Okay, so it's been 4 days (or so) since my last post (confession).
/eye
Had a stupid, meaningless drama-fest in my life this week. Mostly over now, except that the person who started it still thinks it's better to be RIGHT than smart, but hey. Different strokes and all that. Not my kink, but then again, I try really hard to not be an emotional masochist.
Had a good Easter with my folks and my niece. Work is kicking my ass right now, but at least I'm getting out of there on time and getting my evenings free again. Sent a note to the submarine this week and told the Sailor that I'd prefer to do a mediator instead of paying for 2 separate attorneys. Frankly, I've spent more than enough money on that relationship and don't really want to jack up my credit cards just so we can be done with this. Also told him that I want my maiden name back. We'll see how that goes over *snort*.
Have had a couple of interesting conversations with a gent from EQ about BDSM and such. (I swear I pull them out of the woodwork) but since I know he reads here, I won't discuss them :P Suffice it to say that - now that the drama is passed, I can get back to where I was headed last week.... more writing!
So, expect it. Soon.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Expect it
No matter how hard you try to convey a message, you're always going to be misunderstood by a few.
Expect it, *snicker* quietly, and move on.
No matter how much your kink means to you, it's going to be mean jack shit to someone else.
Expect it, nod silently, and move on.
No matter how you meant to say what you said, you're going to come off hostile to someone.
Expect it, smile, and move on.
No matter how sweet and innocent someone appears to be, realize that there's a bitch, a bastard or a shitheel in there who peeks out from time to time.
Expect it, let it pass, and move on.
My views, my expressions, my writing is for me. If it helps people get to know me? Great! If it inspires other folks to think? Awesome. If it pisses you off...well...the door is over there --~~
Nasty emails about my chosen topics will gain you nothing but wasted time on your part, and a good chuckle on mine because -- I did what? *made ya think, made ya think*
No fluffy, cuddly bullshit. Ever.
Bash kinks elsewhere besides my inbox kkthx~
Expect it, *snicker* quietly, and move on.
No matter how much your kink means to you, it's going to be mean jack shit to someone else.
Expect it, nod silently, and move on.
No matter how you meant to say what you said, you're going to come off hostile to someone.
Expect it, smile, and move on.
No matter how sweet and innocent someone appears to be, realize that there's a bitch, a bastard or a shitheel in there who peeks out from time to time.
Expect it, let it pass, and move on.
My views, my expressions, my writing is for me. If it helps people get to know me? Great! If it inspires other folks to think? Awesome. If it pisses you off...well...the door is over there --~~
Nasty emails about my chosen topics will gain you nothing but wasted time on your part, and a good chuckle on mine because -- I did what? *made ya think, made ya think*
No fluffy, cuddly bullshit. Ever.
Bash kinks elsewhere besides my inbox kkthx~
Friday, April 14, 2006
A peg or two
A Peg or Two
I’ve had a bdsm website that I’ve had up and maintained for over 10 years (about 7 at it’s current web address). In those years, I’ve asked and answered a lot of questions, and discussed some of what it is we do til I’m blue in the face.
I tend to be a realist. Fluffy, cuddly rhetoric tends to annoy me when it’s flounced around like a bunny rabbit at Easter (ooo…did I just do that…yup, I did). Romance has its place – and I’m a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. But there are some things that should not *be* romanticized. There is a big ol’ sign at the start of my webpage that says “No Fluffy Cuddly Bullshit” and I mean it. You can pretty much be as romantic as you want to be. But in my life, it has a time and a place and when I’m being a brat is *not* the time.
When I’m being a brat, whether it’s conscious or subconscious; whether it’s me trying to provoke a dominant into pushing his limits as well as mine; whether it’s me just being my sweet-smart-ass self, that very last thing I want a dominant to do is be cuddly and sweet. If it’s out there, I want the dominant to show me in no uncertain terms that he hasn’t lost control of the situation.
Is that pushing? Is it limiting? Is it SAMming my ass off? Sure, it’s all of those things, but it’s none of them, too. I’m not trying to top from the bottom; I have no intention of winning a war of wills. I don’t *want* to win.
If I win, it’s done, and we have both lost.
I’m a strong-willed woman. One of the things that has always appealed to me about BDSM is the fact that there are times when it is appropriate for me to *not* be that. It is more than an escape; it’s a journey through a part of myself that I am only semi-comfortable with – the part that is allowed to let go.
I don’t hide this part of myself from any dominant I’m trying to get to know. I put it right out there in the open, so that it’s not a big surprise some day to him. My hope is that in my doing so, I’ll get to see some parts of him that he may not bring out and parade around in front of others.
I doubt that this is why *everyone* who acts a brat does it. We all have our reasons for pushing the buttons on the dominant’s control panel. But I like people to realize that there *is* a reason – at least for me. It is serving some kind of purpose, and it’s not just me bratting (yes, I do tend to use that word as a verb. Send the grammar police my way, especially if they have handcuffs) for the sake of bratting.
If you want it, take it. Let the brat be damned.
But she won’t be damned. She’ll be damn pleased with herself and probably very wet.
So, yes. Please. Knock me down a peg or two, if you have it in you, and it gets you off.
If not? Well, I’m sure there’s a quiet submissive kneeling in a corner just waiting for your call.
I’ve had a bdsm website that I’ve had up and maintained for over 10 years (about 7 at it’s current web address). In those years, I’ve asked and answered a lot of questions, and discussed some of what it is we do til I’m blue in the face.
I tend to be a realist. Fluffy, cuddly rhetoric tends to annoy me when it’s flounced around like a bunny rabbit at Easter (ooo…did I just do that…yup, I did). Romance has its place – and I’m a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. But there are some things that should not *be* romanticized. There is a big ol’ sign at the start of my webpage that says “No Fluffy Cuddly Bullshit” and I mean it. You can pretty much be as romantic as you want to be. But in my life, it has a time and a place and when I’m being a brat is *not* the time.
When I’m being a brat, whether it’s conscious or subconscious; whether it’s me trying to provoke a dominant into pushing his limits as well as mine; whether it’s me just being my sweet-smart-ass self, that very last thing I want a dominant to do is be cuddly and sweet. If it’s out there, I want the dominant to show me in no uncertain terms that he hasn’t lost control of the situation.
Is that pushing? Is it limiting? Is it SAMming my ass off? Sure, it’s all of those things, but it’s none of them, too. I’m not trying to top from the bottom; I have no intention of winning a war of wills. I don’t *want* to win.
If I win, it’s done, and we have both lost.
I’m a strong-willed woman. One of the things that has always appealed to me about BDSM is the fact that there are times when it is appropriate for me to *not* be that. It is more than an escape; it’s a journey through a part of myself that I am only semi-comfortable with – the part that is allowed to let go.
I don’t hide this part of myself from any dominant I’m trying to get to know. I put it right out there in the open, so that it’s not a big surprise some day to him. My hope is that in my doing so, I’ll get to see some parts of him that he may not bring out and parade around in front of others.
I doubt that this is why *everyone* who acts a brat does it. We all have our reasons for pushing the buttons on the dominant’s control panel. But I like people to realize that there *is* a reason – at least for me. It is serving some kind of purpose, and it’s not just me bratting (yes, I do tend to use that word as a verb. Send the grammar police my way, especially if they have handcuffs) for the sake of bratting.
If you want it, take it. Let the brat be damned.
But she won’t be damned. She’ll be damn pleased with herself and probably very wet.
So, yes. Please. Knock me down a peg or two, if you have it in you, and it gets you off.
If not? Well, I’m sure there’s a quiet submissive kneeling in a corner just waiting for your call.
Choke, Slobber, Slurp, Gag, Cry.
As a young, Midwest girl growing up in a small town, many ideas were placed into my head. Catholicism placed more, but I’ve gotten rid of most of those (Recovering Catholic, 17 years. “Hi, my name is Sola, and I…”)
Our first sexual experiences in this small town were so quiet. Even if you were on a gravel road at 3am, you still felt the undeniable urge to do everything quietly – even unzipping your Calvin’s. (Yes, I am aging myself. /shrug. Who thought I’d live to be this old?).
I’ve grown out of some of that. I’ve left most all of the “Good girls don’t do that…” in a waft of gravel dust. But there are a few things that I can’t seem to get over.
In my Midwest girl mind, giving head to a man is supposed to be a quiet affair. I mean, c’mon. You don’t really want your parents to hear you out in the yard; for the people in the house you parked in front of to suddenly turn down the TV and say “What’s that slurping sound?”; for your friend in the front seat, making out with her boyfriend, to hear you slobbering all over yours in the backseat. Shhhh…be vewy, vewy qwiet. We’re trying to be invisible here…
My last two exes were not big on having their cocks sucked. The first one, M, actually seemed to resist it, and in 4 years, he only came in my mouth once. The last one, C, was happy to trade “no oral for no oral” as he didn’t enjoy eating pussy, and frankly, I can live without being eaten. That was all okay with me, sometimes. I do enjoy having a cock in my mouth, but it’s not a “make or break” deal with me.
I’ve read a ton of profiles on Alt. And a ton of blogs. And one common theme amongst the gentlemen of the dom variety seems to be how they like to make a woman choke, slobber, slurp, gag, release tears (running mascara is a very popular theme) with cocksucking.
Don’t misunderstand. I’m far from naïve. And I’m a quiet student of all things sexual. I don’t have a problem with this. But my nature is to be inquisitive, and I’m undeniably curious here.
So gentlemen, start your engines. And tell me what the fuss is about with the choking and the slobbering and the slurping and the…well, you get the picture. Ladies, too, if you have some insight to share.
Our first sexual experiences in this small town were so quiet. Even if you were on a gravel road at 3am, you still felt the undeniable urge to do everything quietly – even unzipping your Calvin’s. (Yes, I am aging myself. /shrug. Who thought I’d live to be this old?).
I’ve grown out of some of that. I’ve left most all of the “Good girls don’t do that…” in a waft of gravel dust. But there are a few things that I can’t seem to get over.
In my Midwest girl mind, giving head to a man is supposed to be a quiet affair. I mean, c’mon. You don’t really want your parents to hear you out in the yard; for the people in the house you parked in front of to suddenly turn down the TV and say “What’s that slurping sound?”; for your friend in the front seat, making out with her boyfriend, to hear you slobbering all over yours in the backseat. Shhhh…be vewy, vewy qwiet. We’re trying to be invisible here…
My last two exes were not big on having their cocks sucked. The first one, M, actually seemed to resist it, and in 4 years, he only came in my mouth once. The last one, C, was happy to trade “no oral for no oral” as he didn’t enjoy eating pussy, and frankly, I can live without being eaten. That was all okay with me, sometimes. I do enjoy having a cock in my mouth, but it’s not a “make or break” deal with me.
I’ve read a ton of profiles on Alt. And a ton of blogs. And one common theme amongst the gentlemen of the dom variety seems to be how they like to make a woman choke, slobber, slurp, gag, release tears (running mascara is a very popular theme) with cocksucking.
Don’t misunderstand. I’m far from naïve. And I’m a quiet student of all things sexual. I don’t have a problem with this. But my nature is to be inquisitive, and I’m undeniably curious here.
So gentlemen, start your engines. And tell me what the fuss is about with the choking and the slobbering and the slurping and the…well, you get the picture. Ladies, too, if you have some insight to share.
Discovering the Kinky Ones
About six months ago, I had a male dominant-type-person-friend of mine say to me “Someone needs to take you down a peg or two, missy.”
At the time, I had no idea he had his own little spanking/bondage fantasies, but when someone says something like that to me, you gotta start poking til you get a response.
Don’t you? Okay, well, *I* do.
I love finding kinky people in places you don’t expect to find them.
Anyway. I got to thinking about what he said the other day (actually, the day he said it, I wrote him a fantasy involving that phrase, but we’ll save that for another day) and about how my relationship with him changed in that blink of an eye.
I’m not much for honorifics, unless a person is known to me well, and has earned being called “Sir” or “Ma’am”. That didn’t change with him, but I did stop calling him “darlin” and “sweets” and started calling him by his first name. Weird.
I also stopped teasing him every time an opportunity arose. Not completely, of course. I am – me - after all. But not nearly as much as I had been.
Our talks after that became a little more sexual than they had been, probably because he finally found someone he could discuss these fantasies with safely and not be frightened of someone pointing and yelling “FREAK!” at him. We started talking about our past histories, shared experiences, differing ones.
I kept looking for a label to put on it, and today I found one.
We have become more intimate with each other. Oh, not physically. He’s like 1300 miles away in a place I have no reason to visit. But he now knows things about me that few other people know. And I know things of his past that no one else in the game we share (where we met and still play) together know. It took a silly friendship into a much more serious one.
That’s not something you’ll ever hear me complain about. A girl needs good friends /wink.
At the time, I had no idea he had his own little spanking/bondage fantasies, but when someone says something like that to me, you gotta start poking til you get a response.
Don’t you? Okay, well, *I* do.
I love finding kinky people in places you don’t expect to find them.
Anyway. I got to thinking about what he said the other day (actually, the day he said it, I wrote him a fantasy involving that phrase, but we’ll save that for another day) and about how my relationship with him changed in that blink of an eye.
I’m not much for honorifics, unless a person is known to me well, and has earned being called “Sir” or “Ma’am”. That didn’t change with him, but I did stop calling him “darlin” and “sweets” and started calling him by his first name. Weird.
I also stopped teasing him every time an opportunity arose. Not completely, of course. I am – me - after all. But not nearly as much as I had been.
Our talks after that became a little more sexual than they had been, probably because he finally found someone he could discuss these fantasies with safely and not be frightened of someone pointing and yelling “FREAK!” at him. We started talking about our past histories, shared experiences, differing ones.
I kept looking for a label to put on it, and today I found one.
We have become more intimate with each other. Oh, not physically. He’s like 1300 miles away in a place I have no reason to visit. But he now knows things about me that few other people know. And I know things of his past that no one else in the game we share (where we met and still play) together know. It took a silly friendship into a much more serious one.
That’s not something you’ll ever hear me complain about. A girl needs good friends /wink.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Shut up and beat me.
The last two days have been extremely emotionally draining, and what I think I’ll do is go crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head.
What I’d like, though, is a beating.
Pain makes me focus on pain. All that other bullshit goes out the window. No ex’s, no work, no parental pressure. Just OW dammit OW dammit OW! And when it’s done, it takes the other stuff a long time to come back in. When it’s over, I can collapse into a nice little heap of exhausted mush and sleep it all off.
Oh there are other things that work as well. I could read or watch TV or focus my attention on a project. These things will also shove my last two exes out of my head and get me back to where I need to be. I could get drunk, something I rarely do (once a year maybe), or take a Xanax (thank you, two panic attacks 8 years ago that gives me a prescription to this day. I take maybe 2 a year).
But a beating is more fun :P
I told the ex last night on the phone that I was making my way back into the scene. He says “good for you!” Not like I needed his blessing, but at least I know I’m not going to take any shit from him about it.
Still haven’t found any dominants locally that I’m interested in (locally being less than 20 miles away). Maybe I’ll have to find me a vanilla boy and introduce him to “How Much Fun is it to Beat Sola’s Inner Brat.” It wouldn’t be all that I want, but it would be a release until I find what I want.
Ms Savanna has me thinking again, about all that relationship stuff and what makes a good D/s connection between two people. Well, I was thinking about it. Until I had to deal with the ex before the ex today, and his pompous, arrogant email about HIS daughter’s wedding (which I was invited to and had fully intended to fly to CA to attend until I got a whiff of his new demeanor.). Right now all I’m thinking about is a place where both of my exes can go bite themselves and I can relax. I can think of a lot of places that could happen. Unfortunately, none of them are within reach /wink.
Boy, I had a point when I started this, and it just kinda drifted off.
If you see it, will you send it back?
What I’d like, though, is a beating.
Pain makes me focus on pain. All that other bullshit goes out the window. No ex’s, no work, no parental pressure. Just OW dammit OW dammit OW! And when it’s done, it takes the other stuff a long time to come back in. When it’s over, I can collapse into a nice little heap of exhausted mush and sleep it all off.
Oh there are other things that work as well. I could read or watch TV or focus my attention on a project. These things will also shove my last two exes out of my head and get me back to where I need to be. I could get drunk, something I rarely do (once a year maybe), or take a Xanax (thank you, two panic attacks 8 years ago that gives me a prescription to this day. I take maybe 2 a year).
But a beating is more fun :P
I told the ex last night on the phone that I was making my way back into the scene. He says “good for you!” Not like I needed his blessing, but at least I know I’m not going to take any shit from him about it.
Still haven’t found any dominants locally that I’m interested in (locally being less than 20 miles away). Maybe I’ll have to find me a vanilla boy and introduce him to “How Much Fun is it to Beat Sola’s Inner Brat.” It wouldn’t be all that I want, but it would be a release until I find what I want.
Ms Savanna has me thinking again, about all that relationship stuff and what makes a good D/s connection between two people. Well, I was thinking about it. Until I had to deal with the ex before the ex today, and his pompous, arrogant email about HIS daughter’s wedding (which I was invited to and had fully intended to fly to CA to attend until I got a whiff of his new demeanor.). Right now all I’m thinking about is a place where both of my exes can go bite themselves and I can relax. I can think of a lot of places that could happen. Unfortunately, none of them are within reach /wink.
Boy, I had a point when I started this, and it just kinda drifted off.
If you see it, will you send it back?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
You Can Leave Your Hat On...no, please do~
I used to have a cowboy fetish. I think I still might. But one thing is for certain.
I love hats. On men. On me. On other women. Soooo Sexy.
One blessing about Madison so far has been that we have a couple of really good radio stations here. One plays real Classic Rock (not that shit that passes for classic rock on the left and right coasts). Today, it was 70 degrees. I opened the sun roof on my way to lunch. And they started playing my song…
Baby take off your coat
real slow
and take off your shoes
I'll take your shoes
Baby take off your dress
yes yes yes
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
Joe Cocker has such an awesome voice *Grin*
My ex, M, used to wear leather fedoras. He had a black one, and a brown one, and wore them nearly every day to work. I loved those hats. The look of them, the smell of them…my god they nearly gave me fits sometimes. The first time he came to see me in Wyoming, he flew into Colorado Springs and I went to pick him up. I saw him from the back, leather sports coat (black mmmm), and that hat…. I went up and touched his shoulder. He stood stock still, and let out a deep breath, and I could *feel* his smile as he took off the hat and turned around to kiss me. I wore that hat a lot that weekend, sometimes, with nothing else~
A man in a hat nearly drives me to the brink (no, baseball caps do not count). I’m sure there’s a good reason for this – somewhere.
Frankly, I don’t care what it is.
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
I wear hats myself too. I have a Stetson, a Riata, a few dress hats. There is just something extra with a hat that you don’t get without one.
Gimme a strong, sure dominant in a hat and I’ll be catatonic for a week /wink.
I love hats. On men. On me. On other women. Soooo Sexy.
One blessing about Madison so far has been that we have a couple of really good radio stations here. One plays real Classic Rock (not that shit that passes for classic rock on the left and right coasts). Today, it was 70 degrees. I opened the sun roof on my way to lunch. And they started playing my song…
Baby take off your coat
real slow
and take off your shoes
I'll take your shoes
Baby take off your dress
yes yes yes
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
Joe Cocker has such an awesome voice *Grin*
My ex, M, used to wear leather fedoras. He had a black one, and a brown one, and wore them nearly every day to work. I loved those hats. The look of them, the smell of them…my god they nearly gave me fits sometimes. The first time he came to see me in Wyoming, he flew into Colorado Springs and I went to pick him up. I saw him from the back, leather sports coat (black mmmm), and that hat…. I went up and touched his shoulder. He stood stock still, and let out a deep breath, and I could *feel* his smile as he took off the hat and turned around to kiss me. I wore that hat a lot that weekend, sometimes, with nothing else~
A man in a hat nearly drives me to the brink (no, baseball caps do not count). I’m sure there’s a good reason for this – somewhere.
Frankly, I don’t care what it is.
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
I wear hats myself too. I have a Stetson, a Riata, a few dress hats. There is just something extra with a hat that you don’t get without one.
Gimme a strong, sure dominant in a hat and I’ll be catatonic for a week /wink.
How do you divorce your best friend?
So, as I mentioned, about a month ago, I finally made the decision to tell the ex to file papers. Problem is, he's on a submarine, and hard to catch at home.
Well, he caught me today.
I was much more calm telling him than I was when I wrote it out a month ago. That was good. It was a good conversation more or less.
He didn't understand why I was still sad, after all this time. I explained:
I'm sad because I'm divorcing my best friend.
And then I thought about it and the truth of the matter is:
I'm divorcing the angry, selfish man I married. My best friend is still right there, and will be even after the papers are filed.
And then I cried.
Well, he caught me today.
I was much more calm telling him than I was when I wrote it out a month ago. That was good. It was a good conversation more or less.
He didn't understand why I was still sad, after all this time. I explained:
I'm sad because I'm divorcing my best friend.
And then I thought about it and the truth of the matter is:
I'm divorcing the angry, selfish man I married. My best friend is still right there, and will be even after the papers are filed.
And then I cried.
*Snickers Quietly*
So, I gave the address of this blog to a friend from EQ last night who seems to have an interest in what it is that we do~
I guess we'll see if he still has it after he's done reading here *snickers quietly*
/waves at the Inky /wink
I guess we'll see if he still has it after he's done reading here *snickers quietly*
/waves at the Inky /wink
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Choices.
Every day, we make hundreds of choices. Almost none of those choices affect just ourselves; they affect other people in our lives, people we work with, people we live near or with. As a type-a analyst type person, I often put far too much thought and planning into making those choices, and put a lot of un-needed pressure on myself to be sure I’ve done the right thing – every time.
What I would give right now for a couple days – hell, a couple hours – free of making those choices. My mind and soul need a rest.
And how might I accomplish that?
Well, bondage of course! *chuckle* Bondage gives us the illusion that we are done making any choices until we are set free; it lets us react, feel, be without the worry of our hair being perfect (you can’t get to it to fix it anyway), our bills are paid (you should have done that before the rope came out!), the cats are fed (can you ever feed cats enough anyway?). Once you’ve made the decision to let the cuffs go on, and they do – you’re done (let’s hope you thought THAT through, hm?)
My ex was initially into bondage and then decided it was too much work. Before him, my *other* ex wasn’t really into it at all unless he was cuffing me to something in order to whip the hell out of me (who’s complaining about whipping? Not me!). I’ve never really played with someone who enjoyed the bondage itself. And I’d like to. I added a line about it in my profile recently; maybe I’ll get lucky /wink.
Right now, it’s just extremely appealing to me. Rope bondage can be beautiful and effective, but so can a simple set of handcuffs. The setup doesn’t have to be elaborate to be efficient; it’s more about making someone move-proof than artistic sensibility for me, right now at least.
Did I mention that attaching a leash to a hood-ring piercing gets someone’s attention really quickly? :P
What I would give right now for a couple days – hell, a couple hours – free of making those choices. My mind and soul need a rest.
And how might I accomplish that?
Well, bondage of course! *chuckle* Bondage gives us the illusion that we are done making any choices until we are set free; it lets us react, feel, be without the worry of our hair being perfect (you can’t get to it to fix it anyway), our bills are paid (you should have done that before the rope came out!), the cats are fed (can you ever feed cats enough anyway?). Once you’ve made the decision to let the cuffs go on, and they do – you’re done (let’s hope you thought THAT through, hm?)
My ex was initially into bondage and then decided it was too much work. Before him, my *other* ex wasn’t really into it at all unless he was cuffing me to something in order to whip the hell out of me (who’s complaining about whipping? Not me!). I’ve never really played with someone who enjoyed the bondage itself. And I’d like to. I added a line about it in my profile recently; maybe I’ll get lucky /wink.
Right now, it’s just extremely appealing to me. Rope bondage can be beautiful and effective, but so can a simple set of handcuffs. The setup doesn’t have to be elaborate to be efficient; it’s more about making someone move-proof than artistic sensibility for me, right now at least.
Did I mention that attaching a leash to a hood-ring piercing gets someone’s attention really quickly? :P
"The Ad"
The Ad (Maybe Part 1)
© 2003, KA
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
He looked at her, a disbelieving scowl on his face.
She silently reached into her wallet and produced her driver’s license.
“Your ad said you were twenty-one.”
“Would you be here if I’d have said eighteen?”
“No.” he answered honestly.
“Well.”
The waiter delivered his coffee and her diet coke. She looked at him warily, waiting for him to toss a twenty on the table and leave.
He didn’t. Stirring his coffee thoughtfully, he asked “What are you looking for?”
“My ad was pretty specific.”
“We’ve already determined that at least part of your ad was bullshit. I want to know how much of the rest of it is true.”
“All of it.”
“All of it, really?” He looked at her intently over his glasses. “So, when you said you had a few years of experience with this, you were being honest?”
His eyes were intense. She found herself looking down at the white table cloth to escape them. “More or less.”
“I don’t like half-answers.” He set his spoon down on his saucer. “I certainly don’t like dishonesty.” She saw him lean forward, to pull out his wallet, and reached for his hand.
“Wait.”
“For?” He looked up at her, not moving.
“I’ll answer.”
He leaned back a little in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“My last boyfriend… was older. A lot older.”
“And?”
She huffed. “I wasn’t done.” She sipped her diet coke. “We were together for a year. Little more. He was almost thirty when we broke up.”
He tapped his fingers on his arm, staring at her. An intimidating move. A planned one.
“After we’d been together awhile, I jokingly called him “Daddy” one night. He said that if he were really my daddy, he’d have paddled my ass for my bratty behavior by now, and I told him to go for it.” She shrugged, still not looking at him. “It started there.”
“What was a seventeen year old doing dating a thirty year old?” he asked, his voice full of disapproval.
“I met him at a party. We liked each other.”
“Did you lie to him about your age, too?”
Her lips curled up into a pout. “Yes, at first. I told him before we slept together, though. I thought that was only fair.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He was angry at first, but he got over it.” She sipped at her coke again, crossing her legs under the table.
He was quiet for awhile. “You’re used to getting your own way a lot, aren’t you?” he asked finally.
“Yea, I guess I am.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“The word is Yes, not Yea.”
“Okay.” She felt a slow heat crawl into her cheeks.
He smiled slightly. “Why did you break up with your boyfriend?”
“He broke up with me, actually. Said I needed to go out and experience some other things before I could make a commitment to him.” The pout returned.
“How long ago?”
“Couple months.”
“Two? Three?”
“Three.”
“Then say that. How long ago did you break up?”
“Three months ago.” She said, the color growing deeper in her face.
“Much better. Good girl.”
Her stomach flipped.
His smile grew. “Back to my original question, and I’d appreciate an answer this time. What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for Daddy.” She said, in a small voice. She opened her green eyes and looked at him across the table.
“Specifics.”
She thought for a moment. “Correction, discipline, attention, affection…”
“Affection?”
She nodded. “I like to sit on Daddy’s lap and cuddle.”
“How much affection?”
“I like a lot of affection. Especially after I’ve been punished…”
He put one hand down on the table, and slid it over to hers, taking her fingers into his hand. “Are you being intentionally evasive?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with an innocence that didn’t look contrived. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then I’ll tell you what I mean.” He said patiently. “Do you want to…” he squeezed her fingers hard. “… fuck Daddy?”
She let out a noise that sounded like an ‘eeep’ and tried to pull her hand away. When his fingers didn’t budge, she answered. “I do whatever Daddy tells me to do.”
He held her fingers and her gaze for a moment longer, and then let go. A tense silence hung between them before he finally spoke. “Do you know how old I am?”
“The ad said thirty-five.”
“That’s correct. Daddies are honest in their ads. Evidently, little girls are not always so honest.”
She blushed.
“How old are you?”
“I told you, eighteen.”
He sighed. “Let me ask again. How old are you, little girl?”
She understood then what he wanted. “I’m fourteen.”
“And what do you like to do?”
“I collect teddy bears and I like to read Nancy Drew books.”
“Are you a good girl?”
She nodded emphatically. “I try to be good all the time.”
“But sometimes you aren’t?”
She scowled. “No, sometimes I mess up.”
“And Daddy punishes you then.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like Daddy to punish you?” His voice had grown low and soft. They weren’t sitting close to anyone, and the waiter hadn’t been back in the twenty minutes since he brought the drinks. He was trying to cast a protective bubble around them, so that she’d answer his questions without feeling afraid.
“No.” she screwed up her face again. “I try real hard to be good.”
“You don’t like how a spanking from Daddy feels?” he asked.
“Noooo. Spankings hurt!”
He leaned back in his chair again. “Do you miss having a daddy, little girl?” he asked, softly.
She nodded, and bit her bottom lip gently. He looked at her face for any signs of contrived behavior, but saw – and felt none. He reached across the table and took her hand gently in his.
“I want you to do something for me. Will you do it?”
She nodded again.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He said tenderly.
She looked up at him.
“Much better. I want you to go home tonight and write me a letter. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to write me a letter telling me about what you and your last Daddy did, and about what you want your new Daddy to do with you. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. I’ll expect it in my email in the morning.” He took a long sip of his coffee, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “I have to go back to work now. Will you be a good girl for the rest of the day?”
The urge to call him Daddy was overwhelming, but he hadn’t told her that was okay yet. “I will be good.”
“Good.” He stood up, and threw some bills on the table. “You finish your soda and get back to school.” He leaned down, gently kissing her cheek, and allowing her smell to permeate his senses. She was wet. He could almost taste it in the air around her.
“I will. Thank you… Sir.” She said quietly.
The first thing I have to do, he thought to himself as he opened his car door, is punish her for lying about her age…
© 2003, KA
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
He looked at her, a disbelieving scowl on his face.
She silently reached into her wallet and produced her driver’s license.
“Your ad said you were twenty-one.”
“Would you be here if I’d have said eighteen?”
“No.” he answered honestly.
“Well.”
The waiter delivered his coffee and her diet coke. She looked at him warily, waiting for him to toss a twenty on the table and leave.
He didn’t. Stirring his coffee thoughtfully, he asked “What are you looking for?”
“My ad was pretty specific.”
“We’ve already determined that at least part of your ad was bullshit. I want to know how much of the rest of it is true.”
“All of it.”
“All of it, really?” He looked at her intently over his glasses. “So, when you said you had a few years of experience with this, you were being honest?”
His eyes were intense. She found herself looking down at the white table cloth to escape them. “More or less.”
“I don’t like half-answers.” He set his spoon down on his saucer. “I certainly don’t like dishonesty.” She saw him lean forward, to pull out his wallet, and reached for his hand.
“Wait.”
“For?” He looked up at her, not moving.
“I’ll answer.”
He leaned back a little in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“My last boyfriend… was older. A lot older.”
“And?”
She huffed. “I wasn’t done.” She sipped her diet coke. “We were together for a year. Little more. He was almost thirty when we broke up.”
He tapped his fingers on his arm, staring at her. An intimidating move. A planned one.
“After we’d been together awhile, I jokingly called him “Daddy” one night. He said that if he were really my daddy, he’d have paddled my ass for my bratty behavior by now, and I told him to go for it.” She shrugged, still not looking at him. “It started there.”
“What was a seventeen year old doing dating a thirty year old?” he asked, his voice full of disapproval.
“I met him at a party. We liked each other.”
“Did you lie to him about your age, too?”
Her lips curled up into a pout. “Yes, at first. I told him before we slept together, though. I thought that was only fair.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He was angry at first, but he got over it.” She sipped at her coke again, crossing her legs under the table.
He was quiet for awhile. “You’re used to getting your own way a lot, aren’t you?” he asked finally.
“Yea, I guess I am.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“The word is Yes, not Yea.”
“Okay.” She felt a slow heat crawl into her cheeks.
He smiled slightly. “Why did you break up with your boyfriend?”
“He broke up with me, actually. Said I needed to go out and experience some other things before I could make a commitment to him.” The pout returned.
“How long ago?”
“Couple months.”
“Two? Three?”
“Three.”
“Then say that. How long ago did you break up?”
“Three months ago.” She said, the color growing deeper in her face.
“Much better. Good girl.”
Her stomach flipped.
His smile grew. “Back to my original question, and I’d appreciate an answer this time. What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for Daddy.” She said, in a small voice. She opened her green eyes and looked at him across the table.
“Specifics.”
She thought for a moment. “Correction, discipline, attention, affection…”
“Affection?”
She nodded. “I like to sit on Daddy’s lap and cuddle.”
“How much affection?”
“I like a lot of affection. Especially after I’ve been punished…”
He put one hand down on the table, and slid it over to hers, taking her fingers into his hand. “Are you being intentionally evasive?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with an innocence that didn’t look contrived. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then I’ll tell you what I mean.” He said patiently. “Do you want to…” he squeezed her fingers hard. “… fuck Daddy?”
She let out a noise that sounded like an ‘eeep’ and tried to pull her hand away. When his fingers didn’t budge, she answered. “I do whatever Daddy tells me to do.”
He held her fingers and her gaze for a moment longer, and then let go. A tense silence hung between them before he finally spoke. “Do you know how old I am?”
“The ad said thirty-five.”
“That’s correct. Daddies are honest in their ads. Evidently, little girls are not always so honest.”
She blushed.
“How old are you?”
“I told you, eighteen.”
He sighed. “Let me ask again. How old are you, little girl?”
She understood then what he wanted. “I’m fourteen.”
“And what do you like to do?”
“I collect teddy bears and I like to read Nancy Drew books.”
“Are you a good girl?”
She nodded emphatically. “I try to be good all the time.”
“But sometimes you aren’t?”
She scowled. “No, sometimes I mess up.”
“And Daddy punishes you then.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like Daddy to punish you?” His voice had grown low and soft. They weren’t sitting close to anyone, and the waiter hadn’t been back in the twenty minutes since he brought the drinks. He was trying to cast a protective bubble around them, so that she’d answer his questions without feeling afraid.
“No.” she screwed up her face again. “I try real hard to be good.”
“You don’t like how a spanking from Daddy feels?” he asked.
“Noooo. Spankings hurt!”
He leaned back in his chair again. “Do you miss having a daddy, little girl?” he asked, softly.
She nodded, and bit her bottom lip gently. He looked at her face for any signs of contrived behavior, but saw – and felt none. He reached across the table and took her hand gently in his.
“I want you to do something for me. Will you do it?”
She nodded again.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He said tenderly.
She looked up at him.
“Much better. I want you to go home tonight and write me a letter. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to write me a letter telling me about what you and your last Daddy did, and about what you want your new Daddy to do with you. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. I’ll expect it in my email in the morning.” He took a long sip of his coffee, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “I have to go back to work now. Will you be a good girl for the rest of the day?”
The urge to call him Daddy was overwhelming, but he hadn’t told her that was okay yet. “I will be good.”
“Good.” He stood up, and threw some bills on the table. “You finish your soda and get back to school.” He leaned down, gently kissing her cheek, and allowing her smell to permeate his senses. She was wet. He could almost taste it in the air around her.
“I will. Thank you… Sir.” She said quietly.
The first thing I have to do, he thought to himself as he opened his car door, is punish her for lying about her age…
Once upon a Time...
I have a friend in California, Ms M. I adore this woman.
I was out and about in the lifestyle long before I met her - that's actually how I met her. For years, she's been a professional dominatrix as well as a lifestyle one.
One night, when my ex from CA (not to be confused with my current ex) and I were over visiting MS M and her boy, the subject came up of her profressional life, and how sometimes it paid to have a "partner in crime" for such outings. She asked if I was interested.
Now, I had topped before, I'd even dommed a little (the ex from CA was a notorious switch), and as I said, I adore Ms M as a friend and person. So I agreed to think about it. The Ex from CA (good lord, that's unwieldy to type - let's call him M.) found the entire idea hot as hell and encouraged me to do it. And so I did.
I went on two appointments with her, but even before I did that, we spent an entire evening in a friend's dungeon, taking pictures for DDI. How fun is that? Dress up in nasty fetish or dom-like clothes and have an adorable sub-man take your picture? That night was amazing. (I still have the picture of M sucking on her on strap-on. I kept it just because after he was such a shit to me, that's how I wanted to remember him.)
The two appointments were okay. I mean, I guess maybe the idea of Domming for Dollars doesn't really appeal to me at a base level because if I'm going to dominate someone, I want to follow my own script, not theirs. This is not to say it wasn't fun - nor is it to say the cash didn't come in handy, but it just wasn't me, so after trying it twice, I graciously let myself off the hook and went back to playing without that added bonus of dollars in my wallet.
I was out and about in the lifestyle long before I met her - that's actually how I met her. For years, she's been a professional dominatrix as well as a lifestyle one.
One night, when my ex from CA (not to be confused with my current ex) and I were over visiting MS M and her boy, the subject came up of her profressional life, and how sometimes it paid to have a "partner in crime" for such outings. She asked if I was interested.
Now, I had topped before, I'd even dommed a little (the ex from CA was a notorious switch), and as I said, I adore Ms M as a friend and person. So I agreed to think about it. The Ex from CA (good lord, that's unwieldy to type - let's call him M.) found the entire idea hot as hell and encouraged me to do it. And so I did.
I went on two appointments with her, but even before I did that, we spent an entire evening in a friend's dungeon, taking pictures for DDI. How fun is that? Dress up in nasty fetish or dom-like clothes and have an adorable sub-man take your picture? That night was amazing. (I still have the picture of M sucking on her on strap-on. I kept it just because after he was such a shit to me, that's how I wanted to remember him.)
The two appointments were okay. I mean, I guess maybe the idea of Domming for Dollars doesn't really appeal to me at a base level because if I'm going to dominate someone, I want to follow my own script, not theirs. This is not to say it wasn't fun - nor is it to say the cash didn't come in handy, but it just wasn't me, so after trying it twice, I graciously let myself off the hook and went back to playing without that added bonus of dollars in my wallet.
Rant-o-matic
We're all selfish. We're all judgemental. We're all a myriad of things that we point a finger at someone else and call "foul!"
There's no reason to be high and mighty. No reason to pretend to be shocked or even stunned at someone else's behavior.
We all do it.
For the love of the Goddess, please. Could we all take a moment, step back and look at our own behavior before we go rushing to point our slightly crooked fingers at someone else?
If your life hasn't gone the way you wanted it to, then please. Take a moment to adjust and then quietly move on. Do you have to drag half the world into your soap operas?
Look to yourself before you start looking to others. Heal yourself. Help yourself. Be yourself.
And leave the drama to the Sopranos. They do it best.
Okay. Rant over. Sweetness and light? Well, maybe salt and sundown....
There's no reason to be high and mighty. No reason to pretend to be shocked or even stunned at someone else's behavior.
We all do it.
For the love of the Goddess, please. Could we all take a moment, step back and look at our own behavior before we go rushing to point our slightly crooked fingers at someone else?
If your life hasn't gone the way you wanted it to, then please. Take a moment to adjust and then quietly move on. Do you have to drag half the world into your soap operas?
Look to yourself before you start looking to others. Heal yourself. Help yourself. Be yourself.
And leave the drama to the Sopranos. They do it best.
Okay. Rant over. Sweetness and light? Well, maybe salt and sundown....
The geek life
Sometimes, I love my geek life. Geek for money during the day, geek for fun at night...
And other times, it makes me want to stick an abacus in my eye
And other times, it makes me want to stick an abacus in my eye
Feeling Open
...being open to new ideas.
Mmmm...I love a good clarity moment.
See,last year at this time, I was a walking disaster area with my weight out of control and my struggling to see if my marriage wasn't worth saving (apparently, it wasn't). I couldn't write (which is worse than no sex for me - almost). I couldn't sleep. I was struggling with some big personal issues that needed a good single-tailing.
And they got it. Believe me.
And now that that's all over and done with by 3 months or more (well, okay, most of it is - I'm still working on my weight but that's a process -- 84 pounds off since then, still going strong), it's time for the old Sola to make yet another step into the here and now.
So, I have this friend, see. And he lives a long way from me, and is always desperately trying to get a picture of my tits. *snicker*. I'm not the kind of person who takes those pictures of myself - it's never felt right to do so, and it just feels - weird. Not bad - just weird.
But tonight, I took some *grin*
Oh, not full on porn pictures. No, I'm a little more creative than that. But more than cleavage and a little more risque than I can say I've ever taken of myself. (he actually got partial nipple!)
And I took some straighter ones, too for the profiles. I take new ones every month, as I look different and feel better every month.
He was blown away that I finally did it. And I have to say, so was I.
I gotta say, clarity and opening yourself up to new things is a good thing ~
Mmmm...I love a good clarity moment.
See,last year at this time, I was a walking disaster area with my weight out of control and my struggling to see if my marriage wasn't worth saving (apparently, it wasn't). I couldn't write (which is worse than no sex for me - almost). I couldn't sleep. I was struggling with some big personal issues that needed a good single-tailing.
And they got it. Believe me.
And now that that's all over and done with by 3 months or more (well, okay, most of it is - I'm still working on my weight but that's a process -- 84 pounds off since then, still going strong), it's time for the old Sola to make yet another step into the here and now.
So, I have this friend, see. And he lives a long way from me, and is always desperately trying to get a picture of my tits. *snicker*. I'm not the kind of person who takes those pictures of myself - it's never felt right to do so, and it just feels - weird. Not bad - just weird.
But tonight, I took some *grin*
Oh, not full on porn pictures. No, I'm a little more creative than that. But more than cleavage and a little more risque than I can say I've ever taken of myself. (he actually got partial nipple!)
And I took some straighter ones, too for the profiles. I take new ones every month, as I look different and feel better every month.
He was blown away that I finally did it. And I have to say, so was I.
I gotta say, clarity and opening yourself up to new things is a good thing ~
Feeling Open
...being open to new ideas.
Mmmm...I love a good clarity moment.
See,last year at this time, I was a walking disaster area with my weight out of control and my struggling to see if my marriage wasn't worth saving (apparently, it wasn't). I couldn't write (which is worse than no sex for me - almost). I couldn't sleep. I was struggling with some big personal issues that needed a good single-tailing.
And they got it. Believe me.
And now that that's all over and done with by 3 months or more (well, okay, most of it is - I'm still working on my weight but that's a process -- 84 pounds off since then, still going strong), it's time for the old Sola to make yet another step into the here and now.
So, I have this friend, see. And he lives a long way from me, and is always desperately trying to get a picture of my tits. *snicker*. I'm not the kind of person who takes those pictures of myself - it's never felt right to do so, and it just feels - weird. Not bad - just weird.
But tonight, I took some *grin*
Oh, not full on porn pictures. No, I'm a little more creative than that. But more than cleavage and a little more risque than I can say I've ever taken of myself. (he actually got partial nipple!)
And I took some straighter ones, too for the profiles. I take new ones every month, as I look different and feel better every month.
He was blown away that I finally did it. And I have to say, so was I.
I gotta say, clarity and opening yourself up to new things is a good thing ~
Mmmm...I love a good clarity moment.
See,last year at this time, I was a walking disaster area with my weight out of control and my struggling to see if my marriage wasn't worth saving (apparently, it wasn't). I couldn't write (which is worse than no sex for me - almost). I couldn't sleep. I was struggling with some big personal issues that needed a good single-tailing.
And they got it. Believe me.
And now that that's all over and done with by 3 months or more (well, okay, most of it is - I'm still working on my weight but that's a process -- 84 pounds off since then, still going strong), it's time for the old Sola to make yet another step into the here and now.
So, I have this friend, see. And he lives a long way from me, and is always desperately trying to get a picture of my tits. *snicker*. I'm not the kind of person who takes those pictures of myself - it's never felt right to do so, and it just feels - weird. Not bad - just weird.
But tonight, I took some *grin*
Oh, not full on porn pictures. No, I'm a little more creative than that. But more than cleavage and a little more risque than I can say I've ever taken of myself. (he actually got partial nipple!)
And I took some straighter ones, too for the profiles. I take new ones every month, as I look different and feel better every month.
He was blown away that I finally did it. And I have to say, so was I.
I gotta say, clarity and opening yourself up to new things is a good thing ~
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Flirt Alert
I have apparently turned into a flirt.
Who, me? What? Really?
At least that's what I got told on EQ last night by a friend of mine who said something to the effect of "Who let you out of your cage?" lol
I do find myself being much more outgoing and smiling at people more. Maybe I am being a little more flirtacious than people who've known me for years have known me to be. It's not a bad thing (and no one told me it was). It's me, finally becoming comfortable in my own skin.
It's only getting better from here on out, because it's all I'll allow.
Look out people (I am an equal opportunity flirt).
Who, me? What? Really?
At least that's what I got told on EQ last night by a friend of mine who said something to the effect of "Who let you out of your cage?" lol
I do find myself being much more outgoing and smiling at people more. Maybe I am being a little more flirtacious than people who've known me for years have known me to be. It's not a bad thing (and no one told me it was). It's me, finally becoming comfortable in my own skin.
It's only getting better from here on out, because it's all I'll allow.
Look out people (I am an equal opportunity flirt).
Doors lead to...
Heavy door (I knew it would be)
Opening into a quiet, dark entryway (I knew it would be, too)
I can’t even hear a clock ticking it’s so quiet.
He said wait.
So here, I’ll wait.
It only takes him two steps (he was close, and I didn’t know it)
To get to me, one hand (warm hand, long fingers)
To wrap around my face, and cover my mouth
The other entwining itself in long blonde hair
Pulling and pushing my head backwards at the same time, he says.
“Hello, whore.”
Opening into a quiet, dark entryway (I knew it would be, too)
I can’t even hear a clock ticking it’s so quiet.
He said wait.
So here, I’ll wait.
It only takes him two steps (he was close, and I didn’t know it)
To get to me, one hand (warm hand, long fingers)
To wrap around my face, and cover my mouth
The other entwining itself in long blonde hair
Pulling and pushing my head backwards at the same time, he says.
“Hello, whore.”
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Knowing
I’ve taken this weekend to get my thoughts in order, more or less. When I first put up profiles on here and AFF, I had a different sort of thing in mind for myself, but after having chatted with some very interesting people from both sites, I’m starting to re-evaluate what I want and need in my life.
I find myself responding less and less on AFF. I have met some wonderful people there, and will continue to participate in the local groups and hang out with friends I have made (which is what I really wanted from there, anyway). But frankly, a vanilla lover holds little interest for me now. Before I dove headlong back into BDSM, it did, but now. Eh.
It’s good to know what you want, though /wink. Even wanting something you know you’re going to hate, and accepting both ends of that, is helpful. The writing I’ve done on here in the last few days has greatly helped. Just getting the thoughts on paper (errr…screen) helps. Seeing things in black and white makes it much easier to navigate the shades of grey.
I’d love it if I could find a munch group here in Madison, but as of yet, I haven’t. I know there is a club here – to play – but a single woman going to a club like that, not knowing anyone – it’s just not my idea of a good time, ya know? Munches were the way to go on the west coast, and I seriously enjoyed the time I spent organizing them and attending them out there. I may have to do something like that here if I can’t find one soon. I know there are some in Milwaukee, and it’s not that far of a drive. But I’d prefer local for stuff like that.
I find myself responding less and less on AFF. I have met some wonderful people there, and will continue to participate in the local groups and hang out with friends I have made (which is what I really wanted from there, anyway). But frankly, a vanilla lover holds little interest for me now. Before I dove headlong back into BDSM, it did, but now. Eh.
It’s good to know what you want, though /wink. Even wanting something you know you’re going to hate, and accepting both ends of that, is helpful. The writing I’ve done on here in the last few days has greatly helped. Just getting the thoughts on paper (errr…screen) helps. Seeing things in black and white makes it much easier to navigate the shades of grey.
I’d love it if I could find a munch group here in Madison, but as of yet, I haven’t. I know there is a club here – to play – but a single woman going to a club like that, not knowing anyone – it’s just not my idea of a good time, ya know? Munches were the way to go on the west coast, and I seriously enjoyed the time I spent organizing them and attending them out there. I may have to do something like that here if I can’t find one soon. I know there are some in Milwaukee, and it’s not that far of a drive. But I’d prefer local for stuff like that.
Beholden
In my last post, I made mention that life was different for me in California. I lived alone, had no rules, no one to answer to but myself.
What I didn’t say then, but will say now, is that the reason I didn’t stay with that kind of life is because that’s not what I want.
I want to be held responsible for my actions. I want to be beholden to someone for what I do. Not all the time, and not a micro-manager, but someone who will hold me accountable for being a good girl.
I have always been the stand-up one. The one who made sure everything got done, bills paid, laundry put away, birthday cards sent, phone calls made to people that needed to be called. I have always been the one who took responsibility for everything. In those moments/weeks/months/years that I had a dominant that put all of that stuff in my hands, and then held me accountable to doing it, it seemed to make doing it less of a chore, and more of a joy. I still do all those things – I have to, there’s no one else to do it lol. But doing them for myself is a chore. Not one I mind so much, but a chore nonetheless.
I explain my submission sometimes by saying that in a world where I am responsible to everyone and for everything, it’s nice to set aside a block of time where I am only responsible to one person and myself. It’s nice to just let everything else go. Be responsible to feel, to act, to be only.
Years ago, I tried to analyze that (as I try to analyze every damn thing in my life) but I gave up. It doesn’t matter why I want it. It’s not a psychosis for fucks sake, It’s not a mental illness, it’s just who I am, what makes me happy and comfortable, and what I want in my life.
Now, being able to have that without having a full-blown romantic relationship with someone – I dunno. I know it’s possible. I mentioned my friend P from California. Her Master was gay. Old guard leather gay, from San Francisco. There was no romantic relationship there. She served, he taught her how, he imposed, she bowed. So I know it’s possible. But it just seems very rare these days.
So, as I said yesterday, maybe what I’m looking for isn’t what I’m going to find, and I should revisit my list.
But I can hope, right?
What I didn’t say then, but will say now, is that the reason I didn’t stay with that kind of life is because that’s not what I want.
I want to be held responsible for my actions. I want to be beholden to someone for what I do. Not all the time, and not a micro-manager, but someone who will hold me accountable for being a good girl.
I have always been the stand-up one. The one who made sure everything got done, bills paid, laundry put away, birthday cards sent, phone calls made to people that needed to be called. I have always been the one who took responsibility for everything. In those moments/weeks/months/years that I had a dominant that put all of that stuff in my hands, and then held me accountable to doing it, it seemed to make doing it less of a chore, and more of a joy. I still do all those things – I have to, there’s no one else to do it lol. But doing them for myself is a chore. Not one I mind so much, but a chore nonetheless.
I explain my submission sometimes by saying that in a world where I am responsible to everyone and for everything, it’s nice to set aside a block of time where I am only responsible to one person and myself. It’s nice to just let everything else go. Be responsible to feel, to act, to be only.
Years ago, I tried to analyze that (as I try to analyze every damn thing in my life) but I gave up. It doesn’t matter why I want it. It’s not a psychosis for fucks sake, It’s not a mental illness, it’s just who I am, what makes me happy and comfortable, and what I want in my life.
Now, being able to have that without having a full-blown romantic relationship with someone – I dunno. I know it’s possible. I mentioned my friend P from California. Her Master was gay. Old guard leather gay, from San Francisco. There was no romantic relationship there. She served, he taught her how, he imposed, she bowed. So I know it’s possible. But it just seems very rare these days.
So, as I said yesterday, maybe what I’m looking for isn’t what I’m going to find, and I should revisit my list.
But I can hope, right?
The Cane Queen
When I lived out on the left coast many moons ago, life was much different. I had broken up with a dominant, was living in my own place, and enjoying my single life greatly. I had no rules, only my own. I attended parties up in San Jose and San Francisco. I played with who I wanted to play with, and I started topping girls at an unusually quick pace *grin*.
I had one particular bottom out there who I’ll call P. P was a cane slut. Her gay Master showed me a few cane tricks, and I began topping P. in earnest any time she and I went to a party together. I started topping other girls with canes. I quickly became addicted to the squeals of glee, and I earned the title of “Cane Queen”. I have several canes of my own in the closet, in addition to a huge bag of other toys that are sadly in need of use.
I was relating this story to a dominant on the phone one night, when he asked me how I felt about the cane being used on me. I had to answer him truthfully, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one used on me.” *gulp*
Yea, I knew what was coming next. So do you, don’t you?
He made mention of the fact, with a slight hint of amusement in his voice, that “we’d” have to remedy that. And then proceeded to use the example for punishment.
*gulps more*
You don’t suppose that my lovely, beautiful canes would take any pleasure in hitting their Mistress, do you? (of course they will. They’re fickle little bastards)
It’s not that I’m afraid (ok, maybe a little) of them. It’s just that that’s typically not the kind of pain I can process easily. There’s nowhere to go with that sting that keeps on stinging. As punishment, I’m sure it’s quite effective.
Maybe I’ll burn them before we play *grin*
I had one particular bottom out there who I’ll call P. P was a cane slut. Her gay Master showed me a few cane tricks, and I began topping P. in earnest any time she and I went to a party together. I started topping other girls with canes. I quickly became addicted to the squeals of glee, and I earned the title of “Cane Queen”. I have several canes of my own in the closet, in addition to a huge bag of other toys that are sadly in need of use.
I was relating this story to a dominant on the phone one night, when he asked me how I felt about the cane being used on me. I had to answer him truthfully, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one used on me.” *gulp*
Yea, I knew what was coming next. So do you, don’t you?
He made mention of the fact, with a slight hint of amusement in his voice, that “we’d” have to remedy that. And then proceeded to use the example for punishment.
*gulps more*
You don’t suppose that my lovely, beautiful canes would take any pleasure in hitting their Mistress, do you? (of course they will. They’re fickle little bastards)
It’s not that I’m afraid (ok, maybe a little) of them. It’s just that that’s typically not the kind of pain I can process easily. There’s nowhere to go with that sting that keeps on stinging. As punishment, I’m sure it’s quite effective.
Maybe I’ll burn them before we play *grin*
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Submitting to the Muses
I’m just writing like a fiend today. I guess a large part of that is I haven’t had time to write almost all week – not seriously anyway – and my brain has been going a mile a minute.
With each step I take back into the BDSM arena, more and more of what I’ve been missing comes to light. Things I’d forgotten. Things I didn’t even realize that I missed.
The simple act of control: Allowing someone the means to taking what they want from me, how they want it, at their will and whim. Allowing someone to pull my hair back off my shoulders so that they can bite them – allowing someone to pull my hands behind my back to be restrained. Simple things, really. All showing the giving up of control. All things I have desperately missed.
I find myself taking bits and pieces of conversations and mixing them with other conversations and coming up with fantastic ideas for erotic short stories. But I’m not writing any. And that, I have no reason for.
I think I’ll have to remedy that tonight, either with some poetry or a story.
I submit myself to the Muses~ Do with me as you will.
With each step I take back into the BDSM arena, more and more of what I’ve been missing comes to light. Things I’d forgotten. Things I didn’t even realize that I missed.
The simple act of control: Allowing someone the means to taking what they want from me, how they want it, at their will and whim. Allowing someone to pull my hair back off my shoulders so that they can bite them – allowing someone to pull my hands behind my back to be restrained. Simple things, really. All showing the giving up of control. All things I have desperately missed.
I find myself taking bits and pieces of conversations and mixing them with other conversations and coming up with fantastic ideas for erotic short stories. But I’m not writing any. And that, I have no reason for.
I think I’ll have to remedy that tonight, either with some poetry or a story.
I submit myself to the Muses~ Do with me as you will.
Cry for me bitch~
You want me to what?
Cry.
Oh. Well.
All right. Then make me cry. (and not by telling bad jokes either, please)
Seriously. My ex and I talked about this many times. But for whatever reason, as much as he wanted to do it (or said he did), he never even made the attempt. I dunno. The more I think about it, the more I believe that maybe with me he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
I wish he had. It might have helped us both. But that is neither here nor there any longer.
I have to admit the idea appeals to me for some reason. Maybe it’s because I don’t often cry anymore. Maybe it’s because the thought of someone evoking that kind of emotion from me on purpose is emotionally disturbing. Maybe it’s because…well, maybe it’s just because I haven’t been beaten like that in a long time, and I want it. Maybe it’s because someone “having their way” with me (whatever way that is) while growling “Cry for me, bitch” in my ear makes me want to pass out.
I didn’t even know there was a kink for that until I saw it on the fetish checklist. Must be something added recently, as it wasn’t there a couple years ago.
I personally think that there are men who just enjoy the mascara running down our cheeks, and knowing they evoked it. And there’s nothing wrong with that – not at all. I just think that’s a “makeup” kink *grin*
It’s just one of the things on the “list” that sounds extremely appealing to me, but I haven’t really done (with any purpose) in play. I guess we’ll see what we see.
Cry.
Oh. Well.
All right. Then make me cry. (and not by telling bad jokes either, please)
Seriously. My ex and I talked about this many times. But for whatever reason, as much as he wanted to do it (or said he did), he never even made the attempt. I dunno. The more I think about it, the more I believe that maybe with me he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
I wish he had. It might have helped us both. But that is neither here nor there any longer.
I have to admit the idea appeals to me for some reason. Maybe it’s because I don’t often cry anymore. Maybe it’s because the thought of someone evoking that kind of emotion from me on purpose is emotionally disturbing. Maybe it’s because…well, maybe it’s just because I haven’t been beaten like that in a long time, and I want it. Maybe it’s because someone “having their way” with me (whatever way that is) while growling “Cry for me, bitch” in my ear makes me want to pass out.
I didn’t even know there was a kink for that until I saw it on the fetish checklist. Must be something added recently, as it wasn’t there a couple years ago.
I personally think that there are men who just enjoy the mascara running down our cheeks, and knowing they evoked it. And there’s nothing wrong with that – not at all. I just think that’s a “makeup” kink *grin*
It’s just one of the things on the “list” that sounds extremely appealing to me, but I haven’t really done (with any purpose) in play. I guess we’ll see what we see.
One or Many
So, I made a comment in a previous post that went something like
“About the three dominants I've been chatting with and how different they all are. And about how nice it would be if I could just say - "I want one dominant" and make it be just that - no big romance relationship - just one dominant that I am responsible to.”
Over the past several days, I’ve given that a lot of thought. And while it would be nice to find one man who can satisfy my need for bondage, discipline, pain, “daddy” and out-and-out rough sex, I think I might be setting my sights a bit high.
In truth, I’ve never juggled more than one dominant at a time, and the idea of it (without the reality of knowing) seems a bit daunting. (As a side note, I’d love to talk to any submissives who have done this – real time, not cyber wise – to hear the perks and pitfalls). The reality is that I’m not currently in the market for a full time thing. Full time being live in, monogamous merging. I have a desire to explore some things, enjoy some things – and those explorations really don’t fit in with a one-on-one full time relationship. I mean, I guess they could with the right person, but I haven’t met a person like that, yet :P And even though my profile pretty clearly states that that’s not what I’m looking for, you’d be surprised at the number of dominants who don’t believe it.
How would I feel if I actually connected with one who wanted me to be submissive only to him? I guess it would depend on him; does he have enough of the above traits I’m looking for that I would be satisfied? Does he have my respect and trust? Do I feel that he would fulfill the things that I want and need in my life? If so, then ya – I might actually consider it. It certainly would make life easier.
“About the three dominants I've been chatting with and how different they all are. And about how nice it would be if I could just say - "I want one dominant" and make it be just that - no big romance relationship - just one dominant that I am responsible to.”
Over the past several days, I’ve given that a lot of thought. And while it would be nice to find one man who can satisfy my need for bondage, discipline, pain, “daddy” and out-and-out rough sex, I think I might be setting my sights a bit high.
In truth, I’ve never juggled more than one dominant at a time, and the idea of it (without the reality of knowing) seems a bit daunting. (As a side note, I’d love to talk to any submissives who have done this – real time, not cyber wise – to hear the perks and pitfalls). The reality is that I’m not currently in the market for a full time thing. Full time being live in, monogamous merging. I have a desire to explore some things, enjoy some things – and those explorations really don’t fit in with a one-on-one full time relationship. I mean, I guess they could with the right person, but I haven’t met a person like that, yet :P And even though my profile pretty clearly states that that’s not what I’m looking for, you’d be surprised at the number of dominants who don’t believe it.
How would I feel if I actually connected with one who wanted me to be submissive only to him? I guess it would depend on him; does he have enough of the above traits I’m looking for that I would be satisfied? Does he have my respect and trust? Do I feel that he would fulfill the things that I want and need in my life? If so, then ya – I might actually consider it. It certainly would make life easier.
Suffer
While I realize this song isn’t about dominance and submission, some of the lyrics reflect how I feel.
Criminal, Fiona Apple
I've done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
I've come to you 'cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin
This is how I feel about punishment.
If I’ve done something wrong, by all means, punish me immediately and let it be over with. I’m not a person who enjoys carrying around bucketfuls of guilt and shame, and I would much rather take the punishment of his choosing and know it was over with, then and there. Life is far too short to spend hours of your time trying to fix a wrong, wishing you had behaved differently, or asking repeatedly for forgiveness.
It’s also how I feel about pain.
“I want to suffer for my sins” conjures up so many frightening and yet breathtakingly arousing pictures. I prefer to take my pain for someone else. I want to suffer for someone who wants me to. No, it’s not a *gift* to them or a selfless act; not at all. I do it for me. It makes me hot to “take it for someone else’s pleasure.” I’m not a masochist. I thought for a long time that I was, but the truth is, there are very few acts of pain that turn me on physically. Oh, I like rough hot nasty mean sex as much as the next person *chuckle* don’t get me wrong. But I’m not talking about sex here. I’m talking about “play”. For lots of folks, those two are the same, but not for me. They can be mingled and mixed together, certainly. But I’m able easily to keep them separate as well.
I’m of the mind that the proper partner for a sadist is a submissive, not a masochist. If you use the finite definitions of those two words, a sadist isn’t whacking on someone for their pleasure; he’s wanting them to suffer and hurt. And a masochist, at some level, isn’t suffering at all, she’s getting off. That, of course, is my own little opinion and I’m welcome to it ?
Criminal, Fiona Apple
I've done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
I've come to you 'cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin
This is how I feel about punishment.
If I’ve done something wrong, by all means, punish me immediately and let it be over with. I’m not a person who enjoys carrying around bucketfuls of guilt and shame, and I would much rather take the punishment of his choosing and know it was over with, then and there. Life is far too short to spend hours of your time trying to fix a wrong, wishing you had behaved differently, or asking repeatedly for forgiveness.
It’s also how I feel about pain.
“I want to suffer for my sins” conjures up so many frightening and yet breathtakingly arousing pictures. I prefer to take my pain for someone else. I want to suffer for someone who wants me to. No, it’s not a *gift* to them or a selfless act; not at all. I do it for me. It makes me hot to “take it for someone else’s pleasure.” I’m not a masochist. I thought for a long time that I was, but the truth is, there are very few acts of pain that turn me on physically. Oh, I like rough hot nasty mean sex as much as the next person *chuckle* don’t get me wrong. But I’m not talking about sex here. I’m talking about “play”. For lots of folks, those two are the same, but not for me. They can be mingled and mixed together, certainly. But I’m able easily to keep them separate as well.
I’m of the mind that the proper partner for a sadist is a submissive, not a masochist. If you use the finite definitions of those two words, a sadist isn’t whacking on someone for their pleasure; he’s wanting them to suffer and hurt. And a masochist, at some level, isn’t suffering at all, she’s getting off. That, of course, is my own little opinion and I’m welcome to it ?
"He who lets me get away with murder."
I think I’ve said this before. But I actually have some quiet time today and can expound on some past bits of wisdom and thought.
I don’t want to get away with anything.
The minute a dominant lets something slide, unless there is a mental or physical reason for it, I start rebelling in a major way. I start testing boundaries, seeing what else I can get away with. It’s often subconscious; I’m typically not a person who plays games (they piss me off and I always lose), but every once in awhile, I catch myself pushing against something, just to see if I can break it.
*shrug* Maybe that means I’m a true brat, I dunno. I really don’t believe that. If I’m in a relationship with a dominant who has gained my respect and trust, the brat only comes out occasionally for both of our pleasure; to release him from any guilt of actually doing something we both enjoy (punishment) and to give him a reason to swat my ass~.
It’s different, though, if someone starts letting me get away with things. Both of my last two dominants did that. It wasn’t a one-shot thing – like they were tired or over-worked or stressed out and just ignored my misplaced brattiness or overlooked a broken rule. That’s expected in any relationship – vanilla, chocolate or mint. No, they just stopped being actively dominant. My first response to that is to become more actively submissive, and when that doesn’t work, I really start pushing. Is it right? No, probably not. But let’s face it; That’s what I’m here for. To be dominated and have rules and such. That’s what I enjoy, that’s what feeds me and makes me feel alive. And no matter how much you love someone, putting your own needs on hold only works for so long before you start sliding into the oblivion of depression.
In both cases, it was sad to see the relationship degenerate to such a level of vanilla-ness, because in the beginning, things had been heavenly. In all relationships, there are ebbs and flows, but if the reason you got into the relationship suddenly goes away for a long period of time – no amount of love is going to fill that gap for an extended period.
I don’t think I was really aware of any of this – the reasons that I do some of the things I do to push – until recently. Now that I am, however, it makes weeding through the emails much easier. I can almost tell immediately when someone is going to be “he who lets me get away with murder.”
I don’t want to get away with anything.
The minute a dominant lets something slide, unless there is a mental or physical reason for it, I start rebelling in a major way. I start testing boundaries, seeing what else I can get away with. It’s often subconscious; I’m typically not a person who plays games (they piss me off and I always lose), but every once in awhile, I catch myself pushing against something, just to see if I can break it.
*shrug* Maybe that means I’m a true brat, I dunno. I really don’t believe that. If I’m in a relationship with a dominant who has gained my respect and trust, the brat only comes out occasionally for both of our pleasure; to release him from any guilt of actually doing something we both enjoy (punishment) and to give him a reason to swat my ass~.
It’s different, though, if someone starts letting me get away with things. Both of my last two dominants did that. It wasn’t a one-shot thing – like they were tired or over-worked or stressed out and just ignored my misplaced brattiness or overlooked a broken rule. That’s expected in any relationship – vanilla, chocolate or mint. No, they just stopped being actively dominant. My first response to that is to become more actively submissive, and when that doesn’t work, I really start pushing. Is it right? No, probably not. But let’s face it; That’s what I’m here for. To be dominated and have rules and such. That’s what I enjoy, that’s what feeds me and makes me feel alive. And no matter how much you love someone, putting your own needs on hold only works for so long before you start sliding into the oblivion of depression.
In both cases, it was sad to see the relationship degenerate to such a level of vanilla-ness, because in the beginning, things had been heavenly. In all relationships, there are ebbs and flows, but if the reason you got into the relationship suddenly goes away for a long period of time – no amount of love is going to fill that gap for an extended period.
I don’t think I was really aware of any of this – the reasons that I do some of the things I do to push – until recently. Now that I am, however, it makes weeding through the emails much easier. I can almost tell immediately when someone is going to be “he who lets me get away with murder.”
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Fear. Desire. Respect
Fear.
Respect.
Desire.
These will determine how I react when you call me a whore, when you grab my hair and shove your cock past my lips, when you slap yourself across my cheek.
They will determine how willingly I move to do as you ask. Do I feel a threat of force? Do I feel a need to bend my will to yours? Do I feel a wetness spread across my inner lips when you cock your head and narrow your eyes at me?
Do I want to do it for you? or for me?
And more importantly, what lurks in the back of my mind if I willfully decide to refuse?
*grin*
Respect.
Desire.
These will determine how I react when you call me a whore, when you grab my hair and shove your cock past my lips, when you slap yourself across my cheek.
They will determine how willingly I move to do as you ask. Do I feel a threat of force? Do I feel a need to bend my will to yours? Do I feel a wetness spread across my inner lips when you cock your head and narrow your eyes at me?
Do I want to do it for you? or for me?
And more importantly, what lurks in the back of my mind if I willfully decide to refuse?
*grin*
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Freedom
"The greatest freedom we have is obedience."
Quote from HBO's Big Love, which I finally caught up with today.
I had to write that quote down. It's mildly prolific and eloquently profound when applied to the submissive end of BDSM.
I certainly feel that, when submitting. I know it's trite and said often enough to make people vomit, but think on it. Being free to do as I wish is something we're basically handed at birth in this country. (providing you follow the rules and laws ya ya ya).
But the freedom to absolutely let go of all of your hangs ups and worries and stigmas and issues - and to simply submit to someone else's will - allows you another kind of freedom. The freedom to feel with no worries about what you're feeling
Quote from HBO's Big Love, which I finally caught up with today.
I had to write that quote down. It's mildly prolific and eloquently profound when applied to the submissive end of BDSM.
I certainly feel that, when submitting. I know it's trite and said often enough to make people vomit, but think on it. Being free to do as I wish is something we're basically handed at birth in this country. (providing you follow the rules and laws ya ya ya).
But the freedom to absolutely let go of all of your hangs ups and worries and stigmas and issues - and to simply submit to someone else's will - allows you another kind of freedom. The freedom to feel with no worries about what you're feeling
Standing
Fictious but delicious
Standing
Copyright 2006, Kanthra Adaire
All Rights Reserved
I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t know.
I asked before I came to see you but you didn’t ever answer me directly.
The shock on my face was real.
The tightness in my chest was real.
The inability to breathe was real.
Your eyes. Good lord, your eyes went dark.
I had seen them light only moments before, when I arrived.
Then dark, nearly black, almost invisible in the dim light.
(I’ll ask you later how you did that)
The sharp edge to your voice cut more deeply into my skin
Then your belt did.
Your words pounded my temples
As the blood pounded against my ass from where the leather hit
(no amount of I’m sorry’s helped)
The tears were real.
My cries were real.
My pain was very real.
Internal, external, no matter.
It was what you needed
(and I told you that you should always take what you need…)
And it was what I needed, too
It put me on solid ground
No matter how weak my knees felt.
I’ve never known so quickly where I stood.
And never wanted to stand there more.
Standing
Copyright 2006, Kanthra Adaire
All Rights Reserved
I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t know.
I asked before I came to see you but you didn’t ever answer me directly.
The shock on my face was real.
The tightness in my chest was real.
The inability to breathe was real.
Your eyes. Good lord, your eyes went dark.
I had seen them light only moments before, when I arrived.
Then dark, nearly black, almost invisible in the dim light.
(I’ll ask you later how you did that)
The sharp edge to your voice cut more deeply into my skin
Then your belt did.
Your words pounded my temples
As the blood pounded against my ass from where the leather hit
(no amount of I’m sorry’s helped)
The tears were real.
My cries were real.
My pain was very real.
Internal, external, no matter.
It was what you needed
(and I told you that you should always take what you need…)
And it was what I needed, too
It put me on solid ground
No matter how weak my knees felt.
I’ve never known so quickly where I stood.
And never wanted to stand there more.
Dating
Had an interesting conversation with my mother yesterday.
She’s one of the first people who told me that it was time to get divorced. “You’ve given him a year, that’s more than anyone else would have.” She was right then.
So I told her yesterday on our way back from shopping that I’m going to just “date”. I like having my own space at home, and I have no need for a one-guy relationship right now. She said “good for you!”
I was floored by that. My own mother, advocating the possibility of her born-and-raised-Catholic daughter being potentially promiscuous. *snicker*
I think my mom would have preferred a different life than she had. I know she wouldn’t have been as extreme as I am, but I’d wager a guess she’d have been a little wilder.
On the other hand, maybe she’s just tired of seeing me get run over by the love train, and wants me to take a break /wink.
She’s one of the first people who told me that it was time to get divorced. “You’ve given him a year, that’s more than anyone else would have.” She was right then.
So I told her yesterday on our way back from shopping that I’m going to just “date”. I like having my own space at home, and I have no need for a one-guy relationship right now. She said “good for you!”
I was floored by that. My own mother, advocating the possibility of her born-and-raised-Catholic daughter being potentially promiscuous. *snicker*
I think my mom would have preferred a different life than she had. I know she wouldn’t have been as extreme as I am, but I’d wager a guess she’d have been a little wilder.
On the other hand, maybe she’s just tired of seeing me get run over by the love train, and wants me to take a break /wink.
"Daddy"
So.
In speaking with one of the dominants I’m getting to know the other night, the subject of “daddy” came up. I have in my profile that that’s something I’m interested in, and have played with before, but he asked me a point blank question, and in truth, I wasn’t sure how to answer it.
(forgive me, S**, I’ll never remember exactly how you worded this…)
The question was something like “Is it really Daddy, or is it just the older man and the younger innocent girl?”
The question actually kinda stopped me in my tracks, because until he said that, I hadn’t ever given it much thought. Truth is, I lost my virginity at 16 tied to my older (23) boyfriend’s waterbed. I have typically liked older men for many reasons (also like younger ones for other reasons entirely).
I’ve done a lot of driving in the last few days. Went up to the Portage area for a meet and greet Friday night, and went to my folks’ yesterday. Car time is think time for me, typically, so I did give this question some thought.
I don’t have any unresolved feelings about my real dad. He’s a great guy – kind, intelligent, affectionate – strict when he had to be (I turned into a wild child at 16, go figure). I find that typically while most people will put the stigma of unresolved issues as an explanation for age play, it’s not really all that true.
My first real experience with age play was in CA, when I was with M. I’m not sure how it started, or why – but it did, and it gave me such a huge burst of sexual strength and energy that I started to crave it. Eventually, we settled into a pattern where “Marie” (my inner child *snicker*) got to come out and play every few months, and that worked for me. In truth, setting aside all of your life experience as an adult to play the part of a 12-14 year old virginal being is not an easy thing. It takes a lot of energy just letting all of your knowledge go for a period of time, and just “being” a child. Not that it isn’t rewarding, fun or sexy as hell – it’s just something that I typically like to mentally prepare for.
I haven’t played with it much since M. My ex, C, didn’t find it remotely appealing (for whatever reason) so it never came into our relationship, and the other brief encounters I’ve had in the last 12 years never felt comfortable enough to bring that out. That’s why I put it in my profile. It’s something I’d like to play with again, to an extent.
I’m finding that there are all sorts of daddy/daughter scenarios. Some I find appealing, some I truly don’t. (I was talking to a dominant, first conversation, and he started to type out this long thing about not doing my homework, and then peeing in the toilet and dipping my toothbrush in it, then brushing my teeth and I just kinda went…uh, pass. Thanks, but not what I’m into).
So, what am I looking for with this?
That’s a really good question that deserves a really good answer. I like the release. I like reverting to a place in time where I had no sexual knowledge or experience, and had to be shown or told what to do, and how to do it. I like the security of that first experience being with someone I “know, love and trust”. It allows an openness and a vulnerability that I do not allow myself very often (I’ve been called a tough cookie more than once in my life, and I do tend to build walls when I’m feeling … not quite safe). (that’s typically why I’m a fan of bondage as well – it removes my ability to argue internally).
And so, would that have to be Daddy? No, I guess in truth it wouldn’t. It could be any older male figure. Daddy, to me, is the most intense of them, but it wouldn’t have to be that. Just someone who made me feel safe and secure enough to let it all go.
I’m still thinking about this, so maybe more to come.
S** is one of the dominants I’ve been chatting with. His name actually begins wit a C, however, so does my ex’s and that would be confusing. S is for his handle. Or Sir :P
In speaking with one of the dominants I’m getting to know the other night, the subject of “daddy” came up. I have in my profile that that’s something I’m interested in, and have played with before, but he asked me a point blank question, and in truth, I wasn’t sure how to answer it.
(forgive me, S**, I’ll never remember exactly how you worded this…)
The question was something like “Is it really Daddy, or is it just the older man and the younger innocent girl?”
The question actually kinda stopped me in my tracks, because until he said that, I hadn’t ever given it much thought. Truth is, I lost my virginity at 16 tied to my older (23) boyfriend’s waterbed. I have typically liked older men for many reasons (also like younger ones for other reasons entirely).
I’ve done a lot of driving in the last few days. Went up to the Portage area for a meet and greet Friday night, and went to my folks’ yesterday. Car time is think time for me, typically, so I did give this question some thought.
I don’t have any unresolved feelings about my real dad. He’s a great guy – kind, intelligent, affectionate – strict when he had to be (I turned into a wild child at 16, go figure). I find that typically while most people will put the stigma of unresolved issues as an explanation for age play, it’s not really all that true.
My first real experience with age play was in CA, when I was with M. I’m not sure how it started, or why – but it did, and it gave me such a huge burst of sexual strength and energy that I started to crave it. Eventually, we settled into a pattern where “Marie” (my inner child *snicker*) got to come out and play every few months, and that worked for me. In truth, setting aside all of your life experience as an adult to play the part of a 12-14 year old virginal being is not an easy thing. It takes a lot of energy just letting all of your knowledge go for a period of time, and just “being” a child. Not that it isn’t rewarding, fun or sexy as hell – it’s just something that I typically like to mentally prepare for.
I haven’t played with it much since M. My ex, C, didn’t find it remotely appealing (for whatever reason) so it never came into our relationship, and the other brief encounters I’ve had in the last 12 years never felt comfortable enough to bring that out. That’s why I put it in my profile. It’s something I’d like to play with again, to an extent.
I’m finding that there are all sorts of daddy/daughter scenarios. Some I find appealing, some I truly don’t. (I was talking to a dominant, first conversation, and he started to type out this long thing about not doing my homework, and then peeing in the toilet and dipping my toothbrush in it, then brushing my teeth and I just kinda went…uh, pass. Thanks, but not what I’m into).
So, what am I looking for with this?
That’s a really good question that deserves a really good answer. I like the release. I like reverting to a place in time where I had no sexual knowledge or experience, and had to be shown or told what to do, and how to do it. I like the security of that first experience being with someone I “know, love and trust”. It allows an openness and a vulnerability that I do not allow myself very often (I’ve been called a tough cookie more than once in my life, and I do tend to build walls when I’m feeling … not quite safe). (that’s typically why I’m a fan of bondage as well – it removes my ability to argue internally).
And so, would that have to be Daddy? No, I guess in truth it wouldn’t. It could be any older male figure. Daddy, to me, is the most intense of them, but it wouldn’t have to be that. Just someone who made me feel safe and secure enough to let it all go.
I’m still thinking about this, so maybe more to come.
S** is one of the dominants I’ve been chatting with. His name actually begins wit a C, however, so does my ex’s and that would be confusing. S is for his handle. Or Sir :P
Invincible
Invincible
Thursday when I got home from work, I started thinking about what I was going to wear to the local meet and greet for a group I belong to on AFF. As I was putting my outfit together, it occurred to me that I’d dropped a couple sizes in the last couple of months, and I had some new options, namely, my biker jacket. I tried it on. It fit! I was in heaven.
This jacket is symbolic to me. I bought it when my ex in Ca, M., bought his 97 FLSTS at a shop in Santa Cruz. The bike was new, the jacket was new, it was a new experience for us. In 3 years, we put over 30K miles on the bike (and the jacket) and I always felt so free, so strong, so sexy sitting on the back of that machine.
When I slipped the jacket on Thursday night, I felt all of those things again, and felt an additional emotion: I felt invincible.
I love the way the jacket smells, the way it feels against my skin. The weight of it reminds me continuously that it’s there, and I even love the way it creaks when I move. It reminds me of a time when I felt safe, secure, and open to every possibility in life.
I wore it to the meet and greet on Friday and I know it alleviated my fear of meeting new people in a group setting like that. It was wonderful.
Thursday when I got home from work, I started thinking about what I was going to wear to the local meet and greet for a group I belong to on AFF. As I was putting my outfit together, it occurred to me that I’d dropped a couple sizes in the last couple of months, and I had some new options, namely, my biker jacket. I tried it on. It fit! I was in heaven.
This jacket is symbolic to me. I bought it when my ex in Ca, M., bought his 97 FLSTS at a shop in Santa Cruz. The bike was new, the jacket was new, it was a new experience for us. In 3 years, we put over 30K miles on the bike (and the jacket) and I always felt so free, so strong, so sexy sitting on the back of that machine.
When I slipped the jacket on Thursday night, I felt all of those things again, and felt an additional emotion: I felt invincible.
I love the way the jacket smells, the way it feels against my skin. The weight of it reminds me continuously that it’s there, and I even love the way it creaks when I move. It reminds me of a time when I felt safe, secure, and open to every possibility in life.
I wore it to the meet and greet on Friday and I know it alleviated my fear of meeting new people in a group setting like that. It was wonderful.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Data
I've been at work for 45 minutes. I don't feel like being here. I'd rather be home immersed in writing some deep, detailed, dirty erotica.
It's not that I don't like my job. I do. I'm a systems analyst. I deal with very finite things like programming code and data - things that don't argue, aren't moody and tempremental. I prefer my code and data to working with people. At least with them, I always know where I stand.
People, though. People are different.
I've been "online" for about 13 years now. Started way back with the AOL bastards, and proceeded up to high speed internet :D I've met so many wonderful people - some of which I've actually met and become close friends with offline - from all different walks of life, all different places. I'm involved in community for soap makers, candle makers, navy wives (well, some of us are ex navy wives lol), writing, BDSM, online gaming (mmorpg type), sensuality...the list goes on. And always, there are a few in the bunch who are just...ugh. Moody. Up and kind one day, down and spiteful the next. I do not like working with those kinds of people. I'm a girl who likes to know where my feet are planted, and how firmly :) So I like my data.
It's not that I don't like my job. I do. I'm a systems analyst. I deal with very finite things like programming code and data - things that don't argue, aren't moody and tempremental. I prefer my code and data to working with people. At least with them, I always know where I stand.
People, though. People are different.
I've been "online" for about 13 years now. Started way back with the AOL bastards, and proceeded up to high speed internet :D I've met so many wonderful people - some of which I've actually met and become close friends with offline - from all different walks of life, all different places. I'm involved in community for soap makers, candle makers, navy wives (well, some of us are ex navy wives lol), writing, BDSM, online gaming (mmorpg type), sensuality...the list goes on. And always, there are a few in the bunch who are just...ugh. Moody. Up and kind one day, down and spiteful the next. I do not like working with those kinds of people. I'm a girl who likes to know where my feet are planted, and how firmly :) So I like my data.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Nasty
Nasty.
Someone asked me recently what the nastiest thing I had ever done sexually was. That's such a good question, but so hard to answer. Tastes change over time. Something that might have been VERY nasty to me 15 years ago might be something that is normal to me now.
My ex seemed to have harder and higher limits than mine as far as that goes. There were things that I'd given thought to and wanted to try, but he was very resistent to. And I never knew why. He never said, and if I asked, typically the subject got changed. I got him to put his hand on my throat once, and he slapped me maybe twice, but these were things that were never repeated, even if I asked. I think I started building walls about then. I wanted to protect myself from judgement - I don't know if he was judging my desires or not, but I didn't want to take the chance. This was someone that I didn't want to have to protect myself from, and I resented that, I think. This was the person that I wanted to be able to be 100pct free with, and feel as if I could ask for anything, do anything, feel anything. I thought that's what he wanted too, but his actions were much different than his words. I wanted to be his dirty litle whore, but I ended up being his wife. Maybe he just couldn't - after 12 years of knowing me - see me that way.
I wanted to be nasty. He wanted to be - I dunno. Something else.
I feel a bigger loss from that than anything right now.
Someone asked me recently what the nastiest thing I had ever done sexually was. That's such a good question, but so hard to answer. Tastes change over time. Something that might have been VERY nasty to me 15 years ago might be something that is normal to me now.
My ex seemed to have harder and higher limits than mine as far as that goes. There were things that I'd given thought to and wanted to try, but he was very resistent to. And I never knew why. He never said, and if I asked, typically the subject got changed. I got him to put his hand on my throat once, and he slapped me maybe twice, but these were things that were never repeated, even if I asked. I think I started building walls about then. I wanted to protect myself from judgement - I don't know if he was judging my desires or not, but I didn't want to take the chance. This was someone that I didn't want to have to protect myself from, and I resented that, I think. This was the person that I wanted to be able to be 100pct free with, and feel as if I could ask for anything, do anything, feel anything. I thought that's what he wanted too, but his actions were much different than his words. I wanted to be his dirty litle whore, but I ended up being his wife. Maybe he just couldn't - after 12 years of knowing me - see me that way.
I wanted to be nasty. He wanted to be - I dunno. Something else.
I feel a bigger loss from that than anything right now.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Satin
After shopping last night online for some new lingerie, I decided it was time to sort out the stuff I have, and see what's too big, and what fits now that didn't before.
See, I'm a lingerie whore. You might not know it by looking at me, but playing dress up before sex is so much fun for me, especially now that I feel better about how I look in the stuff.
Anyway, I made a pile of stuff I know is too big, and at the bottom of the drawer, I found a chemise - long, dark red, slinky, sexy, floor length (ok, not exactly lingerie, but sexier than the 12 year old tshirt I usually sleep in). I looked at it, and asked myself "Why aren't we sleeping in *that*?"
So I did.
I love the feel of satin against my skin. I slept very well. Even though it's too big now, and sorta just hangs on me, I'm still going to wear it to sleep in, because it makes me feel like a goddess. It's also very sexy because I'm very bare up top, back and shoulders, and my hair dances across my skin in a very sensual way.
So regardless of what I spend my weekend doing (cleaning blech), I get to spend my weekend nights wrapped in satin and feeling very....much like my old self.
See, I'm a lingerie whore. You might not know it by looking at me, but playing dress up before sex is so much fun for me, especially now that I feel better about how I look in the stuff.
Anyway, I made a pile of stuff I know is too big, and at the bottom of the drawer, I found a chemise - long, dark red, slinky, sexy, floor length (ok, not exactly lingerie, but sexier than the 12 year old tshirt I usually sleep in). I looked at it, and asked myself "Why aren't we sleeping in *that*?"
So I did.
I love the feel of satin against my skin. I slept very well. Even though it's too big now, and sorta just hangs on me, I'm still going to wear it to sleep in, because it makes me feel like a goddess. It's also very sexy because I'm very bare up top, back and shoulders, and my hair dances across my skin in a very sensual way.
So regardless of what I spend my weekend doing (cleaning blech), I get to spend my weekend nights wrapped in satin and feeling very....much like my old self.
Friday, March 17, 2006
There is more to me than this
I'm an intelligent woman. I can hold my end of a conversation about nearly any topic just fine. I'm a systems analyst. I'm a writer.
I have a rich imagination. I dream in stories and colors and smells.
I love to bake, but rarely do. I nearly turned in my geek hat for pastry chef school this past year.Gayle Gand is a personal hero of mine.
I've read the entire Gregory MacGuire series of books. Have you?
Fantasy fiction - stories about other worlds and times - is my current favorite. I've even forayed into writing it a bit.
Sarah McLachlan sings what I feel. Then again, Motley Crue and Bob Seger make me dance, so which is better?
I have a rich imagination. I dream in stories and colors and smells.
I love to bake, but rarely do. I nearly turned in my geek hat for pastry chef school this past year.Gayle Gand is a personal hero of mine.
I've read the entire Gregory MacGuire series of books. Have you?
Fantasy fiction - stories about other worlds and times - is my current favorite. I've even forayed into writing it a bit.
Sarah McLachlan sings what I feel. Then again, Motley Crue and Bob Seger make me dance, so which is better?
I'm a sucker for....
3 things I'm a sucker for:
a couple of fresh lillies or irises
a bottle of Porfidio
a blank, spiral bound journal, with a fat pen :)
a couple of fresh lillies or irises
a bottle of Porfidio
a blank, spiral bound journal, with a fat pen :)
Aye.
I got up this morning and realized that it was St Patrick's Day.
Knowing my wardrobe as well as I do, I knew there wasn't anything in the "clothes I wear" section that was even close to green.
Panic set in.
Then, I opened the other door of my closet and peered inside. Green sweater, near the back. Haven't worn it since Portland, so 5-6 years ago.
I warily removed it from the hanger, looked at the size, held it up.
"that's not going to fit yet." I chided myself.
"You wait and see."
It fit.
St Patrick bless me, I'm back in some more clothes I didn't know if I'd ever wear again!
4 leaf clovers for everyone!
Knowing my wardrobe as well as I do, I knew there wasn't anything in the "clothes I wear" section that was even close to green.
Panic set in.
Then, I opened the other door of my closet and peered inside. Green sweater, near the back. Haven't worn it since Portland, so 5-6 years ago.
I warily removed it from the hanger, looked at the size, held it up.
"that's not going to fit yet." I chided myself.
"You wait and see."
It fit.
St Patrick bless me, I'm back in some more clothes I didn't know if I'd ever wear again!
4 leaf clovers for everyone!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
slightly inspired
I guess it's not easy to realize when you're in a bad spot - how bad it is. When it starts getting better, and you look back and realize how dark it was, it makes you run even faster to get away.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Siren's Song
My horoscope today started with... "If you let yourself be lured by the siren song of ambivalence...."
Well, ambivalence isn't something I usually am lured by. Actually, it sorta pisses me off. But I got to thinking about things that come into my life that I am lured by.....
Siren Songs (and how I’m learning selective hearing)
When my marriage officially ended (not legally yet, just officially in my mind), I made a few decisions, the most important of which being: If you aren’t getting as much out of a relationship as you’re putting into it, it’s time for it to go.
I’ve spent the last few days evaluating the relationships in my life. Things that used to keep me in them – even when they weren’t fulfilling me, or giving back equally to me, no longer will be allowed to hold me. I say that, knowing full well that it’s easier to say than to do.
Not only am I learning to relate to people different, but I also need to learn to relate to myself differently. I don’t have to settle for scraps if what I really want is filet mignon. I don’t always have to initiate contact. I don’t always have to laugh at a joke if I don’t feel like it. I don’t have to respond to something said simply to get my goat.
In the past, my responses were automatic. I’m trying to make them less so now.
I do not have to listen to the siren’s song, and dance for her.
I’ll dance when I goddamn well want to, and not before.
The array of choices before me now is limitless. I intend to sample the ones that appeal to me, and not feel obligated to taste them all. I don’t eat anything anymore just because it’s there – why should I feel obligated to take an option just because it exists?
I shouldn’t. I don’t. I won’t.
Well, ambivalence isn't something I usually am lured by. Actually, it sorta pisses me off. But I got to thinking about things that come into my life that I am lured by.....
Siren Songs (and how I’m learning selective hearing)
When my marriage officially ended (not legally yet, just officially in my mind), I made a few decisions, the most important of which being: If you aren’t getting as much out of a relationship as you’re putting into it, it’s time for it to go.
I’ve spent the last few days evaluating the relationships in my life. Things that used to keep me in them – even when they weren’t fulfilling me, or giving back equally to me, no longer will be allowed to hold me. I say that, knowing full well that it’s easier to say than to do.
Not only am I learning to relate to people different, but I also need to learn to relate to myself differently. I don’t have to settle for scraps if what I really want is filet mignon. I don’t always have to initiate contact. I don’t always have to laugh at a joke if I don’t feel like it. I don’t have to respond to something said simply to get my goat.
In the past, my responses were automatic. I’m trying to make them less so now.
I do not have to listen to the siren’s song, and dance for her.
I’ll dance when I goddamn well want to, and not before.
The array of choices before me now is limitless. I intend to sample the ones that appeal to me, and not feel obligated to taste them all. I don’t eat anything anymore just because it’s there – why should I feel obligated to take an option just because it exists?
I shouldn’t. I don’t. I won’t.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Punishment
I am punishing myself with a wool sweater today. I don't know why else I would wear it except to give myself the itchies all day.
Well, it's purple, and it's vneck and I do love the color. But it makes me itch. I don't know why I keep it.
I wonder sometimes if we don't punish ourselves subsconciously. I have to wonder if the reason I haven't told C to file his fucking divorce papers is because I'm punishing myself for some unknown offense against him. Consciously, I know I haven't done a thing that would warrant his behavior or treatment of me for the better part of 18 months. (oh, when I'm there, he's great but that's cause he wants sex, I'm sure - right now, there's an outstanding email for him (sent 3 times) that he has yet to respond to in 3 weeks)
I know that when I make poor food choices, I punish myself by yelling at my inner self. So maybe - just maybe - we do it more than we realize.
Or, maybe I'm just full of shit and cranky today because my sweater is making me itch.
Well, it's purple, and it's vneck and I do love the color. But it makes me itch. I don't know why I keep it.
I wonder sometimes if we don't punish ourselves subsconciously. I have to wonder if the reason I haven't told C to file his fucking divorce papers is because I'm punishing myself for some unknown offense against him. Consciously, I know I haven't done a thing that would warrant his behavior or treatment of me for the better part of 18 months. (oh, when I'm there, he's great but that's cause he wants sex, I'm sure - right now, there's an outstanding email for him (sent 3 times) that he has yet to respond to in 3 weeks)
I know that when I make poor food choices, I punish myself by yelling at my inner self. So maybe - just maybe - we do it more than we realize.
Or, maybe I'm just full of shit and cranky today because my sweater is making me itch.
Friday, March 10, 2006
The geek in me says.....
[jms@lifetables]$ vi makeLifeChanges.sql
alter table Life add
Exercise varchar2(2006),
EatingBetter varchar2(2006),
;
alter table life drop
EvilSugarCarbsFat varchar2(2004),
Pounds number,
;
commit;
If you understand that, welcome to geekdom :)
alter table Life add
Exercise varchar2(2006),
EatingBetter varchar2(2006),
;
alter table life drop
EvilSugarCarbsFat varchar2(2004),
Pounds number,
;
commit;
If you understand that, welcome to geekdom :)
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Sad, but time.
I took my engagement ring off last night.
I’d been wearing it again since I went down to Virginia to see C. in October, but at this point, I don’t think there’s much sense wearing it.
It’s an emerald – my favorite. Maybe when this is all done and over with, I’ll have the stone removed and remade into another ring.
3 emails and still no response from him at all. I know the boat’s not out.
I guess that’s all the answer I need, huh.
It’s time.
I’d been wearing it again since I went down to Virginia to see C. in October, but at this point, I don’t think there’s much sense wearing it.
It’s an emerald – my favorite. Maybe when this is all done and over with, I’ll have the stone removed and remade into another ring.
3 emails and still no response from him at all. I know the boat’s not out.
I guess that’s all the answer I need, huh.
It’s time.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Beautiful
Someone posed the question on a group asking what makes women feel beautiful. I’ve been thinking a lot about that the last few days.
I feel best when I’m taking excellent care of myself. Yesterday, after working out and before jumping in the shower, I gathered some of my soap making stuff in the kitchen and made myself an awesome sugar scrub to use. (I make handmade soap and candles as a hobby. I had a business for awhile but it just flat out got to be too much with a full time job). I put my favorite shower scent (Oatmeal, Milk and Honey) in it, and carted it into the shower with me. Using it, letting the scent waft around me in the hot water and steam - *that* makes me feel beautiful. Because I’m doing something good for myself, and making myself happy doing it. Braiding my hair when it’s wet, and sleeping on it until the next day – taking it out and letting these nice, soft huge waves fall out of it (see picture – that’s what I did there), and feeling their softness flow over my shoulders - *that* makes me feel beautiful.
Everyone is different of course. Everyone has different triggers that make their blood run hot and their eyes narrow in ecstasy and their tongue slip out to lick their dry lips seductively. But for me, taking care of myself – something I had never been good at until about a year ago – really does it for me.
I feel best when I’m taking excellent care of myself. Yesterday, after working out and before jumping in the shower, I gathered some of my soap making stuff in the kitchen and made myself an awesome sugar scrub to use. (I make handmade soap and candles as a hobby. I had a business for awhile but it just flat out got to be too much with a full time job). I put my favorite shower scent (Oatmeal, Milk and Honey) in it, and carted it into the shower with me. Using it, letting the scent waft around me in the hot water and steam - *that* makes me feel beautiful. Because I’m doing something good for myself, and making myself happy doing it. Braiding my hair when it’s wet, and sleeping on it until the next day – taking it out and letting these nice, soft huge waves fall out of it (see picture – that’s what I did there), and feeling their softness flow over my shoulders - *that* makes me feel beautiful.
Everyone is different of course. Everyone has different triggers that make their blood run hot and their eyes narrow in ecstasy and their tongue slip out to lick their dry lips seductively. But for me, taking care of myself – something I had never been good at until about a year ago – really does it for me.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
While I don’t endorse divorce for exploration’s sake, this separation has certainly led me to do some interesting thinking.
After a particularly disappointing conversation with the ex, I gave some serious thought to my relationships, and my behavior in them. I discovered much to my…dismay… that I’ve typically been a pursuer in a relationship. It may not always start that way, but it’s typically been me who’s done the pursuing after the initial contact. I’ve always had a very bad habit – though I didn’t know it was bad at the time – of doing the lion’s share of the work, and making it entirely too easy for the men I’ve had in my life.
This was brought to the forefront of my mind on Valentine’s day – when the only gift I received was from a very dear friend. He sent me lilies, my favorite. And I had to seriously stop and think about when the last time it was that a man had sent me flowers without actually having been in a committed relationship with me. Actually giving that some thought, I had to admit myself that I had never really been “courted”. Quite an eye opener for a lady twice divorced(well, once, and looking at #2), with an additional 4 year live-in relationship in her life.
Looking at my life today, I realized that I still sorta revert to my previous habits. I’m typically the first one to send a message to someone when they come online. I’ll be the one who sends an email out of the blue. I’ll be the one who calls.
And I’m realizing (albeit slowly) that that’s not the way I want the rest of my life to go.
With my weight loss comes a self-confidence that I haven’t felt in many years. And with that confidence comes a reminder that – hey, chick, you don’t have to do that. Let someone else take the wheel for a change.
How that’s going to impact my sex life, only the goddess knows. But considering I’ve been mostly celibate for the last 18 months, it’s only got to get better /wink.
After a particularly disappointing conversation with the ex, I gave some serious thought to my relationships, and my behavior in them. I discovered much to my…dismay… that I’ve typically been a pursuer in a relationship. It may not always start that way, but it’s typically been me who’s done the pursuing after the initial contact. I’ve always had a very bad habit – though I didn’t know it was bad at the time – of doing the lion’s share of the work, and making it entirely too easy for the men I’ve had in my life.
This was brought to the forefront of my mind on Valentine’s day – when the only gift I received was from a very dear friend. He sent me lilies, my favorite. And I had to seriously stop and think about when the last time it was that a man had sent me flowers without actually having been in a committed relationship with me. Actually giving that some thought, I had to admit myself that I had never really been “courted”. Quite an eye opener for a lady twice divorced(well, once, and looking at #2), with an additional 4 year live-in relationship in her life.
Looking at my life today, I realized that I still sorta revert to my previous habits. I’m typically the first one to send a message to someone when they come online. I’ll be the one who sends an email out of the blue. I’ll be the one who calls.
And I’m realizing (albeit slowly) that that’s not the way I want the rest of my life to go.
With my weight loss comes a self-confidence that I haven’t felt in many years. And with that confidence comes a reminder that – hey, chick, you don’t have to do that. Let someone else take the wheel for a change.
How that’s going to impact my sex life, only the goddess knows. But considering I’ve been mostly celibate for the last 18 months, it’s only got to get better /wink.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Hm.
I have never been courted.
Not in an old-fashioned sense. Not in a today-sense.
I meet someone, we spend time together, it progresses. Not once in my entire life have I actually been courted. No one ever had to "work" to get me. I've fallen into relationships as easy as some people fall into a snowbank.
*chuckle* Maybe that's a problem.
I got flowers from a friend for Valentine's day.
I've decided that I liked that, and I want more of it :)
Not in an old-fashioned sense. Not in a today-sense.
I meet someone, we spend time together, it progresses. Not once in my entire life have I actually been courted. No one ever had to "work" to get me. I've fallen into relationships as easy as some people fall into a snowbank.
*chuckle* Maybe that's a problem.
I got flowers from a friend for Valentine's day.
I've decided that I liked that, and I want more of it :)
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Another one
Another birthday, come and gone.
I had considered getting pissy about the lack of attention from down south on such an auspicious day. Actually I did get pissy. For about 10 minutes.
Then I decided that no one deserves that kinda control over my emotions. And I left it behind.
So. Happy birthday to me. I stayed under my calories, I did 35 minutes @ 17.7mph on the bike, and I relaxed.
Who needs more than that?
I had considered getting pissy about the lack of attention from down south on such an auspicious day. Actually I did get pissy. For about 10 minutes.
Then I decided that no one deserves that kinda control over my emotions. And I left it behind.
So. Happy birthday to me. I stayed under my calories, I did 35 minutes @ 17.7mph on the bike, and I relaxed.
Who needs more than that?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Me first.
At several points in my life, I've made this promise to myself:
ME First.
And typically, after I've done that, something happens - some kind of dramatic bullshit - that distracts me from that.
I'm making a conscious decision to not let that happen this time.
I've spent far too much time in the last year worrying about things I have no control over. No more.
Focus --> Me.
I can't help feeling selfish by doing and saying that. But occasionally in life, you gotta be selfish. Especially when it's your own life at stake.
ME First.
And typically, after I've done that, something happens - some kind of dramatic bullshit - that distracts me from that.
I'm making a conscious decision to not let that happen this time.
I've spent far too much time in the last year worrying about things I have no control over. No more.
Focus --> Me.
I can't help feeling selfish by doing and saying that. But occasionally in life, you gotta be selfish. Especially when it's your own life at stake.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
For those of you wondering...
..where the D/s went....
Well. It's still in my head and my heart. It's just not so much on paper.
There are many reasons for that. Firstly, because currently there is none in my life. Secondly, because I'm working on myself right now, and there really isn't any room in my life for another person to serve (I am my own demanding taskmaster!). And thirdly, I guess, because I'm in a place where it's slipped way down on the priority scale.
That makes me really sad, but what's happening with me right now is much more important.
It's not that I don't think, fantasize and dream about D/s. It's simply that that's as far as I can go with it right now.
But since it's still there -- I imagine it'll be back, sooner rather than later.
Well. It's still in my head and my heart. It's just not so much on paper.
There are many reasons for that. Firstly, because currently there is none in my life. Secondly, because I'm working on myself right now, and there really isn't any room in my life for another person to serve (I am my own demanding taskmaster!). And thirdly, I guess, because I'm in a place where it's slipped way down on the priority scale.
That makes me really sad, but what's happening with me right now is much more important.
It's not that I don't think, fantasize and dream about D/s. It's simply that that's as far as I can go with it right now.
But since it's still there -- I imagine it'll be back, sooner rather than later.
Admitting you have a problem is...
Okay, well, I'll admit it. I'm a magazine whore.
It's not that I subscribe to a lot. Just Self and Fit right now, but going to the store always means there will be two or three more in my bag: Cosmo, Us, Shape, Prevention, Allure....doesn't matter, really. Us is really my only guilty pleasure...well, okay, Us and Cosmo. The others, I read for...wisdom collection.
If I spend 3.00 on a magazine, and I take away one piece of wisdom, or one thought that makes me think about my life in a different way - it was worth the three bucks.
I love my magazines. Just try to take them away from me!
I'm also a book whore. Since I started working, and since I don't ever go out for lunch, my lunch hour at least once a week is spent at Border's or Half Price Books - sometimes, two days. I'm still reading fantasy books (The Witches of Eileanan series by Kate Forsyth was *fabulous*!. Now, I'm reading Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory MacGuire, which C got me for Christmas) at night before I go to sleep, but on my table by the couch, I have a pile of non-fiction that I read when there's nothing on TV, or I read them while on the exercise bike. There are some fitness books, there are some wisdom books, there are some women-centric books (Sexy Witch by LaSara W. FireFox is a great read!). I find myself lately reading more and more. I can't seem to help myself.
Reading is my passion. That's just the way it is.
It's not that I subscribe to a lot. Just Self and Fit right now, but going to the store always means there will be two or three more in my bag: Cosmo, Us, Shape, Prevention, Allure....doesn't matter, really. Us is really my only guilty pleasure...well, okay, Us and Cosmo. The others, I read for...wisdom collection.
If I spend 3.00 on a magazine, and I take away one piece of wisdom, or one thought that makes me think about my life in a different way - it was worth the three bucks.
I love my magazines. Just try to take them away from me!
I'm also a book whore. Since I started working, and since I don't ever go out for lunch, my lunch hour at least once a week is spent at Border's or Half Price Books - sometimes, two days. I'm still reading fantasy books (The Witches of Eileanan series by Kate Forsyth was *fabulous*!. Now, I'm reading Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory MacGuire, which C got me for Christmas) at night before I go to sleep, but on my table by the couch, I have a pile of non-fiction that I read when there's nothing on TV, or I read them while on the exercise bike. There are some fitness books, there are some wisdom books, there are some women-centric books (Sexy Witch by LaSara W. FireFox is a great read!). I find myself lately reading more and more. I can't seem to help myself.
Reading is my passion. That's just the way it is.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Greetings
I had a fill in my lapband on 1/17. Seems to be a good fill, as I’m eating slightly less, but have the same or better energy level. That might be because I’m actually doing real exercise at night! (6 nights a week). I’m up to 30 minutes(8.5 miles or so in that time so far, about 17mph) a night. It’s good. Boring, but good.
Work is going well – did I tell you I got a real job?- lol. I got hired on full-time status effective 1/16, at 12K more a year than I asked for, so yea – I’m happy
As far as my love life goes, well, I really don’t have one. But the weightloss and the exercise have propelled me forward into taking MUCH better care of myself. I’ve done some serious reading on relationships, self, etc, and am putting as much as fits me into practice.
And you know what? I feel excellent. I truly do. For the first time in god knows how long.
And for those that know me IRL, my hair is actually now down to my butt YEE HA.
Have a great day.
I had a fill in my lapband on 1/17. Seems to be a good fill, as I’m eating slightly less, but have the same or better energy level. That might be because I’m actually doing real exercise at night! (6 nights a week). I’m up to 30 minutes(8.5 miles or so in that time so far, about 17mph) a night. It’s good. Boring, but good.
Work is going well – did I tell you I got a real job?- lol. I got hired on full-time status effective 1/16, at 12K more a year than I asked for, so yea – I’m happy
As far as my love life goes, well, I really don’t have one. But the weightloss and the exercise have propelled me forward into taking MUCH better care of myself. I’ve done some serious reading on relationships, self, etc, and am putting as much as fits me into practice.
And you know what? I feel excellent. I truly do. For the first time in god knows how long.
And for those that know me IRL, my hair is actually now down to my butt YEE HA.
Have a great day.
Friday, January 06, 2006
I suck at updating
Okay, so it's been ages since I posted. Good reasons for that? I got a job :) Better reasons? I've been writing.
So, let's see.
Since I started the pre-surgery processing last June, I've lost 64 pounds. I feel GREAT. This week, I started riding my exercise bike *every day* instead of just when I thought about it. I started at 1 mile, am going to work up to 5, then up the tension some.
I'm still working on my fantasy novel. So many good ideas, so little time to write them.
I started working for a small software company the week of Thanksgiving. The work is good, my boss is so-so, but I'm getting into the swing of it, and I'm sure it'll be fine.
I spent New Year's with C. He was sick for most of it. Talking went so-so, but when he and I just let go and be ourselves and have fun, we have such a great time. Having a relationship like that is a gift. It's a sin to waste it /nod
The cats are great. My family is great. Christmas was all right. My tree is still up ha ha. My mom has to come and take it down with me, cause she wants to pack my ornaments up "right" /eyeroll. Sometimes, it's easier to just agree, smile and nod.
I'm playing some World of Warcraft, and also some Warcraft III. I'm watching "Queer as Folk" from the beginning(I've never seen it, but I've heard so many people talk about how much they liked it, that I had to give it a try, and now I'm hooked). I'm about halfway through season 3, so don't ruin it for me :)
I just wanted to catch y'all up if you're still reading. Once my brain slows down, I'll come back and expand on some of that more :)
So, let's see.
Since I started the pre-surgery processing last June, I've lost 64 pounds. I feel GREAT. This week, I started riding my exercise bike *every day* instead of just when I thought about it. I started at 1 mile, am going to work up to 5, then up the tension some.
I'm still working on my fantasy novel. So many good ideas, so little time to write them.
I started working for a small software company the week of Thanksgiving. The work is good, my boss is so-so, but I'm getting into the swing of it, and I'm sure it'll be fine.
I spent New Year's with C. He was sick for most of it. Talking went so-so, but when he and I just let go and be ourselves and have fun, we have such a great time. Having a relationship like that is a gift. It's a sin to waste it /nod
The cats are great. My family is great. Christmas was all right. My tree is still up ha ha. My mom has to come and take it down with me, cause she wants to pack my ornaments up "right" /eyeroll. Sometimes, it's easier to just agree, smile and nod.
I'm playing some World of Warcraft, and also some Warcraft III. I'm watching "Queer as Folk" from the beginning(I've never seen it, but I've heard so many people talk about how much they liked it, that I had to give it a try, and now I'm hooked). I'm about halfway through season 3, so don't ruin it for me :)
I just wanted to catch y'all up if you're still reading. Once my brain slows down, I'll come back and expand on some of that more :)
Sunday, September 25, 2005
To think on - well, me anyway.
The future is unwritten.
There is still too much for me to do and see in this life for me to accept my past as my future.
*grin*
There is still too much for me to do and see in this life for me to accept my past as my future.
*grin*
Friday, September 23, 2005
Home, Safe, Feeling better
Just a quick note to let y'all know I got home Tuesday night from the hospital, and am recovering nicely. :) No regrets. No second thoughts.
My new tagline: "If you can't treat me like the princess I am, please feel free to fuck off at any time."
What is means: My self-confidence grows by the day, as it has since the middle of summer. Regardless of how I like to be treated in the bedroom *grin*, outside of that and in my life as a whole - you'd better be prepared to treat me right~
*grins*
(No, it's not the drugs I swear!) *laugh*
My new tagline: "If you can't treat me like the princess I am, please feel free to fuck off at any time."
What is means: My self-confidence grows by the day, as it has since the middle of summer. Regardless of how I like to be treated in the bedroom *grin*, outside of that and in my life as a whole - you'd better be prepared to treat me right~
*grins*
(No, it's not the drugs I swear!) *laugh*
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Where I've been, Where I'll be
Quiet, I know. Been busy here, getting ready for my surgery.
Gastric Band (second article, NOT the top one!
This is something I've wanted to have done for a long time. Because of Tri-Care (Navy Insurance) I am able to have it done.
My surgery is tomorrow, and I should be home Tuesday night at the latest. I'm not nervous or scared, more excited that finally having this done removes my last excuse for moving my life forward. For that, I'm happy.
So I'll see y'all soon :)
Gastric Band (second article, NOT the top one!
This is something I've wanted to have done for a long time. Because of Tri-Care (Navy Insurance) I am able to have it done.
My surgery is tomorrow, and I should be home Tuesday night at the latest. I'm not nervous or scared, more excited that finally having this done removes my last excuse for moving my life forward. For that, I'm happy.
So I'll see y'all soon :)
Monday, September 05, 2005
Writing, different veins
Well, I'm still writing, although not as much erotica as I'd like. I hate to say I had a 2 week party with it and it's all gone - cause I know that's not true. It'll be back. I just have to be patient.
I am however, still writing.
I started a short story to explain why my EQ Charecter, Sola, who is an evil dark elf cleric - married a goody-2-shoes high elf paladin in game. I meant it to be maybe 1 or 2 pages.
It's now over 90 pages and still going. While I realize if I ever want to do anything with it, I'll have to go back and remove all references to Everquest and change all the names, right now, I'm still enjoying writing it.
I am however, still writing.
I started a short story to explain why my EQ Charecter, Sola, who is an evil dark elf cleric - married a goody-2-shoes high elf paladin in game. I meant it to be maybe 1 or 2 pages.
It's now over 90 pages and still going. While I realize if I ever want to do anything with it, I'll have to go back and remove all references to Everquest and change all the names, right now, I'm still enjoying writing it.
“Do not push me, Amytal. You will not like the result.”
“I’m not pushing, Princess. Well, okay, maybe I am a little. But why put off the inevitable?” He had tried twice on the long walk from the castle to the church to take her arm, and both times, she rebuked him.
“Because unlike the first part of this ordeal, I can take my own time with this part.”
“Your father is ready for his healers now.”
“My father will have to wait until I am ready to bear them!” she shouted, once again pulling away from him. “I have been through one tribulation today and I will not be pushed into another!”
Amytal, angered by her reticence, grabbed her arm again, and held it tightly this time, his fingers digging into her skin. “Listen to me, Princess, and listen well. This…depression of yours will not go on for long. I for one will guarantee that, for if you push –me-, I will see to it that the choice is no longer yours!”
Saturday, August 20, 2005
So much writing...
...and so little else.
Okay, okay. Personal update.
Um, things are the same *chuckle* No, really, not much has changed. I'm looking hard for a job, my dad had his knee surgery and after seeing him yesterday and how well he's getting around, I'm very happy and relieved. Chatted with C a bit last week, things are finally on a straight, even ground between us, and talking to each other is much more comfortable - two friends, checking in. /nod as it should be. The last thing I want is an acrimonious divorce, and I know he doesn't want that either. So it's all good.
Awhile back, I stated pretty plainly that I wasn't so sure I belonged in d/s or wanted it anymore. Well, scratch that completely. I do, and I do. And recently, I've been reminded just how much of a part of me it is.
In addition to the mass writing frenzy, I've been looking for a new publisher for my book, and at the possibility of adding another book of stories to the collection. Unbound went out of business (with absolutely no notice to it's writers, thankyouverymuch) and I'm beside myself with frustration over the entire process of publishing that book. So much so, that I have considered self-publishing and distribution rather than going through that horrible process again. I'm still looking at options, but maybe that'll be what happens.
So, that's me. Writing, being inspired to write, and enjoying my creative streak.
Thank you for all the emails and comments. Y'all truly make my day.
Okay, okay. Personal update.
Um, things are the same *chuckle* No, really, not much has changed. I'm looking hard for a job, my dad had his knee surgery and after seeing him yesterday and how well he's getting around, I'm very happy and relieved. Chatted with C a bit last week, things are finally on a straight, even ground between us, and talking to each other is much more comfortable - two friends, checking in. /nod as it should be. The last thing I want is an acrimonious divorce, and I know he doesn't want that either. So it's all good.
Awhile back, I stated pretty plainly that I wasn't so sure I belonged in d/s or wanted it anymore. Well, scratch that completely. I do, and I do. And recently, I've been reminded just how much of a part of me it is.
In addition to the mass writing frenzy, I've been looking for a new publisher for my book, and at the possibility of adding another book of stories to the collection. Unbound went out of business (with absolutely no notice to it's writers, thankyouverymuch) and I'm beside myself with frustration over the entire process of publishing that book. So much so, that I have considered self-publishing and distribution rather than going through that horrible process again. I'm still looking at options, but maybe that'll be what happens.
So, that's me. Writing, being inspired to write, and enjoying my creative streak.
Thank you for all the emails and comments. Y'all truly make my day.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Show Off
...and yet again tonight, inspired~
“So, I can do this, if I like.” He slapped the side of her breast quickly, and then moved his hand to slap the outside of the other one. “I can sit here, and slap your tits around all I like, can’t I?”
She grimaced, but nodded. “If you like.”
“I do like.” He said lightly, and smacked them again. “I like to watch them bounce. But I especially like the look of hate in your eyes when I hurt you.”
Instinctively, she closed her eyes.
He slapped her cheek again, a little harder this time. “Open up those big fucking green eyes, cunt. Those are mine, and I want to see them.”
She growled at him, but complied.
“You keep them focused on my face. I don’t want to see them close, or look away. Clear?”
“Yes.” She whispered.
Both his hands at her breasts now, he moved his fingers to her nipples. “These are most certainly mine.” He pinched them roughly, then let go, and them pinched them again, keeping them firmly in his grasp. He pulled upwards, watching her face go from sullen to twisted in pain. “So pretty…” he whispered hotly. “So pretty when I’m hurting you…” He continued to pull upward, lifting her breasts high with her nipples. “You’re so proud of these fucking things….let’s pull them up and really show them off.”
Thursday, August 18, 2005
What a *Bad* Girl Gets...
This is a an excerpt from a new story written today. It's a companion piece to "What A Good Girl Gets" (See here). I knew I wanted to write about these two again, but until today, I didn't know exactly how I was going to manage to do that, without being repetitive. I think - I hope - I've accomplished that with this one:
You be the judge *grin*
She heard him come back into the room, and lifted her head a little from where she had rested it on the pillows. She felt his weight on the bed behind her, and she straightened her back.
“Have you learned anything tonight, baby?” he asked.
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, Daddy, not to sass you.”
“And?”
When she didn’t respond he immediately, he reached under her and drew the scrap of black satin out, showing it to her. “And??” he asked again.
“Not to wear those kinds of panties.”
“Because…”
“Because they aren’t appropriate for me…”
“Why else?”
Again, she didn’t respond. “You don’t know?” he questioned. “Do I need to show you why?” He slid off the bed and stood next to it. “Look at me.” He demanded.
She turned her head slowly, facing him. His cock was already hard, but when his eyes met her face, and saw the black makeup washed part way down her cheeks by her very real tears from the spanking he felt it jump and grow yet harder. He reached down and grasped it by the root. “This is why, babydoll. This is what those panties do to men, especially when we see them under that short little skirt.”
She stared, her eyes wide, but did not respond.
“This is a lesson you need to learn, and I’m going to teach it to you tonight so I don’t ever have to do it again.” He said softly, crawling back on the bed behind her. “This is going to hurt, but you have to trust that Daddy just wants you to learn…”
“Daddy, no please, I understand.” She begged.
“I don’t think you do. If you did, you wouldn’t be back talking me again now.” Letting the tip of his cock brush against her, he reached for the small bottle he had laid on the bed.
She groaned and let her head fall down against the pillow again. He quickly grabbed her hair and yanked it back up. “Bad girl.” He admonished. “Do you remember what happened last time I caught you wearing bad girl underwear?”
“Yes, Daddy…”
“You remember how I rewarded you when you said you wouldn’t wear them again?”
“Yes…”
“I’m not doing that this time. Because you apparently didn’t learn anything. This time, Daddy has to teach you a much harsher lesson.”
She whimpered quietly and struggled to keep her head up. She wanted to argue. Words kept coming to her lips; begging words, pleading words. But she stopped them before they could escape, knowing it would only make things worse.
After warming the lube from the small bottle between his palms, he coated his cock liberally with it, and then poured a little more onto his fingertips. He did not bother to warm it up before slipping his fingers into the crack of her ass. Her shrieks made him grin evilly. “Suffer, bitch.” He growled, and picked up the lube bottle again, letting the cold liquid drizzle straight from the cap, and watched as it slid down, making her shiver. “Be happy I’m using any lube at all…” Recapping the bottle, he tossed it off the bed, and watched her jump slightly when it hit the floor.
You be the judge *grin*
Monday, August 15, 2005
And they just. keep. coming.
From Letting Go (written today)
Slapping the tip against her skin one more time, he brought the crop back up his chest, crossing his arms. “Tell me.”
She groaned, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to deal with the
pain.
“Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes.” He growled, and slapped the crop
against her left breast.
She screamed again, cursing at him. But she opened her eyes. “I see that you’re going to make me make you cry.” He said, his eyes narrowed. “You know I love your tears, but there are more enjoyable ways for me to get them than this.” With the tip of the crop, he pulled at the chain between the clamps, moving her breasts slightly back and forth, and watching her grimace. “Come on, bitch, cry for me. Maybe that’ll open you up.”
"No!” she shouted.
“No?” he said, a sarcastic questioning look in his eyes. “No? Really? No, you won’t cry? Or, no, you won’t open up?”
She groaned in frustration. “Both!”
“The proper answer, you spoiled little princess, is neither.” He tossed the crop down on the floor and stood up. “You will cry, I promise you that.” Putting his left hand against her jaw, he pulled back and slapped her lightly with his right hand.She cried out, but did not speak.
Again, he slapped her, a little harder this time. “Tears, bitch. I want to see those tears.” Rhythmically, he started to slap her lightly, one after another until her eyes glazed over, and her face fell forward. He saw her eyes close, but let it go for now, knowing she was starting to sink deeper into the headspace he wanted her in to begin with. “That’s my good girl.” He whispered. “Let it all go now. Tell Daddy what you really want.”
She didn’t respond. He gave her a moment to roll around in the field of her other place before he spoke again. “Come on, princess. Tell me what you need.”
“I’m frightened.” She said in a small voice.
“Of what?”
“Of what will happen when I say it.”
Territorial
Maybe you can tell. I have a new muse.
I met him online, as has been my habit for the last several years. I met him in an unsuspecting place, in a relatively tame, vanilla way, but the longer we spoke, the more of our darkness' we let out, and in doing so, I have found in him someone who has ideas and viewpoints that rattle me. We chat nearly every day, and almost every day, an innocuous word from him will inspire my inner erotica writer, and I will begin a new story.
(No, it's not a relationship other than a mutual respect for each other's seemingly bottomless pit of perversities. I'm not looking for much more than that, and neither is he.)
I met him online, as has been my habit for the last several years. I met him in an unsuspecting place, in a relatively tame, vanilla way, but the longer we spoke, the more of our darkness' we let out, and in doing so, I have found in him someone who has ideas and viewpoints that rattle me. We chat nearly every day, and almost every day, an innocuous word from him will inspire my inner erotica writer, and I will begin a new story.
(No, it's not a relationship other than a mutual respect for each other's seemingly bottomless pit of perversities. I'm not looking for much more than that, and neither is he.)
"I’m not a selfish man.” He said in a low tone. “I’m willing to allow you to fuck other men anytime you choose. But this part of you,” he continued. “this part of you kneeling in the tub at my command, this is mine, and mine alone. I will not share it. Am I making myself clear?”
She nodded, her breathing starting to become less even and more labored. “Yes, Master.” She whispered.
“So, I don’t need to tell you again.”
“No, Master.”
“Do I need to show you, or anyone else what is mine?”
Automatically, she responded. “No, Master.”
“I think perhaps I do.”
The finality in his voice kept her from responding. Her knees, cold in the water against the tile, shook a little, as she waited for him to continue.
Stepping closer to the tub, he grabbed a handful of her hair carelessly and pulled her head back. “Stay like that. And keep your eyes closed.” Taking hold of his cock with his right hand, he leaned over her, and braced his left hand against the back wall of the shower. “The things you make me do to you…” he grunted, as he closed his own eyes, and felt a stream of piss rise up through his cock.
Her eyes still closed, she felt the warm water-like liquid hit her skin, and was confused for a moment. She could feel the bathtub spout still pouring water into the tub around her legs, and the temperature was much warmer than that anyway… With a jolt, her body actually reacting physically to the thought, she let out a small whimper.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
A Peg or Two
And the writing frenzy continues.....
I dunno where it's coming from, but I'm not going to complain~
“Crawl over here to me.” He said confidently. She hesitated, and he added, “Now, bitch. Don’t make me come get you.”
He watched her gasp, and then slowly fall forward onto her hands. She started to move slowly toward him. “Look at me.”
“I…I can’t…” she whispered, still moving slowly across the carpet.
“You can, and you will.” He set his drink down on the table near the doorway, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Slowly, her head rose up, and she met his eyes briefly before looking back at the floor.
“Keep your eyes right here. There’s nothing on the floor for you to see. Look at me.”
She groaned loudly and stopped moving. He watched her struggle, her emotional fight becoming almost physical as she labored to raise her head again, to meet his eyes.
When she finally succeeded, he nodded. “Now, get here.”
Long moments passed for them both before she finally arrived at his feet. To her credit, she kept her eyes focused upward on his. “Good girl.” He said again, reaching down and stroking her hair. “You see how fun it can be when you close your mouth and let me open mine?”
She didn’t reply; her mind still three feet back on the carpet that she had just crawled over.
“I can smell you” he whispered hotly. “You’re soaked, aren’t you?”
She managed to nod at him.
“Answer me out loud. I want to see if there’s any of that smart-ass left in you for now.”
“Yes.” She squeaked.
“Better.” Thinking for a moment, he continued. “Stand up, and go up to the bedroom. Kneel in the middle of the bed, hands at your side. Face away from the door.” He surprised himself in how easy the words and commands came to his lips.
She nodded, and stood up. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the stairs and climbed them, her head bent forward slightly.
I dunno where it's coming from, but I'm not going to complain~
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Wow.
I've been doing very little but writing for nearly a week now. It's in me and it must come out! *chuckle*
I've started working on a much longer story, based on characters of myself and friends from Everquest. I've written it in the vein of the game, but if I ever want to do anything with it, I'll have to change the names and places, etc. That's all right. It's 72 fucking pages right now, and it's a strong story with strong characters and it's fun as hell to write.
Course, then this came pouring out of me tonight.... 3 pages of unadultered erotica...an excerpt:
I've been doing very little but writing for nearly a week now. It's in me and it must come out! *chuckle*
I've started working on a much longer story, based on characters of myself and friends from Everquest. I've written it in the vein of the game, but if I ever want to do anything with it, I'll have to change the names and places, etc. That's all right. It's 72 fucking pages right now, and it's a strong story with strong characters and it's fun as hell to write.
Course, then this came pouring out of me tonight.... 3 pages of unadultered erotica...an excerpt:
She heard his key in the lock, and then the door shut behind him. Still unsure of what was to happen, she stayed quietly in the kitchen, looking busy. His footsteps were heavy on the floor, and she heard his briefcase and keys hit the dining room table before he approached her.
Grabbing her roughly by winding his right hand into her hair, he turned her around. His arm went around her waist before she lost her balance, and he pulled her tightly to him, crushing his lips down onto hers. Biting her, nibbling at her tongue, he kept his grip strong in her hair as he worked the short hemline of the dress up, and over her hips. Turning her, he pushed her backwards, into the corner by the pantry.
Completely aroused by his dominance, she melted into him and moved her hands to
his chest, to try to remove his jacket. He pulled his lips from hers, and growled into her ear. “On your knees, bitch.”
Feeling weak from the suddenness of this animal passion of his, she complied, sliding to her knees on the kitchen floor. “Spread your thighs apart.” She heard him say, and moved her knees outward slightly. “More.” He moved his foot in between her thighs, and pushed her right leg outward until he was satisfied.
Keeping her hair wrapped tightly around one hand, he reached down and opened his
fly, pulling his cock out of its confinement. Already hard, it leapt at her and she wanted to immediately put her mouth to it, but she waited. “Stare at it and get hungry, my little cockslut.” His left hand now free, he roughly pulled the shoulders of her dress down her arms, and then reached into the red lace bra beneath the dress, and forcefully pulled her breasts out of it, so that her nipples peaked over the top.
“You certainly did dress the part today, didn’t you, whore?” he growled again. “Put your hands down… behind your back.” When she didn’t comply quickly enough
for him, he said it again, louder. “Do it now. Don’t make me make you do it.”
Her mind was a blur. If she thought she had been aroused all day waiting for this, she had no idea what the actual act could provoke. She could smell herself clearly in the air, and feel her lips sliding apart and together as she breathed heavily.
He didn’t give her time to ponder this. “You know what I want. Give my cock the attention it deserves.” Tentatively, she let her tongue slid out from between her plump lips, and licked the head of his dick, giving him what he normally enjoyed. He growled, pulling her forward a little and parting her lips with the head of his cock. “Suck me off, slut.”
Without hesitation, she slid her lips part way down his shaft, and pulled them tightly around him as she glided back up, leaving a trail of bright red lipstick along his skin as she went. Repeating the move a few times, she felt his hand tighten again in her hair. “You can take more than that. Show me. Show me how much you want that cock,
baby.” She moaned loudly, taking a little more of him into her mouth and partially down her throat. She still could not form a cohesive thought and she was beyond
caring, so lost to this… scene he had created. She started sucking at him in earnest, letting her tongue dance along the top of his shaft as she ran her lips over it.
Still unsatisfied, he put his left hand down into her hair as well. “I guess I’ll have to do it myself…” he barked. Planting his feet firmly on the floor, he started to pull her head close to him, shoving himself further and further into her mouth until he felt her choke. He pulled her backwards, until just the head remained inside her lips, and then yanked her forward again, a little further. “That’s better…that’s my good little slut.”
Writing just feels so...good. I waited a long time for my muse to reappear, and apparently, it's done more than reappear....it has inspired....a lot.
thank you for your comments...they are most appreciated....
Saturday, August 06, 2005
I just have to post today, cause last night, I wrote my first long erotica story in many many months.
An excerpt:
Ahhh....it felt so good to write again....I must write more....
I won't say it was easy, cause it wasn't. Having not slept with anyone in a year - not having any real motivation or inspiriation to write, I took a small piece of a conversation with a friend, and it just lead...here.
Here's to hoping there is more inspiration around the corner!
An excerpt:
“What … do you have on under that blouse young lady?” He asked, pulling the glass from her hand, and setting it back onto the table before it reached her lips.
With a hurt look, she moved back, and pulled her legs up under her, so that she was kneeling on the couch, facing him. “A bra…”
“What kind of bra??”
“A new one…” she whispered.
“New?” He struggled to keep his hands to himself, but raised an eyebrow at her, his heart thumping in his chest.
She nodded, lowering her face again. “I got it downtown.”
“Do you think you bought an appropriate bra to wear under your uniform?”
She shook her head slightly, not raising it.
“Then why are you wearing it?”
“It’s…pretty.”
“Well, I’m sure it is, but that doesn’t mean you should be wearing it.” He lifted her chin again. “I think you better show me…”
“I don’t want …”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I said, show me.”
She looked in his eyes then and bit her bottom lip. Without a word, she reached up and began to slowly unbutton the proper white blouse.
When her hands descended to the button above her navel, he reached out and grabbed them gently, lowering them. With his index finger, he parted the sides of the blouse, and peered inside.
He looked up at her again quickly, and then parted the front of the shirt a little more. He swallowed hard before saying “Do you really think a black lace pushup bra is appropriate under your uniform, missy?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed both sides of the blouse, and yanked it apart, popping the remaining two buttons off and sending them bouncing across the hardwood floor. The sound of the plastic hitting the floor, combined with the gasp of shock coming from between her plump pink lips exploded in his head, and he roughly pulled the blouse the rest of the way off her arms and tossed it on the floor.
She was looking at him, her huge green eyes wide in shock. He didn’t know if it belonged in her game, or if it was genuine, but he was past caring either way. “Definitely not appropriate for school.” He admonished her, his index finger gently sliding along the slope of her breast near the lace. Without waiting to hear an excuse, he let his finger dip inside the cup, under the lace, feeling the contrast between the roughness of the material and the softness of her skin. He let his finger continue to slide upward, to the strap and under it, until he reached her shoulder.
Looking up into her eyes, he continued, “Not appropriate for little girls at all.” Both his hands went around her, to her back, and grasped the sides of the bra firmly. “Not remotely appropriate for you at all.” With a grunt, he pulled both sides away from each other forcefully, tearing the fabric and then pulling the offending garment completely off her and tossing it on the floor as if it were poisoned.
She yelped, her green eyes growing even wider as she reached up with her hands to cover herself. “No!” she cried, and tried to slide off the couch to retrieve the lingerie.
He grabbed her arm harshly, and pulled her back to the spot. “No, indeed.” Grabbing both her wrists in one strong hand, he pulled them out and away from her body. The lace had left tiny impressions in the skin of her full breasts, and he longed to taste them. Her light pink nipples stood up and almost audibly begged for attention as her gasping breaths moved her chest up and down fiercely.
“Only bad girls wear bras like that. I thought you were a good girl.” Still holding her hands in one of his, his other hand slowly moved toward her left breast, to cup it in his palm. “Aren’t you a good girl?”
“I am!” she whimpered. “I am a good girl!”
“You must not be, to wear a bra like that…” Squeezing her breast firmly, he unwrapped his fingers from it, and let his palm dance against her hard nipple. He felt her shiver, and grinned menacingly. “No, you can’t possibly be a good girl.”
A shudder of delight ran up her spine, and she struggled unconvincingly against his hold on her. “I am! I swear it.” She cried, her eyes closed.
“So you say…” Pulling her hands down onto his leg and trapping them there, he leaned in closer to her, and gently bit her nipple, then pulled it into his mouth and allowed his tongue to dance around it. Leaning back for a breath he growled softly “But I don’t believe…not for a minute.”
As his mouth returned to her breast, her head lolled back and a soft groan escaped her lips. She feebly attempted again to pull her hands away from his, but had trouble finding the energy to struggle against him.
He drew his mouth from her and looked into her face. “If I lift that dainty skirt of yours, am I going to find something equally inappropriate?”
Ahhh....it felt so good to write again....I must write more....
I won't say it was easy, cause it wasn't. Having not slept with anyone in a year - not having any real motivation or inspiriation to write, I took a small piece of a conversation with a friend, and it just lead...here.
Here's to hoping there is more inspiration around the corner!
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