Oh my gosh! I'm humbled. Thank you everyone for the congratulations. I'll try to reply to as many of you as I can. <3 I'll have lots of time tonight. I work the night shift. =D
Again, many thanks. I'm just so happy. ^^

P.S. To the haters; I'm sorry if you don't like my design. I know I can't please everyone, but I made a design that I personally loved and wanted to share. I honestly find it odd that you would complain about getting a free belt. But I'm not going to try to please you, neither will I argue, because if you're going to try to put me down for creating something I loved then you're not worth my time.

Hehe. x3 I've gotten some gifts with my belt in them. So now I'm keeping count. =D If you don't like them and don't want them I'll take them off your hands. xD

Belts gifted: 10~!


*curtsies* Hello. My name is Kiarrii, but if you wish you may call me Kia for short. I am 22 years old and, because of unlucky circumstances, currently living back at home, though I do wish to find myself my own place again. I have one sibling, an older brother, and many, many cousins. I had wandered into Gaia many seasons ago, but had left shortly after and misplaced my map. Fortunately, I have found my way back and I'd rather like to stay here. Those I have met have been so kind to me and I feel so welcome here. Please, if you wish to speak with me, do not be shy to message me or leave a comment. Everything is loved. Thank you and good day to you all. :3

~My Collection~
Make me one? ;D

Solace in Servitude: A Confession

I have a confession to make to you, my beloved owner, my Master or Mistress, whichever you are; the yang to my yin, the domination to my submission, the de Sade to my von Sacher-Masoch.

Your caress burns my skin like flame; the cruel kiss of your whip to me feels like a lover’s caress. Why, you ask?
Because you wield your whip to correct me, to make of me your perfect slave; you strike me with your crop and your whip and your wicker cane not out of hatred or anger, but from love. Your touch is how you reward me for my loyalty to you, to my love for you; your punishments are tender reminders of how much you care for me, that you would care enough about me to shape me like raw clay into the form which best suits you.
Insanity? Perhaps. Strange? No doubt to those who do not truly understand.
But in that paradox, that riddle that binds me to you even though outsiders would claim that one cannot own another, I find strength. I find release.
I find love.
They who claim that I am not your slave can never know, can never understand, how you make me feel. They would claim that what ties together is not love, not passion, but perversion, a sickness.
I am sick, but not in the way that they believe. My sickness is one of the soul--that I cannot bear to be anywhere but at your feet, your leash upon my collar, your cuffs around my wrists. Without you, I am in torment beyond description; how, pray tell, am I to survive on my own in such a state?
You command me, you own me, you enslave and possess me--yet I make of myself my own gift to you, I sacrifice myself upon your altar in your name, I surrender my secret inmost self to you with every word you utter, every gesture that you make, every glance you deign to bestow upon me.
If I avert my eyes, if I look down at your feet instead of meeting your burning gaze, do not think any less of me; I turn my glance away because I cannot bear to have you see how much I need you, how much I crave you like a drug. And what a drug you are--no addict in thrall to a needle can know how you flow through my veins, how you are the air that I breathe, the food that I eat, the water that I drink. All that I am exists only because of you; I am nothing without you.
In your presence, I am complete; away from you, I am hollow, empty, merely a shell. I am the mirror that reflects your magnificent presence, the shadow cast by your light, the planet which orbits your star. I die a thousand deaths each second that I cannot serve you; my whole being is in torment when I am not where I belong--and where I belong is wherever you decide I should be.
When I cannot be yours, I am bound in chains that no chisel can break, no saw can cut--for the chains which bind me are forged of my own will in the furnace of my heart, annealed in the passions which you arouse in me and tempered by my need to serve.
Am I foolish, to be your slave? Then let me be your fool. Do you disdain me for my weaknesses? Then be my strength. Do you cast me aside like a broken toy when you are done with me? It is because you are the one who has shattered me, shattered my will and sundered my spirit.
I am yours, mighty Master, beautiful Mistress.
For only in your chains can I truly be free.
Only through my service to you can I find the solitude which defines me.
Only you.

~written by Kitirena

Donations~ {I've only started keeping track so old donations aren't listed. =( }
boricua chika ~ Red Heartbreaker Jacket whee
Sadistic_Cries ~ 68849g heart heart heart
Dude JC ~ Scar of Duelist 4laugh
ll B3t0z ll ~ Cuttlephones whee
Left4DEAD - Ellis ~ Toothy heart
Epic Renegade ~ 40k whee
Damien Ear Morningstar ~ Long-stem Black Rose whee