

“Yes My Daddy, if this pleases you, I will always surrender myself to you.  The pre-ordained Covenant---Into Perpetuity has forged this unconditional rendering of my very being ---  to you My Daddy.  No limits; no boundaries, anything for you, My Daddy.”

Letting Me Have My Way…

When I think I have the upper hand…I never know what He has planned…Daddy may surprise me this time and let me be on top and seduce Him completely. Daddy just might let me think that His Precious Thing has control; that His Child will pleasure Him the way that I know He loves to be pleased.
He may lay back and close His eyes.   As I explore His body and kiss my way up and down, allowing me to take my time, pulling out all the stops, pulling out all my seductive gestures, doing my best to keep Him tempted and teased.
But then again, He’ll never let me get that far.  He let’s me start thinking.  I’m in the middle of a tease; a titillation, but the Dominant in Him grabs me as if a neanderthal in His World----His Cave---- and…with a flash and a twist…a blur and a whooosh and a thud, His Daughter is now on the floor.   I’m pinned under my Sir and the devil in His eyes says now He’s ready to REALLY apply His World; His Darkness...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You’ve put in words how I feel about Master and men in general…I’ve tried many times to do this and you’ve accomplished it…~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~









Walk into my land of Dreams
Touch my skin from the inside
and watch it melt with desire
Caress my longing
and feel it burn away my resistance.
In the silence I’ll be yours
Aching for your touch
longing for your thoughts
I’ll keep you safe from hurt
Touching your skin…
Feeling your thoughts…

The light came streaming in as he opened the curtain. Light that burned her skin it seemed, but even more it burned her mind. It was hard to move, she found, or even that she couldn’t.

He smiled in passing, went to get some fresh water, left her lying there so very exposed, as if in the spotlights. With her body straining and her own thoughts, running mad.

She wanted cover, ached to curl up, hide somewhere and yet her limbs wouldn’t let her. It was like going through a checklist, find every bit of skin and she felt a blush spread as she did.

Wandering in again, he smiled: “Don’t move, not yet.” There was a little groan as she blinked against the light and almost nodded at her hands.

“Ah yes,” he grinned. “We’ll leave those too.”

He watched her do battle, somehow so much more naked and vulnerable in the aftermath of his doing. His markings everywhere, some cooling, others burning, most making her insecure.

On show, she felt and so she was, an exhibition of his making. And the Master was assessing his work of art.

Sitting down next to her, he ran his hand across her body, there was no questioning his ownership, his fingers tracings his previous tracks, making her shiver all over again. “Don’t try to hide, no need now.”

His fingers lingered between her parted legs, caressed her still swollen sex, sticky with their combined desires. “Nothing to hide now,” as she felt her self arch to him again.

“Never hide again,” he insisted, leaning across to make his point. “Be proud,” he whispered on her lips while he opened her body once again, “you’re Mine.”

~~~

A Woman

beautiful inside and out

a wonder to behold

perfect in every way

appealing with her visage

and embracing words

her thoughts encouraging

a melody of veracious magnitude

a willingness presented

a desire for “our” life-styled culture

an established trust

binding us in mutual covet

of our ordained diversions

~~~

a given submission

to a Dominant’s Rage and lust

a needed urge

based on the ache of desire

wanton and readied

for the marks of his insuperable thrust

craving the directed dominance

in submission of duty

~~~

a simple yes

based on faith and vision

and the need to compliment his will

and colorfully embrace the hews

of a shared want and need

she is a submissive

and her soul has been harnessed

in a life-style

filled with what completes

and a Dominant, her Dominant

is what makes this couple

complete in the chosen life

a mutual vocation of trusted diversion

~~~

her need

embraced in their love

a submissive

who completes

this Dominant

in all that he is

and it all comes into focus

because of

A Woman

 
THIS could very easily be you~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~My Precious----very very Precious Thing...
 

A mediocre Master tells, a good Master teaches,

an excellent Master explains,

but a True Master inspires

– Anonymous

Lennon and Maisy, The Stella Sisters

~~~

She is There

In simplicity and awareness

always ready to listen

to a thought or desire

embracing the world we have chosen

She is There

With abundant confidence

sharing our life’s issues

embracing each other

in good times and bad

offering an ear to voiced concerns

and a warming smile to shared celebration

She is There

a compliment to my Dominance

with a willingness to give

her trust and faith

in a coveted life-style

that sustains our existence

She is There

offering her will

to a seeded rage

that permeates our souls

never discouraged

in all that is asked

and readied for the diverse

of our lust-filled ache

She is There

accepting the marked evidence

of a rage in Dominance

embracing the hews of understanding

submitting to the whims

of our seeded bond

She is There

In body and spirit

warm and inviting

and flavored with

a sweetened submissive nectar

which intoxicates her Dominant

and tethers their diversion

She is There

a woman of stature

in all her requited love and desire

accomplished is submission

and sustained by her Dominant

who accepts her without reservation

sustaining their mutual bonded crave

She is There

In presence and in life

always with me

a voice of reason and encouragement

a constant at work or play

on my mind and in my soul

embracing me

in her love and grace

She is There

Two souls united

in life and diversion

flavoring each other’s path

and grasping the other’s need

feeling each other’s covet

and giving each other their hearts desire

filled with love and understanding

and devoted in mutual respect and trust

She is There

Soul-Mates

on a mutual quest

fulfilled in a life woven

in Dominance and submission

enveloped in desire

and embraced with unconditional love

And this wonderful conclave

of bliss-filled union

is there for us and given to us

all because of the simple fact that

She is There

~~~

Dedicated to My submissive who is simply, yet eloquently

“Always There”

 

How to take a bite out of the Big Apple, Without Breaking The Bank

How to take a bite out of the Big Apple, without breaking the bank

 

 

• Article by: COLLEEN KELLY , Star Tribune
• Updated: October 19, 2014 - 10:50 AM

With careful planning, credit card points, subway passes and a sense of adventure, a family of four tackles Manhattan.

When traveling with teens, there must be selfies. Here, Anya (left) and Talia Magnuson stop for a quick snapshot on while walking the Brooklyn Bridge.

  

Photo: Colleen Kelly

My family eagerly waited for the curtain to rise on our first Broadway show. We were about to see the Tony Award-winning “Newsies.” Our plush red-velvet seats were on the main floor with clear views of the stage. And the price? Probably less than others in the same row paid.

It was the 13th birthday of our younger daughter, a budding actress who’d pined for New York City for years.

I, on the other hand, dreaded the idea of planning — and paying for — a trip to the heart of Manhattan. But this year, my husband, Jeff; our actress, Talia; our 16-year-old, Anya, and I finally took the plunge, booking a six-day vacation that was heavy on the city’s free attractions, but left room for some splurges, too.

With careful planning, a smattering of credit card points, MetroCards good for unlimited rides and a sense of adventure, our family of four managed to take on Manhattan without breaking the bank.

The money-crunching began with our theater tickets. I’d bought them months before we ever left Minneapolis with a discount code I found on TheaterMania. We skipped the great deals on same-day tickets people can nab at three TKTS Discount Booths around the city, because we didn’t want to waste time in line — or risk coming up empty on such an important part of the trip.

Then, the day of the show, we continued to limit the damage that Broadway can do to a budget. Keeping to our splurge-and-save plan, we skipped the fancy sit-down restaurants so many attend before a show. Instead, we grabbed tasty falafel sandwiches, taking advantage of the stellar people-watching near Times Square. The bill came in at just $42.

A family our size could spend nearly twice that amount on another New York City institution, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, if we paid the posted price (adults $25, children $12). Faced with cashiers and large signs, many tourists don’t realize that the prices are merely “recommended” fees, thanks to an 1893 state law. You can pay what you want, and we did, offering up $20 for the whole family during each of two visits.

NYC hotel for $40 a night

Prices for Manhattan hotel rooms are notoriously high — which is why we worked so diligently to get a deal.

By travel hacking to amass credit card points, we sliced our hotel costs to $40 per night at the Holiday Inn Express, a comfortable, centrally located hotel with free, hot breakfast. (See “What is travel hacking” story for details.) And, yes, we all stayed in one room and it was a tight fit, but we were rarely there. So what if the breakfast area was chaotic? The free breakfasts and free all-day coffee saved us at least $50 a day.

The Midtown location was important, too, because it put us near two subway stops and within easy walking distance of the Empire State Building, Penn Station — and N.Y. Pizza Suprema, where you can find some of the best slices in town for only $4 a piece.

When it came to getting around the city, we went hard-core for the subway. The seven-day unlimited ride MetroCards ($30, good for buses and subway) were our tickets to everywhere and anywhere we wanted to go, saving us hundreds of dollars in transportation costs. We even used it to connect to the AirTrain ($5), which brought us to and from JFK. The NYT transit mobile app was our constant guide, and we had few missteps. By the end of the week, the whole family felt like subway experts, with the kids reading, listening to music — and averting their eyes — like natives.

Free — and easy

On the day we arrived, we barely set down our bags before jumping on the subway for a quick ride to the southern tip of Manhattan, where we caught the Staten Island Ferry. Such a good call. The weather was perfection and the views of the city skyline unmatched. As we pulled away from the dock, we sat in the back of the ferry and watched the metropolis recede. The ferry ride also offered great, free views of the Statue of Liberty.

After the ferry ride, we headed to nearby ground zero. Although construction around the September 11 Memorial is still in progress and work continues near the base of One World Trade Center, the building near the site of the 9/11 attacks has risen to its full, impressive height.

We skipped the relatively pricey Memorial Museum ($24 adult, $15 youth), instead spending quiet time at nearby St. Paul’s Chapel, which has small displays of letters, photos and memorabilia from 9/11. The chapel, where many first responders sought refuge and took breaks after the attacks, is open to the public (free, donations accepted). Some of the pews still bear the gouges made by their heavy equipment.

Two other Manhattan freebies competed for highlights of the trip: walking the Brooklyn Bridge, and exploring the High Line, an unusual elevated greenway on Manhattan’s west side.

For the bridge walk, we took the subway to Brooklyn so we could stroll with Manhattan in our sights. The outing provided some of the best photos from the trip and although the bridge was fairly crowded, the atmosphere was celebratory. Just remember to stay on the pedestrian side of the stripe; fast-moving bicyclists aren’t shy about their space.

Walking the High Line, way up on an elevated freight rail line, provided a more relaxed experience. The 1.45-mile-long pedestrian walkway offers amazing views of sunset over the Hudson — and into the back windows of apartment dwellers. We walked it on a Sunday night, using it to connect for an evening stroll in Greenwich Village.

Down a rabbit hole, with tea

After strolling the length of the High Line, we went in search of a coffeehouse — at nearly 9 p.m. on a Sunday. Alas, we discovered that bohemians abandon the coffeehouses when the sun goes down. Instead, we discovered a rather garishly lit tea house, selling, not cups of tea, but a bewildering range of loose teas and infusions.

The girls were enchanted, falling down an Alice-in-Wonderland rabbit hole, spending 40 minutes just before — and slightly after — closing as a saleswoman at David’s Tea pulled tin after tin down from the seemingly endless shelves, insisting that they smell this one, that one, carefully explaining the differences.

When we finally left, having purchased $10 worth of tea more out of a sense of decency than need, the key turned quietly in the door. The shopkeeper had clearly relished an audience. And we had enjoyed another great show.

There was “Newsies,” of course. But also the drum-line performance on the High Line, the mime in Central Park, the man playing an ancient Chinese instrument in the subway — and the city itself.

We all agree that this is the best trip we’ve ever taken.

For me, one of the best parts came after we returned home. My e-mail pinged with an alert that my credit card statement was ready. I hopped online and clicked “pay now” as easily as swiping an NYC MetroCard.

Colleen Kelly • 612-673-7400 • Twitter: @onecolleen

---{=@

Hickok

Cara Mia, Mine

The Promise

Tall ballerina reaching even greater heights

“I remember thinking, ‘Maybe this isn’t for me. I’m tall. I’m African- American.’ And yet I had this ballerina fantasy. You don’t see people like me in the ballet world.” – Courtney Henry, professional ballet dancer Washington Post


By Rebecca Ritzel
Special to the Washington Post.

Courtney Henry always hated picture day in elementary school. Growing up in West Palm Beach, Fla., she dreaded the ignoble tradition of making the tallest kid in the class stand in the center of the back row.
That student was always her.
“I was tall, I was black, and I was skinny,” Henry recalls. “I was everything that was really not cool from, like, the third grade.”
The daughter of a collegiate basketball player, Henry was an unathletic child whose parents paraded her in and out of several sports. Nothing went well. Then, for her ninth birthday, her mother signed her up for dance classes. She was three years older than most of the girls, and towered over them, but she had talent. The teacher urged Henry’s mother to find a better studio. Henry began to dream of becoming a dancer, and that desire only deepened as she grew taller.
“I had to work harder,” she said. “That was instilled in me from a pretty young age, because I knew I would be standing out.”
At 6 feet tall, Henry is, quite possibly, the tallest professional female ballet dancer in the United States. She recently performed at George Mason University in Fairfax, Va., with Alonzo King’s LINES Ballet, one of the few companies in the country that consistently welcomes tall ballerinas.
Henry first saw the San Francisco-based company when she was a freshman in the Alvin Ailey/Fordham University BFA program. That performance gave her hope.
“I saw women who were really strong and tall – Drew Jacoby (who is 5-foot-11 and now with Nederlands Dans Theater) was still in the company then – and I just remember being blown away, but it wasn’t just the height; they commanded the space, and had this unapologetic way of moving as a woman. It inspired and intrigued me,” Henry said. “I knew, from the first time I saw them, I want to dance like that.”
That summer, she was accepted into the LINES summer intensive program.
“A lot of what I thought were boundaries for me, as a taller dancer, all of a sudden were perks,” Henry said.
She set her sights on LINES, and went to the company’s shows every year at the Joyce Theatre. Then, when King came to town her senior year, he held an audition.
“It was a huge cattle call, with over 200 people. It was ridiculous. (King) was cutting, like, 20 people at a time,” Henry said. But at the end of a tiring day, she and two other dancers – including Kara Wilkes, who is still in the company – had been picked to join LINES. “He said, ‘There’s more fire in you that I want to see, but when can you start?’ ”
“ASAP,” she answered. That was four years ago. Henry is now one of the company’s veterans. More important, she finally feels comfortable in her own skin and sinewy limbs, in the same body that made her so self-conscious whether she was dancing or just walking down a school hall. She nearly quit many times, especially when she entered ballet competitions as a teenager.
“I remember thinking, ‘Maybe this isn’t for me. I’m tall. I’m African-American.’ And yet I had this ballerina fantasy. You don’t see people like me in the ballet world. I never had anyone to look up to. People always expected more of me. For some reason, I kept going. It was like, self-masochism,” Henry said. “It’s only been in the past few years – and I’m going into my fourth year at LINES – that I’ve been able to personally embrace my uniqueness.”
By the time King gets a hold of a dancer like Henry – as he has so many times in the 32 years he has been running his company – what he has to teach them isn’t so much steps as self esteem.
“It takes a lot of work,” he said. “Tall women who have heard, ‘You are too tall,’ they try to shrink, they are trying to fit in. What a mistake. Your gift is your height.”
The problem, he said, is that ballet programs train girls to be members of a corps, to be one of a dozen swans who can all take itsy-bitsy steps, or one of many Willis who can evenly bow their heads in “Giselle.” The average American woman is 5-foot-4, and the average dancer, shorter. No matter how fit and thin, a taller dancer sticks out, and she knows it.

‘Big-girl complex’

“I definitely had people tell me, when I was auditioning, that I was too tall,” said Meredith Webster, a 5-foot-10-inch dancer who joined LINES in 2005 and is transitioning this season into her new role as co-ballet master for the company.
“A lot of what you do – when you are starting out (in ballet) – is dance in a line wearing the same costume. And there has to be a guy who is taller than you when you are on pointe to partner you,” she said.
Some companies are more tolerant of taller star ballerinas than corps dancers. The question is how to advance beyond the back row. For the past five years, the tallest women in New York City Ballet have been principals Maria Kowroski and Teresa Reichlen. Both are 5-foot-9. They often dance roles originated by Suzanne Farrell, who is two inches shorter, but was a giant by 1960s ballet standards. Webster grew up in Wisconsin and completed her training at Pacific Northwest Ballet because the company was known for hiring taller, stronger dancers. Although Webster danced in several professional productions, she wasn’t offered a contract. She ended up going to college, freelancing on the West Coast and eventually joined LINES. She was shocked, however, that when King first selected her for a new ballet, he paired her with one of the few male dancers in the company who could not look her in the eye.
King knew what he was doing: trying to alleviate what he calls “the big-girl complex,” wherein a taller dancer becomes so paranoid, she won’t trust her partners no matter how tall they are.
“They tell themselves, ‘I can do this all myself. I really don’t need a man.’ And ask the guys, ‘I’m not too heavy for you, am I?’ ” King said. “And then you don’t have a chemistry in the partnering, because one of the essential things of partnering is a sincere sense of dialogue, of weight shifting and interdependence. True support is a beautiful thing to see.”
Although most of King’s ballets are performed on pointe, the ballerinas spend much less time tiptoeing around like they would in “Swan Lake.” Likewise, his pas de deux have few moments when the ballerinas extend their limbs, balance on one foot and wait for a man to come spin them around. Instead, the dancers are almost always engaged in a cooperative push-pull, curving their bodies around one another and achieving equilibrium in the most unlikely positions. When the dancers do move together as an ensemble, they are often in a circle and spread out across the stage, each with plenty of room to extend. There are no diagonal marches, as you’d find in a Balanchine classic, and no premiums are placed on staying perfectly spaced apart.
Every dancer moves as an individual, as though they are alone and commanding the stage.
“It’s so much more than a height thing,” Henry said. “It’s what you are that bring people to the table, and what makes them something special. We have to be larger-than-life beings, no matter what size we are.”
 ---{=@
Hickok

Cara Mia, Mine
The Promise

December 1, 2013 Love……………Bleeds THE SALACIOUS MUSINGS OF EROS

Love……………Bleeds

Love Bleeds

  you and I together have gone down a single river
with linked mouths filled with salt and blood …
–Pablo Neruda, “Furies and Sorrows”

December 1, 2013

it is a funny thing coming home

It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

 

 

December 1, 2013

Being frigthtened and elation

Frightened,
I can be elated
at being left alone
when the alternative
is being with just anyone.
 

 

 

December 7, 2013

You are your past

 memories...

You are your past

 

You are your past. You are your memories. You can forgive, that’s not so hard…But I don’t think you can forget all that has made you who you are.

~Bettyclare Moffatt (Soulwork)

 

 

 

 

December 7, 2013

His voice touches me

His voice touches places inside me like someone moving through a house, flicking light switches. … And even if it was dark and there was shellfire or an arctic gale blowing, I’d still be able to understand him, because our thoughts nestle against each other, like pigeons on a wire. –Geraldine McCaughrean, The White Darkness

 

Middle East Syrian’s Photos Spur Outrage, but Not Action By MICHAEL R. GORDON OCT. 31, 2014

Middle East

Syrian’s Photos Spur Outrage, but Not Action

By MICHAEL R. GORDONOCT. 31, 2014

Photo

The Syrian defector and photographer known as Caesar, wearing a blue hooded jacket, listened to an interpreter at a briefing before the House Foreign Affairs Committee in July. Credit Alex Wong/Getty Images 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WASHINGTON — Wearing a blue hood to shield his identity, a former Syrian police photographer briefed a congressional committee over the summer on the photos he had smuggled out of the country to document the deaths of thousands of prisoners killed in President Bashar al-Assad’s jails. At a White House meeting, President Obama’s senior aides welcomed him as a man of uncommon courage who had revealed unspeakable atrocities.

But now the Syrian government’s most celebrated defector, who uses the pseudonym Caesar, is no longer optimistic that the United States has the will to stop the abuses that have shocked the conscience of the world.

His photographs have generated outrage but no fresh action against the Assad government. And instead of intervening militarily to support opponents of Mr. Assad, Mr. Obama is mounting airstrikes to defend Kurds, Yazidis and Turkmen in Syria and Iraq from the Islamic State.

“I completely understand how he came to the defense of two American victims killed by the extremist ISIS terror group,” Caesar said in a message earlier this month from an undisclosed location in Europe that was conveyed by the Coalition for Democratic Syria, a Syrian-American organization that sponsored his trip to Washington. “But I and millions of Syrians feel depressed when we see that the killer of thousands of prisoners is left unchecked,” he added. “I believe my cause demands action and a clear position by the president of the United States.”

Graphic

Areas Under ISIS Control

A visual guide to the crisis in Iraq and Syria.

OPEN Graphic

Caesar’s complaint reflects a broader discontent within the moderate Syrian opposition that is posing a new challenge for the Obama administration’s strategy to counter the Islamic State, which is also known as ISIS or ISIL. While ruling out United States military intervention against Mr. Assad, the administration has committed to training thousands of opposition fighters in Saudi Arabia and Turkey so they can eventually defend territory in Syria that is wrested from the Islamic State’s control. But those fighters must come from the same constituency that has been increasingly troubled by the American reluctance to act more forcefully against Mr. Assad.

“There is a sense that there is discrimination against them, that the atrocities they are suffering at the hands of Assad are somehow less deserving than what is befalling other communities,” said Emile Hokayem, an expert on Middle East affairs at the International Institute for Strategic Studies. “For most of these rebels, Assad is the greatest evil, not ISIL. For the U.S., it is the opposite,” he said.

Robert S. Ford, a former American ambassador to Syria and a senior fellow at the Middle East Institute, said the administration’s twin policies of carrying out airstrikes to protect the Kurdish community in Syria while refraining from direct military support for Arab opponents of Mr. Assad might backfire.

“It will make recruiting harder for an American-trained force, and indeed, in the short term, might help ISIL gain recruits by helping it pose, however falsely, as defenders of Sunni Arabs,” Mr. Ford said.

The White House appears sensitive to the importance of Caesar’s role. Answering a letter Caesar sent in late July to the president, Mr. Obama’s deputy national security adviser, Benjamin J. Rhodes, wrote last week that the aim of the American program to train moderate opposition was to help it not only contend with the “barbaric threat of the Islamic State” but also to defend itself “from the brutality of the Assad regime.”

No one has done more to expose that brutality than Caesar. Described as mild-mannered and not particularly political, he has become a compelling element of the Syrian narrative because he emerged from the darkest side of the Assad government.

Caesar was photographing accident scenes for the military police when the Syrian conflict erupted. He and several fellow photographers soon found themselves photographing dozens of bodies a day, many of which displayed signs of torture.............................................

Convinced that he was documenting war crimes, Caesar downloaded copies of the photos on thumb drives, sneaked them out of his office and transferred them to a hard drive, keeping a grisly record of the deaths for more than two years. But when asked to train a successor, he became alarmed that the government might be on to him, and he defected, taking a hard drive that he says documents more than 10,000 deaths.

Senior American officials say his account and the photographic record he has provided are credible.

“You see the evidence of broken bones, of the use of chemicals, of strangulation, of evisceration, of eye-gouging, of starvation,” said Stephen J. Rapp, who serves as the State Department’s ambassador at large for issues involving war crimes. “And it is all being done in a state security system.”

The photos are important for another reason. Russia’s veto power in the United Nations Security Council has prevented war crimes allegations against Mr. Assad from being referred by that body to the International Criminal Court. But if any of the victims in the photos can be identified as Syrians who also hold American or other foreign citizenship, that would make it easier for the United States or other governments to hold Syrian officials accountable in their legal systems.

According to a written agreement between the Caesar team and the State Department, the defector provided in April 26,948 photographs of people who had died in the Syrian government’s custody. In return, the F.B.I. was to analyze the authenticity of the photos and provide assessments of its findings.

The pace of that work, however, has become another source of friction. Mouaz Moustafa, the representative for Caesar in Washington, said that Caesar’s team wants to pursue legal cases against members of the Assad government in European countries and believes the F.B.I.’s efforts to identify any American and foreign citizens among the victims has been moving too slowly.

Reflecting its unhappiness, Caesar’s team has yet to give the United States the rest of the 55,000 photos and says it may seek the help of photo analysts in other governments or nongovernmental agencies. A senior American law enforcement official, who insisted on anonymity to discuss the issue, said that authenticating the photos was complex and painstaking and that there was no timetable for completing the work.

American officials have culled about 4,800 photos from the nearly 27,000 the F.B.I. received and compared them against visa and passport photos in the State Department’s database and with photos in a separate terrorism database. Representative Ed Royce, the California Republican who serves as chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, and who also shares concerns about the methodical pace of the work on the photos, said that American officials had identified at least seven likely matches, though it is not clear whether any are foreign citizens.

Caesar, however, has looked to the United States for more than evidence for a possible war crimes trial. When he visited Washington last summer, he was hoping that his trip would lead to more forceful American action.

Besides testifying before Mr. Royce’s panel, Caesar sought a meeting with Susan E. Rice, Mr. Obama’s national security adviser, his aides say. Told she was not available, he scribbled a note in Arabic to Mr. Obama, which he gave to Samantha Power, the United States ambassador to the United Nations, at an emotional meeting at the State Department.

“I have risked my life and the life of my immediate family, and even exposed my relatives to extreme danger, in order to stop the systematic torture that is practiced by the regime against prisoners,” Caesar wrote. “What is it that you can possibly do to prevent the killing, especially since there are more than 150,000 prisoners in the jails of the regime awaiting this black fate?”

The White House did not want Caesar to leave Washington without a meeting, and one was organized with Mr. Rhodes and Jake Sullivan, who was serving then as the national security adviser to Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr........................................................

 

Explaining that he was speaking on behalf of the president, Mr. Rhodes praised Caesar’s courage and voiced the hope that Caesar’s photos would shame others not to help the regime.

Emad ad-Din al-Rashid, a former assistant dean at a college in Damascus who attended the meeting with Caesar, told the White House officials it would be painful if the United States joined forces with Mr. Assad to combat the Islamic State. Mr. Rhodes and Mr. Sullivan were adamant that the administration had no such intention.

But the meeting also underscored the differing expectations about the role the United States should play.

Though Mr. Rhodes mentioned the humanitarian aid the United States has provided and alluded to the effort to train moderate Syrian rebels, Mr. Rashid said he had told the White House that it risked losing the support of the Syrian public if it did not stop the Assad government from dropping barrel bombs on Syrian cities.

“The Syrian people are slowly coming to a realization that the United States does not value their lives,” Mr. Rashid recalled warning the White House aides.

In his Oct. 20 letter, which came nearly three months after Caesar’s letter to the president, Mr. Rhodes reaffirmed that the Pentagon would “train and equip Syria’s moderate opposition.” But his response still fell short of the sort of action Caesar had sought.

“Your letter mentions that more than 150,000 people are still in Assad’s custody,” Mr. Rhodes wrote. “The United States Government has consistently condemned the regime’s failures to grant independent monitors access to detainees. We will continue to push for full access to all detainees in Syria, just as we will push to bring the perpetrators of atrocities in Syria to justice.”~~~~~

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Hickok

Cara Mia, Mine

The Promise

 

MY SLENDER WAIST

My slender waist and thighs are exhausted and weak from a night of cloud dancing. ~Huang O, translated

You came home from work and sat in Your favorite chair. I knew from the look on Your face it was one of those days.

I didn’t say a word. I lowered myself to my knees and crawled across the floor on all fours.

I came to Your side and nudged Your thigh; resting my head on Your leg.

W/we sat in perfect silence.  Finally, Your hand began to stroke my hair.

Fingers twirled each strand, gently tugging harder and harder.

My hand moved up Your leg. The moment I felt Your bulge, You grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back to look into my eyes.

The desire was cast in Your eyes. Your teeth gritted as You leaned down and told me it was time.

I didn’t need any other orders. I know what my Master needs. You need me….

With me still in Your hold, I turn my body around and free Your hungry cock

In one swift motion,  I shimmy up on Your lap, my panties pulled to the side, and Your manhood is sliding inside YOUR dripping cunt

You release Your hold on me, lean back in Your chair and proceed to tell me about Your day as I ride my Master and He explodes inside of me….