Dark are the shadows
That creep, out of sight
Deep they will penetrate
No matter your plight…
Slowly they possess you
They twist and they turn
Your mind will be tortured
And your memories they’ll burn.
They’ll stop at nothing
Until you are theirs
And you wont tell anyone
Because no-one cares.
But beware all you Shadows
Of meeting your match
For there is always one greater
That you’ll never catch…  (Anonymous by Misti…)

The media taunts us with ceaseless stories of hacking and we bleat like sheep our disgust.  We live in an era where our lives are monitored to be used against us, if need be.  One might say, if we choose to do wrong then it is only right that they do so.  And in fairness we chose to be pawns in this game of modern life, where our every move is monitored by cctv and phone records.  Yet not only do they watch but they have also learned how to play us for maximum effect. And one great strategy of theirs is the gaming industry; adults and children alike are sucked in and trained for purpose.  Manipulation is the name of the game.  Some of us are aware of the media’s influence, yet others chose not to think.   Ignorance is bliss!

Anonymous ~ Hidden behind the internet or indeed a mask, there is a new band of spies fast on the tail of their targets.  Activists who repel this manipulation, this trespassing of human rights and who fight back.  Yet ignorant in the extreme we turn on them also for ‘hacking’ and ‘protests’ which hinders our plastic lives.  We complain and declare that we won’t stand for the measures imposed by government, media or intelligence forces, and yet when there are those who have the determination and focus to fight we expect there to be no repercussions for us.

Tis fantasy that manipulative little devil within us, magnetising us towards the secret world of espionage.  Be it ‘James Bond’ or ‘Mission Impossible’, our imaginations thrive on that life of secrecy, sexual exploits and fast action, hence the power of the media delivering a well planned ‘Golden Globe‘ to the Intelligence world.  Behind that romantic illusion that surrounds the Secret Agent there lays a deadly sting in the tale… 😉

THE PREY by Misti

Following protocol, was the mindset of intelligence forces.  Her role and she chose to play it was seductress, her eyes wide pools of innocence drawing targets in.  The debonair Iranian was hooked, his body aflame with desire watching the hypnotic seductive sway of her body to a tune within her head.  Lifting her hand to her mouth, her index finger poised between her teeth.  Without a word she dropped her hand, her moist finger touching between her breasts before sliding to her naked midriff.  He was hers…

‘Pour us a drink…’ It was an order and he willingly obeyed.  Diplomat’s were easy prey, fantasy a form of escapism from their mundane lives and well-worn wives. Enticed by her girly femininity they lapped up the dominatrix that emerged as she performed a striptease, taunting with lace underwear whilst rejecting touch, until hertarget’s were dribbling wrecks.

Assured by the busy clunk of glasses, she removed the sig from her purse.

‘Surprise!’ she whispered in his ear.

He froze, slowly turning.  Shock gradually allowing him to register the situation. His face contorted, feeling the cold metal of the gun at his temples. ‘Who are you?’

She sniffed., ‘Your worst nightmare…’ Tapping her wrist watch she spoke into it, ‘I have an Iranian Ambassador who is just dying to speak to you…’

Educated by movies, celebrity icons and the like we choose to be controlled.  Yet there will always be a band of merry rebels, the Guy Fawkes and Robin Hood types. For in life there has to be a balance of good and bad to appease the souls of the restless.  The belief that someone is doing something comforts us, as we sit back to enjoy another Spy movie or to grumble at the news…


‘Slave to the End’ by Misti


Guilty…’  she knelt before him, arms upwardly stretched.  The soft inner’s of her wrists together awaiting the metal restraints that were to seal her fate.  Shame was evident in the drop of her head, the slump of her shoulders, yet her spoken word was defiant, angry even.

A grin pulled at his lips, his eyes dark smoldering coals fueled by the hold he had over her.  Excitement that she had sunk to her knees her body visible in its entirety, cursed through him,.  He allowed her no dignity, demanding that she strip bare, that she pledge her allegiance to him, that she never deviate from the ultimate goal…deliverance!


Willingly we seek to sell our soul’s to the Devil.  We crave security, wealth and a protector and any doubts we may entertain are wiped away by the greed for success, that recognition of having attained a higher standing in life.  Quite simply we desire admiration from others, it boosts not only our ego’s but sexually ignites us…


Did Miley Cyrus sell her soul to the devil and have sex with a demon onstage?(article from Observation Deck)

Did Miley Cyrus sell her soul to the devil and have sex with a demon onstage?Expand

Well, duh. I think it is pretty obvious to everyone right now that Lucifer is grooming Miley to be a Duchess of Hell and prepping her to lead the millions of twerking demon-spawn the lamestream media calls “her fans” into the houses of the holy where they will slaughter the last of the righteous and bring about the Age of Fire. Do you think I am killing all these teenage drifters and watering my Hannah Montana shrine with their blood just for kicks?

But don’t take it from me. On the October 30th podcast edition of TRUNEWS, hardcore Christian evangelist, Rick Wiles, the only broadcaster brave enough to expose the shocking evidence that Obama is the Lord of Flies, stated that Miley is merely a tool of the “Synagogue of Satan” and is being used to convert and pervert innocent children into “little Babylonians”. Citing a recent photo of Miley, her lolling tongue hanging out and head rapturously thrown back in the orgasmic anticipation of licking a plastic Halloween decoration, Wiles made the completely logical argument that this proves Miley serves at the feet of her master, Lucifer. I suppose we can further conclude if Miley serves at the behest of all she licks we must all assume she also worships sledgehammers and little silver astronauts.


Yet it’s not just celebrities like Miley who fall prey to such bizarre rituals in her quest for absolute ‘top dog'(the term dog being used loosely you understand…) status!  But politicians too, their latest in a long list of ambitious risqué ploys being their participation in ‘I’m a Celebrity’ and more recently ‘splash’, is it just me or has the world gone completely mad.  Politics is primarily a feisty topic of debate and the career for those driven to leave a mark on our once great nation’; it is not the launching of one’s celebrity lifestyle, is hardly likely to endear one to the general public and if truth be known is likely to induce mass ‘finger down throat time’ from the revulsion one feels at a Politician proclaiming to be an actual human form and thereby equally at risk of cock-ups as the rest of us (oh and don’t take their reality world statements down to be used against them, for as we know politicians are renowned for doing one thing and saying another!).

Both the media (be it broadcasters of news or manipulators of music, film, fashion etc) and our great secret intelligence forces have ridden roughshod over legalities and kissed goodbye to any form of common decency.  Their devotion to the job is duly rewarded yet when their effectiveness is depleted they’re at risk of becoming the next sacrificial offering to a deity so powerful, so invisible that we dismiss it out of mind.  Yet we watch with animalistic hunger as the prey (now a shadow of its former self, pardon the pun…) is thrown at the mercy of Her Majesty’s High Court of Justice.  Fools that we are, believing in a term that was invented by dark forces to control us…

THE DEVIL’S PACT continued…

Her body glistened in the moonlight; she tossed and turned, nightmares haunting her.   Her conscience too heavy to bear.  Was there a time when one’s duty, one’s belief became twisted, like a slowly penetrating knife, its blade searing into one’s flesh inflicting the same torture that she was to unleash on those who had simply signed their soul’s away for a better life. Rising from the thin mattress, she moved weightlessly across the cold floor of the tiny cell.  Standing before him, her chin tilted, her blue eyes daring, she was proud of all that she stood for.  She had long since made a pact with the devil and she would see it through to the end, only…

She smiled, this time it was a double ended knife and her work, with all fact intact was about to be published…

*A pact with the Devil commonly contains clauses that allow the devil to quibble over what he grants, and equally commonly, the maker of the pact finds a quibble to escape the bargain.  In terms of fiction, a quibble is a plot device, used to fulfill the exact verbal conditions of an agreement in order to avoid the intended meaning. Typically quibbles are used in legal bargains and, in fantasy, magically enforced ones. (Wikipedia…)*  touché xx

Bottoms Up by Misti

Yes I have a weakness.  I hold my hands up, quite proudly in fact and admit that for me bottom is best!  And of course I have my favourites; that delicious rear aspect of Mel Gibson in such classics as Lethal Weapon and…oh yes Braveheart!  Just like in a museum such delights are firmly exhibited in my memory bank and rather frequently draw a secretive grin upon my lips as I shop, meet with friends for a coffee or wonder about pursuing a career as a ratings specialist divulging ‘The Top Ten Hottest Bott’s‘ for This Morning, television show.  Truth be known, due consideration was given whilst hovering over the email send button; and in my defence, I selflessly decided Holly Willoughby has quite enough to contend with what with sitting next to that legendary hunk, Dermot O’Leary without falling prey to hot flushes from the display of such sensational attributes.  Or in simple english, I have chosen to perform such research, which was painstakingly intense at times, and as a true writer I rather hate letting go of my work!

Sooh what is it about the bottom that gains the obvious swivel of one’s head and eyes? For me, I guess it’s cute without being overly dominant, after all it’s not flaunted in one’s face, not pampered by a fetish for a regimental skin care routine or spray tan, in fact for the most part it’s just as nature intended…

‘Rising from the bed she moved across the room, aware of his eyes upon her curvaceous form.  The temptress; she asked for nothing but gave freely of her body, her eyes bearing an innocence that was a prerequisite to sealing their fate.  A sigh slowly emanated from him, a slight rustle of the sheets and he was behind her.  His hand roughly pulled at her abdomen, forcing her back into his masculine form, his arousal evident.  With a cunning that was invisible to him she allowed her bottom to arch into him, teasing, encouraging a tremor of excitement to echo from his body.  He gripped her right buttock fiercely, enjoying her gasp of pain.  Exhilaration electrified her body, her eyes wide adoring his nakedness reflected in the large ornate mirror, his manly behind delighting her with its proud pert deliverance.  He was hooked and she’d laid the trap knowing he would fall…’

Yes that’s me at work, and I defy you not to have enjoyed that subtle hint of bottom within it!  Oh and I nearly forgot, the Great Posterior is in serious danger of becoming a saggy fatty eyesore, with our penchant for fast food turning us into sofa slouching sloth’s.  Tis time for a little action be it of the bedroom variety, or reforming as the God or Goddess of the Gym.  A beautiful bottom breathes confidence and delights one’s partner, so bottom’s up and out there, clench those cheeks and lay the trap for the partner of your dreams