Swamped

I wrote another "perspective" but I'm not going to post any of it yet. I'm not happy with it. It's a complete departure from what I typically write, and I'm not sure I captured the essence of what I was after. I'll read it again later and see if I feel the same.

However.

I do have another story I'm working on as I write this. I started it a few weeks ago, and couldn't find myself getting back into it tonight.

Writing is like this for me. It comes in bursts. When I am properly inspired, I can churn out 8 stories or so in a week.

I am currently so inspired.

This is a bit different. It's written from the perspective of two characters from a role-playing game. Two characters of different races, who find themselves alone in a swamp without companionship of the opposite sex of their own race.....

It's not finished, but here's a bite:

Remembering his warning about resistance, she swallowed hard, and leaned her head back against the soft grass. She spread her thighs as far as she could and prepared herself.
He nudged the head against her outer lips, rubbing it between them, wetting it. Slowly, he started running it up and down, grazing her clit with it several times before placing it at her opening and pushing just the head of himself inside her.
He howled at her warmth and wetness surrounding him. Orc women were built for orc cock. Troll women were built for smaller, leaner ones. She was tight around him, with just the head. He tried to push the lust aside long enough for her to get used to him but he knew it was a losing battle for much longer. Desperately trying to pace himself, he pushed in a small bit at a time, until he was nearly halfway there. He forced his eyes up to her face again, and saw her staring wide eyed at him.
“I can’t…”
“You will.” He growled.
A look of fear crossed her face, and drove his lust into overdrive.
He growled again loudly and grasped her hips, pushing himself deeper into her. She cried out but did not fight against him.
“Take it. You want it, I can feel your want dripping onto my balls….”

Different Perspectives

I was having a conversation with a friend the other day, and a scenario came up. A man, watching his "woman" (girlfriend, submissive, mistress, whatever) get fucked by another man, without the other man knowing about it.

There are so many ways to write that story. So many different possibilities. Is she doing it because he wants to? Because *she* wants to? Is it her fantasy or his? Is she teasing him? Teaching him a lesson? Trying to show him some new part of herself?

I decided then that I would write it. But I'd write it in two or possibly three different ways.

The first one, I wrote today. "Because You Asked Me To."

He doesn’t return to my breast, instead reaching down and unbuttoning my jeans, and unzipping them slowly. He doesn’t slide them down, but pushes me down onto the bed on my back instead, leaving my ass at the edge. He kneels down between my thighs and kisses me hard again, before letting his mouth slide down to my left nipple. Again, I try in vain to forget that you’re watching me, that you asked for this. You have always liked me to show off for you; but this is something new for us. Usually, you’re sated by me masturbating for you, but this time you wanted more.

And despite my initial misgivings and fears, I find myself completely open to giving you the best show you could ask for. As my companion’s hands run down my sides, stroking my skin as he continues to lick and bite at my nipples, I glance superstitiously at the ajar closet door, and give you a small smile.

He pushes me back onto the bed and starts to slowly pull my jeans over my hips. He takes the red satin panties with them. Once they’re off my feet, he drops them casually on the floor, and looks at me, head to toe. I run my fingers through my hair, and gaze up at him as he slowly starts to take off his clothes. I watch for a few moments, and then sit up. I reach for button on his jeans and he laughs at me softly.

"Impatient."

I nod at him.

"You’re ready for me already." It’s not a question, and I don’t answer. Nor do I offer up that while he’s very good at what he does, he’s not the entire reason that the room smells of my desire and my inner lips are slick and swollen.

You’re a big part of the reason for that, too. I lean back a bit on the bed, and spread my thighs apart a bit, to make sure that you can see what this has done to me.

My lover finally has his clothes off, and has my attention again. He moves closer to the bed and stands between my spread thighs, dropping slowly to his knees. I stay up on my elbows so I can watch him.

He runs two fingers on each side of my outer lips, caressing them before sliding them in between and parting them. With both hands now, he slides his thumbs inside and pulls my lips apart, leaning his head forward to taste me. His tongue barely grazes my clit and I moan loudly, lifting my hips up off the bed.

"So wet…." He murmurs softly into me. He looks up and sees me watching him. The idea seems to turn him on more, and he returns his face to my cunt. I wonder what he’d feel if he knew that you were watching, too.

He starts licking long slow lines up and down the length of my pussy, barely touching my clit and running the tip of his tongue around the entrance. He’s still holding my lips apart with his hands, and I wonder if you can see. I hope you can. I want you to.



That one is nearly five pages long. One of the longest I've written in awhile.

Maybe tonight I'll get to work on the second perspective.....

"Silence"

A bit of a story I wrote last night ....

I have to remind myself to breath. I’m waiting for you to say something but there is nothing but silence.

Two hands on my inner thighs, nails dragging upward until they reach my pussy. One hand, tapping it lightly. I’m drenched. The tapping sends the scent of me out into the air and it tickles my nose. You like me this wet. I wait for you to comment on it, but you don’t. The hand cups me, squeezing gently, and a finger glides slowly and effortlessly between my lips, coming to rest against my clit for a moment. I moan quietly and move my hips back and forth. The hand pulls away. I whimper in protest.

And then, nothing.



One finger pushes into me after a few moments, and I react quickly, pushing back against it. There is a hand on my hip, guiding me back and forth. A second finger joins it, filling me and fucking me slowly. I begin to pant rhythmically, grinding backwards until they are both removed. There is little pause before I am entered again; a hard cock sliding easily into me, pushing hard and deep. You do not pull back, but grind hard against me. I cry out and start to rise up on my elbows, but your hand pushes me down again, flat against the mattress.



You start to fuck me. Long, deep, slow strokes. Not what I’m used to from you. I’m not used to your silence either …



And it’s then that it occurs to me.



How do I even know it’s your cock inside me?



I shudder hard as a wave of fear and uncertainty races through me. I want to pull away, to crawl up on the bed and rip off the blindfold so that I can turn around and be relieved.



But I don’t. Because I am somehow intoxicated by that same uncertainty.



I fight it for a moment.

And then, I don’t fight.





It's good to have fantasies.....

It's even better to write them....

Fear

So, like I said, I made an appointment to get my hair cut.

I had the speech all ready for her today. No more than 2 inches, keep it simple (I'm so not a 30 minute in the morning hair kinda girl), etc. Turns out, I didn't really need it, much.

She did a fabulous job. She framed my face with a few layers (she said she'd add more next time if I wanted, she wanted me to get used to this first), parted my hair on the side for a nice change and recommended a couple of products that will keep me from frizzing in the winter and that will let my natural wave come on through.

I came home with an appointment for highlights in two weeks, and fabulous sexy hair.

After the highlights come new pictures.

After the new pictures comes a real social life (maybe) /wink.

Changes

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Is this what you see?

I'll be the first one to admit that I have a shitty sense of perception. Anyone's who's been following this blog for awhile knows I've lost an incredible amount of weight, and yet I still have trouble gaging what I actually look like.

While flipping around the other day, I ran across a picture of actress Sara Ramirez (who apparently plays on Grey's Anatomy, though I've never watched that), who is a size 12.

Guess what. Me too.

I think she's gorgeous personally. (Then again, I have a crush on Salma Hayek so go figure). And if that's a size 12, and that's what I look like now - then I'm damn proud of myself.

I'm not done. Size 10 and/or another 18 pounds is the goal that my doctor and I set, but when I look at this picture, and one of my before pictures, I'm just grinning ear to ear.

Maybe that's why when I opened the lingerie bag last night (yes, I finally did order some!) it didn't scare me near as bad as it used to.

There's a great deal of confidence that comes with that realization.

The mood of the day is sexy confidence. Get in the mood~

Write Right.

I'm not the kind of person who writes by formula, or for money.

I write because I'm inspired. I write what I'm inspired about. When I'm uninspired, I'm frustrated because I can't write.

Inspiring me is not so difficult. It doesn't take a live person, or a visual. Inspiration can come from anywhere.

When I have it, I feel blessed. And when I don't, I feel depleted.

I've learned over the years to live with the depleted feeling. It comes and goes. Sometimes when I can't write, I get cranky and frustrated and other times, I just accept it for what it is - downtime.

I'd like it that if I weren't able to write in the erotic genre, if I could at *least* work on the two or three fantasy stories I've started. But it seems like lately (the last two years), I've had a great lack of inspiration for that too. I have about 100 pages of two different stories that were born in EverQuest. Stories that could easily be translated to non-gaming related fiction. I wish I knew, then, why they just sit there, unfinished and un-worked on.

Steven King says he forces himself to write every day. I wish I could do that. Sometimes, my lack of self-discipline ends up making me feel worse. I've read writing books where authors have stated they set aside a schedule to write. Maybe I should try that. Maybe if I set it in stone, and stop giving myself reasons to bail on it, I'll get something accomplished - in one of my two chosen genres or both.

I'll see if I can't work on that. Today.

A hit off the other one ....

Just because I'm feeling particularly froggy today...

"This is what you wanted. Say it." You growl again.

"I didn’t but ... I do..."

"Say it." You pull your fingers almost out of me and hold them still.

My hands grip the edge of the counter and I go up on my toes, trying to lure you back inside me. "I want this..."

"No." You pull your hand out and smack my ass again. "Good girls want it. Girls like you need it." You press your palm against my outer lips. "Tell me."

Taste...

In the last three days, I've written two stories. Neither of them are my typical sort, but both of them are defintely in my caliber, and worthy of the Kanthra Adaire name. I'm remembering now what it feels like to sate that part of myself. How good it feels to take an idea, build a story around it and write it without any restraint. And how much I've missed that part of myself.

Which part? The part that feels and wants and fantasizes about things I very well *could* have.

A small taste of one....

Your hands slide apart, across the fabric to my sides and then down until they rest against my hips. They remain there for awhile, your fingers moving just slightly against the material and then slide a bit lower until they’re resting on the outside of my thighs, between the chemise and the hose. Your nails tickle my skin a little, scratching lightly.

I close my eyes. There is no point in pretending to watch ... whatever it is that’s flashing across the TV screen now. You’re teasing me, and maybe teasing yourself. I decide that I’ll let you.

Your right hand moves again, sliding under my leg and lifting it, dragging it so that my thigh rests over the top of yours.

I wait. And then ... nothing for what feels like a very long time.

Your left hand slides to my inner thigh, your fingers brushing over the skin softly. Your movements are slow, almost as if you’re not really thinking about it, but I know you are. Your index fingers runs across the outer edge of the g-string that matches the chemise, and then just barely reaches under it.

I moan again, my head turning just slightly toward the back of the couch. Your left hand reaches out in response and cups my mound in your hand, squeezing it in your palm. My body responds furiously, my hips pushing up against your hand.

I hear your growl as your left hand moves away from me and comes up toward my face. You cup it over my mouth, turning my head back toward the TV, and pressing it against me.

"I didn’t tell you to fuck my hand, did I?" you whisper in my ear.

Image II...Where's your Sexy?

Have you ever seen a truly beautiful man or woman, and while admiring their beauty, you didn't find yourself immediately sexually attracted to them? Chances are they weren't feeling beautiful or sexy on the inside, which is what makes the outside irresistable.

I know people who've spent years telling themselves they're sexy - and you know what? They are, because they have the confidence to back it up. No, they may not be Adonis or Venus and no, they may not be whatever our country decides is "the ideal height and weight" at this moment, but they exude some kind of fuckable-pheremones from their bodies because they feel it inside.

I said this the other day "I spend too much time looking at pictures of women with impossibly beautiful bodies, and comparing myself to them, instead of comparing myself to what I looked like two years ago. I am a size 12. I am the national average. But women are conditioned to believe that men *need* us to be thin, or they won't find us attractive. And as much as women have fought it over the years, most of us still do feel a great need to be attractive to men."

I had a little shopping trip yesterday that brought a couple things that maybe I wasn't thinking about to the forefront.

Firstly, I love Victoria Secrets bras. Always have. They're well made and sexy and they last forever if you treat them well. Because of this last bit of weightloss, I needed to replace some bras, so off to the mall I went. The salesperson I got was wonderfully helpful and even gave me a fitting (something I haven't done in many years) to make sure I got what I wanted, and what worked for me. She brought me 8 bras to try on, and stood outside the dressing room to answer questions or give opinions where needed. Out of the 8, I liked 5, but picked 3 and gave them to her. She took me to the displays, showed me colors, and then pointed me to matching panties if I was looking for them (I was). By the end of that shopping trip, when I walked out of the store with my big pink bag, I felt incredibly sexy. Sexy enough to stop back through Penney's and buy the long silky red gown and short sexy chemise I saw when I came through the first time. (relating the experience to a friend later only reinforced that for me, too)

I do have that confidence now that I didn't have before. It ebbs and flows sometimes, but typically it's right there where it was yesterday. To the point where - hell yes, I'm dead sexy as a size 12 and will be even sexier at a size 10 (the end goal I think), so look the hell out, here I come.

And if I run across someone who's sexy comes from what his eyes see only? Well, it'll give me something to laugh about later, won't it?

Sexy is in the eye of the beholder, and it's all in *your* mind. It's the way you stand, the way you speak (and yes, voices can be incredibly sexy), the way you meet the eyes of the person you're speaking to. Sexy is not all about dress size. It's about your confidence-size, too.

What I was trying to say was.....

I started something in my entry called Ask, Say, Do but I never really got where I was going. After a quiet night (I watched Clerks II, it wasn't all that quiet I guess), and a bit of thought, I think I'll see if I can't get there this time.

I tend to be a person who trusts her instincts in most aspects of my life. I seem to have very good ones for the most part (although two divorces might say different...) and when I trust myself and follow them, I seem to do pretty well.

Being submissive to someone then sometimes fucks with that. I'll want to say - or want to ask for - or want to do something, but the good-girl-overachiever-submissive in me makes me stop. She pleads for me to reconsider, and wait; to do what I'm told and nothing else, because if we take that chance and follow our gut instinct, we might ruin a perfectly good evening/encounter/dominant's plans for us.

I've asked some of the dominants I know and trust about this. Most of them laugh at me for a minute before they realize I'm serious. And then they tell me that I'm being a silly little girl and to get over it.

Let's face it. 99% of the men in this world like a woman to take some initiative. Not all the time maybe in the case of a strict dominant, but find me a man who doesn't like to be seduced, and I'll sell you my ex-husbands for a buck. Contrary to what we've been taught, ladies, good girls *do* seduce men they find attractive, and they do it for reasons aside from cars, houses, good marriages. They do it for sex.

As a capable, creative and sensual woman, I can find hundreds of ways to seduce a man. I think of them, sometimes I even write them down. But when the time comes to act on them, sometimes it's more difficult than others. The damn goody-two-shoes submissive in me digs her nails in and fights me.

Maybe that's part of the reason that I haven't looked for a full time dominant. Maybe the idea of that scares me a bit because I don't *like* to fight myself that much. Yes, I want to be sexually submissive to someone (and sometimes non-sexually too) but I want to *know* with absolute certainty that if the mood strikes me, he's not going to get all weirded out by me putting a move on him. That if I suggest *gasp* that he let me tie him to the bed and tease him for a couple hours he's not going to flip out. I'm not a switch and I'm not dominant. But sometimes I do enjoy teasing and tormenting a man sexually *grin* - it can be just as much fun as the reverse when the timing is right.

Things~

I guess everyone has their little ...thing. Some people are instantly seduced by a pair of high heels on long legs, or the scent of a certain perfume, or the glimpse of the top of a thigh-high stocking. Some people will melt into a puddle when their earlobe is nipped, their hand caressed in a certain way, their hair stroked.

What's mine? Come up behind me.

If you're close enough, you don't even have to touch me. Let yourself brush against the back of my hair, breath on my neck, whisper. My eyes will close and I will stand (or sit, or lay) there and hold my breath, waiting to see what you'll do.

I could psycho-analyze the crap out of that, about how it has to do with fear of the unknown and such - but why? In this particular case, I just like it. Why does the why matter? It feels rich, thick and sensual. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and gives me goosebumps. It's totally sensual and totally makes me want to curl my toes. That's more than enough /wink

Sensuality to me is just as important as sexuality. There are so many things you can focus on when you're - I don't want to use this phrase but it seems to fit here, so forgive me - making out with someone. Why go straight for the genitals when you can weave in and out of "right now!" and "do that some more". I'll admit there are times when getting tossed up against a wall and fucked hard and fast (the three minute thunder fuck) is fun and sometimes preferable, but other than that, sex should be about taking a bit of time to *enjoy* more than just your sex organs. I will remember someone who came up behind me and teased me a bit before even starting to touch me sexually a lot longer than I will remember a thunderfuck /wink.

Image is... everything?

This isn't going to be about sex or d/s so you may well want to skip it :p

This is about body image. And why now - after having lost all but the last 18 pounds of my weight, I still look in the mirror sometimes and get disappointed.

I did some lingerie shopping online this weekend (with a bit of help from the Southern Gentleman, who seemed more than willing to peruse pictures *wink*). I've said before, and I'll say it again - I love lingerie. It's nice to not have to look at the plus size websites anymore, I can go straight to the good stuff *grin*.

But then I get there, and I'm drooling over the good stuff, and I wonder -- ya, but what would it look like on me?

It's a fact: I'm never been skinny, and the chances of me ever *being* skinny are mostly nil. I have real curves. I also have a body that's lost a lot of weight, and is fighting to get back to what it should be. That's gonna take time. As I've already spent a year and a half losing it, I guess more won't matter. I can wait.

Can't I?

I spend too much time looking at pictures of women with impossibly beautiful bodies, and comparing myself to them, instead of comparing myself to what I looked like two years ago. I am a size 12. I am the national average. But women are conditioned to believe that men *need* us to be thin, or they won't find us attractive. And as much as women have fought it over the years, most of us still do feel a great need to be attractive to men.

I've grown so much more comfortable in my own skin over the last year, and have made great strides towards feeling comfortable with myself completely, but this little body image hangup of mine has got to go.

I'm ordering that lingerie this week and I'm going to wear it around the house until I can look in the mirror and make myself hot /wink.

Ask, Say, Do

Conumdrums are easy to come by in D/s. Do it, or don't do it. Say it, or don't say it. Ask, or beg, or remain silent.

Maybe that's part of what some of us like. The decisions, the "do I or don't I?". I'll admit that sometimes it certainly does add a bit of steam.

But at other times, it's downright agonizing.

I tend to ask, say or at least ask to say or do. Especially as I get more comfortable with someone and their likes, desires and moods.

But I see where it's a problem. The submissive wants to be pleasing, and do what she's told. She wants to bring the dominant the most pleasure she can - but what if she's unsure how to do that? And he's not guiding her enough to make her comfortable? Then what?

Well, then you ask.

The start of nearly every D/s relationship is exactly that way - do I ask or don't I? - unless they are negotiated within an inch of their lives. I like negitioation, don't get me wrong. But as my friend P. once said about a very famous SM author: "He's the only person I had to safeword with during negotiations." They can be too much. You can zap every ounce of spontaneity right out of a scene, weekend, relationship. And who wants that?

(OK, I know some of you may actually want that, sorry. But for me, without that element of - what's next! - it loses something for me.)

I like a bit of wiggle room. I like to be able to do something that I know would please him without fear of it upsetting him. I could never be with someone who demanded that "do what you're told to do and nothing else." That would frustrate me, and make me somewhat sad. (Let me clarify that a bit. That's a full time thing, not a scene, weekend or evening. It can be fun during short bursts to have ALL choice and free will removed *Grin*)

Necks

There are animals that will expose their neck to you in a sign of faith that they trust you. There are other animals that will bite or nuzzle a neck to show their dominance.

Is that perhaps why some people find their necks to be one of their biggest erogenous zones? I know it certainly is one of mine, and one that's been overlooked for the most part for a long time. Maybe it's because it is a vulnerable place, all things considered, and letting someone have access to it is not only erotic in a sexual sense, but also speaks to intimacy and trust.

Touching, licking, kissing. Nuzzling, nibbling or even biting. Finger tips or teeth, or a whole hand. There is something immediately sexy and knee-shaking about having my neck paid attention to. I will shiver and shudder, purr or growl. And chances are, I'll be in the palm of the hand who does it right.

The Art of Seduction

The Art of Seduction

Is seduction a lost art? Are we too busy trying to be correct and keep up with our busy lives that we’ve lost this age old art to modern convenience and the fast pace of our lives in the technological age?

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, a southern gentleman of sorts, today about this very thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever been seduced. And I had to admit that most of the lovers I’ve had in my life haven’t really allowed me to seduce them. At the first sign of “getting some”, they’re overcome and just start pushing for the “main event”.

I said to my ex, the last time I slept with him, that we never really “played”. He disagreed. A discussion ensued. He still thinks he’s right but fact is, any sexual interaction between he and I included little to no foreplay, and a dive straight for getting naked and getting to it. Even when I would go to the trouble of putting on lingerie (oh ya, that’s a huge chore for me /eyeroll) it wouldn’t really be anything more than a cue to him that it was time to fuck. As a matter of fact, he said to me that same day that it wasn’t necessary for me to suck his cock unless I meant to finish him off that way. I mean, c’mon. What’s that?

Disappointing to say the least.

I like to tease. The Southern Gentleman and I discussed that. How it would be fun to tease someone to the brink of insanity (ok, that’s my word not his), and try to keep it up until one of you absolutely cannot take another minute. To wake up in the morning, take a shower, put on makeup and then some sort of seductive outfit and just go on about your day. (as an aside, in my experience there are 2 kinds of lingerie – that meant to entice, and that meant to say “fuck me right NOW”. I’m speaking of the seductive kind, as the picture demonstrates.) Go sit with him and watch TV or play on the computer. Make lunch. Lean over a lot and fix your stockings. Rub up against him as often as possible. As the day progresses, so does the tease. Grab a cock through a pain of jeans and just squeeze it and walk away. Let the strap on the outfit slide off your shoulder so that your breast peeks out close to his face. At some point, lose the g-string and make sure he catches a glimpse of what was under it. On and on. Until one of you absolutely cannot wait one. More. Minute.

C’mon, you know you want it /wink

Where did that go? I’d like to track it down cause it sounds like more fun than I’ve had in a long time.

What's your sex about?

I realize that there are women who enjoy romantic, cuddly sex all the time. That being treated like a delicate flower, and as if they were breakable is what allows them to enjoy sex.

I just don’t happen to one of them.

That’s not to say that I couldn’t enjoy that occasionally. I could, and have. But for the most part, the dirtier sex becomes the better I like it. That doesn’t mean necessarily mean that I want it to a big production every time. That’s not the point or goal.

Sex is supposed to be fun. Not stressful. Not thinking too much about doing something right or wrong. Not about being offended if your partner expresses a preference or a desire that maybe you don’t find as hot as they do. It's not about doing because you want something from the other person (unless it's something sexual!
). It's not about duty. It's not about procreation. It's about fucking. Period. Call it what you want; but don't do it for the wrong reasons.

If it’s not fun – if you take it seriously – what the hell is the point? For me, there is no point.

Fun sex, dirty sex, fast or slow, hard or teasing….it’s all about expressing yourself through your sexuality.

It could be something as simple as only removing – or moving – the necessarily clothing to get to it. Or up against a wall, in the car, in an alley, at the front door. It’s not about comfort, it’s about urgency and that “if I don’t have your cock inside me RIGHT NOW I’m going to pass out” feeling. Or it’s about teased like crazy until one of you just absolutely cannot take another moment.

It’s about feeling yourself – your sensuality, sexuality. And feeling and accepting your partner’s same.

If it’s not? You’re doing something wrong.

Yours

Your finger brushes against my lips. "Who's?" you ask.

"Yours."

You smile at me and brush your palm against my nipple. "Who's?"

"Yours."

You drop down next to where I'm kneeling on the floor, and take my nipple in your mouth. Without preliminaries or hesitation, bite down on it, hard - and then slide your mouth off to the side, biting again, leaving a red mark and a shadow of your teeth. My eyes are closed, my head leaned back. You are claiming what is yours; what I've freely given you.

Your hand slides down my arm, and around to my back. Tapping my ass gently, I rise up off my haunches and straighten my legs, still kneeling on the floor. Your hand slides across my skin and down my thigh to the back of my knee. "Who's?"

"Yours." This ritual whets us both. We are nearly done, if our past encounters hold true, and my knees tremble slightly, anticipating.

You drag your nails up the back of my thigh slowly, and with great pressure. As your hand reaches my ass, you dig them in harder, and I can feel the red trails rising on my skin. I whimper quietly, my back arching a bit.

"Cut to the chase." you say suddenly, standing up. I am caught off guard by this and my eyes open, looking up at you.

"Sir?"

"Is it all mine?" Your hand comes down slowly and glides into my hair, wrapping it around your palm.

"Yes, Sir." I swallow hard, not sure where this is going.

Your other hand runs down the front of my body, cupping my sex and squeezing it tightly in your palm. "To do with as I please?"

"Yes, Sir." My eyes on yours, questioning.

You squeeze once more, hard, and my knees tremble. "My property. My territory."

"Yes, Sir."

"So you wouldn't mind if I marked it however I wished to?"

I can still feel your scratches on my ass, and your teeth marks on my breast. "It is yours to do with as you wish, Sir." I whisper.

With one hand, you reach down and pull your cock out, grasping it at the base, and trailing it across my lips. My tongue longs to reach out and caress it, but I don't, and I don't know why.

"I can cum on those pretty lips and face."

"Yes, Sir."

"Or your tits. Your ass. Your legs. In your mouth...." You're still moving your cock around, caressing my cheeks with it. "And I can make you leave my cum wherever I put it, so that you remember, and everyone knows...."

I feel a jolt inside me. My inner netherlips open, swollen and wet now. I sway slightly, trying to retain my balance. "Yes." I whisper.

"And if I wanted to...." You lay your cock, now almost completely hard, against my neck, and point it downward. "... I could piss on you, like a dog would a tree...."

I squeeze my eyes shut. We have discussed the theroy of this; nothing more. Neither of us knows the ramifications or the emotions it would present.

"Answer me." you growl.

"Yes, Sir." I whimper, forcing my eyes open and looking up at you.

You smile softly, and pull me to my feet, using my hair as your leash. "Good girl."

Answer

Not the soft rope. No, the scratchy hemp rope. Not tied up in the comfort of the sofa or bed, or even on the plush carpet. No, tied to a stiff, unforgiving wooden straightback chair with no give. Not the typical knots that I could slip out of in an emergency. No, these were rough, tight knots in unpliable rope. No escape route. No safety net. Not this time.

It started as a stand-off; no quarter asked nor given on either side. And it ended up like this. In the dining room, with it's harsh overhead light. With me still mostly dressed. This was not our typical bondage; no, this was war.

You wrestled me into the chair after storming off and bringing back the rope. Held in place by the strength of your arms and legs while you tied knots and growled at me. My curses and cries unanswered. I look up at you now, my eyes wide in defiance. You look back at me, eyes narrowed, a thin film of sweat at your brow. I curse at you again.

"I'll gag you if I have to, until you answer the fucking question."

I snarl at you in response.

You raise an eyebrow. "I'm not kidding around here. I want the answer, and you'll give it to me, willingly, or unwillingly - I have ceased to care."

I wonder if you dare.

"Try me."

You do.

These Four Snippets

...a glimpse is all. Not a full story, not a piece of strict erotica...

... just enough to look inside something you may not have considered, or desired, or even thought of....

... just enough to tempt and tease with words and thoughts... and mental pictures worthy of a coffee table book.....

... just a glimpse....

Please

I watch, as you pull the black leather belt through the loops on your pants. You do it slowly, as if you're trying to torment me with it. Your eyes are on me, looking down at the way you have me arranged on the floor in front of you, my hands and knees against the carpet, my ass in the air.
When the last bit of leather has come through the last loop, you dangle the simple leather accesory in front of me, the tip of it brushing against my cheek, and then my lips.
"You know why." You say quietly.
"Yes."
"Will this correct the problem?"
"Yes."
You laugh. "We'll see."
You begin to walk around me, trailing the leather belt teasingly against my naked back. I shiver. Anticipation? Sensation? Fear? Do I know? Or do you care?
The leather leaves my back, and I hear how you must have doubled it, and then popped it. It makes me jump, and whimper, and I know without turning my head that that makes you smile.
"Why not my hand?"
I'm not sure how to answer this. I'm not sure if I am physically able to answer this. But I try. "Because I am being punished."
"Do you deserve to be punished?"
I close my eyes and lower my head toward the floor, my cheeks flushed. "That is up to you to say."
"Very good." The leather drifts lightly across my ass, and I shiver again. "I say that you do. And I believe you'll thank me for this later."
"If it pleases you."
"It will." The belt leaves my skin, and I tense, anticipating. "What pleases me even more is that this is all it takes to get you to behave properly." The air moves, and I hear the leather cut through it. "Please me again."

Choice

"Did I ask if you wanted to?"
"No, but..."
"But?"
"But it's not... it's just that..."
"I'll ask again. Did I ask if you wanted to?"
I take a deep breath. "No, Sir, but if you ...."
Your hand reaches under my chin and lifts my face upward toward yours. "Look at me."
I can't.
You sigh. Your hand moves to my left cheek, cupping it gently, and without a moment's hesitation, your left hand comes up, palm open and taps my right cheek. Not enough to sting. Not enough to make it red, or bruise it. But enough to bring me out of whatever universe I was in that I believed I had a say in this matter, and back into yours. Where I belong.
"I will ask one more time. Did I ask if you wanted to?" Your eyes bore into mine, giving no room for error.
"No, Sir." I eek out softly. My cheeks blush hotly, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to keep my eyes on yours.
"Then do it. Be quiet and quick about it. And don't make me ask again."

Listening

"Are you listening to me?" I can feel your breath on my face, but I'm not looking at you. I have been uncharectaristically sarcastic tonight, and I'm not sure why. Am I testing you? Or am I just letting myself feel what I feel?

I don't answer you quickly enough, I suppose. I heard you, of course. And I hear the growl that follows the thirty seconds of silence that stands between us like a pillar of stone.

And then I feel your hand moving toward me, palm down, fingers spread out. I'm still looking at the floor. Maybe I don't want to see. Maybe I'm trembling with fear or anticipation. How will you know?

The juncture of your thumb and index finger meets the very bottom of my neck, where my collar bones meet. I feel your hand press in, and up with just enough pressure to let me know that I need to focus - now. Your fingers and thumb press into my skin. You push back with your hand, forcing my face up toward yours. I swallow hard, knowing you feel it against your hand. And finally, I look up into your eyes.

"Are you listening to me?" you ask again.

"Yes." I say quietly, my knees weak.

"Then why aren't you sucking my cock yet?"

Tease

You look at me from across the room. That *look* that I know all too well, the one that says "You need to be over here, pleasuring me". I cock my head at you a little and let my eyes go half-closed, a small smile at the corner of my lips. You do not return the smile, but continue to stare at me as if to say "I mean, now."

And I want to pleasure you. But I also want to tease you a bit, because it's what makes this more about pleasure than instant gratification. So I reach down and pop open two buttons on my long-sleeved red blouse and pull it open a bit before sinking to my knees, and slowly - very slowly - crawling across the floor to where you sit.

You still haven't spoken, but your eyes bore into me and your face remains still as you look down at me, at your feet. You know that I'm going to give you what you want. But with the number of possible ways of accomplishing that, neither of us are sure how it will flow. I lick my lips and meet your eyes.

I know, then what I must do.

Do you?

Dry?

So, I got an email from a faithful blog reader that said in part "... we're happy to see you back writing, but what's with the clean, dry stuff? Where's the naughty screamer we know and love ..."

What, talking about vulnerability and trust isn't good enough for you? *smirk*

In the interest of my readership (ok, all four of you or how many ever), let me veer off the "dry" highway for something more interesting.

Since I turned 29 or 30, my orgasms have just continued to get better and better. Stronger. Longer. More intense and felt more deeply. When they say women reach a sexual peak later than men, it can only be because we just get better with age *smirk*.

Having said that, I'll add this to it. Most of the time, I fantasize or read erotica while masturbating (c'mon, anyone who's been reading this for a couple years knows how long I've gone without a steady sex partner lol). I have a few old standby fantasies that always work, and add a new one occasionally.

But there is absolutely nothing better than being inspired.

Except maybe being asked (or told) how to masturbate by someone else.

That's better than almost any fantasy I can come up with on my own. It's someone *else's* fantasy, and in fulfilling it for them, it inspires me to add my own to it, and make it mine.

Gee, does that make me easy? :p

And if it does, so what?

No, actually, it doesn't. I mean it's not like just anyone could say "do this!" and I'd do it. It'd have to be someone I felt some kind of connection to - on some level, at some intensity. And it would have to be someone that I actually wanted to please. I am a submissive, but I'm a damn picky submissive, and just any old person telling me to masturbate standing on my head (*snicker*) isn't going to have the same result as say - someone who I do feel submissive to tell me to masturbate with a finger in my ass.

It gives me a certain focus that I might not have on another given day due to stress or anxiety about work or family stuff. It gives me an excuse to only be concerned with *one* thing - and that's doing what they ask. Getting myself off that way is almost always more intense.

Vulnerability

I know that for many submissives and dominants, one of the attractions to the lifestyle is the vulnerability of the submissive partner. In some dominants, that gives them the "protector" mode they seek, and in others, it gives them a pliable human being to mold to their own. For the vulnerable person, it's an opportunity to rely on someone else - their strength, judgement, decisions - for a period of time and not have to make those choices for themselves.

For me, the consumate smart ass, I seem to slip in and out of that vulenrable state a lot, depending on a dominant's reaction to it. If he seems to thrive on it, I relax into it a bit more. If he seems to be cautious or even a bit scared of it, then I tend to put it away and go back to my smart-ass self. I don't think I do this conciously. But I've spent the better part of my life being able to read people - in whatever medium - pretty well, and thus I tend to change my actions/reactions/energy toward them, depending on the mood.

That's not really vulnerable, is it?

/shrug

I've been in self-protection mode for so many years that the opportunities I've had to be completely vulnerable to someone have either been a) few and too far between or b) not by free will on my side or c) too short in duration to make an impact over time. I find that if I'm actively seeking this feeling, I can't find it. So I quit looking for it.

And every once in awhile, I feel it toward someone whether I mean to or not.

Trust and Intentions

Trust and Intentions

Let's say for example that a dominant has told his submissive that she was not to use the cellphone all day. Maybe he had a good reason for that, maybe he didn't, but let's just say that was her instruction before leaving the house that morning.

Let's then say that she does use the cellphone that day. She calls her best friend and chats over lunch, remembering clearly what her partner had told her that morning, but ignoring it for whatever reason.

When she gets home that night, her cell phone is off, and at the bottom of her purse. He doesn't ask her if she used it, because he trusts that she followed his instructions. And she doesn't volunteer that she used it, because she doesn't want a spanking.

Who's losing out in this situation? Him? Because she disobeyed? or her, because she missed out on an opportunity to be - yes, I'll say it - submissive to someone she's agreed to be submissive to.

He's assuming she did as he told her, which means that he gets the rush of power regardless.

She gets - nothing, except perhaps a guilty conscience.

My question would be -- what in the hell are you doing there in the first place? If you are in a d/s relationship on the /s end willingly, then doesn't that pretty much say to the world that it's what you want and need? Why would you deny yourself a chance to be submissive if being submissive is what fulfills you?

Let's back up a bit, and say she honestly forgot, and dialed her girlfriend out of habit. Or maybe that she had a road emergency in the middle of nowhere. She comes home that night and fesses up immediately. Is he going to have any less of a rush of power in that situation? I'd not think so. Is she going to be any less fulfilled? Probably not.

That rambling example (and man, can I ramble or WHAT) is basically to talk about trust and intentions. And maybe to spark people to think a bit about the commitments they've made or are thinking about making to a d/s lifestyle.

*can* vs. *do*

There is a big difference, in my opinion (which is rarely humble, by the way), between actually doing something, and knowing you *can* do it at any time.

Typically, knowing you *can* is more than enough for people in most circumstances.

Example: a new submissive/dominant couple begins to explore. She tells him that she'll give him whatever control over her life that he'd like. He says fine, and makes a list of things that he is able to control about her life: clothes, food, phone and computer time, etc. A month passes, and the couple is happily living life, and yet - he's never made any demands on her about her clothes, food, computer, etc.

Why aren't they complaining? Because while he *hasn't* made any demands, he *can*, at any moment and they both know it. She stays on her toes, because at any moment, he could take away her chocolate or her favorite black blazer.

Oh, I know that doesn't work for everyone. There are submissives (and I've met a lot of them) that need the *actual* control day and night. They aren't happy roaming around in the *can*, they need the *do*. Even if the dominant from the couple above would make a small demand (red blouse, black spike heels to dinner) once every month or so, it wouldn't be enough for some submissives. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but there's a more-than-fine-line between the *do* and the *can*, and I'm not entirely sure that everyone "gets that" when they first start exploring this lifestyle.

I hope maybe now a few will :)

BDSM Checklist

Anyone who's read about BDSM online a bit has seen "the Checklist". It's been around in various forms for as long as I've been on the 'net. For years, I've seen links and just skated on past it, having filled out more than a few of them in my time.

A friend of mine, who is what I'd call a blossoming Dominant and I went through the list together over the last few days - one line at a time. Anything he didn't understand, I explained. Anything he was curious about, we discussed. It was actually quite a lot of fun. I actually may have even pulled some inspiration from it to work on some fiction - which I desperately needed.

If you haven't review the list yourself for quite awhile, you might want to take a look (Search Google for BDSM Checklist. You'll find plenty.)

I guess perhaps it's as they say -- good to go back and review, rather you think you need to or not. And doing it with someone else gives you the opportunity to get a new view of something that perhaps you weren't interested in.

The Pleasing Conundrum

[10:37] ***: So as an experienced bottom, do you have any useful feedback on things I could/should have done differently?

This will take a moment to get through, bear with me.

There's always been an argument in the BDSM community about motivation. Some submissives will call themselves masochists, because while they do not get sexual gratification *from* pain specifically, they do get it *during* pain because they're submitting wholly to something that they do not "get off on", simply because the person they are submitting to wants to do it. Although I never have (and never would) call myself a masochist, that's exactly how I feel about many things, and precisely the reason I have the big toy bag - I am prepared, pretty much for anything (my short limit list outstanding of course), because what "gets me off" and the reason I am there is to please. If that means I suffer at someone else's hands, or it means I have twenty orgasms at someone else's hands - doesn't matter. It's the pleasing that pleases me. That doesn't mean that I don't brat occasionally, and it doesn't mean that I don't test boundaries (I do, no question, not often, but sometimes), it just means that ultimately, pleasing is what I want to do.

On the converse side of that, you have the unique situation where a submissive may be mentoring, or teaching a dominant. Now, for a submissive, like me, who aims to please, doing that can be quite fun (as I've already witnessed *wink*), but it can also cause a bit of concern. "If I tell him what he could have done there, will he do it next time - and if he does, is he doing it for me? or because he wants to? And what if those are the same thing sometimes, but other times they aren't?"

Just as a submissive wants to please, she wants the dominant to please himself; to use her as she's given him leave to. If she has the suspicion that he's doing something just because *she* likes it, what will that do to the moment?

Well, nothing, provided she has his word that he's not going to do anything "just for her" unless that's his goal at the outset. Meaning, what's going to get *him* off that night is getting *her* off. He's not doing it so much to please her, he's doing it because at that moment, pleasing her is what pleases *him*.

More than anything, I think it's a trust thing.

You compared it recently to "topping from the bottom" - the whole mentoring thing, but those two things aren't related in this at all. Topping from the bottom in an established relationship is one thing - but handing you the tools to explore what's inside you, and helping you do that effectively and safely isn't topping you; it's turning you into a better top.

(The you's and I's in this are generic by the way, for the most part *smirk*)

I realize that that doesn't answer the original question. But it does explain why I'll be careful answering it. At least, I hope I will.

Zoning

It's called many things. Subspace, bottom-space, floating.... none of those have ever quite fit me, so I simply call it "the zone"

What's the zone?

The zone is where I go when I let the outer walls fall back a bit. When the walls drop, so does the incessant need to be right, on time, as near perfect as I can be. I can stop focusing on what's outside and focus on what I need inside. Selfless is replaced by need. Responsible to everyone is replaced by responsible to just the one who's put me in the zone. Perfection is achieved easily when I can fulfill his needs and requests, and that's all it takes.

In other words, I can stop thinking so fucking much, and react.

There's a physical reaction, certainly. Several of them actually, including my eyes being half open most of the time and a slight lightheadedness, almost like a very small buzz. There's also the throb and the wet and the need that accompanies that for me.

I used to think the zone was addicting. But as I sit here this morning, not remotely hungover from it *grin*, I think it's less about a "fix" and more about my body and mind simply remembering who and what I am.

When so much times passes for me between zones, I tend to set it aside and devalue it's importance. I tell myself that I don't need it, that I can live perfectly happily for the rest of my life without it. And then I hit one - and all bets are off /wink. I remember what it feels like to belong and be beholden to someone for your actions and words. And I remember how hard it is to try to describe these feelings to someone else. Not because you don't want to share them, of course, but simply because some things were not meant to be clearly explained *smile* Some things, you just have to feel~

Defining Me

I came into this world with a few things: an over-developed sense of responsibility, a very well defined sense of what's right and wrong, and a thin line between want and need.

The first one makes me work too hard.
The second one makes decisions very easy.
And the third one makes defining what I go after very difficult.

I'd really like to expound on that, but I have work to do, and keeping with number one on the list, I need to get to it :p

Slacking

Yea, I've been slacking a bit. Been sick. Good reason? I dunno. But it's the reason anyway.

That urge to write isn't getting any less, and I'm still absolutely stuck. I can now free up the time to do it, I just have no inspiration or motivation, so the search for a muse continues. I'm thinking that if I could combine my fantasy writing with my d/s writing, there'd be some major sparks. I need to go back to my last work on that.....

Hm. The weekend approacheth. Maybe I'll make some time.

Suffer

"I've done wrong, and I want to suffer for my sins." Criminal, Fiona Apple

I once had a man, who may perhaps be a dominant someday, say to me -- "Suffer for me. It's strangely arousing."

Frankly, I found the sentiment of that phrase strangely arousing myself and it stuck in my mind for a very long time afterward.

What about suffering is arousing? Why do so many submissive women look forward to being put into awkward, often painful situations? Why is it that the more we suffer, the more submissive we think we become?

Is it pride? love? fear? What's the motivation? If we suffer enough, it proves our devotion and/or love? It shows we are not afraid?

Not that it matters, of course. It's the simple fact that it gets us off that is enough.

I miss being challenged in that regard. I miss being challenged, period.

Lazy

I've gotten very lazy about my hair :(

It's up in a ponytail nearly every day. Sunday was the first day I wore it down in I dunno how long.

I used to say that I didn't grow my hair this long to wear it up all the time. I guess that means I gotta start investing a bit more time in it *grin*

People always ask me if I'm going to cut it.

Hell, no~

Take it

So I'm sitting here this morning, frustrated, because I have a great desire to write and nothing to write about.

So I'm considering things. And I'm wondering why it always seems so much easier to be free and creative when someone draws an image in my mind; why I can't seem to do that for myself.

Over the last few years, my submission is much less about giving it up to someone , and much more about making them work at it - take it, if you will. That's what sets me off. Not being little Miss Meek kneeling in the middle of a room of my own free will for whatever he (whoever HE is) feels like doing. It's not about waiting for things to happen to me; it's about being MADE to wait.

Make any sense? Yea, not so much to me either sometimes, but that's how it feels.

Dare to...

.. to what? be myself?

You know, I keep two bloggers these days. This one, and one over at Yahoo that's a little more...politically correct I suppose. It's also the one that's hooked to some of my EverQuest friends, specifically some that I met in Philly in August. I wouldn't dare talk about half the things I've rambled on and on about in the last nearly 4 years here.

But I dunno why not.

I mean, this *is* me. I *am* the kinky little bitch who likes a good spankin' sometimes, and enjoys the feel of rope or cuffs around her wrists and ankles /shrug. This *is* me. I've bled for a man who wanted to make me bleed. I've cried. I've cum. And I've enjoyed every minute (ok, not so much every minute, I'm not a masochist) of it.

Okay, so I still dunno. It's probably got a lot to do with propriety, and the way I was raised. It's also probably got to do with the fact that - just because this *is* me, and how I am, doesn't mean everyone *wants* to know about it, and I'd rather they asked than me parading it around.

This all comes up this morning for a reason. And it's kind of a dumb reason so I hesitate to share it at all, but it's probably good for me to write about it.

Last spring, when I ended a year + long relationship with an EQ partner, I almost quit the game (again). Something kept me there, tho. After about a month, I started flirting with another guy - a safe guy, who lives in England - wayyyyyy far away from me (lol). Now, that was about six months ago.

I've been very open with him (he even knows I write BDSM erotica, tho it certainly freaked him a bit), and he hasn't been very open with me. As a matter of fact, right before I left for VA in September, he started talking about "blurring the lines" between the game and reality, and sometimes he "had to remember that I'm actually 4K miles away". But since I got back... he's been quiet, withdrawn from me. He always says hello and never says goodnight anymore. /shrug It's just gotten weird, I guess and it's bummed me out.

I mean, okay - look - he's as vanilla as they come and is not a good "partner" for me. Remember me talking about settling yesterday? Yea, this is kind of where that came form. It's not like I'm in anything more than "like" with this guy. It's an affectionate friendship, and it's not any kind of cybor-passions thing - it's just cute and fun. So, why would it bother me so much when he doesn't say goodnight for a week in a row? /eyeroll.

Maybe because EQ has - once again - become WAY too much of a focus in my life, and I need to back off it - again.

I'm sure that's it *laugh*

Today's Horoscope

(I am an Aquarius)

Quickie:
Instead of wasting time trying to encourage someone to grow up, go on without them

Nice timing on that /wink.

Are you wondering?

... where the bdsm writing went?
Me too.

I'm really starting to get settled into the new place, though, so hopefully it'll make a triumphant return soon. It's not that it hasn't been on my mind, cause it has. It just hasn't been prevelant enough for me to sit down and write.

This kinda goes along with the settling I wrote about earlier. For awhile, I had actually set d/s aside and thought - maybe what I need is just a good vanilla man to date.

Ya know, in theroy, that's good but the reality of it is that I'm not going to settle for only part of what fulfills me anymore. I want the whole thing. Even if it's on a part time basis. Even if it's just a casual relationship. It's something that's been missing in my life for WAY too long, and something I'd really like to reclaim.

So, as I traverse the hidden paths to get back to it - come along for the ride.

Settle

For me, settling means two things today.

#1 - I really feel like I'm starting to settle into my new place. Which is good. Because I intend to make it actually "home" - not just a place to sleep as my last apartment was.

and #2 - I realized on the long-ass drive yesterday to Muscatine and back that I've been settling far too much in life.

I tried to remember the last time a man had to pursue me at all. Too many years ago.

I don't think I'm the dating type. Or maybe I should be. My life has been a trial of serial monogamy, I guess. I've gone from one relationship to the next, not really taking time between to decide what I wanted - and not really looking at the man to see if he was what I wanted and could give me what I want.

Ya, that shit's gotta end now.

I firmly stated again yesterday to my family that there are NO intentions in my head of ever getting married again. That's not to say I'm radically against marriage; it's just to say that I'm not looking for it, nor do I want it. Not now. Not for a very long time.

I'm also not crazy about sharing my space full time with someone. I've got all this space now; I want to be selfish with it.

I'm not entirely sure I even want to date.

Maybe. Soon. If....

/shrug

All I really do know is that this time, I'm not going to settle for the first person who comes along and fits "some" of the criteria of what I expect in a mate. Nope. He better fit ALL or MOST of it if he wants somma this~

HA!

Themes

Growing up, every room in my mom's house had a theme. Actually, they all still do in her house. And most of mine, too. My bedroom is done in Arthurian Legend art and Celtic accents. My kitchen is all in red. My bathroom contains a large amount of dragonflies. The office is done in magic.... (Merlin, dragons, etc)

But now that I have two living rooms, I wasn't sure what to do with my comfy living room space in the basement.

Well, til yesterday.

Several years ago, my mom bought a counted cross stich HD Bar and Shield project for my ex, Mark. Last year, I found it, and gave it to my aunt who actually works on those things, and yesterday, I got it back. It's absolutley stunning, and I now have my theme :)

I spent a great deal of time in my late-teens, early twenties on the backs of motorcycles, and again in my thirties, with Mark. In 4 years, we put well over 35K miles on the 97 FLSTS he bought, and those are some of my happiest memories - oh, not of him - he's a jackass - but of the bike, the road - the trips cross country.

Seems fitting that I do my "comfy" space in something that makes me happy.

wtf drama queens

I don't get it.

I've been online in one form or another for over 13 years. I guess, in that time, I should have come to know and understand the Drama Queen mentality. But I don't.

In an arena - such as chat, or online games - that's supposed to be fun - that you pay to be entertained by - the last thing I want to deal with is someone else's headcases or nerousii. I pay to have fun, not try to decipher their "mental breakdown of the week".

And you know what? It's not always women. The Queen is just as often a male. Scary, huh.

There are a few theroies about why these people exist and act as they do:

- their own real lives are so dull that they have to use any online environment available to them to stir up trouble so they can feel part of something.

- their need for attention is so great that they can't get it filled in their real lives, and they use online to get that attention - good or bad - that they seem to be missing. Narcisstic, if you will.

- they just can't help it. They were born a Queen and will die a Queen.

I'm not sure if I buy any of them - or all of them - on any given day.

All I know is that when I pay fifteen bucks a month to play an online game, I'm not paying to deal with someone else's mental deficiencies. And when it gets to the point that I avoid playing the game I pay 15 bucks a month to play because I don't want to deal with someone else's actions, it's time to re-evaluate playing it at all.

Be gone, you social vampires. I have had it up to *here* with you.

What's mine is.....mine.

Somewhere back in the fall of 1999, I got my clit hood pierced.

I did this as a sign of independence from a 5 year relationship that had emotionally and mentally drained me for the most part (though it also gave me my three step daughters, so there were good parts, too), with a man who was more emotionally unstable than anyone I have yet to meet since. This was a d/s relationship - he was the "dominant" (quotes because I can't say it with a straight face). When I finally left him (well, he didn't really leave me a choice in the end, but it was my decision to walk away), I needed to find something to take back posession of myself.

So, I got my hood pierced.

The little ring with the lapis luzil bead has been there since. Well, til now.

Yup, I took it out. Maybe as a move of independence from yet another relationship that's left me feeling mostly drained (in a different way). But I took it out all the same.

To have strength, you just have to believe that you do. And I believe

Collected

Over the last 13 years, I have amassed quiet a collection of bdsm paraphenalia. Mostly toys right now - the clothes/boots/shoes I had are mostly too big for me now. I brought the last bit of them home from Virginia on this last trip. It was mostly the "stand up" stuff: canes, crops, spreader bars, the like. My violet wand also came home, though I'll likely sell that as I do not enjoy using it or having it used on me.

So now that I have this rather large collection (once estimated at about five thousand dollars in value) in my possession and - no real drive to find someone to use it. Not now, at least. Not until I finish "settling in" to my future life as a twice divorced woman, looking for some fulfillment without any kind of ring on my finger.

Yup, I said it. And as of right now, I mean it too. I have absolutely no desire to be married again. I've spent the last two years living alone - a record for me, really - and as lonely as it gets sometimes, I can truthfully say I have no desire to share my personal space with another person right now.

I thought for awhile - when it first occured to me that I felt that way - that it was bitterness, but it's not. It's a choice, a preference. A lover would be nice. A lover who was a competent dominant would be a huge bonus. But more than that? No, not now.

((And here's a hint for the ladies: if you feel that way, don't put it in any kind of profile. No matter how many times you say "no married men" after they read "no commitment" they consider you fair game. Really. Guys, take a hint: no married men means - no married men.))

So for now, the collection collects nothing but dust.

Maybe eventually, I'll be settled enough to look. But right now, if it doesn't fall into my lap... it's not gonna happen.

Search for a muse

(short note: I'm started keeping a rather vanilla blog on Yahoo 360. I dunno why. But if you happen to read both, this one will be the more graphic of the two /wink)

I feel actually very settled lately, despite some odd tumultuous things happening around me.

And that means, my mind is buzzing, because I want to write.

I have been blessed in the past with four muses. Two of them were my exes, but two of them were men I had no physical relationship with. The first of them inspired 75% of my book of poetry. The other - a grouping of six stories written nearly two years ago now - six of my best.

None of them are available to me anymore, and so the time has come to open myself up to the possibility of a new muse.

I'm not sure why I write better when I am inspired by every day conversation, but I do. The smallest hint of an attitude; the shortest phrase; the quietest hint of laughter - these things can inspire pages and pages of writing to come pouring out of me.

So what does a muse do?

Nothing, really. I mean, in it's most basic terms, a muse inspires. I couldn't choose someone for a muse that didn't inspire me in one way or another. And believe it or not, having your dominant for your muse is not clever; you write for him, then - and not for yourself - and that's counterproductive to having a muse. (Tried that, twice. While I did some good writing during those periods, none of it was for me - it was all for them)

So, anyway.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I'm moving.

I need to get closer to work before the snow starts flying. No way am I doing that drive in the blizzards again this year.

I looked a duplex yesterday that I really liked. I filled out the app, am just waiting to hear now. It's not perfect, but it's spacious and it will feel more like a home than the little 2 bedroom apartment I have now. There's tons of room to move around in, and I think it'll be a good deal. No sliding doors for the kitties, but a ton of windows and good light.

I'm ready to move. I need a fresh start. The 2 years I lived in my apartment were separation years. With the divorce nearly done, I need to start clean. Make a place *mine*

It's time to get back to myself. Or, find myself. Or invent myself. I haven't quite decided yet

Terms of Endearment

Have you ever noticed....that changing or removing one letter from a term of endearment that you would use for a lover changes that same term into something you'd use for a friend?

Darling becomes darlin

Baby becomes babe

If you take ey of honey and use hon - it becomes a universal term.

I use darlin a lot in reference to close friends. I would never call the same people darling, it just wouldn't be right.

When you first get into a relationship, babe seems appropriate where baby does not. When you've been with someone awhile, baby seems to capture intimacy you've developed.

And maybe that's what this is. Intimacy.

It's all right to call someone darlin - it's flip and it's casual. Darling, however, speaks of a loving relationship with someone. Same with baby.

See, when you have a 45-60 minute commute each way to work, you have way too much time to ponder the English language and our usage thereof.

Ah, well. That's all over soon - I think I found a duplex in town where I work!

Better

I'm a bit better today.

I think yesterday's anger was my mind's way of letting me rest. The week before this was turmoil personified. Sunday was the cumulation of that. And my pysche needed a break.

Eternal optimism isn't healthy in the long run, especially when it means getting your heart run over by a truck twenty times a year.

I think I'll be in cautious mode for awhile.

Angry

I'm angry.



I feel like I'm being forced to go cut my own switch off the tree to get beat with.



I feel like I'm being punished for something I had nothing to do with.



And I am.



5 years ago on October 12th, I married the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with.



2 years ago, this man decided that being married no longer suited him; that he wanted to be responsible for himself and only himself.



6 months ago, I told this man I was ready - file the damn papers, let's be done.



A week ago, I drove to Virignia to go to the attorney with him.



Yesterday, when I spoke to him, he told me he didn't have time to file the papers himself.



Yea. That's being responsible for yourself, you jackass.



Let's punish Jill, who doesn't want this - who never wanted this - who believes in commitment and believes in finding ways to work things out. Let's make sure that Jill feels as absolutely terrible about this whole thing as she possible can so there's no chance in heaven or hell she will ever look at you the same. Let's make Jill do all the work and suffer through all the consequnces alone while you're off having your 'freedom' and your 'self-responsibility'.



Let's be sure we sink that fucking knife in just as deeply as we can so that the scar is permanent.



Did I mention I was angry?

*sighs* I dunno why I don't learn .....

.... that just because you believe in something doesn't make it true.



Let it never be said that I caved on my commitments.

Let it never be said that I didn't give 100% of who and what I am.

Let it never be said that I didn't love to the best of my ability.

Let it never be said that your heart can break a million times before you finally start repair.

Let it never be said that tears don't cleanse.

And let it never be said that - well - that you're never too old to fall for the same shit, year after year.

Papers are being filed this week, by my own hand. I want my life back.

10 Things

I wrote this for another purpose, but thought I'd post it here as well.

10 things you should know about me


1. I'm not a relgious person. I was raised Roman Catholic and remained so until I was about 26 years old (more on that in #3). I don't miss it, never did. I'm a very spiritual person, and I do believe in God, but that's not all I believe in. I'm not a fan of organized religion at all. I don't have anything against people who are, but I'm just not one of them.


2. I'm 41 years old (you knew that lol). That means a lot of things but mostly it means that I'm past an age where I really want to have any kids. I still can. I just don't think it's something I'm going to be unfulfilled if I don't do. I have 3 grown stepdaughters (not legally but that is what our relationship is - I raised them) from a previous relationship. I have a niece and a nephew that I adore. So if I don't have any, I'm more than fine with that. I haven't made it so I can't, I just don't think I will.


3. Growing up, and until I moved to California, I was a liberal. That is no longer the case for the most part lol. California will beat the liberal right out of you if you live there long enough. I do hold a few liberal views still - the main being that I am rabidly pro-choice. I have a long story that relates to that, and my not being Catholic anymore. I'll share it sometime.


4. I'm not one of these women who roll out of bed and head for the hair dryer and makeup. Makeup for me is special occasion stuff, not an every day thing (cept for a bit of lipstick sometimes). I don't take 20 minutes on my hair, I don't spend hours shopping for clothes (ew). I dress to impress myself, or whoever I'm seeing and that's pretty much it. At home I sleep with my hair in a ponytail so it doesn't get all tangled up. On the other hand, I'm a big fan of clothes and lingerie that show off any assets I may have (*wink*) but I'm not what anyone would consider a "girly girl" and I don't think I own anything pink :p None of that, is of course, to say I'm not vain about a few things, mainly my hair lol. It's taken a long time to grow it out this far, and I'm very vain about it.


5. I'm a very affectionate person. My dad's side of the family was very much like that, and I've carried it into adulthood. I do realize that there is a time and place (I was also raised with pretty good manners lol) but it's part of who I am. I'm also a very sexual person, which is expressed in many ways other than sex *chuckle*


6. My writing is very important to me. It's my craft, and I've worked very hard to get it to the point it's at now. Having said that, I do tend to be lazy about it sometimes (say, for the last year) and don't do near as much of it as I should. But once I am inspired, and have the energy to do it - that's all I want to do. On the other hand, I read like a fiend. Typically, I have a book at the keyboard with me for when it gets boring. Quite often, I find the written word carries more weight with me than the spoken.


7. I don't have much of a temper. It takes me a long time to get super angry, and it typically burns off quickly. This is not to say it doesn't happen; it does. Just not often and not for very long. I try very hard not to carry grudges, or base decisions on past judgements. I'm very philosophical about stuff like that.


8. I don't collect much of anything, except dragonflies. My bedroom is done up in Arthurian Legend art and assorted things that remind me of that period, including a celtic tapestry and a huge bed *chuckle*. I make candles (and soap, and incense) at home, so there are tons of those all over my house. My living room is mostly in blues, though it wasn't planned, just kinda happened that way. Most everything else in the house is red, which is my favorite color. I have some family furniture, but most of my stuff is heavy, substansial furniture. I prefer it, just for the look.


9. I'm not a barhopper. I did a lot of that when I was younger and I don't have much use for it now. When I go out, it's usually just with friends. I prefer quiet - with an occasional concert thrown in for good measure. I do like going to the movies, and out to dinner (sorta, less now with the band, its typically wasteful to buy a whole dinner for me). I also like to stay home and watch movies on the couch, where I can be comfortable and not have to listen to some idiots cell phone /wink. Typically I'll watch anything - except football (I don't get it) and I'm not much of a science fiction fan, although I have acquired a taste for some of it.


10. I'm a romantic. Little gestures mean a lot to me, and I try to return the favor as often as possible. I'm not big on jewelry (I wear rings - all silver - all my jewelry is - I wear earrings occasionaly - I do not now, nor have I ever - owned a diamond and don't really care to). I don't care much for roses anymore either (in my experience, they have always been an apology) but lillies are my favorite, and I try to have them in house once a month or so. I take great care to let people I care about - know that I care about them. I don't expect to always have a gesture returned - for heaven's sakes - lol but it's nice to know they are appreciated.

From a Dream

I tried not to wake you when I crawled into bed, but you looked so peaceful lying there asleep that I wanted to lay my head on your chest to know you were real.... my cheek touched your skin and your arms wrapped around me tightly, rolling me onto my side and as you curled yourself up behind me, you mumbled something that sounded like "what's the matter, babe?" - and my response, a whisper as I settled into your embrace feeling warm and safe - "not a damn thing."

So much better

I made a commitment to myself many months ago.

It was about how I was going to handle my personal relationships - or rather - how I was not going to handle them.

In my 41 years on this planet, I have never been courted. I have fallen into easy relationships, or I have gone after ones that I have wanted in the past, but I'm not doing that anymore.

Nope, that's right. If you want me, the move is yours and you'd better make it, because I won't.

I struggle with that, make no mistake. Old habits die hard, and they are always lurking in the back of my mind, waiting to spring out at absolutely the wrong time.

I do my best to beat them down /wink.

I've been alone now for about 2 years. That's a pretty long stretch for me. Typically, I'd be out pounding the "pavement" so to speak, looking for someone to at least keep my bed warm.

But being picky has it's advantages, I'm thinking. And, to be honest, I'm not feeling any major "hurry up" urge to seek out "the next one." either. Of course it'd be nice to have someone, and my bed does get a might cold - but I've got some major new-found confidence in the last several months, and right now, that's keeping me plenty toasty /wink.

I went to Philadelphia this past weekend, to spend time with a group of people (mostly my "guild") from Everquest. Some that I've known for years, some I've not known as long. I had an absolutely amazing time, and I have to say that I looked better - and especially - I felt better than I have in Years. 2 years ago, I would not have made that trip. But so much has changed for me in that time, that I absolutely needed to go. And I'm so fucking happy that I did.

I am currently 35.2 pounds from my weightloss goal. Who'd have thought? It hasn't even quite been a year yet :) I'd love to be 30 pounds from goal when my "band-iversary" rolls around in 3 weeks, but we'll see. I'm damn happy being where I am.

It's all good. All of it.

Take advantage of whatever makes you smile today. The more you smile, the better you feel.

Conflicts

Listening to: Nickleback

All's well here. Trying to slow things down enough so that I can update a bit more often as well as take better care of some things that need taken care of.

I'm a conflict.

I'm a very logical person. That's what makes me good at my job. I like black and white, yes and no, stay and go. I like absolutes. I like rules. I dislike living in the grey and assumptions.

I'm also a very creative person, and somewhat ethereal, as you know from reading here.

These two things do not go together very well. Now that my work on Me has started winding down, those two parts of me have started to do battle for control. /sigh

It'll run it's course
I wonder who'll win :)

catch up!

It’s a lazy rainy Sunday morning. Let’s play catch up.

What’s going on with me: Well, work and lots of it. Writing when I can; I finished a brief outline on the book I’ve been working on for 2 years, hoping it will motivate me to start piecing together the bits and pieces I’ve written and filling in the missing stuff. I had a fill in the band, and met one goal, started working on another. Started a long arduous process of some much-needed dental work on my lower teeth. Been playing EQ and WoW sporadically.

I’m on the fourth book of the Song of Ice and Fire Trilogy by George RR Martin. I’m enthralled by series, and will be sad when I reach the end of this book.

I’m taking a long weekend at the end of this month to go visit friends in Philly.

My ex still hasn’t filed divorce papers. I’m beginning to wonder if he really wanted one as badly as he seemed to think /shrug. Time will tell I guess.

Do I have a love life? No. Do I want a love life? Not really, not right now. A sex life might be nice though ?

Okay, you’re caught up.

Maybe now I can get busy with some more fun stuff to write about ?