I dislike being on top during sex, for a couple reasons.
Firstly, because my legs are too long( I am 5'9, with an inseam of 36"), and if the gentleman isn't at least a good 5-6" taller than I am, my knees end up under his armpits or higher, and it's extremely uncomfortable on my knees. My first husband was 6'4" tall, and it worked all right with him, because his upper body was long.
But I still didn't care much for it, because
Secondly, unless there is a very strong aura of dominance coming from the man, it makes me feel like I'm in control of the situation, and it's a rare occasion that I enjoy that feeling. (not never, just rarely)
I do enjoy teasing, and being in control sometimes, no question. C did not seem to enjoy that at all (though he did like me on top, because in his words, sometimes he felt "lazy"). I fancy myself somewhat of a seductress at times, and teasing a man until he's absolutely at his wit's end is a treat. I cart around a lot of sexual energy, and this is a great way to relieve it. It also brings to mind (and feeling) a courtesan or a highly paid whore, both of which can be a great role to slip into. And lastly, I enjoy it because once you have taken a man to the end of his rope, so to speak, he has no choice but to flip you around and take you on *his* terms, which is extremley fulfilling to me.
Not to mention hot.
*grin*
Monday, May 08, 2006
The Wrong End of the Cane
I've talked about canes before here. About how I used to use them extensively when I topped in California, and how I learned from one of the best how to use them properly, care for them, and make masochistic little girls sing sweetly for them.
I think I've also mentioned that I've never actually had one used on me.
There are probably several reasons for that. I bought my first cane while I was with M. It came from Stormy Leather in San Francisco, and was a beautiful rattan nightmare.No fancy wrapping on the end, no liquid latex or paint - just a sturdy slightly curved piece of danger. I bought it with the intent of it being used on me, but that never happened, as M developed a non-waivering crush on his single tail, and that was pretty much the only thing that got used. So when we split, and I started topping more frequently, I started using that cane, and several others that I had purchased.
C is not into canes. Actually, about the only toys he ever really did use seriously on me were paddles. He did play with the floggers a bit in California, but that was mostly just trying them out. Hence, the four inces of dust on my toybag. (not that I'm complaining, mind you. There really aren't many toys I like better than others - pain is pain to me.)
While learning to use my whippy little canes, I spoke to many of the women that I topped with them, and asked why they liked them. For masochists, this was an easy answer: Intense pain. For the submissives, it was not so easy, but most of them reacted as I imagine I would - "I'll take it for you, if you like to give it."
As I've said repeatedly, I'm not a masochist. I don't get off on pain for pain's sake. Pain for me is a challenge, and a way for me to show submission, but it is not sex itself. That's not to say that I don't enjoy pain *during* sex *grin*.
I would, at some point, like to experience the cane. But not in a play-only situation. I do understand the two-fold pain that accompanies a cane strike (as it has been explained to me), and as it's not something I would consider casual play, it's not something that I would enjoy in that situation. However, if it's someone that I had played with more than once, and had become comfortable and trusting with, yes, I would like to try it - just once. This would be, I think, a true act of submission for me - and allow me to overcome the sense of fear I have at being at the "wrong end" of the cane.
I think I've also mentioned that I've never actually had one used on me.
There are probably several reasons for that. I bought my first cane while I was with M. It came from Stormy Leather in San Francisco, and was a beautiful rattan nightmare.No fancy wrapping on the end, no liquid latex or paint - just a sturdy slightly curved piece of danger. I bought it with the intent of it being used on me, but that never happened, as M developed a non-waivering crush on his single tail, and that was pretty much the only thing that got used. So when we split, and I started topping more frequently, I started using that cane, and several others that I had purchased.
C is not into canes. Actually, about the only toys he ever really did use seriously on me were paddles. He did play with the floggers a bit in California, but that was mostly just trying them out. Hence, the four inces of dust on my toybag. (not that I'm complaining, mind you. There really aren't many toys I like better than others - pain is pain to me.)
While learning to use my whippy little canes, I spoke to many of the women that I topped with them, and asked why they liked them. For masochists, this was an easy answer: Intense pain. For the submissives, it was not so easy, but most of them reacted as I imagine I would - "I'll take it for you, if you like to give it."
As I've said repeatedly, I'm not a masochist. I don't get off on pain for pain's sake. Pain for me is a challenge, and a way for me to show submission, but it is not sex itself. That's not to say that I don't enjoy pain *during* sex *grin*.
I would, at some point, like to experience the cane. But not in a play-only situation. I do understand the two-fold pain that accompanies a cane strike (as it has been explained to me), and as it's not something I would consider casual play, it's not something that I would enjoy in that situation. However, if it's someone that I had played with more than once, and had become comfortable and trusting with, yes, I would like to try it - just once. This would be, I think, a true act of submission for me - and allow me to overcome the sense of fear I have at being at the "wrong end" of the cane.
Shhh.
I've never been gagged. Never even had someone put their hand over my mouth. It's something that I'll admit, I'm curious about.
I mean, look at my handle. I have been told that I make the most "delightful" noises, both during play and sex. C was a very aural (of or relating to the ear or to the sense of hearing ) person, the more noise I made, or the more I spoke, the better he enjoyed it. I've been told that I scream, whimper, moan, curse, beg and generally make my "feelings" about whatever's happening to me known. Some of it, I remember, some I don't. I guess it depends on how lost I am in it.
The closest I've ever come to being gagged was an early morning fuck with M, while his daughters were in their rooms getting ready for school. There was nothing over my mouth, but with a few words of warning, and his instruction to be silent, I was as effectively gagged as I could have been. And he had the fingernails scratches on his back to prove it *grin*. (well, that energy had to go somewhere.....). And it was quite a powerful orgasm I had that morning, but I've no idea if it was from the silence, or the newness of it, or the excitement radiating off him as he tried something new. As far as gags go, that was pretty effective (considering we'd been together for about 2 years at that point).
As for real gags? I dunno. Ball gags are out for me, bits probably too because of the trouble I've had with my teeth. A bandana perhaps.. Duct tape? Ouch. I'm rather fond of my full lips, and would prefer not to have them ripped off kkthx :P I actually did buy a couple of bandanas and put them in my toybag, in case this ever came up. *blows 4 inches of dust off the toybag and sneezes*
I have been chatting with a local gent who enjoys bondage, so - who knows - maybe I'll get to find out :)
I mean, look at my handle. I have been told that I make the most "delightful" noises, both during play and sex. C was a very aural (of or relating to the ear or to the sense of hearing ) person, the more noise I made, or the more I spoke, the better he enjoyed it. I've been told that I scream, whimper, moan, curse, beg and generally make my "feelings" about whatever's happening to me known. Some of it, I remember, some I don't. I guess it depends on how lost I am in it.
The closest I've ever come to being gagged was an early morning fuck with M, while his daughters were in their rooms getting ready for school. There was nothing over my mouth, but with a few words of warning, and his instruction to be silent, I was as effectively gagged as I could have been. And he had the fingernails scratches on his back to prove it *grin*. (well, that energy had to go somewhere.....). And it was quite a powerful orgasm I had that morning, but I've no idea if it was from the silence, or the newness of it, or the excitement radiating off him as he tried something new. As far as gags go, that was pretty effective (considering we'd been together for about 2 years at that point).
As for real gags? I dunno. Ball gags are out for me, bits probably too because of the trouble I've had with my teeth. A bandana perhaps.. Duct tape? Ouch. I'm rather fond of my full lips, and would prefer not to have them ripped off kkthx :P I actually did buy a couple of bandanas and put them in my toybag, in case this ever came up. *blows 4 inches of dust off the toybag and sneezes*
I have been chatting with a local gent who enjoys bondage, so - who knows - maybe I'll get to find out :)
Truth
My horoscope for Saturday said, in part, "Mercury enters traditional Taurus, bringing issues of home and hearth to the forefront. As you navigate them, remember that pleasing all of the people all of the time is tough, and you never shine when you're bailing on your own needs."
Ain't that the truth.
I spent the weekend cleaning, working and playing a little EQ. One of these days, I'll quit taking work home, I swear it.
In and amongst the work and cleaning (if I could justify it, I'd hire someone to come in once a week and do that, but the apartment isn't that big and it'd make me feel lazy), I contemplated a lot of things. I really wanted to write this weekend, but I couldn't get anything out. That happens sometimes. I don't take it as hard as I used to; it used to just rip me out when I couldn't write. Now, I take it as a sign that I should think a bit more before putting anything out.
So I got into work this morning, and read the above horoscope (I have one of those daily rip-off-a-page calendars with my horoscope on it) and I kinda grinned to myself because that's something I just started being more aware of - how I tend to want to make everyone happy, and leave myself feeling miserable. No more, though. I've said it before; this is my turn, my time. And finding what I want and need are pretty much at the top of my list.
Course, it doesn't help when what I want changes on a daily basis, depending on my mood, the alignment of the planets, whatever. There are some constants, of course. You've read them all here *grin*.
For now, I guess I'm just happy that I wake up in a good mood most of the time, the drama around my life has mostly settled down, and my tax return is in :)
Ain't that the truth.
I spent the weekend cleaning, working and playing a little EQ. One of these days, I'll quit taking work home, I swear it.
In and amongst the work and cleaning (if I could justify it, I'd hire someone to come in once a week and do that, but the apartment isn't that big and it'd make me feel lazy), I contemplated a lot of things. I really wanted to write this weekend, but I couldn't get anything out. That happens sometimes. I don't take it as hard as I used to; it used to just rip me out when I couldn't write. Now, I take it as a sign that I should think a bit more before putting anything out.
So I got into work this morning, and read the above horoscope (I have one of those daily rip-off-a-page calendars with my horoscope on it) and I kinda grinned to myself because that's something I just started being more aware of - how I tend to want to make everyone happy, and leave myself feeling miserable. No more, though. I've said it before; this is my turn, my time. And finding what I want and need are pretty much at the top of my list.
Course, it doesn't help when what I want changes on a daily basis, depending on my mood, the alignment of the planets, whatever. There are some constants, of course. You've read them all here *grin*.
For now, I guess I'm just happy that I wake up in a good mood most of the time, the drama around my life has mostly settled down, and my tax return is in :)
Friday, May 05, 2006
Upside
I woke up early this morning, before the alarm even went off. I guess that's what I get for going to bed before 11pm :)
And I woke up in a great mood. I felt good. The scale hasn't moved in like 2 weeks, but there are definte changes in my clothes and how they fit (for the better) so that's all good. I'm "adjusting" again. And I'm fine with that.
Went to bed with my hair all twisted up in a ponytail/knot and woke up with lucious curls. I'll have to remember that.
Even work hasn't seemed to knock me in the dirt, and I only have 2 hours to go :)
This new attitude I've adopted recently - just tossing out the "trash" without looking back, feeling guilty or worrying about having made a mistake - this is a good thing. I'm happy with it. And you know what, I actually started sleeping again /wink.
The only downer is that it's chilly here today, and I left my windows open. Will have to get the space heater out tonight I'm sure.
Been chatting with a local dominant. Bondage guy *grin*. You know how I love bondage..... Not getting my hopes up, not letting it affect my mood, not worrying about it. Not going to let myself get taken down the rabbit hole again.
I'm not even that fond of rabbits :/
I am however, fond of my readers. Your emails are amazing, uplifting and make me feel very good. Thank you, most graciously.
Hoping I get a chance to write this weekend, as I have a few topics I'd like to cover.
Until then,
Happy Friday
And I woke up in a great mood. I felt good. The scale hasn't moved in like 2 weeks, but there are definte changes in my clothes and how they fit (for the better) so that's all good. I'm "adjusting" again. And I'm fine with that.
Went to bed with my hair all twisted up in a ponytail/knot and woke up with lucious curls. I'll have to remember that.
Even work hasn't seemed to knock me in the dirt, and I only have 2 hours to go :)
This new attitude I've adopted recently - just tossing out the "trash" without looking back, feeling guilty or worrying about having made a mistake - this is a good thing. I'm happy with it. And you know what, I actually started sleeping again /wink.
The only downer is that it's chilly here today, and I left my windows open. Will have to get the space heater out tonight I'm sure.
Been chatting with a local dominant. Bondage guy *grin*. You know how I love bondage..... Not getting my hopes up, not letting it affect my mood, not worrying about it. Not going to let myself get taken down the rabbit hole again.
I'm not even that fond of rabbits :/
I am however, fond of my readers. Your emails are amazing, uplifting and make me feel very good. Thank you, most graciously.
Hoping I get a chance to write this weekend, as I have a few topics I'd like to cover.
Until then,
Happy Friday
Thursday, May 04, 2006
I'd rather be pissed off than....
...pissed on by someone who has no clue.
And yet, another Alt mistake. I seem to making quite a few of those, hopefully, either I will learn from them, or get frustrated and kill the account all together.
1. Submissive does not mean "whore". I am not your booty call, especially when you live 2 hours away and refuse to come here, or even meet me half way for an initial meeting.
2. And what's up with that "come to me" nonesense? I'm a busy person, too. I have a life.
3. If you begin a conversation by insulting me, consider it over before it starts. You have no idea what I'm thinking, feeling, or doing and you sure as shit don't know me well enough from some chat, and one phone call, to decide who and what I am.
---
Man, I am fed up.
I am altering my profile to say that if you are single and have never been married - and are only into "the sex part" of d/s, don't waste my time.
Thus begins a new chapter for me: Eat a peach, punk. Come see me when your hot head cools, and your logic returns.
/sigh
And yet, another Alt mistake. I seem to making quite a few of those, hopefully, either I will learn from them, or get frustrated and kill the account all together.
1. Submissive does not mean "whore". I am not your booty call, especially when you live 2 hours away and refuse to come here, or even meet me half way for an initial meeting.
2. And what's up with that "come to me" nonesense? I'm a busy person, too. I have a life.
3. If you begin a conversation by insulting me, consider it over before it starts. You have no idea what I'm thinking, feeling, or doing and you sure as shit don't know me well enough from some chat, and one phone call, to decide who and what I am.
---
Man, I am fed up.
I am altering my profile to say that if you are single and have never been married - and are only into "the sex part" of d/s, don't waste my time.
Thus begins a new chapter for me: Eat a peach, punk. Come see me when your hot head cools, and your logic returns.
/sigh
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
People piss me off.
This is likely not going to have anything to do with BDSM, so if that's what you come here to read, you might well want to skip it.
This rant is about people. One incident in particular. And how I'm tired of being the good person.
Almost all of my life, I have tried vigorously to be the mature one - the adult - the forgiving person. It's how I was raised; and these are values that my grandmother instilled at me from a very young age.
Over the last few years, however, my soul has grown tired. I am tired of sucking up the blame when none is due me. Tired of being the adult and letting other adults get away with murder in my attemp to "keep peace". Tired of letting people walk all the fuck over me just so that I can feel good about being mature.
Problem is? I do NOT feel good about the bootprints on my back.
When this bit of drama arose a couple weeks ago, I did indeed still try to be the mature one, tried to let it go, pass, forgive. But it's not going or passing, and for some reason, I cannot bring myself to forgive this fuckwad who didn't just step on my back; he jumped up and down and danced a jig.
And so, I have not sucked it up. I have not remained quiet and I have not given him the benefit of any doubt. I intially tried to. But when you have the exact same story being repeated to you 20 times in 2 weeks, by 20 people who have no vested interest in the situation, you know better. No matter how much of an adult you want to be, you have to eventually face the reality of the situation and say to yourself "That is some fucked up shit right there. I have been wronged."
So now, all these people in my life who expected me to walk meekly into the night, accepting my fate and taking the lion's share of the blame for this are in shock. I believe they are confused as to my reaction and I truly believe that they're anger at me now is due to the fact that I did not follow my own pattern.
Awwww....here, lemme give you a hug. I'm so sorry you treated me badly and now have to deal with the reality of that. Suck it up dumbass.
I do not feel badly about how I have handled this. What I do feel badly about is that mutual friends are now caught in the crossfire. That, and the fact that this simply will....not....die.
*growls*
I will NOT go quietly into the night anymore.
(bdsm content) unless you gag me and turn out the lights~
This rant is about people. One incident in particular. And how I'm tired of being the good person.
Almost all of my life, I have tried vigorously to be the mature one - the adult - the forgiving person. It's how I was raised; and these are values that my grandmother instilled at me from a very young age.
Over the last few years, however, my soul has grown tired. I am tired of sucking up the blame when none is due me. Tired of being the adult and letting other adults get away with murder in my attemp to "keep peace". Tired of letting people walk all the fuck over me just so that I can feel good about being mature.
Problem is? I do NOT feel good about the bootprints on my back.
When this bit of drama arose a couple weeks ago, I did indeed still try to be the mature one, tried to let it go, pass, forgive. But it's not going or passing, and for some reason, I cannot bring myself to forgive this fuckwad who didn't just step on my back; he jumped up and down and danced a jig.
And so, I have not sucked it up. I have not remained quiet and I have not given him the benefit of any doubt. I intially tried to. But when you have the exact same story being repeated to you 20 times in 2 weeks, by 20 people who have no vested interest in the situation, you know better. No matter how much of an adult you want to be, you have to eventually face the reality of the situation and say to yourself "That is some fucked up shit right there. I have been wronged."
So now, all these people in my life who expected me to walk meekly into the night, accepting my fate and taking the lion's share of the blame for this are in shock. I believe they are confused as to my reaction and I truly believe that they're anger at me now is due to the fact that I did not follow my own pattern.
Awwww....here, lemme give you a hug. I'm so sorry you treated me badly and now have to deal with the reality of that. Suck it up dumbass.
I do not feel badly about how I have handled this. What I do feel badly about is that mutual friends are now caught in the crossfire. That, and the fact that this simply will....not....die.
*growls*
I will NOT go quietly into the night anymore.
(bdsm content) unless you gag me and turn out the lights~
Flirt
Growing up, and even into my 20's and early thirties, I was not much of a flirt. I think this wraps itself around the healthy sexual self-esteem I was talking about yesterday.
Apparently, however, that's in the past, as I find myself flirting like crazy these days. Harmlessly. A sly smile, a wink, a slight crook of the head - at work. Direct eye contact, that smile again, a turn of a phrase - outside of work. More brazenly yet online.
And I must say, I'm enjoying the hell out of it. It's a little charge; sometimes sexual, sometimes just a "good feeling" especially when the object of your flirtation responds favorably. It's like being back in high school (if I'd have flirted in high school) without all the typical teenage hormonal baggage.
Who says you can't go back to being a kid again? I didn't like it the first time; maybe I'll enjoy it now.
Apparently, however, that's in the past, as I find myself flirting like crazy these days. Harmlessly. A sly smile, a wink, a slight crook of the head - at work. Direct eye contact, that smile again, a turn of a phrase - outside of work. More brazenly yet online.
And I must say, I'm enjoying the hell out of it. It's a little charge; sometimes sexual, sometimes just a "good feeling" especially when the object of your flirtation responds favorably. It's like being back in high school (if I'd have flirted in high school) without all the typical teenage hormonal baggage.
Who says you can't go back to being a kid again? I didn't like it the first time; maybe I'll enjoy it now.
Ask.
I've talked about inspiration before; where it comes from for me, how easily I can be inspired to sit down and write a short story, a poem, an essay, a blogger *grin*. All it takes it the right word, the right phrase, the right tone of voice.
Does that make me easy? :P
In a conversation the other night, the subject of a woman "asking to cum" came up (no pun intended, this time). This is something that I always did with C when that dynamic was alive and well with our relationship. When it faded, I quit doing it. It didn't feel...right anymore. I also did this every time with M in California. It was part of it for us.
When I first met C back in 96 in Cheyenne, one of his first assignments for me was to learn how to beg. As soon as he said it, my heart sank. Beg? BEG? Haven't I always been taught that I shouldn't have to beg for what I want? My parents, despite their rather puritanical sex views (well, my dad's anyway), raised me to be smart, independent, strong. Listening to C talk about this was like fingernals on a chalkboard, and his first actual writing assignment to me was to write an essay about - begging. A reworked copy of it can be found here (http://www.thescreamergirl.com/beg.htm), though I do have the old one...somewhere at home. The web page contains the 2000 version.
Why, do you suppose, do so many woman have such discomfort with that?
I know for me, the words just sounds odd coming out of my mouth, unless I'm completely lost in the fuck. It isn't that I mind doing it - having to ask to cum makes me incredibly hot, especially when I do not get a favorable response *grin* and have to wait. But I don't want to stop and think about it. I don't want to have to stop and think of what to say or how to phrase it. If I do, it'll sound fake in my head, and I'll lose the moment. And that is a moment I do not want to lose~
It covers all the bases during sex; domination, a slight amount of humiliation, control, occasionally a little bit of sadism *grin*. It opens up yet another level of being beholden to the dominant for saying yes (if he does.). It is one of those beautifully simplistic acts that can take you to a completely new place.
Okay, well, maybe I am easy :P
Does that make me easy? :P
In a conversation the other night, the subject of a woman "asking to cum" came up (no pun intended, this time). This is something that I always did with C when that dynamic was alive and well with our relationship. When it faded, I quit doing it. It didn't feel...right anymore. I also did this every time with M in California. It was part of it for us.
When I first met C back in 96 in Cheyenne, one of his first assignments for me was to learn how to beg. As soon as he said it, my heart sank. Beg? BEG? Haven't I always been taught that I shouldn't have to beg for what I want? My parents, despite their rather puritanical sex views (well, my dad's anyway), raised me to be smart, independent, strong. Listening to C talk about this was like fingernals on a chalkboard, and his first actual writing assignment to me was to write an essay about - begging. A reworked copy of it can be found here (http://www.thescreamergirl.com/beg.htm), though I do have the old one...somewhere at home. The web page contains the 2000 version.
Why, do you suppose, do so many woman have such discomfort with that?
I know for me, the words just sounds odd coming out of my mouth, unless I'm completely lost in the fuck. It isn't that I mind doing it - having to ask to cum makes me incredibly hot, especially when I do not get a favorable response *grin* and have to wait. But I don't want to stop and think about it. I don't want to have to stop and think of what to say or how to phrase it. If I do, it'll sound fake in my head, and I'll lose the moment. And that is a moment I do not want to lose~
It covers all the bases during sex; domination, a slight amount of humiliation, control, occasionally a little bit of sadism *grin*. It opens up yet another level of being beholden to the dominant for saying yes (if he does.). It is one of those beautifully simplistic acts that can take you to a completely new place.
Okay, well, maybe I am easy :P
Social
My horoscope for yesterday said, in part, "Graceful Venus sashays into Aries, suggesting that you are slated for romantic, creative and social options by the boatlod. While much fun and gain can come from this medley, don't spread yourself so thing as to emulate a crepe."
I love horoscopes with a sense of humor :)
Having pretty much cleaned out the first set of dominants I was talking to from Alt (either by their hand or mine), I've stopped ignoring my email there, and am reading profiles of some of the new ones courting me. One in particular, actually local to me (surprise!), has a bonadge *thing*, and we're currently going back and forth in email discussing some possibilities, and checking schedules. It'd be wonderful to play; I'm hoping it comes to fruition, though it seems to me that most of the gents I talk to are really looking for a love match as well, and I'm not. Isnt' that odd. Typically, it's the men who are avoiding that like the plague *grin*.
I've had a couple dates in the last couple months. Nothing to write home about unfortunately, and no one that I've seen again. One was vanilla; strictly vanilla. Not even French vanilla. Not even a speckle of vanilla bean. I cannot, will not go back there.
I am still patient. And it isn't like I don't have other ways to fill the current voids *grin*. And it isn't like I don't have more emails to catch up on *grin grin*.
When my time finally does come again --- it will have been worth the wait~
I love horoscopes with a sense of humor :)
Having pretty much cleaned out the first set of dominants I was talking to from Alt (either by their hand or mine), I've stopped ignoring my email there, and am reading profiles of some of the new ones courting me. One in particular, actually local to me (surprise!), has a bonadge *thing*, and we're currently going back and forth in email discussing some possibilities, and checking schedules. It'd be wonderful to play; I'm hoping it comes to fruition, though it seems to me that most of the gents I talk to are really looking for a love match as well, and I'm not. Isnt' that odd. Typically, it's the men who are avoiding that like the plague *grin*.
I've had a couple dates in the last couple months. Nothing to write home about unfortunately, and no one that I've seen again. One was vanilla; strictly vanilla. Not even French vanilla. Not even a speckle of vanilla bean. I cannot, will not go back there.
I am still patient. And it isn't like I don't have other ways to fill the current voids *grin*. And it isn't like I don't have more emails to catch up on *grin grin*.
When my time finally does come again --- it will have been worth the wait~
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
How's Your Sexual Self-Esteem?
Having been overweight for the majority of my life (and getting less so every day!), I have to admit that in my earlier years, my sexual self-esteem was trash. I never asked for what I wanted before the age of 30. I never figured my desires were normal or even attainable, so I just laid back (so to speak) and let whoever I was with at the time drive the sexual steam engine.
The older (and healthier) I get, the less of that is left in me. As a matter of fact right now, I'd say it's down to less than 5% of who I am.
This does not mean I am an aggresive, demanding bitch in the sack *chuckle*, far from it - I am occasionally aggresive (lightly so), extremley verbal (and I like lovers who are as well - talk to me, make a little noise for gods sakes). It just means that I'm not gonna be willing to trash what I want and need for the sake of someone else, just so I can get laid.
I define sexual self-esteem as a) knowing what you want, b) being able to verbalize it, and c) actually verbalizing it.
The first one is easy. Whether we will admit it to ourselves or not most of the time, we all know what sets us off between the sheets (or over the kitchen table, or up against a wall or...or...). The ability to verbalize it, and the desire to do so, however, are not as easy for one person as they are for the next, especially in many women. We were not raised that way - even those of us who were born during the 60's and 70's during the hot sex revolution. I was raised Catholic (recovering now, 17 years), and from a very early age it was drilled into me that sex was bad, that women put up with it, that it was for making babies not pleasure.
Fuck that.
I want what I want. I'm not afraid to admit it to myself or anyone else. I like men that are verbal. I don't much care if you're just moaning, though I prefer to exchange dirty talk *grins*. Of course, the more dominant that is, the better for me. And I like it rough. Hard. Hurt me at the right time and I will be screaming your name right along with god's. Go ahead and torment me if you like - watch how my eyes glow when you do. Don't bother with oral on me unless you enjoy using it to torment me or you honestly enjoy it; I can live without it, and it's never a deal breaker either way with me. Cum on me, not in me if you enjoy the view. Masturbate for me, or make me do it for you. Grab my hair when you shove your cock in my mouth, isn't that what it's there for? Threaten me, growl, curse...whatever makes you feel good. Chances are, I'm going to share your get-off factor on it.
Think your sexual self-esteem is in the dirt? Want to make it better?
Get used to your own body. It's yours. No matter how you're shaped, you're built for pleasure as we all are. Find out through experimentation what gets you off the hardest. Look at dirty pictures. Watch porn. Talk to people. Read. Read. Read. Explore your own fantasies. Find someone to share them with. Masturbate. A lot. And when you find that point where you know what you want, and can put it into words, then do so. And your sexual self-esteem will go up double~, I promise.
I wrote yesterday about "dirty" things, but I never did finish that. (I know, I know, I promised but my boss didn't seem to think it was as important as getting some work done *grin*). My boss seems to be late this morning, so maybe I'll get back to it. But the paragraph above that describes what I like pretty much covers it *grin*.
The older (and healthier) I get, the less of that is left in me. As a matter of fact right now, I'd say it's down to less than 5% of who I am.
This does not mean I am an aggresive, demanding bitch in the sack *chuckle*, far from it - I am occasionally aggresive (lightly so), extremley verbal (and I like lovers who are as well - talk to me, make a little noise for gods sakes). It just means that I'm not gonna be willing to trash what I want and need for the sake of someone else, just so I can get laid.
I define sexual self-esteem as a) knowing what you want, b) being able to verbalize it, and c) actually verbalizing it.
The first one is easy. Whether we will admit it to ourselves or not most of the time, we all know what sets us off between the sheets (or over the kitchen table, or up against a wall or...or...). The ability to verbalize it, and the desire to do so, however, are not as easy for one person as they are for the next, especially in many women. We were not raised that way - even those of us who were born during the 60's and 70's during the hot sex revolution. I was raised Catholic (recovering now, 17 years), and from a very early age it was drilled into me that sex was bad, that women put up with it, that it was for making babies not pleasure.
Fuck that.
I want what I want. I'm not afraid to admit it to myself or anyone else. I like men that are verbal. I don't much care if you're just moaning, though I prefer to exchange dirty talk *grins*. Of course, the more dominant that is, the better for me. And I like it rough. Hard. Hurt me at the right time and I will be screaming your name right along with god's. Go ahead and torment me if you like - watch how my eyes glow when you do. Don't bother with oral on me unless you enjoy using it to torment me or you honestly enjoy it; I can live without it, and it's never a deal breaker either way with me. Cum on me, not in me if you enjoy the view. Masturbate for me, or make me do it for you. Grab my hair when you shove your cock in my mouth, isn't that what it's there for? Threaten me, growl, curse...whatever makes you feel good. Chances are, I'm going to share your get-off factor on it.
Think your sexual self-esteem is in the dirt? Want to make it better?
Get used to your own body. It's yours. No matter how you're shaped, you're built for pleasure as we all are. Find out through experimentation what gets you off the hardest. Look at dirty pictures. Watch porn. Talk to people. Read. Read. Read. Explore your own fantasies. Find someone to share them with. Masturbate. A lot. And when you find that point where you know what you want, and can put it into words, then do so. And your sexual self-esteem will go up double~, I promise.
I wrote yesterday about "dirty" things, but I never did finish that. (I know, I know, I promised but my boss didn't seem to think it was as important as getting some work done *grin*). My boss seems to be late this morning, so maybe I'll get back to it. But the paragraph above that describes what I like pretty much covers it *grin*.
I will Not Be Broken~
The ex called this morning from Florida - fleet week. It's actually amusing to me that he and I get along now as well as we do. He just called to say hi, and to let me know "around when" he'd be back in Virginia. I felt absolutely no animosity to him whatsoever.
I made reference a few times last week to some drama I'd been dealing with. This involved a man I'd met on EQ a couple years ago, and had been "married" to in game (we were partners, ran around together). There were some unresolved feelings with this guy, as when we first started hanging out, there was some thick sexual tension, but later on when that passed, we both seemed to be aggitated with each other all the time. So when it was finally over a couple weeks ago (and it did not end well; turns out he figured lying to me was easier for him), it set off a small trigger in my brain that said:
"You are finally - completely - free."
And free I am. Feel. I can breathe completely deeply now. I guess I hadn't realized what an albatross that whole thing had become for me. I'd say that the jackass did me a favor, but that'd be giving him credit for being a snake and I refuse to do that~
Anway.
With that load (of horseshit) lifted off me - a stable relationship with the soon to be exhusband - and a deep desire to get back to who it is I was - and still am - I find myself inexplicably drawn in to finding someone to be submissive to. (I also find myself flirting like a crazed woman, but that part is fun so :P).
As I was driving home the other night from work, a new Bonnie Raitt tune came on the radio. Now, I love Bonnie Raitt, always have (Margaritas with Fernando anyone?), but this song speaks to the very core of where my life is now. I will quote a bit of it here, before I get on with "the good stuff" today~
I Will Not Be Broken, Bonnie Raitt (partial lyrics)
I will not be...
Someone other than who I am
I will fight to make my stand
Cause what is livin' if I can't live free
What is freedom if I can't be me
Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I made reference a few times last week to some drama I'd been dealing with. This involved a man I'd met on EQ a couple years ago, and had been "married" to in game (we were partners, ran around together). There were some unresolved feelings with this guy, as when we first started hanging out, there was some thick sexual tension, but later on when that passed, we both seemed to be aggitated with each other all the time. So when it was finally over a couple weeks ago (and it did not end well; turns out he figured lying to me was easier for him), it set off a small trigger in my brain that said:
"You are finally - completely - free."
And free I am. Feel. I can breathe completely deeply now. I guess I hadn't realized what an albatross that whole thing had become for me. I'd say that the jackass did me a favor, but that'd be giving him credit for being a snake and I refuse to do that~
Anway.
With that load (of horseshit) lifted off me - a stable relationship with the soon to be exhusband - and a deep desire to get back to who it is I was - and still am - I find myself inexplicably drawn in to finding someone to be submissive to. (I also find myself flirting like a crazed woman, but that part is fun so :P).
As I was driving home the other night from work, a new Bonnie Raitt tune came on the radio. Now, I love Bonnie Raitt, always have (Margaritas with Fernando anyone?), but this song speaks to the very core of where my life is now. I will quote a bit of it here, before I get on with "the good stuff" today~
I Will Not Be Broken, Bonnie Raitt (partial lyrics)
I will not be...
Someone other than who I am
I will fight to make my stand
Cause what is livin' if I can't live free
What is freedom if I can't be me
Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
Monday, May 01, 2006
Dirty Part 1
Dirty.
What is it about certain acts that make a woman like me flutter? Dirty things, things that we we raised to believe degraded us, made us less than equal with our partners? Too many of them to list, and if I did, I wouldn't get a damn thing done today; I'd spend the day in the bathroom with my hand in my jeans~
So why do I sit here this morning, craving something dirty?
I have said often enough that the dirtier and nastier it is, the better I like it. It's funny. It doesn't have to be anything huge to set me off, either. Whisper something terrible in my ear - call me a whore, a cunt, tell me you intend to hurt me/use me/do what you want with me. Growl. Grab a handful of hair and take me to my knees. I'm not hard to set off /grin.
And what's in it for you, if you do that? Expend that small amount of energy for something I want and need?
Well, nothing, if you like cuddly sweet sex.
But if you don't, there's plenty in it for you. Set me off, and your naughtiest fantasies (within a huge range of reason) can come true.
I promise, I'll make it as good for you as it is for me~
Now, where was I. Oh that's right.
What's Dirty?
My boss will be in soon, so that will have to wait~ (and yes, I am a tease sometimes :P)
I promise I'll finish that today.
What is it about certain acts that make a woman like me flutter? Dirty things, things that we we raised to believe degraded us, made us less than equal with our partners? Too many of them to list, and if I did, I wouldn't get a damn thing done today; I'd spend the day in the bathroom with my hand in my jeans~
So why do I sit here this morning, craving something dirty?
I have said often enough that the dirtier and nastier it is, the better I like it. It's funny. It doesn't have to be anything huge to set me off, either. Whisper something terrible in my ear - call me a whore, a cunt, tell me you intend to hurt me/use me/do what you want with me. Growl. Grab a handful of hair and take me to my knees. I'm not hard to set off /grin.
And what's in it for you, if you do that? Expend that small amount of energy for something I want and need?
Well, nothing, if you like cuddly sweet sex.
But if you don't, there's plenty in it for you. Set me off, and your naughtiest fantasies (within a huge range of reason) can come true.
I promise, I'll make it as good for you as it is for me~
Now, where was I. Oh that's right.
What's Dirty?
My boss will be in soon, so that will have to wait~ (and yes, I am a tease sometimes :P)
I promise I'll finish that today.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Management of Me~
My horoscope for today says, in part, "Lightheartedness should get your everywhere today."
Well, good. I hate it when they say I should be stressed out :P
I am feeling a bit of stress lately. Now that I've been at my job for about 6 months and have gotten intimate with all of the system we wrote and support here, I'm getting more and more work that's new territory for me. I love this, I really do. I love writing my own stuff from scratch, instead of trying to tear through someone else's code (especially when they can't document *Sigh*). But with that comes a lot of pressure and the "need for speed" and I'm beginning to get slightly overwhelemed.
It's funny. About the time I decide to start getting on with my life, and getting out there again - work throws me down on the ground in a non-consensual, non-orgasmic way :P I am starting to get a little frustrated with that as well. I'm letting things slide at home, too, which pisses me off. I need to just get on a schedule and stay on it.
And sleep. I don't sleep well, but I don't think it has a thing to do with anything work related. I think it's just emotional, and the fact that I really need to start working out again.
Also, the not having had sex since January thing certainly isn't helping :P
So, this weekend, it's time to get re-organized. Put myself on a work/sleep/play schedule that I can live with it, and try to stick to it.
I wish I were one of those submissive women who wants a dominant to do all that for me. Be a major micro-manager, and put her life in order. I'm not though. I'm an adult woman, I can do it for myself - I just need to get motivated to get it done.
I dislike being micro-managed. I don't like it in work, and and I don't like it at home. Sometimes, that seems like it'd be a much easier life to have that, but I can't see myself dealing well with it for long.
There are certain areas of my life that I enjoy having a dominant take control of. Sex, being the major one. Tell me when, how often, how. All that is good *grin*. I also don't mind being given chores - things to have done every day, week, whatever. Like coffee in bed? Tell me how you take it, and what time you want to get up. Want your slippers when you come home at night? Show me where they are. These kinds of things work for me.
But please don't tell me how to run my career. I've been doing it without help for 20 years, and I think I do a pretty good job. Don't tell me where to submit my stories to - I know the market very well. Don't tell me when I can or should go see my folks - I've been in that family for 41 years and I'm pretty sure I know them better than you do. Suggest? Sure - I love suggestions and will appreciate them when you offer them, but don't expect me to immediately follow. Those kinds of decisions are mine, and mine alone.
/shrug That makes me what it makes me. But it makes me happy, so fuck everything else ~
Well, good. I hate it when they say I should be stressed out :P
I am feeling a bit of stress lately. Now that I've been at my job for about 6 months and have gotten intimate with all of the system we wrote and support here, I'm getting more and more work that's new territory for me. I love this, I really do. I love writing my own stuff from scratch, instead of trying to tear through someone else's code (especially when they can't document *Sigh*). But with that comes a lot of pressure and the "need for speed" and I'm beginning to get slightly overwhelemed.
It's funny. About the time I decide to start getting on with my life, and getting out there again - work throws me down on the ground in a non-consensual, non-orgasmic way :P I am starting to get a little frustrated with that as well. I'm letting things slide at home, too, which pisses me off. I need to just get on a schedule and stay on it.
And sleep. I don't sleep well, but I don't think it has a thing to do with anything work related. I think it's just emotional, and the fact that I really need to start working out again.
Also, the not having had sex since January thing certainly isn't helping :P
So, this weekend, it's time to get re-organized. Put myself on a work/sleep/play schedule that I can live with it, and try to stick to it.
I wish I were one of those submissive women who wants a dominant to do all that for me. Be a major micro-manager, and put her life in order. I'm not though. I'm an adult woman, I can do it for myself - I just need to get motivated to get it done.
I dislike being micro-managed. I don't like it in work, and and I don't like it at home. Sometimes, that seems like it'd be a much easier life to have that, but I can't see myself dealing well with it for long.
There are certain areas of my life that I enjoy having a dominant take control of. Sex, being the major one. Tell me when, how often, how. All that is good *grin*. I also don't mind being given chores - things to have done every day, week, whatever. Like coffee in bed? Tell me how you take it, and what time you want to get up. Want your slippers when you come home at night? Show me where they are. These kinds of things work for me.
But please don't tell me how to run my career. I've been doing it without help for 20 years, and I think I do a pretty good job. Don't tell me where to submit my stories to - I know the market very well. Don't tell me when I can or should go see my folks - I've been in that family for 41 years and I'm pretty sure I know them better than you do. Suggest? Sure - I love suggestions and will appreciate them when you offer them, but don't expect me to immediately follow. Those kinds of decisions are mine, and mine alone.
/shrug That makes me what it makes me. But it makes me happy, so fuck everything else ~
Thursday, April 27, 2006
LDRs
I was talking to a friend of mine the other night about long distance relationships.
Having been married to a sailor, and having been online for over 12 years now, I've had more than a few of these myself. And my initial gut reaction to them is - egads no back off get away! get away!
But...
What's considered long distance? I live in Madison. I meet people from Milwaukee and Green Bay. They are less than 2 hours away - is that still considered long distance? Or does someone actually need to live in your town to NOT be considered an LDR?
And what about this: If you have two people who are infintely busy with their lives, careers, family and don't have a ton of time to spare for having a typical relationship, and have the means to travel to each other when schedules mesh - why is an LDR such a bad thing? Wouldn't it be harder to have that person right down the street, and not be able to see them anytime you wanted to?
I dunno. Maybe my mind is expanding with the spring warmth we've gotten around here this week. But I'm wondering why my mind was so closed to the possibilities - especially because of the way my life is right now - busy. Wouldn't LDR suit me better?
And again - I dunno. I do have a tendency to be impatient at times (no....say it isn't so~), and LDRs require infinite patience. Could I re-develop that? Yea, for the right kind of relationship I think I could.
There are upsides and downsides to every kind of relationship. If there weren't, the divorce rate in this country wouldn't be as high as it is.
There are people who need instant gratification. And others who enjoy a slow burn and a big buildup. I suppose the later is the type that could handle an LDR just fine.
As for instant gratification, that's what vibrators are for~ :P
Having been married to a sailor, and having been online for over 12 years now, I've had more than a few of these myself. And my initial gut reaction to them is - egads no back off get away! get away!
But...
What's considered long distance? I live in Madison. I meet people from Milwaukee and Green Bay. They are less than 2 hours away - is that still considered long distance? Or does someone actually need to live in your town to NOT be considered an LDR?
And what about this: If you have two people who are infintely busy with their lives, careers, family and don't have a ton of time to spare for having a typical relationship, and have the means to travel to each other when schedules mesh - why is an LDR such a bad thing? Wouldn't it be harder to have that person right down the street, and not be able to see them anytime you wanted to?
I dunno. Maybe my mind is expanding with the spring warmth we've gotten around here this week. But I'm wondering why my mind was so closed to the possibilities - especially because of the way my life is right now - busy. Wouldn't LDR suit me better?
And again - I dunno. I do have a tendency to be impatient at times (no....say it isn't so~), and LDRs require infinite patience. Could I re-develop that? Yea, for the right kind of relationship I think I could.
There are upsides and downsides to every kind of relationship. If there weren't, the divorce rate in this country wouldn't be as high as it is.
There are people who need instant gratification. And others who enjoy a slow burn and a big buildup. I suppose the later is the type that could handle an LDR just fine.
As for instant gratification, that's what vibrators are for~ :P
Defining...stuff.
My horoscope today says, in part, "Can you take care of yourself and advance your ambitions if you're fully occupied with appeasing those around you?"
And actually, that's something that's been on my mind more and more lately.
I've spent the better part of my life pleasing others. My family, especially. Though in the last few years, I've worried less and less about what my family thinks of who I am. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, and I bend over backwards to make them happy. But I'm not giving up myself to do that anymore. I don't even think they noticed the difference *Chuckle*
Over the last 10 years or so, I've also given a fuck less what other people think about who I am, and how I run my life. You'll note that many of my views of BDSM are not the popular ones. And I'm not afraid to speak my mind about them. I would rather be honest with myself - and my readers - than I would politically correct.
Between the diet, exercise, taking better care of my hair so that it stays long and healthy, getting my nails done (mmm, I love my nails, so happy I started doing that again) - I am taking care of myself more, and appeasing others less. And I don't feel a bit bad about that.
Although .... of course, I'm not done.
Although.... I can't say I'd be hugely disappointed to take care of someone else, too. Being Type A, I have a lot of energy most of the time, and if I don't spend it, it just builds up and I have to spend a couple quality hours with Mr Hitachi *grin*(not a bad thing :P). I've concentrated solely (or mostly so) on myself for the last 2 years. It'd be nice to have someone else's needs to tend to as well.
I'm still not convinced that I want a full time relationship. I'm still hedging that bet, and shying away from it, at least for the time being.
But I'm also not completely ruling it out now.
So, what I'm pondering today is this: How far is it possible to go with BDSM without that "relationship" string? And, what exactly is it that constitutes a relationship? Bonding? Love? Sex? Friendship? If I say that I don't want a full time relationship, what things about a relationship am I willing to give up?
I'm not willing to give up: Friendship and sex. Preferably having both together (I will not settle for less than friendship), but friendship without the sex is acceptable. I miss sex, don't get me wrong *chuckle* but I can and have lived without it, and I won't compromise myself to get it.
I'm not willing to give up my personal space. I have lived with people - children and adults - for the better part of the last 20 years, and frankly, I am enjoying being in my own apartment for now. I like knowing where everything is, that it hasn't been touched (unless the cats took an interest in it), and that it'll be there later when I need it. Do I get tired of a cold bed? You bet your ass I do. Do I want it filled every night? No... not right now in my life. One or two nights a week might work though *eg*
But you know, my darlings, that the minute someone who takes my breath completely away and holds it for more than a week steps into my life, everything may or may not change~ That's the beauty of all of this.
So, how far is it possible to go with BDSM without that "relationship" string? I don't think you can get far without a relationship of some sort, but it certainly doesn't need to be some big love affair leading to marriage and babies. *cringe*
Maybe I just need a really really good dominant friend who likes busty blondes and tying them up to do wicked things with them *grin*
And actually, that's something that's been on my mind more and more lately.
I've spent the better part of my life pleasing others. My family, especially. Though in the last few years, I've worried less and less about what my family thinks of who I am. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, and I bend over backwards to make them happy. But I'm not giving up myself to do that anymore. I don't even think they noticed the difference *Chuckle*
Over the last 10 years or so, I've also given a fuck less what other people think about who I am, and how I run my life. You'll note that many of my views of BDSM are not the popular ones. And I'm not afraid to speak my mind about them. I would rather be honest with myself - and my readers - than I would politically correct.
Between the diet, exercise, taking better care of my hair so that it stays long and healthy, getting my nails done (mmm, I love my nails, so happy I started doing that again) - I am taking care of myself more, and appeasing others less. And I don't feel a bit bad about that.
Although .... of course, I'm not done.
Although.... I can't say I'd be hugely disappointed to take care of someone else, too. Being Type A, I have a lot of energy most of the time, and if I don't spend it, it just builds up and I have to spend a couple quality hours with Mr Hitachi *grin*(not a bad thing :P). I've concentrated solely (or mostly so) on myself for the last 2 years. It'd be nice to have someone else's needs to tend to as well.
I'm still not convinced that I want a full time relationship. I'm still hedging that bet, and shying away from it, at least for the time being.
But I'm also not completely ruling it out now.
So, what I'm pondering today is this: How far is it possible to go with BDSM without that "relationship" string? And, what exactly is it that constitutes a relationship? Bonding? Love? Sex? Friendship? If I say that I don't want a full time relationship, what things about a relationship am I willing to give up?
I'm not willing to give up: Friendship and sex. Preferably having both together (I will not settle for less than friendship), but friendship without the sex is acceptable. I miss sex, don't get me wrong *chuckle* but I can and have lived without it, and I won't compromise myself to get it.
I'm not willing to give up my personal space. I have lived with people - children and adults - for the better part of the last 20 years, and frankly, I am enjoying being in my own apartment for now. I like knowing where everything is, that it hasn't been touched (unless the cats took an interest in it), and that it'll be there later when I need it. Do I get tired of a cold bed? You bet your ass I do. Do I want it filled every night? No... not right now in my life. One or two nights a week might work though *eg*
But you know, my darlings, that the minute someone who takes my breath completely away and holds it for more than a week steps into my life, everything may or may not change~ That's the beauty of all of this.
So, how far is it possible to go with BDSM without that "relationship" string? I don't think you can get far without a relationship of some sort, but it certainly doesn't need to be some big love affair leading to marriage and babies. *cringe*
Maybe I just need a really really good dominant friend who likes busty blondes and tying them up to do wicked things with them *grin*
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
And they call US Flakey!
Over the last several months, I've started talking to a few doms here and there from message boards, ALT, etc. Almost every one of them has poofed - either before, or after meeting me (*do I have bad breath?*).
And they call submissives flakey...pfft.
Honestly, I can see it. People start hunting around to fulfill their fantasies online, and when it finally stares them right in the face, they freak and run. There's typically an excuse - work, family, dog dying, sick grandmother - whatever. I've actually started now to wait for it to happen.
It's not that I'm discouraged. Far from it. It's not like I'm in any huge hurry. And it's not that I take these vanishings personally, because I don't. I am who I am. And if I don't suit you, for whatever reason, that's okay with me. But at least have the common courtesy to just say that.
I mentioned some drama last week. The person who caused it is someone who I always considered a very dear friend online and off, and someone whom I trusted (and lent money too - ugh - never again), who decided that I was "too fragile of a flower" (my words) to hear some truth, instead, chosing to skulk around behind my back.
Don't fucking baby me. I am not as fragile as you think. Almost 2 years ago I got drop kicked across the country and my skin is thicker than you believe. How irritating is that?
And they call submissives flakey...pfft.
Honestly, I can see it. People start hunting around to fulfill their fantasies online, and when it finally stares them right in the face, they freak and run. There's typically an excuse - work, family, dog dying, sick grandmother - whatever. I've actually started now to wait for it to happen.
It's not that I'm discouraged. Far from it. It's not like I'm in any huge hurry. And it's not that I take these vanishings personally, because I don't. I am who I am. And if I don't suit you, for whatever reason, that's okay with me. But at least have the common courtesy to just say that.
I mentioned some drama last week. The person who caused it is someone who I always considered a very dear friend online and off, and someone whom I trusted (and lent money too - ugh - never again), who decided that I was "too fragile of a flower" (my words) to hear some truth, instead, chosing to skulk around behind my back.
Don't fucking baby me. I am not as fragile as you think. Almost 2 years ago I got drop kicked across the country and my skin is thicker than you believe. How irritating is that?
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Control #1
I watch people. It's a dirty little habit, but I watch how they react, interact, behave. I study.
There are people I've met and observed that have absolutely no control over their lives, nor do they seek to change that. These are people that let things happen to them, rather than making things happen for themselves. I used to be one of those people, many many years ago. I gave it up for lent *grin*.
There are other people who are in control of every aspect of their lives. They are the "Never let them see you sweat" people. Rarely react, rarely show any sort of natural response for things that happen to them. They remain calm, cool and collected in public, even in the face of great disappoitnment or anger. (I find this highly unnatural and more than a little creepy myself)
Then there are people like me - and most everyone else - who try their best to maintain control of their emotions, but also do not tend to hide them unless faced with ridicule or neglect. I do personally try to keep my emotions away from people that I do not know, or that do not know me well, and prefer to either share them with someone I'm close to, or with y'all *snicker*. So while I do maintain a great deal of control over my life and my reactions to live, there are times when that control goes away and I'm left with simply reacting to what life hands me at the moment.
I want to talk about control a bit.( and I'm probably going to end up doing it in two or three postings. I may save them all and post them in reverse so y'all read them in the right order :P) Control of self, control of another, control of everything, control of only sexuality. My brain has been busy even if my fingers haven't lately.
There are people I've met and observed that have absolutely no control over their lives, nor do they seek to change that. These are people that let things happen to them, rather than making things happen for themselves. I used to be one of those people, many many years ago. I gave it up for lent *grin*.
There are other people who are in control of every aspect of their lives. They are the "Never let them see you sweat" people. Rarely react, rarely show any sort of natural response for things that happen to them. They remain calm, cool and collected in public, even in the face of great disappoitnment or anger. (I find this highly unnatural and more than a little creepy myself)
Then there are people like me - and most everyone else - who try their best to maintain control of their emotions, but also do not tend to hide them unless faced with ridicule or neglect. I do personally try to keep my emotions away from people that I do not know, or that do not know me well, and prefer to either share them with someone I'm close to, or with y'all *snicker*. So while I do maintain a great deal of control over my life and my reactions to live, there are times when that control goes away and I'm left with simply reacting to what life hands me at the moment.
I want to talk about control a bit.( and I'm probably going to end up doing it in two or three postings. I may save them all and post them in reverse so y'all read them in the right order :P) Control of self, control of another, control of everything, control of only sexuality. My brain has been busy even if my fingers haven't lately.
Control #2
I rarely buy written erotica. I enjoy it, don't get me wrong, but typically unless I have a title, sifting through the lists is just tiring. And I rarely find anything I truly enjoy.
I did find a book (At Border's of all places) recently called "Bad Girls" which is put out by Chimera Press, and was a series of spanking stories. Damn good ones, I may add. I also found another at Border's called "Slave to Love" which was a slick glossy looking book of short stories, and I was so piqued at the picture on the cover that I bought it, too. And it turned out to be another excellent read.
There was one story in particular in this book that turned my brain on(think-wise) as well as other parts of me(sex-wise). It involved a husband and wife, and was basically all about him controling her sexually.
And that got me seriously thinking (you knew it would)....
How far does your control go? How far do you want it to go? Is it all foreplay, even if it takes place in the kitchen or garage?
In other words - is all control in BDSM relationships about sex, at it's basest levels?
It seems to me that in 90pct of the BDSM relationships that I've witnessed in my life, everything was foreplay to actual sex. Even if it was as simple as fetching coffee or changing the TV Channel, the very idea of the dominant having that kind of control of the submissive - to tell her what to do, when to do it, and how fast - was completely sexually charged for both people. The rush of dominance or submission seems to go straight to the crotch, even if you know you're not going to get to actually have a release for hours, days or weeks.
For people who only play with BDSM in a sexual arena - meaning in the bedroom, or as direct foreplay (spankings, whippings, etc etc), this is obviously true
But what about people who don't? And who carry it through each portion of their lives: Family, friends, work, home, health. How much of that is actually sexual and how much of it is just a bigger piece of who they are, and what makes them feel whole and alive?
We do refer to BDSM as an alternative sexuality. Does that mean it's all about the sex?
No, I don't believe that. I know for myself personally it's not, although that is a big chunk of it.
(continued)
I did find a book (At Border's of all places) recently called "Bad Girls" which is put out by Chimera Press, and was a series of spanking stories. Damn good ones, I may add. I also found another at Border's called "Slave to Love" which was a slick glossy looking book of short stories, and I was so piqued at the picture on the cover that I bought it, too. And it turned out to be another excellent read.
There was one story in particular in this book that turned my brain on(think-wise) as well as other parts of me(sex-wise). It involved a husband and wife, and was basically all about him controling her sexually.
And that got me seriously thinking (you knew it would)....
How far does your control go? How far do you want it to go? Is it all foreplay, even if it takes place in the kitchen or garage?
In other words - is all control in BDSM relationships about sex, at it's basest levels?
It seems to me that in 90pct of the BDSM relationships that I've witnessed in my life, everything was foreplay to actual sex. Even if it was as simple as fetching coffee or changing the TV Channel, the very idea of the dominant having that kind of control of the submissive - to tell her what to do, when to do it, and how fast - was completely sexually charged for both people. The rush of dominance or submission seems to go straight to the crotch, even if you know you're not going to get to actually have a release for hours, days or weeks.
For people who only play with BDSM in a sexual arena - meaning in the bedroom, or as direct foreplay (spankings, whippings, etc etc), this is obviously true
But what about people who don't? And who carry it through each portion of their lives: Family, friends, work, home, health. How much of that is actually sexual and how much of it is just a bigger piece of who they are, and what makes them feel whole and alive?
We do refer to BDSM as an alternative sexuality. Does that mean it's all about the sex?
No, I don't believe that. I know for myself personally it's not, although that is a big chunk of it.
(continued)
Control #3
So when you control someone in a BDSM sense of the word (I wish I could quit using my little disclaimers. Maybe I will and just start freaking people out:P), how far do you like that take that?
I've basically seen three different levels of control/domination.
There's total TPE, where a submissive gives up all control except for the right and means to walk away. (And I'm sorry, I'm not one of these people that believe you can *ever* give up that right.)
There's a middle range, where a submissive gives up a great deal of control in her life, but maintains control over aspects like her family and career.
And then there's the final frontier: Situational control - mostly sexual.
I'm not the type of person who would belittle or degrade another who falls into any of these categories. I'm not a believe in "My d/s is better than your d/s!" and I don't think there's such a thing as a real or a true dominant or submissive. We're not following any rules handed down to us by BDSM gods for goodness sake. We're doing what feels right to us in individual relationships, and unless a person is in legal or moral danger, we truly do not have a right to judge anyone else's relationships. (sorry, had to say that. Seen too much of that lately)
I've been in all three types of relationships over the past several years. They all have their advantages and disadvantages, and they all suited me just fine at the time I was in them. I am a person who wants control over her life insofar as my family and career are concerned. Those things are vitally important to me, and unless I found someone who took that control in a supportive way, I'd want none of it anymore. There is a difference between actually enforcing control, and simply saying that you have it. /shrug. All relationships are different; all people in those relationships are as they are. I couldn't give myself over to someone who'd risk my career or my family to simply get them off, meaning, I might again step into a TPE relationship one day, after a long period of getting to know the dominant and how he works.
While I enjoy being controlled sexually (enjoy? hm. I know there's a better word than that....crave maybe :P), typically I'd want more than that. Even if it were all foreplay, I like to have my d/s out of the bedroom as well.
So, I guess for me, the middle option at this point in my life is what I'd look for, when I start looking for a one-on-one d/s relationship.
Now then. I'm almost done here :P Just one more.
(continued)
I've basically seen three different levels of control/domination.
There's total TPE, where a submissive gives up all control except for the right and means to walk away. (And I'm sorry, I'm not one of these people that believe you can *ever* give up that right.)
There's a middle range, where a submissive gives up a great deal of control in her life, but maintains control over aspects like her family and career.
And then there's the final frontier: Situational control - mostly sexual.
I'm not the type of person who would belittle or degrade another who falls into any of these categories. I'm not a believe in "My d/s is better than your d/s!" and I don't think there's such a thing as a real or a true dominant or submissive. We're not following any rules handed down to us by BDSM gods for goodness sake. We're doing what feels right to us in individual relationships, and unless a person is in legal or moral danger, we truly do not have a right to judge anyone else's relationships. (sorry, had to say that. Seen too much of that lately)
I've been in all three types of relationships over the past several years. They all have their advantages and disadvantages, and they all suited me just fine at the time I was in them. I am a person who wants control over her life insofar as my family and career are concerned. Those things are vitally important to me, and unless I found someone who took that control in a supportive way, I'd want none of it anymore. There is a difference between actually enforcing control, and simply saying that you have it. /shrug. All relationships are different; all people in those relationships are as they are. I couldn't give myself over to someone who'd risk my career or my family to simply get them off, meaning, I might again step into a TPE relationship one day, after a long period of getting to know the dominant and how he works.
While I enjoy being controlled sexually (enjoy? hm. I know there's a better word than that....crave maybe :P), typically I'd want more than that. Even if it were all foreplay, I like to have my d/s out of the bedroom as well.
So, I guess for me, the middle option at this point in my life is what I'd look for, when I start looking for a one-on-one d/s relationship.
Now then. I'm almost done here :P Just one more.
(continued)
Control #4
I can be very strong-willed when something is important to me. I can also be very strong-willed when I feel threatened. And, as I've said in the past, sometimes, the struggle is part of the fun /wink.
My sexuality is very important to me. It's something that I have come to feed and treasure over the years. It's provided me with spending cash through my writing, enjoyment, new experiences and the opportunity to meet people I may not otherwise have had the joy of having in my life. This is not to say that it hasn't gotten me in trouble a time or two *chuckle*, because it has. I used to make lousy choices with men, sometimes I still do. But learning some self-control over the last several years has defintely helped there.
So when I walk into a d/s situation and I agree to give up my control over my sexuality for -- however long -- it's important to me. And it's absolutely one of my favorite things to do.
Oh, I will cuss you if you make me hold off before cumming. And if you make me beg, I will get flustered. And if you refuse to allow me to cum I will call you horrible names and continue to beg until you relent.
But don't take that wrong. That doesn't mean I don't like those things *laughs*
It's not all about that. It's also about being a complete pleasure object. Take what you want from me, show me what makes you get off, push me a little further than I'm comfortable to make yourself happy. If I whisper to you hotly "take what you want..." you damn well better know that I mean it, and I have given that piece of myself to you completely. Don't hold back now.... you have it all in the palm of your hand....
Or, just leave me laying on the floor watching TV and go play computer games :P
Either way, it's yours to use or not use.
Way back in Wyoming 12 years ago, when I had first moved in with C (the first time), we went to the grocery store, and on the way back, he told me to unbutton my blouse and pull it apart. No one had ever asked me to do anything like that before, and even as I undid the buttons, I was scared shitless that someone would see in the Cheyenne early twilight and point to me and yell "Slut!" (I had at that point not owned my sexuality yet :P). But I did it, because he asked (yes, he actually did say please but his tone of voice wasn't very sweet...). I remember that that one thing - that thing that made my cheeks burn like I'd fallen asleep on a griddle - also sent some huge waves of wetness to the nether regions *grin*. He also made me walk into the apartment like that, carrying the bag and my purse down at my sides as to not cover up. After we got inside, he immediately took a minute to gauge the reaction (in wetness levels :P) and stored that information away for future reference. Then he went on, putting groceries away and flipped on the TV.
That was where I first started to learn the true difference between sex and sexuality, want and need, control....and the lack thereof.
And where I really started to fall hard for this entire thing.
I haven't stopped falling since. Got a net? :)
My sexuality is very important to me. It's something that I have come to feed and treasure over the years. It's provided me with spending cash through my writing, enjoyment, new experiences and the opportunity to meet people I may not otherwise have had the joy of having in my life. This is not to say that it hasn't gotten me in trouble a time or two *chuckle*, because it has. I used to make lousy choices with men, sometimes I still do. But learning some self-control over the last several years has defintely helped there.
So when I walk into a d/s situation and I agree to give up my control over my sexuality for -- however long -- it's important to me. And it's absolutely one of my favorite things to do.
Oh, I will cuss you if you make me hold off before cumming. And if you make me beg, I will get flustered. And if you refuse to allow me to cum I will call you horrible names and continue to beg until you relent.
But don't take that wrong. That doesn't mean I don't like those things *laughs*
It's not all about that. It's also about being a complete pleasure object. Take what you want from me, show me what makes you get off, push me a little further than I'm comfortable to make yourself happy. If I whisper to you hotly "take what you want..." you damn well better know that I mean it, and I have given that piece of myself to you completely. Don't hold back now.... you have it all in the palm of your hand....
Or, just leave me laying on the floor watching TV and go play computer games :P
Either way, it's yours to use or not use.
Way back in Wyoming 12 years ago, when I had first moved in with C (the first time), we went to the grocery store, and on the way back, he told me to unbutton my blouse and pull it apart. No one had ever asked me to do anything like that before, and even as I undid the buttons, I was scared shitless that someone would see in the Cheyenne early twilight and point to me and yell "Slut!" (I had at that point not owned my sexuality yet :P). But I did it, because he asked (yes, he actually did say please but his tone of voice wasn't very sweet...). I remember that that one thing - that thing that made my cheeks burn like I'd fallen asleep on a griddle - also sent some huge waves of wetness to the nether regions *grin*. He also made me walk into the apartment like that, carrying the bag and my purse down at my sides as to not cover up. After we got inside, he immediately took a minute to gauge the reaction (in wetness levels :P) and stored that information away for future reference. Then he went on, putting groceries away and flipped on the TV.
That was where I first started to learn the true difference between sex and sexuality, want and need, control....and the lack thereof.
And where I really started to fall hard for this entire thing.
I haven't stopped falling since. Got a net? :)
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Give me more than I can stand.
Something else I love is music. My tastes are ecclectic, and I listen to a huge variety of mostly rock and roll from all eras. At 5pm typically there are more commercials than tunes on the radio, so I reach into the CD folder and grab whats handy. Yesterday on the way home, I had Matchbox 20's Mad Season in.
I like this whole CD. "Rest Stop" is a unique tune that I really like. But what was playing when I started thinking about writing this was "Bent". I tend to sing in the car if I'm alone. Loudly. Though, luckily, I'm on key :P Anyway, I'm jamming along, trying to navigate through the morons on I-90 (have I mentioned that I hate traffic? I do.) And one line of this song made me stop singing, and start the song over. I have always liked this tune. But for some reason, the lyrics hit me like a ton of leather last night.
If I need some of your love again
Give me more than I can stand
No, this song has nothing to do with BDSM, but the 2nd line there made me grin like a cat and start writing in my head. See? Words. So simple. So inspiring~
You will have an idea in your head of how much (whatever) I can take. I will have this idea, too, even though our ideas may not match, or even be close. Will you stop there? Will you look me in the eye and think I've had enough? Or will you stop when you've had enough, my limit be damned?
I love being pushed. Call it a sickness, or whatever you like, but I love the feeling of steamrolling over the top of a pain/mental limt that I was sure was solid. I may not like it the moment it happens, but I can assure you - if it doesn't cross my gross-out/moral line, I will thank you for it later. I am one of those people who are continually exploring the dark, dank parts of myself that never get to see the light of day. Pushing me over a "line" lets me do that - safely, and with encouragement.
I've said many times that I've been doing this for a long time. A lot of the dominants I'm running into on boards, etc now are newer to the scene. They don't know their limits yet, but they're erring on the side of caution (as is safe to do .. but frustrating for someone who knows that there is so much more in there to come out). I even see some of the older school type dominants looking just for people who are new to the scene - to train in their image or to teach. (I am making a few generalizations here. I don't do it often, so I am allowed)
So, what'a a girl to do? Take one of these newer doms by the hand and encourage them to release their inner demon? Or pretend to be less of what I am to attract one of the ones that's looking for a newbie?
If I had to choose, I'd take the first option. Pretending to be something I'm not to get something I need outside of a roleplay scenario isn't my idea of fun. I said when I first opened myself back up to this that the last thing I wanted to do was "teach" someone how to dominate me, but as I explore these feelings that have been pent up for 2 years inside me, I realize that maybe that's exactly what I should do. We'll see what happens with that.
Until then, I'll keep looking for -- more than I can stand.
I like this whole CD. "Rest Stop" is a unique tune that I really like. But what was playing when I started thinking about writing this was "Bent". I tend to sing in the car if I'm alone. Loudly. Though, luckily, I'm on key :P Anyway, I'm jamming along, trying to navigate through the morons on I-90 (have I mentioned that I hate traffic? I do.) And one line of this song made me stop singing, and start the song over. I have always liked this tune. But for some reason, the lyrics hit me like a ton of leather last night.
If I need some of your love again
Give me more than I can stand
No, this song has nothing to do with BDSM, but the 2nd line there made me grin like a cat and start writing in my head. See? Words. So simple. So inspiring~
You will have an idea in your head of how much (whatever) I can take. I will have this idea, too, even though our ideas may not match, or even be close. Will you stop there? Will you look me in the eye and think I've had enough? Or will you stop when you've had enough, my limit be damned?
I love being pushed. Call it a sickness, or whatever you like, but I love the feeling of steamrolling over the top of a pain/mental limt that I was sure was solid. I may not like it the moment it happens, but I can assure you - if it doesn't cross my gross-out/moral line, I will thank you for it later. I am one of those people who are continually exploring the dark, dank parts of myself that never get to see the light of day. Pushing me over a "line" lets me do that - safely, and with encouragement.
I've said many times that I've been doing this for a long time. A lot of the dominants I'm running into on boards, etc now are newer to the scene. They don't know their limits yet, but they're erring on the side of caution (as is safe to do .. but frustrating for someone who knows that there is so much more in there to come out). I even see some of the older school type dominants looking just for people who are new to the scene - to train in their image or to teach. (I am making a few generalizations here. I don't do it often, so I am allowed)
So, what'a a girl to do? Take one of these newer doms by the hand and encourage them to release their inner demon? Or pretend to be less of what I am to attract one of the ones that's looking for a newbie?
If I had to choose, I'd take the first option. Pretending to be something I'm not to get something I need outside of a roleplay scenario isn't my idea of fun. I said when I first opened myself back up to this that the last thing I wanted to do was "teach" someone how to dominate me, but as I explore these feelings that have been pent up for 2 years inside me, I realize that maybe that's exactly what I should do. We'll see what happens with that.
Until then, I'll keep looking for -- more than I can stand.
Subtle
Now, if you've been reading here for awhile, you know I'm a writer *grin*. I'm also a voracious reader. I love words, period. I love to use them, to find new ones, to make them up sometimes.... I guess you could call me a communication whore /grin
Having said that, sometimes, it's not the words themselves that get me off. It's how they're said. It's how things are worded. It's the use of a word in a completely new context, or at a time when I'm not expecting it....
Picture a normal conversation between people. How was your day? Isnt this weather nice? Be a good little cunt and fetch me a drink, would you?
/heartflutter
I've said many times, in many ways, that I like surprises. That right there is my kinda surprise. Yummy~
Some people will say - why speak when a physical action is so much faster and easier. And I can see that sometimes, and I do enjoy it. But a growled sentence, a word spoken -- these aim right to the heart of it for me.
It's so subtle, or at least it can be. And yet, it will rip me from whatever mindspace I'm currently occupying and put me in quite another. And that right there is the key for me. I absolutely adore someone who can make that happen to me. They are few and far between unfortunately. But that's my ideal /wink. If you can make me wet and panting with one sentence, you're in the door~ What you do once you're in there is completely up to you /grin
Having said that, sometimes, it's not the words themselves that get me off. It's how they're said. It's how things are worded. It's the use of a word in a completely new context, or at a time when I'm not expecting it....
Picture a normal conversation between people. How was your day? Isnt this weather nice? Be a good little cunt and fetch me a drink, would you?
/heartflutter
I've said many times, in many ways, that I like surprises. That right there is my kinda surprise. Yummy~
Some people will say - why speak when a physical action is so much faster and easier. And I can see that sometimes, and I do enjoy it. But a growled sentence, a word spoken -- these aim right to the heart of it for me.
It's so subtle, or at least it can be. And yet, it will rip me from whatever mindspace I'm currently occupying and put me in quite another. And that right there is the key for me. I absolutely adore someone who can make that happen to me. They are few and far between unfortunately. But that's my ideal /wink. If you can make me wet and panting with one sentence, you're in the door~ What you do once you're in there is completely up to you /grin
Friday, April 21, 2006
body play/sex play/mind play
Toys are nice. Toys are fun. Toys have a million and one uses in the BDSM arena. I have quite a collection of them myself and I must save I have at one time or another enjoyed have all of them used on me (except a few, which I’ve used on others).
But when you get right down to it. The very bottom of the desire. What is it for you?
Is it play? Spanking, paddling, flogging, whipping, clamps and cuffs and fun stuff?
Is it sex? Is this all about getting off for you?
Or is it all in your mind?
Or, is it all of them sometimes, and none of them others?
Four choices. Mine is, of course, choice #4.
So much of this is in my head.
It’s the "idea" and the "mental/emotional rush" of watching a man take off his belt and come at you, more than the feel of the belt itself.
It’s the "threat" of impending doom, more than the doom itself.
It’s the "intent" of his chosen words, more so than "will he or won’t he?"
With that – I get the play end (toys or no toys), I get the sex end (well, you know what that does to me, I’ve said it in here often enough) and I get the mental/emotional rush that turns quite physical for me.
Can I separate them? Sure I can.
I have a few favorite tops spread out around the country for that I’d bottom to in a heartbeat, without one ounce of domination or sex – simply because they are my friends, and I love their play style so much.
Men of a dominant persuasion – who are that, without having to try to *be that, can easily slide me right into a submissive headspace twelve feet deep without ever touching me.
And something as simple as holding my arms above my head while fucking me is incredibly sexy and dominant and..and...(I'm still at work, why am I still writing…)
And what if you had to choose one above all the others…, which would you, choose?
There really isn’t any question for me there. Mental.
I love play. And god knows, I love sex. But for me, mental and emotional domination are sexual, even without actual penetration. So that’s the road I’d travel, if I had to choose.
Thank goodness I don’t /wink.
But when you get right down to it. The very bottom of the desire. What is it for you?
Is it play? Spanking, paddling, flogging, whipping, clamps and cuffs and fun stuff?
Is it sex? Is this all about getting off for you?
Or is it all in your mind?
Or, is it all of them sometimes, and none of them others?
Four choices. Mine is, of course, choice #4.
So much of this is in my head.
It’s the "idea" and the "mental/emotional rush" of watching a man take off his belt and come at you, more than the feel of the belt itself.
It’s the "threat" of impending doom, more than the doom itself.
It’s the "intent" of his chosen words, more so than "will he or won’t he?"
With that – I get the play end (toys or no toys), I get the sex end (well, you know what that does to me, I’ve said it in here often enough) and I get the mental/emotional rush that turns quite physical for me.
Can I separate them? Sure I can.
I have a few favorite tops spread out around the country for that I’d bottom to in a heartbeat, without one ounce of domination or sex – simply because they are my friends, and I love their play style so much.
Men of a dominant persuasion – who are that, without having to try to *be that, can easily slide me right into a submissive headspace twelve feet deep without ever touching me.
And something as simple as holding my arms above my head while fucking me is incredibly sexy and dominant and..and...(I'm still at work, why am I still writing…)
And what if you had to choose one above all the others…, which would you, choose?
There really isn’t any question for me there. Mental.
I love play. And god knows, I love sex. But for me, mental and emotional domination are sexual, even without actual penetration. So that’s the road I’d travel, if I had to choose.
Thank goodness I don’t /wink.
Fear, In Two Parts~
Fear is a fun toy. I think every dominant should have it in their arsenal *grin.
There are actually chemical reasons that fear makes you hot. I don’t know what they are, but if you’re interested, you can google it *chuckle. Has something to do with adrenaline and endorphins.
But more than that, for me, it’s all mental.
I tend to be a person who thinks ahead. I anticipate everything. Even before something happens, I have a "disaster recovery plan” (yes, yes, geek speak bite me) in place, and am ready to go on the offensive or defensive, depending on the scenario. If you’re thinking that having these plans in place for every little thing must take up a lot of brain-room, you are correct. They do. And they do not always work, and they are not always right, and sometimes, they end up causing more problems than they’re worth – because if I’d have had to sit and think about how to react, more information may have come to light and I wouldn’t have handled things the same way.
But that’s really not the point. The point is that I anticipate everything.
Thing is, when you’re bound and blindfolded, you can anticipate all you want, but it means jack shit. When you don’t know where he is in the room – what he’s doing – you can’t see his eyes – he’s not talking – you can’t Feel him near you – you can’t hear him breathing… you don’t know what’s coming. Maybe pleasure. Maybe pain. Maybe words. You just don’t know. And you cannot possibly predict an outcome. You cannot anticipate. You don’t know rather to be breathlessly waiting for a caress or in fear of whatever implement he may be holding, or..or…ahhhh. And it is fear for me. Why? Because I simply do not know what to do.
I’ve talked before about how bondage allows me to let go. This is the same, only more so.
Fear, it is said, is a great motivator. Fear will shut me up, send the brat packing, put me in wholly submissive state of mind. So if that’s the objective you have set, there’s a way to get me there.
That’s not all there is about fear. There’s much more. I have been know, occasionally, to play on the “edge”. Will he cross a line? Will he do any of those things that he’s threatened to do? Will he push me past something that was formerly a wall and turns to parchment paper at his command?
And if he does, will I rejoice or will I fall apart?
I’m not into blood play. I’ve gotten single-tail cuts and the like – none of them on purpose – and that’s okay. But intentional blood-letting has never held any particular attraction for me.
But feeling the edge of a knife across your skin when you are powerless to do anything about it – no matter how much you trust someone, deep in your heart you know that he could do anything he liked at that time. And even though you trust him, a part of you is in fear…
Having someone come up behind you, when you aren’t expecting them…grabbing your hair to hold you still and putting a hand over your mouth….
This is the other part of fear. Will he? Won’t he? Who is he? How many people are really in the room? Who is really touching you?
Yea.. I’m writing this at work and I’m going to stop there before I come unhinged /wink.
There are actually chemical reasons that fear makes you hot. I don’t know what they are, but if you’re interested, you can google it *chuckle. Has something to do with adrenaline and endorphins.
But more than that, for me, it’s all mental.
I tend to be a person who thinks ahead. I anticipate everything. Even before something happens, I have a "disaster recovery plan” (yes, yes, geek speak bite me) in place, and am ready to go on the offensive or defensive, depending on the scenario. If you’re thinking that having these plans in place for every little thing must take up a lot of brain-room, you are correct. They do. And they do not always work, and they are not always right, and sometimes, they end up causing more problems than they’re worth – because if I’d have had to sit and think about how to react, more information may have come to light and I wouldn’t have handled things the same way.
But that’s really not the point. The point is that I anticipate everything.
Thing is, when you’re bound and blindfolded, you can anticipate all you want, but it means jack shit. When you don’t know where he is in the room – what he’s doing – you can’t see his eyes – he’s not talking – you can’t Feel him near you – you can’t hear him breathing… you don’t know what’s coming. Maybe pleasure. Maybe pain. Maybe words. You just don’t know. And you cannot possibly predict an outcome. You cannot anticipate. You don’t know rather to be breathlessly waiting for a caress or in fear of whatever implement he may be holding, or..or…ahhhh. And it is fear for me. Why? Because I simply do not know what to do.
I’ve talked before about how bondage allows me to let go. This is the same, only more so.
Fear, it is said, is a great motivator. Fear will shut me up, send the brat packing, put me in wholly submissive state of mind. So if that’s the objective you have set, there’s a way to get me there.
That’s not all there is about fear. There’s much more. I have been know, occasionally, to play on the “edge”. Will he cross a line? Will he do any of those things that he’s threatened to do? Will he push me past something that was formerly a wall and turns to parchment paper at his command?
And if he does, will I rejoice or will I fall apart?
I’m not into blood play. I’ve gotten single-tail cuts and the like – none of them on purpose – and that’s okay. But intentional blood-letting has never held any particular attraction for me.
But feeling the edge of a knife across your skin when you are powerless to do anything about it – no matter how much you trust someone, deep in your heart you know that he could do anything he liked at that time. And even though you trust him, a part of you is in fear…
Having someone come up behind you, when you aren’t expecting them…grabbing your hair to hold you still and putting a hand over your mouth….
This is the other part of fear. Will he? Won’t he? Who is he? How many people are really in the room? Who is really touching you?
Yea.. I’m writing this at work and I’m going to stop there before I come unhinged /wink.
I am not an emotional masochist.
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.
/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.
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.”
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