Screamer, where are you?

So I've been carrying around my moniker of Screamer for nearly 14 years now. C gave it to me, after having enjoyed a little aural experience with me on the phone one evening *smirk*. And it stuck. I used it exclusively in BDSM circles for most of my time in them. I write BDSM essays under the name, have been published online and in print using the name (or Screamer Girl), have used it as email addresses, chat logins, etc.

But for some reason, I don't find myself using it that much anymore. Even the title of this blog doesn't have the name in it anymore. I do still have my webpage, but it's in need of an update in serious fashion. But it's faded from me somewhat, from either my use or identity.

I'd like to credit my finally letting go of C once and for all (there is no going backwards, ever again) with that, but I'm not entirely sure that's actually the case. Maybe I'm just moving beyond it. I more identify by my first name (*shock*) or my gaming handle (Sola) now.

The part of myself that earned the nickname is still alive and well, and probably much better developed - less shy, more open - than she was 14 years ago. I've written before that begging, asking, telling -- these things during sex for me at one time were unthinkable. (Back in the dark ages, you know -- my early 20's *smirk*). As I've experimented and experienced and gained a better self-knowledge though, they have become much more natural for me. I don't force it; it's either there or it's not.

I haven't had any complaints *wink*

It's just funny to me how the identity seems to be fading ....

Screamer still exists.... she just doesn't have a need to announce it anymore *smirk*

Take Care

I was having a discussion with a new friend the other evening about kink and personality. It brought a few things to mind that warranted some thought on my part.

I've said before on here that I am a caretaker. Caretakers make good submissives. In bed, out of bed, wherever. I handle things. I get things done. I want to fix little things before they get big and I want to make the person I'm with relax and feel as comfortable as I do with them. Rather than saying I do that because I'm submissive, I think the bigger truth is that I do that because I'm ME and that being that makes me a better submissive in a relationship that is set up that way.

But what about a dominant who is also a caretaker?

My friend, R in VA has a bit of caretaker in him, and he's a dominant. He related a story to me years ago about how difficult it was for his submissive to relax in a hot bath that he had given her (not like a present, like actually giving her a bath) after she'd had a long day. It was his prerogative to do so, being the 'head guy in charge' and all. But she wasn't comfortable being taken care of, because typically that's her job.

I can so relate to that. I'm pretty sure it'd make me uncomfortable as well. And unless that's what the dominant was aiming at (oh c'mon, you all like making us squirm, admit it), it'd be a tough situation for me. It comes from the same place as hating to ask for help. As wanting to figure out problems on my own. Doesn't mean I can't ask, and I have. Just means it takes me out of my comfort zone.

Anyway, I just that was something interesting to ponder. If, in the end, taking care of someone and making them happy means that YOU (or I ) have to sit back and allow yourself to be taken care of occasionally, well - I guess we'll find a way to live with it, right? *smirk*

What a girl goes through ...

Well, it’s official. I’m not a masochist.

I had my eyebrows waxed for the first time today. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but put off. My mom had it done not too long ago, and I figured if she could do it, I could. So when I made my appointment last week to get my highlights done again, I made the appointment for that too.

Ouch.

Not as bad as I thought it’d be though, so there is an upside. And the other upside is that they look great. She did that first, then the highlights, then a deep conditioner and style and as almost always, I left the salon this morning feeling fantastic.

I lay there thinking this morning though about how much pain we girls do go through to look good. Shaving, waxing, hair-pulling (not good hair pulling mind you – no, the kind that makes us look good), hair dryer heat, curling iron burns, broken nails, high heels, corsets, piercing, bras that put our cleavage up around our throat…. The list is endless.

Sometimes it’s worth it. Sometimes it isn’t. Looking good is feeling good though for most of us. So we do get something out of the deal /wink

I hope the male population of this planet truly appreciates all the pain we go through /smirk And if you don’t quite understand the depth – c'mere and let me wax your back /grin.

*Squick*

A friend of mine used the word "squick" the other day with me. I haven't heard this word used in a very long time; since the days I used to hang out in d/s chat or read heavily on the d/s mailing lists.

Naturally, I got to thinking about things that used to squick me. And things that no longer do. And things that do now, that never even occurred to me 14 years ago when I started exploring this kinky stuff online. Since I started exploring, especially while living in California, a whole new world of kink opened up for me, most of which left me ... squicked. *smirk*

When I first started playing around with bdsm, blood was a total major limit for me. After spending some time with some very good tops, that do occasionally screw up, I've learned that accidents happen, and that while intentional blood letting is still off my list, it's not really a squick anymore; more like a 'please don't, but if it happens, please don't worry about it. It'll heal'.

Bodily functions - be they liquid or otherwise - still don't do much for me. Despite the fact that I've discussed water sports (of the liquid variety) both here and other places, it's not high on my priority list, and wouldn't even be considered in any sort of casual arrangement. While that particular activity used to be a squick - it's more like a 'pass' right now. Other functions, however - including being spit on, and...um, other stuff...yea, still squick.

The Urban Dictionary definition above is a little different than mine; I don't really draw a line between 'gross' and 'morally reprehensible'. For me, it's all about -- is this something I want to experience, or something that would make me run screaming?

Tastes and desires evolve. If they don't -- if you're still wanting the exact same thing you were X years ago when you first got interested in kink -- you either haven't played around with it much, or you have a fetish. When your desires change... when you open up to new things and eventually try them (and decide whether you'll do them again) -- you have a much better basis in which to judge what is capable of squicking you or not.

As for me, my list is somewhat different, but the basics remain - as far as what's off limits and what's not. I used to have 7 hard limits. Now, I'm guessing I have 4, if we can include anything that would get me sent to jail or the hospital as their own encompassing limits. Gags used to be on it, they aren't anymore. Whips used to be on it, but having experienced a few of the best whip-masters I've ever seen, they aren't, either. Face slapping was also on the original list and isn't any longer there.

Then again, I have a couple different sets of rules depending on who I'm playing with. Casual play gets less lee-way than people I'm more comfortable with and have a deeper level of trust with. It's all relative, I guess.

Well, that is, when I play. Which ain't...well, hardly ever. Which is fine for me right now *smile*

It was an interesting thing to think about. How people's minds change is fascinating. Even mine *grin*

What Comes Around...

I got asked recently for a copy of the full story that I started to post here. It was a story that I wrote over several days and ended up being MUCH longer than originally intended, and was built solely around some initial impressions I had of someone I have gotten to know much better since then.

Since I was emailing it out, I decided to re-read it.

That turned out to be a blessing and a curse *grin*

*clears throat* Anyway....

I remember when I finished the story I hadn't been all that happy with it, but re-reading it last night and this morning, I can't for the life of me remember why. It could use a bit of editing of course, but it really is a good exploration of the whole first impression thing, and also of fighting the losing battle of being submissive. I'm not arrogant about my writing but I am smart enough to know when something is good as opposed to sucking - and this story does not suck.

I'm always saying that I want to write more fiction. I get on these little kicks where I'll write 3-4 stories in a week and then nothing for months. My state of mind, of course, has a lot to do with the kind of writing I'm able to do - and if I'm not in a sexual place because of stress, or lack of inspiration, or any other myriad of issues, I'm not going to feel like pumping out hot sex stories. But when things are even, and I feel inspired and am truly living in the sexual side of myself, I'm able to pour it out easily.

I also seriously need to start getting some stuff published again. I've been a total slacker about that over the last couple years and while I don't mind writing just for me and a few other selected people, I really would like to get back out there again.

I have always said that if I could write for a living, I would in a heartbeat. But could I? Not erotica, certainly. It doesn't pay all that great *grin*

Ah, well. Maybe I'll get myself in the mood with week and see what I can't get down on the screen.

Or maybe I'll just go back and re-read a few other stories and get...um...inspired...ya, inspired /wink

Discovered: A New One

So, I drove to my folks' on Sunday. Typically this is a 2 hour drive max, but with traffic and detours it ended up being more like 2:45. By the time I hit the town across the river from them, I was already running late. So I took the back road around town and....

*cue cop car lights here*

I got pulled over. Now, this is the second time this year (but also only the second time in nearly 10 years) that I've gotten stopped. And I haven't gotten a ticket either time. Because a) I'm overly polite and b) I flirt. I've been flirting my way out of tickets since the first time I got stopped :)

Anyway, that's not really the point here. The point is that on the rest of the drive to my folks' house I got to thinking about all that. And in addition to the Princess, The Slut and the Tease, I think I found a new person in my head (seriously...I'm not mentally ill, I'm just very quick to say and write about things that you know you have but won't admit allowed!).

Enter: Little Miss Recalcitrant -- okay, well that's too long, but it'll work for now.

She looks a lot like the Princess but she's snapping her gum, wearing dark eyeliner and isn't standing demurely. Nope, she's got a defiant hand on her hip. She knows she's in trouble. And even though she's resisting you by narrowing her eyes, she's going to do whatever it takes to get out of trouble, so you don't take her car keys/CDs/iPod away from her.

And I do mean whatever it takes.

I think she's going to be fun to write about.... *evil*

Permission

I bought Eragon when it first came out on DVD. I'm a fan of the books, so I wanted to see this blue dragon come to life. I finally got around to watching it Friday night. And the baby dragon was adorable. CGI, or not, I awwwww'd all over it.

That's probably the best thing I can say about the movie(they tried to cram way too much into it, and the story got lost), except that one phrase in particular, which is used often in the movie, made me think a bit about some things. I've heard it before, but for some reason, in that venue, it sparked some internal conversation:

"It is better to ask forgiveness than permission. "

There have been very few times, since I started exploring the wild world of d/s and it's kinky cousins that permission has come up as an issue.

I'll be the first one to admit that both of the major dominants I had in my life - C and M - weren't the strictest of the bunch. C is, by his own admission, far too lazy to be strict and M had enough other mental issues going on in his own head to have to deal with much management where I was concerned. Typically, I have always had a "do, tell later" atmosphere - and if it was an issue, it was dealt with then. About the only time I can remember either of them wanting to control anything I had to ask permission for - it was my orgasms.

All well and good.

But it does leave me wondering how I would have reacted - or might react in the future - if there were more things I were required to ask permission for.

I dislike the idea of being micro-managed on a long-term basis. Seriously dislike it. Unless it serves a specific purpose, I just have never seen a need for that in my life. I know what needs to be done, and I do it. I don't want to be told how to handle every aspect of my life. I've gotten this far without being mentally or physically destroyed, I think I can decide when it's time to eat or sleep on my own for the most part. Thanks anyway.

I can see where occasionally, minor things might be fun to play with. The eating or sleeping for an example. But not on a daily basis, or at least, not unless I could see a real purpose...

... I think that's the bottom line, right there.

What's the purpose for the permission being given or asked for?

We've already basically established over the last several months that my bottom line in playing with dominant/submissive roles is all about sex. There may be a little of other things tossed in for some parts, but mostly, it revolves around sex. So the question is -- are there circumstances where 'permission' for certain things - not of a sexual nature - can revolve around a sexual connotation?

I'm guessing that pretty much anything *can*. The only question I see is how.

As I said, this just isn't something I ever really had to deal with before. Never had a big desire for it; never had a dominant who had a desire for it, either. I don't know if that has something to do with my choices, or just coincidence. *smirk*

Reality. Fantasy. Surprises.

A very clever friend of mine said recently: "I rather like not "getting" everything about another person. It's good to have a reminder that I'm dealing with an real individual, not a reflection of my own fantasies. "

I found it so clever that I threatened to steal it. And I've made good on my threat *grin*

He's rather right-on with that though. Occasionally, when someone we think we know does something out of the ordinary - or, what we perceive is ordinary for them - it throws us off balance a bit. And usually, that can end up being a very good thing (provided the out of the ordinary thing is not destructive ya ya ya disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer)

In my world outside the bedroom, I have a love-hate relationship with surprises. Sometimes, they're fun. Sometimes, they're excruciating.

Inside the bedroom, I'm a big fan of them. Surprises can easily take me 'out of a moment' and put me into another one. That's fun. I like being brought out of that lull of a false sense of security into a whole different territory sometimes. It may back off the 'countdown' a bit, but typically it extends the pleasure and tends to make the final product (yes, I'm being specifically vague here) more enjoyable in the long run.

When it comes to people, I like to see that they have more dimensions than you can easily see. Just when you think you have someone figured out - bam! - out of the blue they'll do something that appears out of character for what we know of them, though it's likely it's completely normal for them. We just haven't seen that side of them yet. I really enjoy getting to know people, and this is a big part of that.

Now, I do realize that quirks that seem to be endearing at the beginning of any kind of relationship can end up driving you insane after awhile. And I also realize that the more you get to know about someone, the more of a risk exists that you won't like them anymore. But for someone like me who enjoys the intellectual pursuit of sensual pleasures (and no, sensual is not always = sex, thankyouverymuch), that 'getting to know you' stage is incredibly fun.

We do tend to project our feelings/thoughts/instincts about another person onto them. And sometimes, we see them only as we want to see them. It isn't until they do something that surprises us that we're brought back to the reality that - yes, they are a separate person from what we've created them to be in our mind.

That can hurt us. Or it can make us like the person all the more.

In the end, I'd rather have a real person in my life than a cardboard-cutout of them I created in my mind. And even though fantasy is a big part of my life (you can't write without an active fantasy life *grin*), I can deal with reality just fine.

Portion Control

Okay, I'm thieving this from a response I made to a topic on a message board I frequent. The whole thread made me very leery and a little queasy. The question asked (parapharsing) was "would it be acceptable to have a dominant controlling my diet/exercise?"

Having battled this issue myself, I had to say ....

Much as I hesitate to do so, I'm going to respond to this - good bad or indifferent.

My short answer is -- hell NO I don't want a dominant controlling my weight. My *weight* has controlled *ME* for the last 42 freaking years, and it's just now - after 2 years of lap band-surgery/diet/exercise started to be *less* of an issue for me so that I can focus on other things. Any dominant who stepped in at this point and tried to control how I ate - when I exercised - would be shown the door post haste.

Weight is a huge issue for I'm guessing at least half this country. Look at the eating disorders. Look at obesity. Look at the freaking Jenny Craig commercials with celebrities for the love of god. It's so much more mental and emotional for so many of us, and loaded with booby-traps and regression-possibilities that I can't imagine anyone wanting to have someone else control what goes into their mouth.

Obviously, people do, as I've read here - and hey - if it works for you, and you feel better - that's awesome. But the land-mines associated with self-image and self-esteem are simply too difficult to navigate for human beings sometimes.

My ex-husband/master loved me at any weight. And while I adored him for that, I also realized that it made me lazy about my own health. But that was not his issue; it was all mine, and it wasn't until I dealt with it head-on before having surgery that I was able to actually get healthy and balanced. I'd lost weight before. I've probably, in 30 years of dieting, lost a good 4 people. And gained them all back.

My question for submissives who want this would be -- what happens if the relationship ends? Does your healthy lifestyle go with it? Or are you able to carry it on, despite the dominant being absent?

Bottom line -- you have to do it for yourself. Need help? Okay, take the assitance where it's offered. But make sure your end motivation is true.

That question just hit me like a ton of bricks and sent red flags screaming around inside my head.

For many people, the battle to be healthy emotionally, physically and mentally is a day-to-day struggle. The balance is difficult to maintain, and I do not by any means profess to be an expert at it. But I do know that what I have achieved over the last two years would *not* have been achieved with someone else 'making' me do it. It *had* to come from me.

Unnoticed

Over the weekend, I was screwing around with my iPod. Rearranging, changing playlists. Getting ready to start walking on my lunch hour again (since the bike is still tearing my knee up *sigh*). I ran across a playlist I made awhile back called "Different Chick Music".

Now, I'm a big fan of female singers. Maria McKee (of Lone Justice fame, if you can call it that), Stevie Nicks (The Highwayman, nuff said), Sarah McLachlan (no one sings a depressing song quite like Sarah does), Annie Lenox (much more her solo stuff than her Eurythmics stuff), Bonnie Raitt (yummy, Lady Sings the Blues and hits my emotions like a mac truck). But that's not what was in this playlist. This was a list with one-off hits from soundtracks and other various places. Ladies who I don't own more than 1 or 2 songs from. Joni Mitchell (Case of You), Lisa Hall (Is This Real), Liz Phair, Michelle Branch (ok, maybe I have 3 of hers)...to name a few.

Anyway, I stuck the iPod in the iHome (iBiteMe that's a pain in the ass to type), and let that playlist go while I was doing some stuff around the house on Saturday, and one of my favorite songs from a soundtrack came on. I hadn't heard it for awhile. The song is called "Nowhere and Everywhere, and is written and sung by Michelle Lewis. (As a side note, that song, plus the Joni Mitchell and the Lisa Hall song are all off the Practical Magic soundtrack, which remains my all-time favorite movie soundtrack ever. And the movie rocks pretty hard, too) I've always liked the lyrics, but one line in particular stuck in my head for the rest of the weekend:

"And though she entered unnoticed, you will feel it when she leaves ...."

For most of my life, up until the last few years, and with the exception of a few wilder years in my twenties, I've dressed and acted in such a way that I remained unnoticed. I don't make any bones about the fact that that was because of my weight and my self-esteem issues at the time. I didn't wear a lot of bright colors (black, grey, dark reds) and I didn't wear flashy jewelry (still don't really) or hats (which I love). I kept my appearance neat, clean and .... unnoticed. (Can't say that anymore. Happy about that :D)

But my personality pretty much speaks for itself. And while you may *not have noticed me simply from an attractiveness standpoint (although, hey - I am a pretty girl :p), you might well have noticed me for how I behave and what I *am*. But not immediately. And not consciously. Never consciously.

Nearly each and every time I would break up with someone (or them with me, mostly it was them with me), they'd come sniffing around again - months, even years later. The only one I ever took back was C (and we see how THAT turned out, don't we?). Why? Because they didn't come back for *me. They came back for what I did for *them.

I give. I am typically enthusiastic. I make people feel good - not because I have to, but because it's just pretty much part of who I am. I have *tried to be the bitch and I have *tried to play the games that those women who broke your hearts play, but I suck at that, and I despise doing something I suck at. (ok, well....nm).

Many people see giving of yourself, and being nice to other people as a risk. I never have (unless it was something that impacted me, or could impact me in a negative way). I tried to do it differently. I have been called "too nice for my own good" more times than I can count. And considering the ways in which I have been fucked over, I'm sure they're probably right. But I don't know how to change it, and I'm not entirely sure I would if I could.

And so, I entered unnoticed. And they felt it when I was gone. I get it. That's kinda sneaky. I like it. /smirk

Delineation

I used to be a stickler for defining things.

I wanted boundaries of relationships outlined, I wanted to give people specific lines and know what their lines were. In between M and C (before C and I got married), when I was ‘dating’ dominants, I’d make sure they knew what I would and wouldn’t do for/with them before it went very far. I made some kind of weird huge deal about telling them that unless I had formally submitted to them, their dominance of me was limited to the bits and pieces I willingly gave them, not what they felt they could take from me.

Maybe it was just that particular time in my life – after an intense 4-year relationship, in which I played with all kinds of fiery things I’d never been interested in touching before – and it was out of fear that I made those rules.

Because while I do have lines and boundaries now, I find them to be much less strict, and I’m not so much ‘in need’ of having things defined to the nth degree before I’ll take a small step toward something.

Over the last year or so, since I truly opened myself up to the possibility of a new relationship, I’ve tentatively given up a little piece of my will here or there to someone I was conversing with and trusted. Not often. And not a huge piece. But small pieces here or there, like dipping my toe into the ice-cold creek.

It’s not like there are a huge number of dominants I’ve corresponded with that have held my attention (or, to be fair, having held theirs) for long periods of time. I do have standards and I do have criteria that pretty much must be met before I’ll even agree to meet someone offline. So far, the list of people I’ve met offline is less than the number of fingers on one hand.

(If that makes me picky, good. It’s about time I was.)

But in relation to what I wrote yesterday, about subtlety and the art of being clear without being blunt, perhaps my ‘little pieces’ go unnoticed because I’m not as formal about things anymore.

A friend of mine and I had a discussion the other day about a behavior of mine that I think drives him a little bit nuts. I basically told him that if it bothered him that much, to tell me to stop doing it. I’d listen. I’d stop doing it. I can’t judge his reaction to that; I can’t guess how he took it, unless he either does it, or tells me he won’t do it, or doesn’t do it *chuckle – but I gave up a little piece because I felt safe in doing that. Did I make it clear enough? I don’t know. Time will tell I guess.

The difference between the time between M and C, and now - is that I do not require any formal declaration of *dun dun dun D/s! dun dun dun!* to open that door a little. Good, bad or indifferent, it’s just how I seem to be working these days. We’ll see how it works out for me in the long run.

Greedy

In life, there are certain things we're taught *not* to be. Our families instill different 'stay away from that!' attitudes in us as we're growing up. Some stay with us. Some go away.

I've said before that I was raised Catholic, and remained a Catholic until age 25, when they asked me not to come back until I'd 'come back to my beliefs' (I was working with an out of town family planning clinic to get one in our community, I was on the news a lot, gave a lot of interviews, etc). I never went back. I'm afraid of being struck by lightning :) I was raised by parents who were concerned with 'appearances', perhaps at a normal level, maybe a little higher than normal. I was raised with one sister who is 13.5 months older than I am, and with whom to this day, I do not get along with. I was raised by certain standards. There are just some things you do not want people to think of you.

But the word of the day for today is greedy. And I still don't want to appear greedy about almost anything - despite whatever it is I may be feeling at the time.

Unless of course, it's during sex.

What brought this up for me is that last week, when playing one of my mmorpg's, I was given a couple of items that yes - I needed - but I didn't want to take the second one, for fear of appearing 'greedy'. I needed it. I wanted it. But I fought against taking it strongly. This happens to me a lot in gaming.

So, I started thinking last night about being greedy, in my every day life. And then, as typically happens, I applied the word to sex.

The dictionary.com definition #2 is what fit this best for me: ardently or excessively desirous

If the shoe fits....

The only time in my life I can ever remember being completely blasé about sex was with my first husband. He had no imagination, didn't want to experiment with anything new, and didn’t want to try anything different. It got to the point where I could predict every move he was going to make.

Other than that, 'excessively desirous' probably fits me to a T.

What's excessive, though? I mean, look. I'm not immediately turned on by just anyone, and as I've said before, I need to have an intellectual connection with someone before my 'ardently desirous' thing kicks in, but once it has? It has. Period. If I am into someone, sex multiple times a day is *not out of the question. Neither is it mandatory. But the option is nearly always there.

If that’s greedy, I’m fine with that.

The word does have another sexual connotation as well. Tack it onto any ‘pet name’; add it to any phrase and it increases the volume of the words. “Greedy little slut.” “Selfish little bitch.” It’s another level of wantonness that just increases the blood flow to certain portions of my anatomy.

My parents raised me to not be greedy or selfish, but at certain times, in certain circumstances, it’s hard to be anything but.

And I’m fine with that. I haven’t heard any complaints from anyone else, either …

Expectation and Realization

I've been told for many years that my expectations of other people are too high, and that if I simply lowered my expectations, my life would run a lot smoother.

I'm starting to believe that.

I have this thing, in which I expect other people to do things the way I would do them. Not everything, but things that directly affect me. I don't know if that's arrogance or narcissism or just plain unrealistic, but the fact is it bites me in the ass more often than not, and I really need to work on that.

Sometimes, I think I'd like to be one of these people who don't expect anything. That way, they are never disappointed, and they are always surprised when something good does happen. I can't seem to wrap my mind around that, though. I can recognize it easily when I'm doing it; I know the signs and I know when I get upset about something, why I'm actually upset. But recognizing it doesn't seem to dissipate it quickly enough for my ‘get over it’ mind. I usually end up stewing about it, and being miserable for a while before my head finally says ‘oh fucking let it go already’. Then I do. Then I’m fine.

Sometimes, I also wonder if thinking too much isn’t what causes 99 pct of the problems I find myself dealing with in my life.

I also found out over the weekend that sometimes I’m not as clear as I think I am. I am, as I’ve said often, a fan of ‘subtle’, but I always thought that subtle was clear enough. Apparently not. I wrote some time ago about men not taking hints and apparently, what I call subtlety is just something that people don’t pick up on.

Okay. I can swallow that (oh get your mind out of there.) and I can even make a concerted effort to be a bit more unmistakable and obvious.

Realizations are good.

I think.

And now that I’ve gotten all that out, I can get back to thinking – and writing - about sex.

So yes, it’s good /wink.

Freedom

I wrote something very different tonight.

Almost all of my fiction of recent years has been wrapped up in either blatant or subtle kink. It’s been a very long time since I wrote something that had no kink at all to it.

But I did tonight.

The idea found me earlier this week (and yes, the ideas find me, I don’t find them) and even as I wrote through the Princess story and a couple of others with a very strong male dominant slant, this one hounded at the edge of my mind, begging to be written.

So I wrote it.

And I enjoyed writing it.

I’ve said before that a very large part of me is sexually submissive. But there are other parts of me as well. And tonight, the ‘girl who just wants to fuck’ came out loud and clear.

It’s probably intimidating to people who have ‘some kink’ or relate to a few kinky ideas without being full bore into it – to think that a sexually submissive female (or male) or a sexually dominant male (or female) want that, and only that, all the time.

Fact is, I doubt that any of us do.

I do occasionally enjoying being sexually dominant as well, given the right circumstances. And while a straight vanilla fuck with no foreplay and a partner with limited knowledge of the mechanics of a ‘good fuck’ would do absolutely nothing for me, all the pomp and circumstance of BDSM doesn’t have to live in the bed with me every night, either.

The fact of the matter is, I’m very open to trying most new things – kinky or not. And the other fact is that if I have a lover in whom I trust, I’m more than willing to do whatever their mind can come up with – or whatever they inspire in my own mind.

The freedom of feeling that with someone is electric. The freedom of doing it is mind-blowing.

And the freedom to feel it is priceless.

I sighed, audibly this time. He looked at me over the top of his glasses. “Something you need?”
“Yes.”
“What’s that?”
“Your cock.”
He looked at me silently for a long moment. “Really.” He looked back at the screen. And began to type.
I made an exasperated sound. He didn’t look up.
“Really. Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Right now would be preferable, yes.”
He looked over the top of his glasses at me again. I took the opportunity to kneel upright on the bed and slide my robe over my shoulders, and off my arms. My breasts spilled over the top of the long, black bustier and the black silk thong and thigh-high stockings did nothing to hide my intentions.
“You certainly came prepared.” He kept his voice even, but I could almost detect a fine layer of sweat forming on his brow. Good.
“I did. I’m good that way.”
“If you say so.” He looked at me for a moment longer, allowing his eyes to dip down into my cleavage for a quick glance before going back to the LCD screen in front of him.
I widened my eyes and cleared my throat. “You’re not interested?” I asked, a little put out.
“I didn’t say that.”
I didn’t answer.
He didn’t look up. “You just had my cock last night. You didn’t get enough?”
“No. I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough."

View

The view out my office window this morning around 9am.

Moment in the Sun

As you can see, I've been writing again. *grin*. The Slut (see One Of The Three) has had her moment in the sun twice this week. The Tease has a few tricks up her sleeve for later on, and right now, The Princess is getting some fresh air.

When I start a story about being dominated sexually, I can typically write it straight through. Even if I'm writing about plain old sex I can do that. But when The Princess is in the driver's seat (even though she's not old enough to drive! ha), I find that I write, then stop - write, then stop. I've been thinking about that tonight, curious as to why.

I get fidgety. Not in a "I don't want to write this." or a "I can't write without taking a break and ...um...doing stuff." kind of way. But I definitely have a need to divert my attention, even if it's only for five minutes or less, and then come back to her. I'm doing that right now; I'm typing this post while she's on ice for a few minutes.

It might well be because when I start a story from almost any point of view, I know where it's going to end, and how. I get the entire image in my head before I even type the first word. It's rare for me to surprise myself midway through, although I have done it. Yet anytime I start a story involving the younger, innocent persona, I only see the first little bit before I'm compelled to start writing.

It might also be because she works me up in a totally different way than any of the others.

Or it might just be because I want her stories to be different.

Regardless, she's getting out to play in the sunshine. Maybe she can get a little tan to go with the white blouse ...

Writer's Block Kicked to the Curb

...apparently.

“You need my cock.”
I whimpered in response.
His free hand slapped my ass. I went up on my toes, my legs shaking.
“I need your cock.” I whispered.
“Louder.”
“I need your cock.” I said, my voice not quite normal volume, but a tone of desperation made it echo loudly in my ears.
His fingers became more insistent, and I heard his belt buckle clang against his zipper.
“This cock?” he asked softly, pressing his hardness up against my ass.
“Yes.”
“You need this cock? My cock? Did you need it this morning?”
“Yes.” I stopped resisting, and pressed backwards against him.
“But you didn’t ask for it. You waited until I left and then played with your cunt. Out of the kindness of your heart?” he sneered.
It sounded ridiculous, saying it that way. In essence, it was true. But it sounded sarcastic and almost deceitful.
“Yes.” I said miserably.
With one final push, he had two fingers buried in my ass. “And you love this, too, don’t you? Love being treated this way. Love being my whore…”
“I am your whore.” I said softly, pressing back against him and giving up all my fight.

Push

I really wanted to write some erotica.

I haven't, for well over a month. I've wanted to, but for some reason, I just could not get beyond the first few sentences of a story.

Sometimes, I just have to push past the block.

Here's what happens when I push ....

I planted my feet firmly on the bed, and lifted my hips up slightly, angling toward the toy.
My back arched up off the bed a little as I pushed more firmly. I felt myself get wetter as the toy pushed me apart and I stretched to accommodate it, shuddering a little.
He didn’t speak. But when my eyes fluttered open, his gaze was fixed firmly between my thighs, watching. That made me take another deep breath, and whimper. His eyes flashed up and caught me watching him.
“What are you watching when you fuck yourself and I’m not here?”
“Nothing.” I whispered.
“Are you fantasizing about me pushing into you? Are you remembering a time when I fucked you hard and fast?”
“Yes.” I pushed the dildo deeper inside myself, feeling my walls expand to accept it greedily, just like they did when it was his cock.
“Then you should do that. And tell me.”
I closed my eyes tightly, feeling my legs shake as I pulled the latex cock out, just to the head, before pushing it back in, deeper.
“Tell you … what I fantasize about?” I asked between gasps.
“Yes.”
I was silent for a moment, my hand toying with the dildo, turning it back and forth a little. “I think about you fucking me from behind.”
“Where?” He asked insistently. I felt the bed move a little, and opened my eyes. His hand was wrapped solidly around his cock again. My legs shook a little, and I pushed the dildo further inside me, gasping as I tried to answer.
“Here. In that hotel. Bent over my desk…”
“It changes.”
I nodded. My left hand slide down the front of the chemise and landed between my thighs, my index finger hovering over my clit again, as I struggled to push the dildo deeper yet inside me, wetting it, getting ready. “It does.”
“Why that? Why not you riding me? Or me lying on top of you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, and pushed the dildo in deeper; as far as it would go, and let out a whimper. I started to slide it back out slowly, and then pushed it back in hard before I answered. “Because that’s how you like me best.”

Expression of Need

I forget the power that that one simple action has over me, until something brings it front and center for me. Sometimes, for me, it’s the very simplest of things that take me the furthest over the edge. A few simple words, strung together in a nearly incoherent phrase or sentence, whimpered or yelled or said with the little voice I have at the time – expressing one simple thing:

Need.

I wasn’t raised to play games, but it certainly seems like, from all I’ve read and seen and heard, that many women do, and many men expect us to. We’re supposed to be ‘good girls’ and we’re supposed to ‘enjoy sex, but not need it’.

Well, sorry. I’m not that kind of girl.

Begging, or any act of showing desperate need, used to be very difficult for me. A pride thing, or a ‘good girl’ thing, I don’t know which – but it’s become less difficult over the years. I’m more comfortable with myself and my sexuality. And more comfortable with the fact that it’s all right for a man to want to hear me beg for his cock, and it’s all right that doing it makes me hot.

There are all kinds of ways to express need. You can whimper and moan or let your body do the talking for you by pushing up, pushing hard, pushing towards. Begging is just another option. And for someone who enjoys words on either side of the bed, it’s a good option, indeed. If I want it bad enough, and you make me say how bad, chances are, I’m going to want it even more. It’s a vicious cycle /grin

It used to be all about what ‘he’ (he being whoever I was with at the time) wanted when it came to how I expressed myself through words during sex, but somewhere along the line it progressed into being what I wanted and needed, too, even though I’ll curse and fight it, making me say the words actually does something very good to me.

Then again, I’ve said before, I like a struggle /wink.

Hotter in Fantasy

I mentioned a few days ago how the whole “find a stranger in a bar, take them out back into the alley and fuck them, then go home” thing is a hot fantasy, but when the reality of it comes into play, it doesn’t seem as exciting as the fantasy itself.

There’s a lot of stuff out there like that. Stuff that sounds incredibly hot, but when it comes right down to it, it just doesn’t work (for you, for me, whatever – maybe it does work for that guy over there, but we’re not talking about him right now, are we?)

I don’t know if it comes down to being realistic, or if sometimes things are just better left in our imaginations where they are born. I do realize that for pretty much almost any fantasy out there, someone has done it, or at least tried to do it. I know women who have picked guys up in bars and fucked them in alleys or cars, or even bar restrooms. I know a woman who takes her humiliation fantasies to the extreme, and whose husband caters to her every desire in that area, and invites friends to participate. For them, that works. For most of us though, those sorts of things are best left to our masturbatory thoughts.

When I started writing this, I was trying to come up with a few other examples. That’s harder to do than I thought, not because I’m trying to be politically correct or anything, but the fact is – what might not work for me in reality probably works really well for a bunch of other people. And to be honest, if it’s something you haven’t tried, how would you know if it works for you or not? There are exceptions of course. Sometimes things that can get you arrested or at least make you feel morally bankrupt the next day make great fantasy. The reality of it is though that none of us wants to go to jail, or feel like shit the morning after. Guilt is a horrible thing, no one wants that.

There have been things I’ve done or tried over the last several years that definitely fit this bill. Things that sounded incredibly erotic and turned out to be either disturbing, or just plain didn’t work. I guess you never really know until you try. But it’s deciding if you have the drive to *try that’s the stumbling block.

For kinky folks, sometimes the more extreme something sounds – the dirtier, the more perverse, the more outrageous – the hotter it makes them. We all have lines of course (at least, I hope we do), but for the most part, if you’re turned on by something that’s a little off the vanilla meter, your fantasies will get more out-there as you try more new things. That’s normal. That’s just how it works.

But finding the line between what you will do – and what really only makes you hot to talk about, think about, write about – is difficult sometimes.

I typically try to keep my fiction at least semi-realistic. I have written (and am sure will write again) things that turned me on a LOT to write them, but that I’m not entirely sure I’d have the guts to do (or would enjoy if I did) off the paper, but they are the exception typically and not the rule. And I’m fine with that. The fact is, fiction is just that – fiction. And while I try to write things that I really would enjoy doing, occasionally I write things that I probably would never do, simply because the thoughts exist in my head and I want to give them some time. I think that’s why I enjoy fiction so much – it lets me do that – be pretty much as perverse as I want to be, without actually waking up with that “oh my god, did I really do that?” feeling.

In the end, experimenting and exploring are what it’s all about. And unless your hot fantasies involve possible jail time or imminent guilt, there’s nothing wrong with at least talking about them, and seeing how they fit into your sex life, or if they even do. Sometimes just saying them out loud takes care of that decision for you.

Intuition and Instinct

I strongly dislike being wrong.

I realize that I’m not in the minority there. Most people would prefer to be right in most cases, but most people also take being wrong better than I do. I think I’ve said before that C’s favorite words to hear from me were “You were right.” Even as recently as last year when I drove out there to collect the rest of my things from his apartment, I was forced to say those words and I had to grit my teeth to get them out.

I used to trust my instinct almost 100 percent. Until I realized that it was that same instinct that got me into a ration of shit with the last couple relationships I had. I don’t like not trusting my ‘first reaction’ but it seems that I’ve had to stop and re-evaluate my own gut reactions to things more and more. And while I do see that my intuition is still batting better than 75 percent, I’ve learned to stop and think a bit, before jumping to conclusions.

I guess that’s not a bad thing. Right?

Consequently, I find myself editing my thoughts and words more and more. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, either, as I have been known to regret things immediately after saying them sometimes, but it’s hard to get into the habit of doing it.

In talking with a friend yesterday, I found myself in one of these conundrums. I had wanted to ask him a question. And yet, no matter how I tried to word it, it wasn’t coming out the way I wanted it to, so I simply didn’t ask. Maybe my psyche kept the words from me because it wasn’t the right time to ask the question. Or maybe, it was my intuition not wanting to ask, because we (she and I) didn’t really want to hear the answer. I’ve been thinking about it a lot today. And part of me regrets not just tossing it out there, worded right or *not. And the other part of me is relieved that I didn’t ask.

Having said that, and having ‘changed my ways’ so to speak, the one area in which I’ve tried very hard to *not stifle myself is my sexuality.

Know why?

You’re going to make a wrong move in bed with someone at some point. You’re going to inadvertently elbow someone, scratch them (not in a good way), get tangled up, leave bruises (unintentional ones :p). Fucking is not an exact science, and no matter what, eventually something is going to go wrong. And that’s all right. It happens to leave room for one of my favorite things to do in bed, and that’s *laugh.

Over-thinking every move you make in bed is one of the worst possible things you can do. As I said in an earlier post, of course there are things that require planning (where’s the condoms? The lube? The chainsaw? (kidding!)), but if you try to plan out some kind of elaborate seduction, leaving no room for instinct, you’re going to be sorely disappointed when it’s all said and done.

So I try not to do it.

Of course, I may think a bit before saying something – either trying to decide if it’s the right thing to say or the right time to say it. I may resist the urge to do something that I’m not convinced that the person I’m with will be very receptive to. Chances are, though, that if I do resist an urge, I’ll ask the person later, and see what their reaction is. If it’s positive, the next time the urge strikes, I’m free to just do it.

I’ve always been this way. While I spend a good portion of my time thinking and writing about sex, I try not to do that while I’m actually *having sex. If I find myself thinking too much, I find myself enjoying *less. And hey. That’s not what I got naked for, okay?

I can think when I’m dressed, and back to worrying about being wrong /smirk.

Simple

Sometimes, for me, it’s the very simplest of things that take me the furthest over the edge.

I’ve been in elaborately planned scenes, in which everything was so close to scripted that it was nearly devoid of spontaneity. While in some cases, all that planning is necessary, in most, it really isn’t, and knowing what’s coming takes a good chunk of the fun out of it for me. There is a big difference between expecting a particular action or reaction, and actually knowing it’s coming.

I’ve also been incredibly turned on by the simplest touch, word, tone of voice, caress that wasn’t perhaps intended to have that particular outcome, but did, simply because it was – simple.

I’ve discussed before how certain ‘pet names’ have a definite and predictable effect on me. And in the proper time and place, very deliberate actions, words and phrases will set me off hard and fast.

There are other words and phrases though, that are perhaps softer and said with a completely different tone of voice that can have a similar end result, whether they were intended to or not. Maybe they weren’t said on purpose, or with any thought. Maybe they were just said in the moment. Sometimes, absolutely, that’s the best of them for me.

What matters for me, right now, is that I recognize the power that’s held in the simple things.

And it’s not always words. As I said, sometimes it’s the tone of voice (soft but firm), a touch (a hand on the back of my neck), movement (moving me into another position without any sort of warning, even in a public setting) – things that to an outsider (outside of the other person and myself) wouldn’t blink at, but cause a result in me so profound that I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. It all goes back to another of my loves – the subtle.

Many people seem to have a need to make things complicated. There are rules and procedures and conventions to follow; proper behavior, taking care to not cross a line, being mindful of what society finds acceptable, and what they don’t. And while there’s something to be said for the need for structure in some cases, there’s also something to be said for the unpredictable and spontaneous.

And something simple taking me from 0 to 60 in a heartbeat is better than any words I could say about them at all.

Style

I got up Friday morning to go to work and I pretty much already knew what I wanted to wear. (Casual Friday rocks…)

I pulled out a red sweater tank top that I’d bought several weeks ago, my favorite soft denim jeans and my old-reliable white men’s shirt.

The jeans are too big. I wore them anyway, but for the last time.
The white shirt *sigh was way too big. Last time for that, too.

So obviously, it’s time to replace a few things.

I’m a reluctant shopper most of the time. That probably comes from years of not being able to wear the kinds of clothes I really wanted to wear, but even now that I *can wear them, I still don’t enjoy shopping much. So I pulled out my Newport News catalog, and started thumbing through it this morning.

I’ll be the first person to admit that I do *not follow current fashion trends. I’m very particular about what I wear. I have my own style, more or less. Still to this day, if I could get away with dressing like Stevie Nicks did in the 70’s, I’d do it – boots, flowing skirts and tops – all of it. I also like the 'innocent' look (there's a shocker, right?) at times, and at other times, I'm all about showing off cleavage and wearing stuff that fits me *very well. Clothes are a mood thing with me, and none of those moods have to do with what's 'in style'.

I like a bit of a romantic edge to my clothing most of the time, when I can find stuff that has that, but is also work-appropriate (most of the time) because I don’t like to buy stuff I’ll only wear on certain occasions, unless of course it’s for a very *special occasion.

So, I did my shopping online, since I pretty much know how NN’s clothes fit me. I even bought a pair of sandals, since I had to tuck my boots away for the summer this week. (/sad)

Did I buy any of that flowing, romantic Stevie-esque stuff? You bet your ass I did. But only one. /grin I feel good wearing that stuff. I feel sexy. Not even would think it was sexy, but I do – and as I said earlier in the week – if I feel sexy, I am sexy.

It’s a whole different world shopping this side of 20, let me tell you.

Then of course, Victoria’s Secret is running their semi-annual clearance sale, and you know I had to shop that catalog too. You know. Just for the basics…

Next on the list: A pair of real high heels. I haven’t been able to wear them in so many years that it’s time to re-learn walking in them. Even dancing in them. But those I’ll buy in person, because shoe sizes for that (like boots) is important, and they vary so much.

Thing is, even though I don’t really like shopping, by the time I was done today, I was feeling pretty good. I got a lot of chores done around here, and I’ve gotten some writing done. All in all, it’s been very productive.

And now it’s time to write the ‘better’ stuff. /grin

One of the Three

I've mentioned that I keep a list of topics I want to write about here. Awhile back, I lost my list and had to try to remember what was on it, but now I've pretty much been through all of those topics, plus ones that came up while writing the original ones (love how that happens), except for one.

I don't find myself shying away from stuff very often, as far as my writing goes. I'll take on whatever taboo subject that I can think of, and while I may not get into deep detail with it, I've never *not written about something out of any fear that readers here would take it badly.

But this one... I don't know. Something has kept me from writing about it. Oh, don't get me wrong, I have written about it before, but not in this way, in this direction, which is why it was on the list in the first place. It was something I felt the need to explain; to explore further outside of the fantasy/sexual aspects of it. (I started this Thursday, and am finishing it today, Saturday. That should tell you something *grin)

So while I was working on two other topics Thursday night (yes, I had 2 word files open and was working on two during the same time period. Apparently, my mind had a backlog :p), this one kept creeping into my head, nagging at me, pulling at my shirttails and whining like a petulant ....

child.

Yup. That’s what it is all right.

Princess is a Daddy’s Girl, even if Daddy’s Not Around

I have these different girls who live inside my head. Everyone has different people in their heads; whether they recognize them or not is a whole other story, but I’ve come not only to recognize mine, but revel in them and feed them whenever possible.

I’m not talking about The Anal Retentive Systems Analyst, or My Parent’s Responsible Daughter. I’m not even talking about Miss Verbose, Miss Comedian or Miss Sympathetic Ear.

No, I’m talking about the girls who live inside me who are wrapped around my sexual life.

There are three of them that I’ve recognized and embraced – four, if you include Just Jill. In addition to The Princess, there are the two others; The Insatiable Slut(who wants what she wants when she wants it, but will do what you tell her if she knows she’ll get it) and the Unabashed Tease (who will torment you until you absolutely HAVE to take her your way) . Of the three, I’d say Princess is the least seen and heard from. The other two are much more boisterous and ‘typical’ of my personality. In a perfect world, the other two would get the most airtime, but the Princess would always be lurking in the background, waiting for that one moment when she can come out and play.

I’ve gone into some amount of detail in the past about age play, and my experiences with it. (See any or all of these)
Daddy, Sugar and Spice, The Ad, What A Bad Girl Gets, Oedipus In Opposite.

When age-play first became a desire, and a part of my sex life, it was pretty much right what I wanted it to be. M took it in a deeper, darker direction and while I did enjoy playing that with him on the rare chances it became an option, it wasn’t what I wanted it to be when we started.

And I think that now – having been out of that relationship for 8 years, and into another with C that offered *no opportunity to explore it (C was adamantly against it), I’ve had the chance to reflect back on it, and try to get back to what I felt the very first time I ever called a lover of mine “Daddy”.

For people who revel in the chance to be as ‘un-vanilla’ as possible, any time they get to play with something that’s taboo is a good time. And make no mistake about it, the whole age-play thing for a lot of people borders on the very edge of totally unacceptable. Lots of people look on it as if it’s some kind of incest-wannabe activity, but until M drove us to that destination, it was definitely not on my itinerary. No, my desire to call him Daddy had much more to do with innocence than it did incest.

I wanted to be the innocent girl, taken by an older man who cared about me, was patient with my inexperience, and who wanted me despite the fact that it was ‘wrong’.

“Princess” came to be from that; sharing my fantasies and thoughts on the subject with a friend, who took it upon himself to feed me a bit of that, to see how I’d grow into it. It was an enjoyable experience, and one that inspired me to write heavily about sex and innocence and age-play for a period of time.

Princess went unheard for a long while after that. I don’t know if I’d put her away, or if she’d simply taken it upon herself to remain quiet until someone else came into my life that would fit that bill; that I trusted enough to share her with. She’s peeked out again over the last couple of months, but she’s a bit shyer now. Maybe because she worries about how she’ll be reacted to, maybe because she’s just not quite sure if it’s the right time or not.


Or maybe because she’s afraid to call someone “Daddy” again.

Despite all that, the Princess is alive and kicking, and even made a brief though silent appearance last night while I was talking to a friend. I’ve been thinking about her since.

I’ve written before about how the “Daddy” thing isn’t necessary for me to be able to tap into the innocent part of myself. Any older authority figure would probably work just as well; and has, in my writing at least. “Daddy” just adds an edge to it, makes it even more taboo and ‘dirty’.

(I’m going to use Daddy here, just because it’s easier to type than Older Authority Figure)

So what is it that the Princess wants, and what makes her so appealing to me?

Princess wants Daddy’s attention. She wants to make Daddy happy. She’s willing to do whatever it takes to do that, even if she’s scared by it. Her fear is part of her appeal. But only part of it. Her wide-eyed innocence is also part of it. And the rest is covered simply by the pure desire to please, and the fact that she’s enjoying what he’s doing, despite the fact that she’s scared by it, and she shouldn’t be doing it…

…or wait…

Is the fact that she shouldn’t be doing it the bigger part? /grin She is a good girl, after all… right? Right?? She’s only doing it because it’s what he wants, and the fact that she’s soaking wet and on the verge of an orgasm the whole time shouldn’t mean she’s bad… There are just so many layers and levels to the entire age-play scenario, and so many ways to use a little of it, or a lot, depending on what feeds your erotic mind.

Sexuality is a rich, fluid part of our lives – or, at least it can be, if you’re willing to embrace the parts of yourself that hide in your head and rarely get heard.

Princess got heard loud and clear today, because she was woken up last night. And if for no other reason, I’m grateful for that, because I could finally get this sorted out and finish writing it. Having spent as much time thinking, fantasizing and writing about this particular subject, you’d think these posts would be easy for me, but somehow, they still aren’t. Somehow, her soft voice and quiet whimpers often get drowned out by the other, more insistent girls who live inside my head ….

All Right.

I've been thinking about what I wrote here : about questioning my "submissive" side, and what place it has in my life right now - today, and how that all works together with everything else I've got going in my life right now.

The bottom line is this: submission *is* sexual for me at this point of my life. That doesn't mean it all has to be done in bedroom (good lord, how boring would that be? lol), but it does mean that even the slightest hint of dominance toward me, and it starts things in motion, sexually.

I'm all right with that.

I know that there are people who will say that d/s should be about more than sex, and that's okay for them. At one point in my life, it was for me too. But it's not right now. Even if the d/s interaction has nothing to do with sex directly, that's what it's going to affect for me. Spank the hell out of me, and don't touch me in an intimate way? It's still sexual. Whisper nasty things to me in public without touching me? Yup, sexual. Tell (don't ask) me to do something (* if you're dominant and I've recognized that consciously that is. That doesn't refer to someone off the street. A girl has to have standards....) and it's going to send a sliver of electricity right down my spine, ending you-know-where.

Again, I'm all right with that.

I don't need some over-evolved sense of higher purpose for what I do. If it makes me happy and gives me a sexual charge, do I need to feel more evolved than vanilla people? No. I just know what I like and what I want.

I'll admit that I even hesitated to post that in the linked post, because of how sexual submissives are 'perceived' by so much of the community, but you know what? Perceive me however you want to. This is what and who I am right now

And I'm all right with that.

Whether you are or not isn't any of my business or concern.

I'm not entirely sure motivation factors into it all that much, anyway. So what if I'm doing this to get off, rather than to 'submit my life' to someone else? Just because the starting place is different, is it all that much different in the end?

I'm not so sure it is. But even IF it is.

I'm all right with that.

Who's in Your Fantasy Life?

The other day, I was flipping through my Stat Counter page, and following the links to pages that led people to my webpage and my blogger. That's always interesting to do once in awhile, to see who has you linked and how people are finding you.

One of the links was something I'd never seen before, and it was an interesting concept. Unfortunately, it's defunct now (not updated), but I flipped through a few of the older postings.

Someone had set up a blog that gave blogging ideas to submissives.

Now, you know me. I get very irritated at all this romanticizing of d/s stuff for the most part, and there was a lot of that. But there was one particular 'idea' that I actually wrote down, because it's an angle I hadn't ever considered as a topic before. It's at home, of course, and I'm at work, so I'll have to parapharse it here.

When you fantasize, is it about people you know or people you made up?

My previous post about porn was born out of this question. I know many people who masturbate to porn almost exclusively. I rarely do, because as I stated in that post, what's in my head is usually better. I mean seriously - who knows what makes me wet better than me? There are times of course when porn works better, because my mind is clouded up with too much stress, but that's the exception for me and not the rule.

So - are the people in my little fantasies people I know? Or faceless strangers?

Typically they are people I know - or at least, know of. While I do occasionally fantasize about things I've actually done, most of the time, I end up taking something that's a fantasy for me, and sticking someone I'm sexually attracted to into it. I have quite a stash of these. Quick, dirty scenarios that I can plug one or two different people into and be equally as turned on. Some, only one person will do. And occasionally, if it's something I'm not sure anyone I know *would* do, I'll put a faceless stranger into it, and go with that.

Some of my best stories were created out of these fantasies. Some of them yearn to be written still.

I'm not a huge fan of faceless strangers, but in a pinch....

I'm not one to fantasize about celebrities. (Oh all right, I have a short one about Salma Hayek, cut me some slack :p). I like real people. People with real bodies. Airbrushing someone's faults is like taking the real out of them and replacing it with plastic. While I realize some people can get hot and bothered that way, I don't.

I do occasionally 'look back fondly' on things I've done sexually and use those for masturbatory material. I have a few in the back of my mind that just spring forward sometimes, begging to be re-watched like a well-worn copy of "Clerks" (without the black and white, and the off-color humor of course. While that's hilarious, it's not sexy). Typically though, if I'm living in the moment, I want to create a situation and roll with it. These stashes of fantasies I have in my head change slightly each time I 'use' them, almost as if I'm trying to either perfect them (so they can be written maybe) or alter them so that they're almost like new.

Of course, the question didn't specifically say - what do you think about when you masturbate, did it? /smirk I took it that direction because that's the only time I really fantasize to any great detail. I tend to not fantasize during sex with a real live person, just because usually I'm focused on that person and what they're doing/what I'm doing. I haven't found a need to do that, really, since I left my first husband (Mr Vanilla) some years ago.

While it's true that you can catch me fantasizing at other times, I typically keep these 'light'. Once I pass 'the point of no return', no matter what I was doing, it's likely I'm going to have to turn it into a masturbation fantasy, anyway /smirk.

Fantasies are wonderful tools. They allow you to explore desires you may not have the courage to explore in real time yet, they allow you to relive things you've done and alter the reality of it to fit your mood. They allow you to be creative and sexy at the same time. They may even show you a direction you didn't even know you wanted to go.

And if you're lucky enough to be able to 'plug in' real people to your fantasies....you have it made.

Porn

It becomes relatively clear to anyone who's read a bit of my blog that I write erotica. (though I haven't written any lately and I'm chomping at the bit to). I've also written flat-out porn before, mostly to sell, mostly a long time ago. I don't know that I could do that anymore. Unless the money was right *grin

What's the difference between porn and erotica? For me, it's as simple as erotica having a bit of character development and at least a basic storyline. Porn involves sex, period. You don't care about the people, only what they're doing. What I try to do with my erotica is at least give people a character they can relate to in one way or another. I want to tell a story, not just show you a scene from a homemade sex tape.

Having said that, I'll admit that I do enjoy porn, both video and written. (yea, that's shocking, I know :p)

I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with pornography, provided that the people in the film (or pictures, or whatever) are of legal age, and are doing it sober and willingly. I've seen some porn movies where it was obvious that the woman was on some sort of chemicals, and just knowing that ruins it for me. If she's got to be fucked up to perform, she can't be enjoying it. And I want to watch people enjoying themselves. Not to say that "mock rape" videos aren't fun, but I'm talking the reality of the people, not the characters they're playing.

I have maybe 10 or so short porn videos on my computer. These are ones I've found over the years that I deemed worthy enough to keep on my hard drive. I don't find many. Most I end up deleting before I've watched the whole thing.

Most of the ones I've kept have some sort of control aspect. Not outlandishly, and I don't even think I have any with any serious bondage or pain. But there is something about each one of them that denotes that one of the people in the movie is in charge, even if it's very subtle. Then again, I like subtle. /evil grin

I have a few DVDs as well, but not anything near what I used to have. I left most of that with C. I figured he'd need it more than I would /grin

I like pictures, too. Back when IRC was *the* place to download movies, pictures and music, I had a collection of bondage/SM pictures that was well over 1200 total. I wish I had still them. Some of them were amazing. I have some now. Less than 100 probably, and that's mostly because finding places to download them now without getting any spyware/virus/trojan/spam is hard to find.

And of course, written word. I don't own as much erotica as I used to, either. And I'll admit to having a couple of flat-out pornographic novels in the house (where the story is negligible at best). They come in handy...occasionally..../smirk

For the most part, porn gets a bad rap. Yes, there is a ton of it that's just downright awful and yes, some of it is beyond what I'd call 'acceptable' to the masses, but hey - what's acceptable to me may not be acceptable to my neighbors, so who's to really say what's okay and what's not? If someone filmed or wrote it, chances are there's someone out there who's getting off to it.

Who am I to judge, really? Providing it doesn't cross legal or health lines, whatever gets you off is your own business.

Having said all that, I rarely watch porn, or read it. I have a book of erotic bdsm stories on my desk downstairs and yes, occasionally I'll flip that open - but unless my mind is trashed with a million other things, I don't tend to need it, or even want to be distracted by it. Typically what's in my head is better *grin*.

More on that later~

The Ex Factor

I got an email from a reader the other day that asked me if my ex's minded being talked about in my blog.

I don't know. I didn't ask :p

Seriously, C knows this is here. I gave it to him a long time ago, but I doubt he comes anywhere near it, simply because his life is going in a different direction. M? Well, M is a pretty religious guy now (I still can't wrap my mind around what changed that), and I'm almost positive he doesn't even know this exists - and considering that we don't share any of the same friends anymore, I'm sure it doesn't matter. My friend, former "tether holder and muse", R from VA, knows this is here, and even reads it occasionally I think /wink. My first husband? Probably can't run a computer. J? J doesn't know much about 'this side' of me, so I'm sure he isn't aware of it, nor would he care.

I don't think I've said anything horribly negative about anyone. I've been honest about them, myself and the relationships I had (and still have in some cases) with them. It's not like I've given you their names and addresses so you can point and laugh at them on the street. I use them as examples. I write about them when they have affected my life in one way or another, or when they are relevant to me relating an experience I've had. This isn't a blog about how horrible my ex's are. I'd never devalue it, or myself, in that way. As a matter of fact, I am who I am today because of the relationships I have had with those men, and to be honest, I'm pretty happy with who I am today - so how can it be all bad? (*this does not include the jackass I lived with in my early 20's who thought beating women up (non consensually) was his right as a man. No, it certainly doesn't include him.*) I've taken away at least one good thing from each relationship I've had since my mid-twenties.

I am careful about talking about people I have in my life now. I've been very good about asking permission to write about certain things, even though that goes against my ability to "write what I want, when I want." There's a line between being able to write freely and being a good friend, and the line has to remain. I'm all right with that.