To think on - well, me anyway.

The future is unwritten.

There is still too much for me to do and see in this life for me to accept my past as my future.

*grin*

Home, Safe, Feeling better

Just a quick note to let y'all know I got home Tuesday night from the hospital, and am recovering nicely. :) No regrets. No second thoughts.

My new tagline: "If you can't treat me like the princess I am, please feel free to fuck off at any time."

What is means: My self-confidence grows by the day, as it has since the middle of summer. Regardless of how I like to be treated in the bedroom *grin*, outside of that and in my life as a whole - you'd better be prepared to treat me right~

*grins*

(No, it's not the drugs I swear!) *laugh*

Where I've been, Where I'll be

Quiet, I know. Been busy here, getting ready for my surgery.

Gastric Band (second article, NOT the top one!

This is something I've wanted to have done for a long time. Because of Tri-Care (Navy Insurance) I am able to have it done.

My surgery is tomorrow, and I should be home Tuesday night at the latest. I'm not nervous or scared, more excited that finally having this done removes my last excuse for moving my life forward. For that, I'm happy.

So I'll see y'all soon :)

Writing, different veins

Well, I'm still writing, although not as much erotica as I'd like. I hate to say I had a 2 week party with it and it's all gone - cause I know that's not true. It'll be back. I just have to be patient.

I am however, still writing.

I started a short story to explain why my EQ Charecter, Sola, who is an evil dark elf cleric - married a goody-2-shoes high elf paladin in game. I meant it to be maybe 1 or 2 pages.

It's now over 90 pages and still going. While I realize if I ever want to do anything with it, I'll have to go back and remove all references to Everquest and change all the names, right now, I'm still enjoying writing it.

“Do not push me, Amytal. You will not like the result.”

“I’m not pushing, Princess. Well, okay, maybe I am a little. But why put off the inevitable?” He had tried twice on the long walk from the castle to the church to take her arm, and both times, she rebuked him.

“Because unlike the first part of this ordeal, I can take my own time with this part.”

“Your father is ready for his healers now.”

“My father will have to wait until I am ready to bear them!” she shouted, once again pulling away from him. “I have been through one tribulation today and I will not be pushed into another!”

Amytal, angered by her reticence, grabbed her arm again, and held it tightly this time, his fingers digging into her skin. “Listen to me, Princess, and listen well. This…depression of yours will not go on for long. I for one will guarantee that, for if you push –me-, I will see to it that the choice is no longer yours!”

So much writing...

...and so little else.

Okay, okay. Personal update.

Um, things are the same *chuckle* No, really, not much has changed. I'm looking hard for a job, my dad had his knee surgery and after seeing him yesterday and how well he's getting around, I'm very happy and relieved. Chatted with C a bit last week, things are finally on a straight, even ground between us, and talking to each other is much more comfortable - two friends, checking in. /nod as it should be. The last thing I want is an acrimonious divorce, and I know he doesn't want that either. So it's all good.

Awhile back, I stated pretty plainly that I wasn't so sure I belonged in d/s or wanted it anymore. Well, scratch that completely. I do, and I do. And recently, I've been reminded just how much of a part of me it is.

In addition to the mass writing frenzy, I've been looking for a new publisher for my book, and at the possibility of adding another book of stories to the collection. Unbound went out of business (with absolutely no notice to it's writers, thankyouverymuch) and I'm beside myself with frustration over the entire process of publishing that book. So much so, that I have considered self-publishing and distribution rather than going through that horrible process again. I'm still looking at options, but maybe that'll be what happens.

So, that's me. Writing, being inspired to write, and enjoying my creative streak.

Thank you for all the emails and comments. Y'all truly make my day.

Show Off

...and yet again tonight, inspired~

“So, I can do this, if I like.” He slapped the side of her breast quickly, and then moved his hand to slap the outside of the other one. “I can sit here, and slap your tits around all I like, can’t I?”
She grimaced, but nodded. “If you like.”
“I do like.” He said lightly, and smacked them again. “I like to watch them bounce. But I especially like the look of hate in your eyes when I hurt you.”
Instinctively, she closed her eyes.
He slapped her cheek again, a little harder this time. “Open up those big fucking green eyes, cunt. Those are mine, and I want to see them.”
She growled at him, but complied.
“You keep them focused on my face. I don’t want to see them close, or look away. Clear?”
“Yes.” She whispered.
Both his hands at her breasts now, he moved his fingers to her nipples. “These are most certainly mine.” He pinched them roughly, then let go, and them pinched them again, keeping them firmly in his grasp. He pulled upwards, watching her face go from sullen to twisted in pain. “So pretty…” he whispered hotly. “So pretty when I’m hurting you…” He continued to pull upward, lifting her breasts high with her nipples. “You’re so proud of these fucking things….let’s pull them up and really show them off.”

What a *Bad* Girl Gets...

This is a an excerpt from a new story written today. It's a companion piece to "What A Good Girl Gets" (See here). I knew I wanted to write about these two again, but until today, I didn't know exactly how I was going to manage to do that, without being repetitive. I think - I hope - I've accomplished that with this one:

She heard him come back into the room, and lifted her head a little from where she had rested it on the pillows. She felt his weight on the bed behind her, and she straightened her back.
“Have you learned anything tonight, baby?” he asked.
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, Daddy, not to sass you.”
“And?”
When she didn’t respond he immediately, he reached under her and drew the scrap of black satin out, showing it to her. “And??” he asked again.
“Not to wear those kinds of panties.”
“Because…”
“Because they aren’t appropriate for me…”
“Why else?”
Again, she didn’t respond. “You don’t know?” he questioned. “Do I need to show you why?” He slid off the bed and stood next to it. “Look at me.” He demanded.
She turned her head slowly, facing him. His cock was already hard, but when his eyes met her face, and saw the black makeup washed part way down her cheeks by her very real tears from the spanking he felt it jump and grow yet harder. He reached down and grasped it by the root. “This is why, babydoll. This is what those panties do to men, especially when we see them under that short little skirt.”
She stared, her eyes wide, but did not respond.
“This is a lesson you need to learn, and I’m going to teach it to you tonight so I don’t ever have to do it again.” He said softly, crawling back on the bed behind her. “This is going to hurt, but you have to trust that Daddy just wants you to learn…”
“Daddy, no please, I understand.” She begged.
“I don’t think you do. If you did, you wouldn’t be back talking me again now.” Letting the tip of his cock brush against her, he reached for the small bottle he had laid on the bed.
She groaned and let her head fall down against the pillow again. He quickly grabbed her hair and yanked it back up. “Bad girl.” He admonished. “Do you remember what happened last time I caught you wearing bad girl underwear?”
“Yes, Daddy…”
“You remember how I rewarded you when you said you wouldn’t wear them again?”
“Yes…”
“I’m not doing that this time. Because you apparently didn’t learn anything. This time, Daddy has to teach you a much harsher lesson.”
She whimpered quietly and struggled to keep her head up. She wanted to argue. Words kept coming to her lips; begging words, pleading words. But she stopped them before they could escape, knowing it would only make things worse.
After warming the lube from the small bottle between his palms, he coated his cock liberally with it, and then poured a little more onto his fingertips. He did not bother to warm it up before slipping his fingers into the crack of her ass. Her shrieks made him grin evilly. “Suffer, bitch.” He growled, and picked up the lube bottle again, letting the cold liquid drizzle straight from the cap, and watched as it slid down, making her shiver. “Be happy I’m using any lube at all…” Recapping the bottle, he tossed it off the bed, and watched her jump slightly when it hit the floor.

You be the judge *grin*

And they just. keep. coming.

From Letting Go (written today)

Slapping the tip against her skin one more time, he brought the crop back up his chest, crossing his arms. “Tell me.”

She groaned, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to deal with the
pain.

“Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes.” He growled, and slapped the crop
against her left breast.

She screamed again, cursing at him. But she opened her eyes. “I see that you’re going to make me make you cry.” He said, his eyes narrowed. “You know I love your tears, but there are more enjoyable ways for me to get them than this.” With the tip of the crop, he pulled at the chain between the clamps, moving her breasts slightly back and forth, and watching her grimace. “Come on, bitch, cry for me. Maybe that’ll open you up.”

"No!” she shouted.

“No?” he said, a sarcastic questioning look in his eyes. “No? Really? No, you won’t cry? Or, no, you won’t open up?”

She groaned in frustration. “Both!”

“The proper answer, you spoiled little princess, is neither.” He tossed the crop down on the floor and stood up. “You will cry, I promise you that.” Putting his left hand against her jaw, he pulled back and slapped her lightly with his right hand.

She cried out, but did not speak.

Again, he slapped her, a little harder this time. “Tears, bitch. I want to see those tears.” Rhythmically, he started to slap her lightly, one after another until her eyes glazed over, and her face fell forward. He saw her eyes close, but let it go for now, knowing she was starting to sink deeper into the headspace he wanted her in to begin with. “That’s my good girl.” He whispered. “Let it all go now. Tell Daddy what you really want.”

She didn’t respond. He gave her a moment to roll around in the field of her other place before he spoke again. “Come on, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“I’m frightened.” She said in a small voice.
“Of what?”
“Of what will happen when I say it.”

Territorial

Maybe you can tell. I have a new muse.

I met him online, as has been my habit for the last several years. I met him in an unsuspecting place, in a relatively tame, vanilla way, but the longer we spoke, the more of our darkness' we let out, and in doing so, I have found in him someone who has ideas and viewpoints that rattle me. We chat nearly every day, and almost every day, an innocuous word from him will inspire my inner erotica writer, and I will begin a new story.

(No, it's not a relationship other than a mutual respect for each other's seemingly bottomless pit of perversities. I'm not looking for much more than that, and neither is he.)

"I’m not a selfish man.” He said in a low tone. “I’m willing to allow you to fuck other men anytime you choose. But this part of you,” he continued. “this part of you kneeling in the tub at my command, this is mine, and mine alone. I will not share it. Am I making myself clear?”
She nodded, her breathing starting to become less even and more labored. “Yes, Master.” She whispered.
“So, I don’t need to tell you again.”
“No, Master.”
“Do I need to show you, or anyone else what is mine?”
Automatically, she responded. “No, Master.”
“I think perhaps I do.”
The finality in his voice kept her from responding. Her knees, cold in the water against the tile, shook a little, as she waited for him to continue.
Stepping closer to the tub, he grabbed a handful of her hair carelessly and pulled her head back. “Stay like that. And keep your eyes closed.” Taking hold of his cock with his right hand, he leaned over her, and braced his left hand against the back wall of the shower. “The things you make me do to you…” he grunted, as he closed his own eyes, and felt a stream of piss rise up through his cock.
Her eyes still closed, she felt the warm water-like liquid hit her skin, and was confused for a moment. She could feel the bathtub spout still pouring water into the tub around her legs, and the temperature was much warmer than that anyway… With a jolt, her body actually reacting physically to the thought, she let out a small whimper.

A Peg or Two

And the writing frenzy continues.....

“Crawl over here to me.” He said confidently. She hesitated, and he added, “Now, bitch. Don’t make me come get you.”
He watched her gasp, and then slowly fall forward onto her hands. She started to move slowly toward him. “Look at me.”
“I…I can’t…” she whispered, still moving slowly across the carpet.
“You can, and you will.” He set his drink down on the table near the doorway, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Slowly, her head rose up, and she met his eyes briefly before looking back at the floor.
“Keep your eyes right here. There’s nothing on the floor for you to see. Look at me.”
She groaned loudly and stopped moving. He watched her struggle, her emotional fight becoming almost physical as she labored to raise her head again, to meet his eyes.
When she finally succeeded, he nodded. “Now, get here.”
Long moments passed for them both before she finally arrived at his feet. To her credit, she kept her eyes focused upward on his. “Good girl.” He said again, reaching down and stroking her hair. “You see how fun it can be when you close your mouth and let me open mine?”
She didn’t reply; her mind still three feet back on the carpet that she had just crawled over.
“I can smell you” he whispered hotly. “You’re soaked, aren’t you?”
She managed to nod at him.
“Answer me out loud. I want to see if there’s any of that smart-ass left in you for now.”
“Yes.” She squeaked.
“Better.” Thinking for a moment, he continued. “Stand up, and go up to the bedroom. Kneel in the middle of the bed, hands at your side. Face away from the door.” He surprised himself in how easy the words and commands came to his lips.
She nodded, and stood up. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the stairs and climbed them, her head bent forward slightly.

I dunno where it's coming from, but I'm not going to complain~

Wow.

I've been doing very little but writing for nearly a week now. It's in me and it must come out! *chuckle*

I've started working on a much longer story, based on characters of myself and friends from Everquest. I've written it in the vein of the game, but if I ever want to do anything with it, I'll have to change the names and places, etc. That's all right. It's 72 fucking pages right now, and it's a strong story with strong characters and it's fun as hell to write.

Course, then this came pouring out of me tonight.... 3 pages of unadultered erotica...an excerpt:

She heard his key in the lock, and then the door shut behind him. Still unsure of what was to happen, she stayed quietly in the kitchen, looking busy. His footsteps were heavy on the floor, and she heard his briefcase and keys hit the dining room table before he approached her.

Grabbing her roughly by winding his right hand into her hair, he turned her around. His arm went around her waist before she lost her balance, and he pulled her tightly to him, crushing his lips down onto hers. Biting her, nibbling at her tongue, he kept his grip strong in her hair as he worked the short hemline of the dress up, and over her hips. Turning her, he pushed her backwards, into the corner by the pantry.

Completely aroused by his dominance, she melted into him and moved her hands to
his chest, to try to remove his jacket. He pulled his lips from hers, and growled into her ear. “On your knees, bitch.”

Feeling weak from the suddenness of this animal passion of his, she complied, sliding to her knees on the kitchen floor. “Spread your thighs apart.” She heard him say, and moved her knees outward slightly. “More.” He moved his foot in between her thighs, and pushed her right leg outward until he was satisfied.

Keeping her hair wrapped tightly around one hand, he reached down and opened his
fly, pulling his cock out of its confinement. Already hard, it leapt at her and she wanted to immediately put her mouth to it, but she waited. “Stare at it and get hungry, my little cockslut.” His left hand now free, he roughly pulled the shoulders of her dress down her arms, and then reached into the red lace bra beneath the dress, and forcefully pulled her breasts out of it, so that her nipples peaked over the top.
“You certainly did dress the part today, didn’t you, whore?” he growled again. “Put your hands down… behind your back.” When she didn’t comply quickly enough
for him, he said it again, louder. “Do it now. Don’t make me make you do it.”

Her mind was a blur. If she thought she had been aroused all day waiting for this, she had no idea what the actual act could provoke. She could smell herself clearly in the air, and feel her lips sliding apart and together as she breathed heavily.

He didn’t give her time to ponder this. “You know what I want. Give my cock the attention it deserves.” Tentatively, she let her tongue slid out from between her plump lips, and licked the head of his dick, giving him what he normally enjoyed. He growled, pulling her forward a little and parting her lips with the head of his cock. “Suck me off, slut.”

Without hesitation, she slid her lips part way down his shaft, and pulled them tightly around him as she glided back up, leaving a trail of bright red lipstick along his skin as she went. Repeating the move a few times, she felt his hand tighten again in her hair. “You can take more than that. Show me. Show me how much you want that cock,
baby.” She moaned loudly, taking a little more of him into her mouth and partially down her throat. She still could not form a cohesive thought and she was beyond
caring, so lost to this… scene he had created. She started sucking at him in earnest, letting her tongue dance along the top of his shaft as she ran her lips over it.

Still unsatisfied, he put his left hand down into her hair as well. “I guess I’ll have to do it myself…” he barked. Planting his feet firmly on the floor, he started to pull her head close to him, shoving himself further and further into her mouth until he felt her choke. He pulled her backwards, until just the head remained inside her lips, and then yanked her forward again, a little further. “That’s better…that’s my good little slut.”

Writing just feels so...good. I waited a long time for my muse to reappear, and apparently, it's done more than reappear....it has inspired....a lot.

thank you for your comments...they are most appreciated....

I just have to post today, cause last night, I wrote my first long erotica story in many many months.

An excerpt:

“What … do you have on under that blouse young lady?” He asked, pulling the glass from her hand, and setting it back onto the table before it reached her lips.
With a hurt look, she moved back, and pulled her legs up under her, so that she was kneeling on the couch, facing him. “A bra…”
“What kind of bra??”
“A new one…” she whispered.
“New?” He struggled to keep his hands to himself, but raised an eyebrow at her, his heart thumping in his chest.
She nodded, lowering her face again. “I got it downtown.”
“Do you think you bought an appropriate bra to wear under your uniform?”
She shook her head slightly, not raising it.
“Then why are you wearing it?”
“It’s…pretty.”
“Well, I’m sure it is, but that doesn’t mean you should be wearing it.” He lifted her chin again. “I think you better show me…”
“I don’t want …”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I said, show me.”
She looked in his eyes then and bit her bottom lip. Without a word, she reached up and began to slowly unbutton the proper white blouse.
When her hands descended to the button above her navel, he reached out and grabbed them gently, lowering them. With his index finger, he parted the sides of the blouse, and peered inside.
He looked up at her again quickly, and then parted the front of the shirt a little more. He swallowed hard before saying “Do you really think a black lace pushup bra is appropriate under your uniform, missy?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed both sides of the blouse, and yanked it apart, popping the remaining two buttons off and sending them bouncing across the hardwood floor. The sound of the plastic hitting the floor, combined with the gasp of shock coming from between her plump pink lips exploded in his head, and he roughly pulled the blouse the rest of the way off her arms and tossed it on the floor.
She was looking at him, her huge green eyes wide in shock. He didn’t know if it belonged in her game, or if it was genuine, but he was past caring either way. “Definitely not appropriate for school.” He admonished her, his index finger gently sliding along the slope of her breast near the lace. Without waiting to hear an excuse, he let his finger dip inside the cup, under the lace, feeling the contrast between the roughness of the material and the softness of her skin. He let his finger continue to slide upward, to the strap and under it, until he reached her shoulder.
Looking up into her eyes, he continued, “Not appropriate for little girls at all.” Both his hands went around her, to her back, and grasped the sides of the bra firmly. “Not remotely appropriate for you at all.” With a grunt, he pulled both sides away from each other forcefully, tearing the fabric and then pulling the offending garment completely off her and tossing it on the floor as if it were poisoned.
She yelped, her green eyes growing even wider as she reached up with her hands to cover herself. “No!” she cried, and tried to slide off the couch to retrieve the lingerie.
He grabbed her arm harshly, and pulled her back to the spot. “No, indeed.” Grabbing both her wrists in one strong hand, he pulled them out and away from her body. The lace had left tiny impressions in the skin of her full breasts, and he longed to taste them. Her light pink nipples stood up and almost audibly begged for attention as her gasping breaths moved her chest up and down fiercely.
“Only bad girls wear bras like that. I thought you were a good girl.” Still holding her hands in one of his, his other hand slowly moved toward her left breast, to cup it in his palm. “Aren’t you a good girl?”
“I am!” she whimpered. “I am a good girl!”
“You must not be, to wear a bra like that…” Squeezing her breast firmly, he unwrapped his fingers from it, and let his palm dance against her hard nipple. He felt her shiver, and grinned menacingly. “No, you can’t possibly be a good girl.”
A shudder of delight ran up her spine, and she struggled unconvincingly against his hold on her. “I am! I swear it.” She cried, her eyes closed.
“So you say…” Pulling her hands down onto his leg and trapping them there, he leaned in closer to her, and gently bit her nipple, then pulled it into his mouth and allowed his tongue to dance around it. Leaning back for a breath he growled softly “But I don’t believe…not for a minute.”
As his mouth returned to her breast, her head lolled back and a soft groan escaped her lips. She feebly attempted again to pull her hands away from his, but had trouble finding the energy to struggle against him.
He drew his mouth from her and looked into her face. “If I lift that dainty skirt of yours, am I going to find something equally inappropriate?”

Ahhh....it felt so good to write again....I must write more....

I won't say it was easy, cause it wasn't. Having not slept with anyone in a year - not having any real motivation or inspiriation to write, I took a small piece of a conversation with a friend, and it just lead...here.

Here's to hoping there is more inspiration around the corner!

Revelations

Wow, so.

First things first. I finally got some answers from C. Not exactly the answers that I wanted, but I'm okay with that. We're done, but we're not filing papers yet, for some financial reasons. Neither of us want this to be acrimonious, so hopefully we'll be able to both be grownups and just simply deal. I've accepted all of it, and I'm not feeling too damn bad lately.

Which is probably why.....

... I've made some new friends in Warcraft. Some of the friends that came over from Everquest with me have quit playing and I miss them. But I joined a guild with some of the ones who have stuck around and met some nice folks, and some really fucked up folks. Typical of every part of life.

Anyway, I started chatting a lot with a guy who was heavily flirting with me. We were grouped in game one day with some other folks, and making this very long run, and flippantly (as only I can do), I said in chat "Are we there yet, daddy?" Seconds later, I get a private message from this guy, telling me that using that word with him could prove dangerous if I wanted him to leave me alone. Thus began what I'll call -- The Conversation about Control and Domination.

For the last three or four days, we have discussed many many aspects of Dominance and submission. For never having been involved in the BDSM community this guy (ok ok, let's call him B.) has many desires, insights and understandings that people who've been around in the community for years have yet to acheive. The conversations have been titilating, thought provoking and have served to remind me just exactly what it is that I enjoyed about this lifestyle.

I'll be honest. When I left Viriginia I kinda expected that I wasn't going to be involved in d/s at least for a long while. And it has been eight months. But I seem to now again be drawn into my own desires for domination.

And I'm kinda happy about that :)

So I'm back on track kids. Let's keep this train a-rollin'

Discovering the Bitch Inside

So I've been reading a lot.

And I've discovered a few things.

I chase.

Oh, I don't mean chasing like in high school where you chase boys. But it's the same principle, only on an adult scale.

I make the phone calls. I schedule the times to see each other. I let it be known I'm ready to sleep with someone without them doing the work. As a matter of fact, I don't make them do any work. I do it all. And then after I've done it for awhile, I start to feel bad because I'm the one doing all the work and the other person isn't doing any. When in reality, I set that up from the git go.

I dunno why I've done it. There are all kinds of possible reasons for it. But what I do know is I can't do it anymore. Because every relationship I've had has followed the same pattern, and they've turned out like shit.

See this pattern in yourself? Get this book: Why Men Love Bitches Frankly, most of it is crap, but there are some very specific areas of the book that made me go - YES! That's ME!

I'm feeling better.
And I'm smiling.

So, I've talked to C several times in the last few weeks. Sunday, I sat down and wrote this:


There was this girl, see.

She was born with a huge heart, big green eyes, and white-blonde curls. She was the younger of two girls, loved by her parents and grandparents alike. She got good grades, had good friends, and participated in school activities. She was musical and creative and something about her glowed when she was happy.

But her heart wasn’t the only thing about her that was larger-than-life. And as hard as she worked, and as hard as she tried, she always felt like she was making up for her non-standard appearance with her achievements.

“If I try just a little harder, maybe they’ll all forget that I’m big.”

And maybe they did. But she could not.

Being the big girl became the only thing she really saw about herself. Oh, she knew she was smart, pretty, creative. She knew she had a flair for writing. She knew she was a good cook, a helpful person, compassionate and caring. She knew she had great eyes and lips and hair, long legs, a pretty smile.

But that was never what she saw when she looked in the mirror. All she ever saw was how big she was, how her face was distorted, and how she couldn’t seem to smile when she gazed at her own appearance.

And then, after many years, along came this boy.

This boy loved her, even when she couldn’t seem to love herself. He encouraged her and he supported her as he loved her. Over the course of eleven years, they came together passionately and parted sadly three times.

When she left him the third time, tears streaming down her cheeks, she still blamed the fact that she was big.

Then the girl spent six months alone, far away from him. She didn’t know when she left him that she felt any of these things. She didn’t know that she didn’t love herself. And she didn’t know how to start, but she knew she had to. Not because the boy told her, but because the hollowness and sadness in her own huge heart told her.

So she spent five months starting to. Every time she felt better about herself, she wanted to call the boy and tell him so, but she couldn’t. She was afraid if she said it out loud, it would sound foolish and she would feel bad about herself again.

“Such a simple thing, loving yourself.” She thought. “It’s not an accomplishment; it’s something I should have always done.”

So even when the boy and the girl started talking again, she held this new part of herself back. She hoped he would see it, but she didn’t say it out loud. “When I am whole, he will see it.” She thought to herself.
----
Tonight, I added this:

There came a point one day, when the girl felt good enough about herself to start looking for a new job. She had sent resumes in before, but one morning she just felt more ready than she had before. As she started to apply for a job that sounded perfect for her, she hesitated, and stopped to think about why.

“I don’t want to be here.” She thought simply. “I want to be with that boy.”

She called the boy and they talked. She told him that she wanted him, and started to tell him what she would do to compromise. The boy was hesitant, so the girl stopped, thinking to herself.

“I respect myself too much to go any further if he isn’t willing. I will stop, and wait. And see.”

And she waits.

She wants the boy more than anything. But not if it means giving up her new self-respect and loving herself to have him. “I will not beg. I would give my all to him, but I will not beg him to take it.”

-----

I'm feeling very sad today. I wish I could make that go away.

New look

Even I tend to get bored..... so I got a new template. I like it. Hopefully, the comments, etc will be working now again.

I know the old-timers have probably stopped being interested so much here, as my D/s discussion seems to be...lacking. I do hope to get back to it at some point. I just want to make sure that what I say isn't affected by my feelings about my separation from C. I'd hate to have to go back and delete entries later.

So, be patient with me. The Goddess is still ironing out (or in) my kinks.

Over the years, I guess I've become far too dependent on D/s. Because simple issues - relationship issues - now confuddle the hell out of me, and I struggle to know how to handle them.

A couple posts ago, I wrote about someone I had been acting far too submissive to. This is a situation that needs to be handled, but since he's been mostly AFK for the last two weeks, it hasn't been "in my face".

Basically, what it boils down to, is it's someone I was very close to at one time, especially during my initial separation from C. Over the course of the last six months, he's pulled back further and further, til every time I see him online, if I don't initiate a conversation, one rarely happens. Of course, he denies that he's pulled away when I have approached him about it, but it's plainly obvious to me (and to everyone who came to know us as partners in game) that he's done this. He says he's busy. He doesn't get to play much. He's distracted. Well, okay, that's fine, does that keep you from sending me a /whisper with a hello? I mean, seriously. I'm not blonde on the inside for fuck's sake.

There's a lot more to the story, but that's the jist of it.

But that's not the issue. The issue I'm having is how I'm handling it. Namely, I'm not. Why?

Cause I'm afraid I'm wrong. I'm pretty sure I'm not, but maybe I am.

But the bigger issue is: This is just a friend. And I'm struggling to be blunt with him. I never had trouble being blunt with C. Or M. Or anyone else. I'd approach it from a submissive corner, of course, but my bluntness and boldness never waivered.

I've gotten so used to one kind of relationship that I'm having trouble dealing with other kinds and that pisses me right the fuck off.

Just writing that helped. I know what needs to be done. I just need to do it. I think I'll be able to now.

I'm a huge fan of words. I used to listen harder than I looked. But you know, it's true. Actions DO speak louder than words. And you can bet your ass that I'm listening now.

She steals a line from one of her favorite pictures shows
And it goes
"You break my heart. But then again, you break everyone's heart"
She touches his cheek and she turns to go
And she knows
She's better for it.

So, it's 4am, and I can't sleep. Nothing new there lately. But this is the first time I've actually resorted to taking a xanax so that I can catch a couple hours sleep.

But there's something on my mind that maybe some of the submissives that read this can relate to.

I've been without a dominant for the better part of 4 years now. C was part-time at it, at best, and only when he felt like it, which just further annoyed us both.

Lately, I've found myself being submissive to people I have no business being submissive to, and it's starting to make me feel - bad.

As a writer, I'd like to use a better word than bad there, but I can't find one.

It's not as if I've turned my life over to someone, or I've allowed them a great deal of control over a big part of my life. But it's little things, here and there. Things that - in a committed relationship would make me feel good. But here they just make me feel - bad. Not at first, of course, but over the course of time, when any kind of relationship - be it love, friendship - whatever - starts to be mostly one sided. Eventually it gets to the point where you say to yourself - ugh, have I really let this happen?

Now, I'm a huge advocate of personal responsibility and I realize fully that I have done this to myself. No one is making me feel bad, except me. And I accept that responsibility. And I know that over the next day or two, I need to resolve this situation, and let the other party know how I feel, and that the "easy train" has derailed. (and no, this isn't about sex. I'm talking about a friendship I have with another person who happens to be male - online - playing MMORPGs. I've been "partners" with him for the better part of a year now, and over the course of time, I've found myself giving much more - and especially giving in - than I should)

Anyway. That's why I'm up at 4am, and why I can't sleep, and why I feel - bad.

Old patterns are hard to break. This one needs to be shattered.

So, ya. No updates here. Mainly cause - no updates to write.

I've started outlining a fantasy novel, about Arthurian times. It's one of my favorite genres to read, and since I've had no erotica inspirations lately, and I want to write, I'm curving that way.

It's funny how I can find so many things to distract myself from what I really should be doing. Making some definitive decisions about the next few years of my life, and putting those decisions into action.

Funny, the one thing I really want to do - I can't.

I want to dye my hair red again. Really deep dark red. However, after dying my hair black for a long time in California, I became allergic to the PPD that's in commercial hair color. So that's out, unless I wanna use henna - which I've also tried, and don't care for.

When I split up from M in California, a very dear friend of mine stepped in, and filled the "dominant" part of my life, until I'd found another to fill it. Was a godsend for me at that time. I've wondered briefly if maybe I didn't need that again, but every time I think it, I just shove it right out of my head. Frankly, for the last couple years, C wasn't much of a dominant, anyway. So what's been missing has been missing for longer than just he and I being separated. I'm not real sure that's the answer for me anymore.

*chuckle* The theme of my life lately: "I'm just not sure"

I'm not sure if I want to just end this thing with C now, while I can or if I want to try to repair it. I'm not sure if I want to step back into the work world as a computer geek, go back to school for something else, find a new profession. I'm not sure if I want to stay here or go back to Portland (did I say that out loud?).

I need clarity.

Anyone got any to sell?

Okay, so, I'm 40 today.

I expected to feel awful. I don't. Maybe it's not sunk in yet lol.

My folks called first thing this morning to wish me a happy birthday. I don't really expect anyone else - namely, C, to call. He forgets birthdays and dates in general, unless someone reminds him.

So I'm gonna go about my day normally, and see where it takes me.

Okay, so. Maybe I went a little overboard there *chuckle*

One particular word has been gnawing at me lately.

Faith.

Not religious faith. No, I'm a recovering catholic with pagan tendencies and I'm quite happy with that.

I'm talking about faith in other people. Somewhere along the line over the last 20 years, I seem to have lost most of that.

I used to be a very trusting soul. Too trusting. As I said to a friend recently, I can still feel the scars when I get too close to the stove *chuckle*.

So, it takes a lot for me to put any trust into someone. And then once I do, if they burn me -- it goes deep.

That's how I feel with C right now. Not because I feel burnt by him - but because I feel as if I put trust in him when we got back together and got married that we would work *together* to make sure things worked between us. And, when we separated - and ya, even now - it seems way too easy for him, and frankly way too difficult for me.

Maybe it's not easy for him. But my lack of faith doesn't allow me to believe he's hiding anything. I try to always take people at face value. Maybe that's my problem - I don't read between the lines (so to speak) - I kinda feel that goes along with the game playing I ranted about before.

Anyway. I have a little note tacked on the bulletin board on my desk that says simply "Faith." I look at it several times during the day, and try to remind myself that -- not just with C, but other people as well - things may not be as they superficially appear.

It's a fine line we walk.
And my balance has never been good.

First of all, you guys are great. The emails and messages I’ve gotten recently – cause of my absence, and from new readers – you blow me away. You give me a great deal of reason to come back and start running off at the mouth yet again. And I thank you for that. The motivation had left me, I hope it’s starting to return.

Second, you’ll notice a relative lack of d/s in anything I’ve written lately, or may write currently, cause – there’s no d/s in my life. The man who I thought was my dominant for life – well – I’ve already told you we’re separated. Not divorced, not yet. There’s no cause for me to go looking for anyone else, and frankly – I’m just not up to it.

Why?

Cause men confuse the very fuck out of my being.

(yes, I’ll elaborate, you knew that I would.)

In the first place, I don’t like to play games in a relationship. I suck at it, it feels bad, and I’m never sure which way to flip or fly if I’m not being 100 percent *me*. I don’t fake pout and I don’t pull away to see how far I can make a guy go to pull me back. I don’t make them play favorites between their friends and me, or their family and me. I just don’t. It’s pointless. If you want someone to love you – for *you* - why would you act in a way – deceptively – if you aren’t? I don’t get it. And I don’t know that I want to.

It seems like, though, that you almost have to play some kind of games to keep guys interested. Giving your all doesn’t keep their attention. They need a challenge, they need to be kept on their toes. Is that it? Is that really how this is supposed to work?

This is not to say that the gentlemen I’ve shared my life with have not played games with me. *chuckle* No, not by a long shot. The games are many and varied. Let’s see if I can put them into words.

There is the “let’s push to see how far I can make her go to make sure she has me.” I hate that shit. Look, if I’m there, I’m there. I’m not going anywhere. Why must I be tested?

There is the Silent Treatment – which used to work exactly as intended with me, but over the years, I’ve learned that countering his silence with my own usually suffices. And that’s not playing games on my part. I really *don’t* wanna talk to someone who is trying to make me give in by cutting me off. Not even in d/s. That’s unfair and frankly shows very little respect for me.

There is “she’s submissive and she loves me. What can I make her do, just for kicks.” Okay, look. If you truly have a desire to see me in bed with a live chicken and a chainsaw, great. If you’re just doing it to try to prove to yourself how much control you have over me, I think its shitty behavior and if I catch you in it, I will call you on it.

I guess maybe I just feel testing someone *is* playing games and I don’t like it. I don’t need to be tested for fucks’ sake, take me at my word. Not doing so simply shows – again – a lack of respect for me, and a lack of faith *in* me. How do you think that endears you to me? It don’t. Period.
Is this common submissive response? Nah. Probably not. But this is *my* response right now, and I still do consider myself a submissive.

There is a line that can be crossed between being dominant and being a dick. Testing your partner crosses that line. Do you really wanna be John the Dick? Or John the Dominant? Think about that.

This, of course, is not to say that some submissives don’t like that behavior – yadda yadda yadda – your mileage may vary. (why do I still feel a need to put disclaimers on this shit?)

And here’s another thing I don’t get about men. What is it about the word “need”? You either love it or hate it, and women walk a fine fucking line every time they get into a relationship with that very word. C didn’t mind it if I said I “needed” him (but by god he hated it if I said he “needed” to do something. His response was always “I don’t need to do anything but eat sleep and breathe, everything else is optional.”). But M. hated the very idea of that word and if I so much as uttered it in the middle of a good sound fucking his hackles went up and the mood was spoiled. We want you to know we want you around. We want you to know we want you in our lives. We want you to know we miss you when you’re gone. Sometimes, that’s a need. Why must we stop and think each time before we use that word?

Do I sound frustrated? Yea, I am. Because I’m damn near 40 years old, with one divorce and one separation and one termination of a 4-year-live-in-relationship on my shoulders and it’s got me wondering – what the fuck.

[-----]

So, in trying to piece all this stuff together, which is what I’ve been doing recently in addition to working on my apartment, making candles and playing Worlds of Warcraft, I’ve not figured anything out.

Except, that something I said to M. once – during one of those famous tearful drawn out emotionally draining relationship talks – is that maybe I’m not meant for a long term relationship. Maybe I’m just a catalyst in other people’s lives. With my first husband, I got him out of a dingy 1 room apartment where he kept cash only in a drawer in his waterbed, into a house with a bank account, credit cards, and a better grasp on finances. With C, it was helping direct him back to the military and helping him handle his dad’s death. With Mark, it was helping raise the girls. I mean, seriously, is that what I’m supposed to be doing?

If so, screw relationships. I’ll find a fuck buddy and be done with it.

I am way too old for this shit.

[-----]

*chuckle* Well. Where did all that come from?

On the upside, it’s been snowing a lot and I’m happy watching it fall.

Sophie is spastic as ever. But we like our new bed, and we like our new place, and we’re warm and toasty and safe and free.

And now, you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find something productive to do, rather than rant all over you guys. *smile*.