From homeless to Mistress…

Still treading water to keep myself from being dragged down into the sadness that my life had become.

Homeless, a job with people I despised, and a growing trench between my family and I.

After all, they were the villains  keeping me from my daughter.

Clawing my way through this difficult time, I was exhausted and losing hope that I’d ever be able to escape this downward spiral.


Like a beacon sent to me, a lifesaving glimmer of a life that wasn’t mine and a person that I could confide in.

Digging down deep and into my soul, I found the last of my hope.

I risked it on this man, a client of mine for less than a month.

What did I have to lose, I no longer owned anything.


While working on an endless tattoo, we shared our lives, experiences, and then some.

After telling him of my ordeal while doing my best to hide the defeat I felt, 

the bottom again dropped out. 

A freefall from a job, somewhere to live, and  people I thought I could trust.


Finding myself back into the problems I struggled so hard to overcome, 

with no one to turn to, no friends I could trust, I found myself dialing his number.

With no hesitation, he was in the parking lot and ready to just listen.

He started to become my confidant and validated everything I had written off as my fault.


I went from homeless to Mistress, it took less than a week.

It seemed to good to be true, this person, this creature would let me burry all of my emotions into his skin.

Allowing me to rise above all that was keeping me down, I was able to see the light again.

Even able to appreciate myself again, I was living on a cloud made of glitter and fluff.


I accepted his proposal and was now taken care of.

Able to vent my rage on his 60 year old flesh.

Able to experiment with his body through the use of scalpels, needles, and canes.

Feeling complexly alive again, feeling life had finally cut me lose from the treacherous wreck it had become.


A hero, he rescued my daughter and me, helped to restore a broken relationship with my family.

From foot rubs, neck rubs, and brushing my hair, to cleaning, shopping, and financial security.

It came out of nowhere, it stuck me as a light. 

This light to warm me and lead me away from the darkness that had swallowed me, 

he’s been the closest thing to a miracle that I’ve ever believed in.

My hero, my zero, my whipping post too. 

A number, 3hree that became my toy, my boy, and my very best friend.

Published by:

A Maverick named Gonzo.

I've written short stories, poetry, and have journaled since I was 10. I've had poetry published, short stories, and articles on various subjects. Some of the subjects I've published articles on are: "How-to", People who have contributed to the technological advancements of Tattooing, Body Piercing, and various other Body Modification practices, and BDSM. I volunteer for an organization that helps people that are in need of financial assistance in order to afford the mental health care they greatly need to live, and finally, I've been publishing erotic short stories that end up of the psychological thriller/Horror nature. I teach kids how to fish at another volunteer gig. I get to teach kids, 7-12 years old all kinds of things. Like conservation of our coasts and critters. We are involved in turtle nesting and protection, fishing (hooked on fishing, not on drugs). I like free-diving at my beach. Meeting sharks, rays, and any fish you can imagine. I also do a little spearfishing when I'm not angling from the coast.

Categories BDSM, Fetish poetry., poetryTags , , , , , 2 Comments

2 thoughts on “From homeless to Mistress…”

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