I wish she was nicer, Just becase she’s older she is the master? Why? Why can’t I be the master. I would be better. Maybe not. Power goes to your head. Maybe that’s why she is insane. I hate my masteer. I would be hated if I was the master.
bob
“Yes, Master,” he sneered as he took the plates into the kitchen. It was so like his girlfriend to invite her new “friends” (or complete strangers) over when they were supposed to have a romantic night in, and then make him cook and clean as they laughed and had fun. One more month and he would be out of debt, and he could look for a place he could afford on his own.
The master of the house will be home shortly.
If you don’t want to visit the dungeon, clean.
The maids scurry and I stand.
Maybe I do want to visit the dungeon.
I hear the master loves cute girls.
Maybe I’ll be lucky.
George
my master loves me
she drags me around and whips me, bites me
but she loves me
and i love her for all her faults
but she loves me, she does
i know it
because i can look her in the eye
and see her soul
and she loves me
my master
I’m not sure if ill ever master how to use an iPad. Love apples, but the workplace has demanded me to use windows. And accounting key shortcuts.
Laura batchelor
Fuck, there is no master to me, I’m free, and sure as hell won’t bow down to anyone… I’m independent and there’s nothing more that I can be. If you ask differently of me, I’ll say screw you and give you a what-for. I am who I want to be. I am who I’ll always be, I am strong.
Brittany
Master your high, master my goals in life. True mastery is imminent for me. I will control my destiny. I will excell and I will provide for my family and loved ones. I will become a master of my craft and serve my community thereby. A master is someone who is in cnotrol of his of her environment.
Nyt
I am the master of disguise
yuck that was a horrible movie
turtle, turtle…
my dad knows a guy in a band
called the naked turtles
yuck that’s horrible too.
They were my favorite toys growing up as a kid, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. The best one out there had to be Stinkor. He was a skunk-man that smelled like patchouli. I didn’t know what patchouli was at the time. So when the girl I had a crush on in the eighth grade wore it, I thought it was weird.
“Assessments measure mastery of learned material.” It started with a joke. Harold’s younger brother Tim liked learning. Liked structures (parts of a computer), lists (planets), classification (fungus kingdom). At least he didn’t go around spouting off world capitals to everyone like Nick at school, instead just copied things in his ever-expanding, dog-eared “notebook of learning.” “Teach me something,” he begged of Harold and Harold came up with something bogus: diseasology, talked about how disease cells multiply in your blood, divide into three in a process reminiscent of meiosis instead that it contained 13 stages (some redundant) instead of 8 (was that it?), and involved releasing needles, poison sacs, and glue. He quizzed Tim afterward.
Afterwards Tim was always trying to get Harold to play Test with him: Take turns making up material and teaching it the way a bad teacher would, then ask ridiculous test questions that had nothing to do with the material. Then Tim began to be serious: he started just writing in his notebook: fake science, fake languages, fake history and geographies. Like a textbook, with Fun Facts, quotes, comprehension questions, and chapter assessments. Tim gave it to Harold and hovered over his shoulder, watching him read. Unlike Harold’s random lectures, the “textbook” actually made sense—in an odd way, as if the material could actually be true in a world structured far, far differently from our own.
I am the master of nothing. Mastering one thing is a waste. There are so many things out there to taste. It seems a shame to master something.
Stevey Lynn
I drew a blank when it came to who would be my master, particularly because I couldn’t find what I wanted to master. I could never decide on a suitable career, how to begin, and who would help.
i like my master. he tells me good things when im good. he likes to pet me and it feels good. i bark when i want food or i need to go pee. master is always nice to me. ~dog
elise
She was the master of all things beautiful. She could write poetry that flowed like silk along a river. She could sing with such loveliness that even birds flew towards the sound of her voice and perched on the tree branches to listen. In his opinion, she was the most beautiful thing that had ever crossed paths with his life.
Je n’ai pas de maître, compris? J’ai une maîtresse, oui, Dame Nature. Elle, elle a le droit de me dicter. Elle est puissante, supérieur, respectable. Pourquoi chercher sa colère? Mourir? Non merci.
Sautumn
The faster he could blast her, the sooner he’d be master.
It’s what my father thought of himself as. He was a pretty good Christian man, but his words were higher than everyone else could say. His time was more valuable. His food was cooked better, and his drinks were colder. He was the master of the family. And he had no friends.
Ashley
“Master, please don’t…don’t touch me” she whispered her voice barely audible as he caressed her arms and pulled her closer to him. She hated that he had this power over her, that she had been forced to sell herself to him for the greater good of her children. They were in a time and place where slavery and master/slave relationships should be a thing of the past, yet here she was letting him touch her, letting him tell her what to do and how to do it.
wendy
Today was the day. He’d prepared for it for years. The cameras flashed as he stepped out of the voting booth.
“Remember, Vote for Saxon!” he said as the sound of drums grew louder in his ears.
Watched Django and Herr Schultz in Candieland. Leo DeCaprio was master of his domain. Alas Leo cannot act. Pity. But I think the pretty boy is not a master of his emotions, too much women, not enough thought. Odd movie. Where’s Clint Eastwood when you need him?
“I am your master.”
“Excuse me, you think you’re my what? My master? You psycho, your my father, my father not some psychopathic monster. You’re not even the same person anymore. Are you off of you schizophrenic medicine. I’m your daughter! Who do you think I am? Dad… please dad, remember me.”
i am the master in desquise. i am here and i am sneaky. like a ninja. i live in the suburbs in a normal house with a normal family and i decieve you. you think i am normal. but i plan world domination. that is my goal and it will be achieved. i will start by taking control of law firms.
laura d
She looked up.
There he was. The master.
She kissed his feet and hands.
He said he was done with her.
He reached inside his pocket and got a gun.
She begged.
He laughed.
She stood still when he pull the trigger.
It was her master’s command.
master as in s&m, master as in power, i am the master of my life and I can’t blame others for anything that goes awry as i brought it on myself and i created the thought.
BT
The peasants gathered at the bakery. Words were whispered and also being yelled aloud. The noise is silenced as the man walks on to a platform. “You all came here today because you don’t think we should have a king, correct?” he yelled so every one could hear, “Yah!” the crowd yelled back. one particular women called out with enthusiasm, “I am my own master!” another yelled, “Let a new light on mastery shine!” The crowd cheered, doubled over in excitement.
Shadow imprints of hands covered the cement blocking. Chains forced him to kneel. The strong odor of gasoline thickened as the guards prepared for his death. He imagined he would be like the tragic heroes in old movies, hard and unmoved, smirking at the face of death. But his hands trembled violently, and his mouth was cracked and dry. Hot streams crept down his silent face. Fear was now his master. Then the flames engulfed him.
my master. slave and their master went to the market to purchase their weekly herbs. They went to the local herb trader to purchase various herbs that were from all over the world. The slave and the master then visited the local town square to find out about all of the events that were going to take place within the next month.
martin
He was a tall man, bruiting and towering over my battered frame. A grizzly expression in his lip, he grumbled, almost growling orders at me. I couldn’t help but obey, my muscles aching with every minute movement as I followed his lead.
Miriam
there are skills we hope to master, maybe chess and languages
And gourmet cooking. so many choices, so little time. maybe I
Should focus on one thing to do.
Robin
Master the art of love making and you will be the master of your own universe.
If not, you will be a masterbater.
a master is someone who tells you what to do. even if you think you are independent, you always have some form of master – a boss, a parent, a lover. Most people try to take control of their own lives, become their own master. Dogs have masters. We are masters. You are a master. :)
Suzanne
call me master. after all, I am the master of congratulating others, smiling for their achievements, watching them front row as my self-degrading mind tells me I don’t have what it takes to compete. I am the master of fear and regret, because all I need is the confidence to get out, and just a little help. please.
pauline is my master. until he releases me. then my bunnies will be my master. fluffy fluffy bunnies.
Rachel mcgeachie
I was his master and he knew it. Slave driving was a hard trade and often not very rewarding, but I was in control. They would cower before me and do whatever I said, no matter what the cost. All they feared for was their life.
call me master. after all, I am the master of congratulating others, smiling for their achievements, watching them front row as my self-degrading mind tells me I don’t have what it takes to compete. I am the master of fear and regret, because all I need is the onfidence to get out, and just a little help. please.
he looked at me with sullen eyes. I turned away in fear but I knew there was no escape. ‘Call me by my name’ I thought, with an ache in the depths of my past. ‘Call me by my name’.
Paul MacCrimmon
The Master walked across the room, a sinister smile growing on his pale, bloodless lips.
“I need something from you, Harrison, and you won’t give it to me. But perhaps with a little inspiration…”
He unveils a large cage, revealing my sister like a ringmaster unveiling the main event to his show. She lies bloody and motionless on the floor behind the bars.
“She’s still alive, but hardly. I can save her Harrison. Are you really willing to watch your sister’s life drain away while you sit there, perfectly able to stop it? Are you really that stubborn?”
I hang my head. Of course I’m not.
I’m a master in bed. Every whip is controlled by me through a snap of my fingers. The whimpering girl in my bed will be screaming my name in a matter of a few seconds. What will she be screaming? “JEEEESSSUUUSS CHRIIISTTT!”
I wish she was nicer, Just becase she’s older she is the master? Why? Why can’t I be the master. I would be better. Maybe not. Power goes to your head. Maybe that’s why she is insane. I hate my masteer. I would be hated if I was the master.
“Yes, Master,” he sneered as he took the plates into the kitchen. It was so like his girlfriend to invite her new “friends” (or complete strangers) over when they were supposed to have a romantic night in, and then make him cook and clean as they laughed and had fun. One more month and he would be out of debt, and he could look for a place he could afford on his own.
The master of the house will be home shortly.
If you don’t want to visit the dungeon, clean.
The maids scurry and I stand.
Maybe I do want to visit the dungeon.
I hear the master loves cute girls.
Maybe I’ll be lucky.
my master loves me
she drags me around and whips me, bites me
but she loves me
and i love her for all her faults
but she loves me, she does
i know it
because i can look her in the eye
and see her soul
and she loves me
I’m not sure if ill ever master how to use an iPad. Love apples, but the workplace has demanded me to use windows. And accounting key shortcuts.
Fuck, there is no master to me, I’m free, and sure as hell won’t bow down to anyone… I’m independent and there’s nothing more that I can be. If you ask differently of me, I’ll say screw you and give you a what-for. I am who I want to be. I am who I’ll always be, I am strong.
Master your high, master my goals in life. True mastery is imminent for me. I will control my destiny. I will excell and I will provide for my family and loved ones. I will become a master of my craft and serve my community thereby. A master is someone who is in cnotrol of his of her environment.
I am the master of disguise
yuck that was a horrible movie
turtle, turtle…
my dad knows a guy in a band
called the naked turtles
yuck that’s horrible too.
They were my favorite toys growing up as a kid, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. The best one out there had to be Stinkor. He was a skunk-man that smelled like patchouli. I didn’t know what patchouli was at the time. So when the girl I had a crush on in the eighth grade wore it, I thought it was weird.
“Assessments measure mastery of learned material.” It started with a joke. Harold’s younger brother Tim liked learning. Liked structures (parts of a computer), lists (planets), classification (fungus kingdom). At least he didn’t go around spouting off world capitals to everyone like Nick at school, instead just copied things in his ever-expanding, dog-eared “notebook of learning.” “Teach me something,” he begged of Harold and Harold came up with something bogus: diseasology, talked about how disease cells multiply in your blood, divide into three in a process reminiscent of meiosis instead that it contained 13 stages (some redundant) instead of 8 (was that it?), and involved releasing needles, poison sacs, and glue. He quizzed Tim afterward.
Afterwards Tim was always trying to get Harold to play Test with him: Take turns making up material and teaching it the way a bad teacher would, then ask ridiculous test questions that had nothing to do with the material. Then Tim began to be serious: he started just writing in his notebook: fake science, fake languages, fake history and geographies. Like a textbook, with Fun Facts, quotes, comprehension questions, and chapter assessments. Tim gave it to Harold and hovered over his shoulder, watching him read. Unlike Harold’s random lectures, the “textbook” actually made sense—in an odd way, as if the material could actually be true in a world structured far, far differently from our own.
I am the master of nothing. Mastering one thing is a waste. There are so many things out there to taste. It seems a shame to master something.
I drew a blank when it came to who would be my master, particularly because I couldn’t find what I wanted to master. I could never decide on a suitable career, how to begin, and who would help.
i like my master. he tells me good things when im good. he likes to pet me and it feels good. i bark when i want food or i need to go pee. master is always nice to me. ~dog
She was the master of all things beautiful. She could write poetry that flowed like silk along a river. She could sing with such loveliness that even birds flew towards the sound of her voice and perched on the tree branches to listen. In his opinion, she was the most beautiful thing that had ever crossed paths with his life.
Je n’ai pas de maître, compris? J’ai une maîtresse, oui, Dame Nature. Elle, elle a le droit de me dicter. Elle est puissante, supérieur, respectable. Pourquoi chercher sa colère? Mourir? Non merci.
The faster he could blast her, the sooner he’d be master.
It’s what my father thought of himself as. He was a pretty good Christian man, but his words were higher than everyone else could say. His time was more valuable. His food was cooked better, and his drinks were colder. He was the master of the family. And he had no friends.
“Master, please don’t…don’t touch me” she whispered her voice barely audible as he caressed her arms and pulled her closer to him. She hated that he had this power over her, that she had been forced to sell herself to him for the greater good of her children. They were in a time and place where slavery and master/slave relationships should be a thing of the past, yet here she was letting him touch her, letting him tell her what to do and how to do it.
Today was the day. He’d prepared for it for years. The cameras flashed as he stepped out of the voting booth.
“Remember, Vote for Saxon!” he said as the sound of drums grew louder in his ears.
betwixt the spheres
that nightly spin
in reverie we lay
and softly tangle
draped in heav’ns beam
we flow one into other
a yearning tide
sailing us nightly
anointed in honeyed kisses
each possessed of a fever
bequeathed unto the other
as the night winds
rise to shake the marri
Watched Django and Herr Schultz in Candieland. Leo DeCaprio was master of his domain. Alas Leo cannot act. Pity. But I think the pretty boy is not a master of his emotions, too much women, not enough thought. Odd movie. Where’s Clint Eastwood when you need him?
“I am your master.”
“Excuse me, you think you’re my what? My master? You psycho, your my father, my father not some psychopathic monster. You’re not even the same person anymore. Are you off of you schizophrenic medicine. I’m your daughter! Who do you think I am? Dad… please dad, remember me.”
The master told me to clean the bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room. So I went in to the forest and burned it to ashes. I’m a bear.
i am the master in desquise. i am here and i am sneaky. like a ninja. i live in the suburbs in a normal house with a normal family and i decieve you. you think i am normal. but i plan world domination. that is my goal and it will be achieved. i will start by taking control of law firms.
She looked up.
There he was. The master.
She kissed his feet and hands.
He said he was done with her.
He reached inside his pocket and got a gun.
She begged.
He laughed.
She stood still when he pull the trigger.
It was her master’s command.
master as in s&m, master as in power, i am the master of my life and I can’t blame others for anything that goes awry as i brought it on myself and i created the thought.
The peasants gathered at the bakery. Words were whispered and also being yelled aloud. The noise is silenced as the man walks on to a platform. “You all came here today because you don’t think we should have a king, correct?” he yelled so every one could hear, “Yah!” the crowd yelled back. one particular women called out with enthusiasm, “I am my own master!” another yelled, “Let a new light on mastery shine!” The crowd cheered, doubled over in excitement.
Shadow imprints of hands covered the cement blocking. Chains forced him to kneel. The strong odor of gasoline thickened as the guards prepared for his death. He imagined he would be like the tragic heroes in old movies, hard and unmoved, smirking at the face of death. But his hands trembled violently, and his mouth was cracked and dry. Hot streams crept down his silent face. Fear was now his master. Then the flames engulfed him.
my master. slave and their master went to the market to purchase their weekly herbs. They went to the local herb trader to purchase various herbs that were from all over the world. The slave and the master then visited the local town square to find out about all of the events that were going to take place within the next month.
He was a tall man, bruiting and towering over my battered frame. A grizzly expression in his lip, he grumbled, almost growling orders at me. I couldn’t help but obey, my muscles aching with every minute movement as I followed his lead.
there are skills we hope to master, maybe chess and languages
And gourmet cooking. so many choices, so little time. maybe I
Should focus on one thing to do.
Master the art of love making and you will be the master of your own universe.
If not, you will be a masterbater.
a master is someone who tells you what to do. even if you think you are independent, you always have some form of master – a boss, a parent, a lover. Most people try to take control of their own lives, become their own master. Dogs have masters. We are masters. You are a master. :)
call me master. after all, I am the master of congratulating others, smiling for their achievements, watching them front row as my self-degrading mind tells me I don’t have what it takes to compete. I am the master of fear and regret, because all I need is the confidence to get out, and just a little help. please.
pauline is my master. until he releases me. then my bunnies will be my master. fluffy fluffy bunnies.
I was his master and he knew it. Slave driving was a hard trade and often not very rewarding, but I was in control. They would cower before me and do whatever I said, no matter what the cost. All they feared for was their life.
call me master. after all, I am the master of congratulating others, smiling for their achievements, watching them front row as my self-degrading mind tells me I don’t have what it takes to compete. I am the master of fear and regret, because all I need is the onfidence to get out, and just a little help. please.
he looked at me with sullen eyes. I turned away in fear but I knew there was no escape. ‘Call me by my name’ I thought, with an ache in the depths of my past. ‘Call me by my name’.
The Master walked across the room, a sinister smile growing on his pale, bloodless lips.
“I need something from you, Harrison, and you won’t give it to me. But perhaps with a little inspiration…”
He unveils a large cage, revealing my sister like a ringmaster unveiling the main event to his show. She lies bloody and motionless on the floor behind the bars.
“She’s still alive, but hardly. I can save her Harrison. Are you really willing to watch your sister’s life drain away while you sit there, perfectly able to stop it? Are you really that stubborn?”
I hang my head. Of course I’m not.
I’m a master in bed. Every whip is controlled by me through a snap of my fingers. The whimpering girl in my bed will be screaming my name in a matter of a few seconds. What will she be screaming? “JEEEESSSUUUSS CHRIIISTTT!”