Me first.

At several points in my life, I've made this promise to myself:

ME First.

And typically, after I've done that, something happens - some kind of dramatic bullshit - that distracts me from that.

I'm making a conscious decision to not let that happen this time.

I've spent far too much time in the last year worrying about things I have no control over. No more.

Focus --> Me.

I can't help feeling selfish by doing and saying that. But occasionally in life, you gotta be selfish. Especially when it's your own life at stake.

"Life's too short to wear baggy jeans." Screamer, 2006.

For those of you wondering...

..where the D/s went....

Well. It's still in my head and my heart. It's just not so much on paper.

There are many reasons for that. Firstly, because currently there is none in my life. Secondly, because I'm working on myself right now, and there really isn't any room in my life for another person to serve (I am my own demanding taskmaster!). And thirdly, I guess, because I'm in a place where it's slipped way down on the priority scale.

That makes me really sad, but what's happening with me right now is much more important.

It's not that I don't think, fantasize and dream about D/s. It's simply that that's as far as I can go with it right now.

But since it's still there -- I imagine it'll be back, sooner rather than later.

Admitting you have a problem is...

Okay, well, I'll admit it. I'm a magazine whore.

It's not that I subscribe to a lot. Just Self and Fit right now, but going to the store always means there will be two or three more in my bag: Cosmo, Us, Shape, Prevention, Allure....doesn't matter, really. Us is really my only guilty pleasure...well, okay, Us and Cosmo. The others, I read for...wisdom collection.

If I spend 3.00 on a magazine, and I take away one piece of wisdom, or one thought that makes me think about my life in a different way - it was worth the three bucks.

I love my magazines. Just try to take them away from me!

I'm also a book whore. Since I started working, and since I don't ever go out for lunch, my lunch hour at least once a week is spent at Border's or Half Price Books - sometimes, two days. I'm still reading fantasy books (The Witches of Eileanan series by Kate Forsyth was *fabulous*!. Now, I'm reading Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory MacGuire, which C got me for Christmas) at night before I go to sleep, but on my table by the couch, I have a pile of non-fiction that I read when there's nothing on TV, or I read them while on the exercise bike. There are some fitness books, there are some wisdom books, there are some women-centric books (Sexy Witch by LaSara W. FireFox is a great read!). I find myself lately reading more and more. I can't seem to help myself.

Reading is my passion. That's just the way it is.

Greetings

I had a fill in my lapband on 1/17. Seems to be a good fill, as I’m eating slightly less, but have the same or better energy level. That might be because I’m actually doing real exercise at night! (6 nights a week). I’m up to 30 minutes(8.5 miles or so in that time so far, about 17mph) a night. It’s good. Boring, but good.

Work is going well – did I tell you I got a real job?- lol. I got hired on full-time status effective 1/16, at 12K more a year than I asked for, so yea – I’m happy

As far as my love life goes, well, I really don’t have one. But the weightloss and the exercise have propelled me forward into taking MUCH better care of myself. I’ve done some serious reading on relationships, self, etc, and am putting as much as fits me into practice.

And you know what? I feel excellent. I truly do. For the first time in god knows how long.

And for those that know me IRL, my hair is actually now down to my butt YEE HA.

Have a great day.

"Life's too short to wear cheap, ugly underwear." Screamer, 2006

I suck at updating

Okay, so it's been ages since I posted. Good reasons for that? I got a job :) Better reasons? I've been writing.

So, let's see.

Since I started the pre-surgery processing last June, I've lost 64 pounds. I feel GREAT. This week, I started riding my exercise bike *every day* instead of just when I thought about it. I started at 1 mile, am going to work up to 5, then up the tension some.

I'm still working on my fantasy novel. So many good ideas, so little time to write them.

I started working for a small software company the week of Thanksgiving. The work is good, my boss is so-so, but I'm getting into the swing of it, and I'm sure it'll be fine.

I spent New Year's with C. He was sick for most of it. Talking went so-so, but when he and I just let go and be ourselves and have fun, we have such a great time. Having a relationship like that is a gift. It's a sin to waste it /nod

The cats are great. My family is great. Christmas was all right. My tree is still up ha ha. My mom has to come and take it down with me, cause she wants to pack my ornaments up "right" /eyeroll. Sometimes, it's easier to just agree, smile and nod.

I'm playing some World of Warcraft, and also some Warcraft III. I'm watching "Queer as Folk" from the beginning(I've never seen it, but I've heard so many people talk about how much they liked it, that I had to give it a try, and now I'm hooked). I'm about halfway through season 3, so don't ruin it for me :)

I just wanted to catch y'all up if you're still reading. Once my brain slows down, I'll come back and expand on some of that more :)

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*.

I know, I know. I promised to finish that thought. Been a busy week sorta, and my parents will be here soon for the day, so lemme finish that thought and make all nice-and-good for my folks.

Secretary: The Movie. I like this movie. As a regular old fashioned movie, it's got a clear plot, with plenty of subplot action. The actors are good (I love James Spader - yummy). It's just - odd enough to be cultish, and most "regular Joe" people would probably be offended at the whole thing, so -- yea, I like it.

What I don't like is that both of these people appear to be mentally ill :( Her especially. Why do they find it necessary to show d/s in movies only when they can link it with someone who has a history of cutting, of alcohol abuse in their family, etc? What's up with that? Is that the only thing that makes it palatble for the rest of the world? And that's a heck of an image to be portraying.

But I can't help but like it, despite that *chuckle*

I watched Secretary again the other night.

My opinion that these 2 charectars are pretty messed up still stands. But I still like the basis of the movie, and the d/s elements of it.

Acck...gotta run. I got more on this. Will finish my thought later.

Seems our friend Spankboss has riled up the touchy feely d/s crowd. Ugh.

When are people gonna get it? Not everyone has their D/s wrapped up in pretty pink bows in the bedroom?

And when are people gonna stop bashing those of us who don't want it that way?

It'd also be nice if people stopped making excuses for their behavior and started accepting that life is about choices. But I don't see that happening any time soon.

I wish I had something more exciting to write about :(

I find myself being very frustrated with C the last few days. Despite phone calls and emails, I've gotten no response from him. Maybe he's punishing me. I dunno. But the stuff I need to speak with him about - are bills and such that need to be put in his name since I'm gone - it's not trivial bullshit.

I said to him before I left - right before, actually, while I was standing by the car - that I believe he thought he was a lot more dominant and I thought I was a lot more submissive. The wording there is wrong.

It's just that I don't want to submit to someone who's got no interest in being submitted to.

When a relationship disintegrates, you're looking for answers. I'm still kinda looking for them. Between the Navy and the way C's Dad's death affected him - I probably have them, but I don't want to leave it there. I know I'm not blameless here.

In the mean time, Happy Thanksgiving. Hug your loved ones. I'll be hugging my parents and my niece tomorrow.

Greetings and Salutations from Wisconsin.

I've been here about 2 weeks, and am settling in - even though I had a horrible move so far. My furniture still isnt' here. But I bought a new bed, and have been filling the apartment with new things, so that when it does arrive, I'll have a full house. I brought Sophie with me, and she is adjusting to being without Star, tho she still pines for him I think. Who could blame her? So do I.

So, without television, I've been watching DVDs on my laptop before I go to sleep. The movers missed some of the DVDs in the TV cabinet, and I ended up with my copy of BDSM: Alternative Loving with me. It hadn't even been opened. It was one of those movies I meant to watch with C., and never did. Last night, I popped it in.

First impressions: not bad. There were many things about this documentary that I liked, and just as many that I did not like. The use of "real" and "true" in reference to dominants and submissives grated on my last nerve (see: Real And True and Their Misplacement in BDSM ). Some of the people interviewed were believable, some not. I could have done without the Gorean example completely. But there was a great diversity shown - as far as gays/lesbians/het folks, and different play styles. Professional dominance was touched on, which was nice.

The best part of the entire documentary was getting to listen to Vi Johnson speak. I have read
To Love, To Obey, To Serve, and found it fascinating. I've also exchanged email with Vi, though it was ages ago. I've never gotten the opportunity to meet her, but hope that some day, I do.

All in all, it was worth the 30 bucks, if for no other reason, to confirm my gut instincts about some of the people I heard speak for the first time in the film. It was a good introduction (gawd I love to watch fireplay. Would never do it, but it's so dramatic to watch) for people, albeit perhaps a bit scary. They choose mostly good people to interview, as most of them were normal everyday people.

If you have 30 bucks laying around, and are curious, pick it up. If you don't, you're not gonna miss all that much.

Again....Where did I go?

Well, shit. I wish I could tell you.

Things around here turned to hell in a handbasket recently. Many reasons for that, but the jist of it is, I'm in the process of moving closer to home for awhile. Probably a long while. I don't know yet.

Yup, C and I are separating.

I've got some really mixed emotions about this. In a lot of ways, it's good because my needs were surely not getting fulfilled in this relationship - and this will give me time to decide if those needs are really needs, or just things I conditioned myself to want. Time to re-evaluate not only my base self, but D/s in general and my place in it. In a lot of ways, it's bad, because despite everything - I love C. Have loved him for the better part of 11 years. That hasn't changed, despite the Navy and other things. I doubt somehow it ever will. Doesn't mean it's enough. Doesn't mean it isn't.

Do I sound non-commital? Fuck yes, I am.

Intend to move around the middle or end of the month. Expect much for verbage outta me after that, cause I'll be starting the big evaluation of Screamer.

Introspective


As I’ve mentioned in the past, I run several email lists: Four Strictly lists, Ds, Ms, Spanking, and SM, plus one called Verbal Intercourse, which never got off the ground unfortunately. I’m trying to perk it up now. But the mainstay of my list management is for BDSM based lists.

Sometimes, like the last year, I feel like a fraud in that.

There’s so very little D/s in this house right now. Not only because he’s gone, but because when he’s here he is exhausted. With his dad’s death, and the subsequent estate war (still going on), there just doesn’t seem to be any energy for much of anything.

Patience has never been a strong suit of mine, but I’ve had to learn it, and learn it well over the last year. What brought C and I together in the first place, over 10 years ago, was D/s. And it’s not like either of us have changed so much that we don’t need or want that anymore. It’s just not – there.

No doubt, this is difficult. And I frustrate easily in it. But I’m trying to get better within that.

I’ve been chatting with a man on EQ about BDSM. Two of them actually – one seriously and one not seriously. I sent him (herein to be referred to as S.) some of my writing before C. left on his last cruise and he asked me a question about why a man would want to make the woman he loves cry. A few days later, when I was taking C to base in the morning, I asked him that question. His response was very simple: Because it exhibits the amount of control the man has over the woman. When I re-iterated this to S., he said that a lot of this stuff I enjoy seems to revolve around control. And I guess it does. Or, at least, it would appear that way to someone completely vanilla, learning about this stuff for the first time. It was interesting to share these pieces of myself with someone who had no experience in kink, and I actually learned a lot about myself in doing that. I’ve been pretty introspective about it, and some other things, for the last couple weeks, and I expect quite a bit of thought and writing to come from that. At least, I hope it will.

Okay, well, I'm still alive.

YAY!

It's been a bad winter/spring here. Christmas was insane, and 7 days after we returned home from our trip to Iowa and Wyoming, my father in law passed away and we had to return to Wyoming for three weeks. Since then, C has gone out to sea again for a short cruise and is now out on a long cruise. No idea when he'll return. So I'm left at home dealing with the estate and various other things - and playing a lot of EQ.

Expect to see me back ranting and raving real soon, if anyone is still checking....hello...hello...echooo.....

Again -- my lack of writing is not for lack of wanting to. I just got back from 9 days in Iowa with my folks', and came home to 3 big candle/soap orders - YAY!

C. is due home next month - and immediately afterwards, we'll be leaving for Christmas in Wyoming and Iowa - so I don't expect to have much time to write until after the first of the year or so. Boooooooo.

And I'm about to get even busier....

Damn, I'm pissed off that I've not been able to write. Orders are flowing (holiday season), and now I'm going to be taking a trip home next week - for about 10 days.

All of your emails and comments are greatly appreciated. Hopefully I'll get back to my normal rambling soon!

Geez, talk about a busy week.

The candle orders have been rolling in. I'm tickled about that, for the business' sake, but it's left my free time - well, not free. I also had company this week for a few days, so it's been - busy.

I appreciate your comments and emails about my last posting. I haven't heard from the 'gentleman' who wrote the initial email, so perhaps he's taken a hint. That'd be nice.

I'm pouring candles and making bath bombs today, so I probably won't have a lot of time to write, but I have an entry half written, so maybe I'll get to finish it up.

I got an email from someone recently, about my "SSC" rant. I won't share the email here, but I do want to talk about its context.

Basically, what this gentleman told me, was that I have a responsibility, as one of the “louder” voices of the greater BDSM community – that I shouldn’t be saying things like I say because people look up to me. That as a ‘celebrity’ (ugh!), I have accountability to people just starting out in the community, to teach them right from wrong. He said that in writing like I have been here in my blogger, I could be giving people the wrong idea about what it is that we do (I hate that WIITWD shit, so I refuse to use it). He suggested that I delete what I’ve got here and replace it with some of my older essays from my website.

I politely told him to go fuck himself.

In the first place, what it is that HE does is not necessarily what it is that *I* do. I am not duty-bound to tell the ‘BDSM community’ anything. I tell it like it is. I am honest about *my* experiences and *my* feelings. That’s all I *can* do. That’s all *any* of us can do. And frankly, the idea that he wants me to *LIE* about my feelings for the sake of the newbies pissed me off to such a degree that I had to get up and walk away from my computer. I pointed him to the graphic at the top of this blogger (also included on my web page, and the Strictly lists), and told him in a straightforward manner that I would not be coerced into insincere writing simply because he thinks what I write about isn’t fit for newbie consumption.

I’ve said before in this blogger that I don’t feel any great responsibility to educate anyone. If my writing helps people, I’m flattered. If my essays lead people to a new way of thinking, I’m honored. But I’m not writing to educate. I’m writing because it’s what I *do*. I am not an authority on anyone’s BDSM relationship. I will not tell people they have to do SSC or RACK or any of those other phony-ass acronyms. I will not tell people how to behave. I will not put a fucking disclaimer on my blogger that says it’s not for newbies to read (as he kindly suggested).

I expect people to have at least normal intelligence. I expect people to use their common sense. If they don’t, I can’t be blamed for their immaturity or their disregard for their own safety.

He also made mention that my discussion of my ex’s punishment scene in this entry was inappropriate because it might scare new submissives off from a punishment dynamic, or scare them away all together.

I don’t know about you folks, reading this, but I can tell you something about me. I like honesty. If someone is scared off by what I’ve written about my ex, maybe they weren’t ready for BDSM in the first place. I told the gentleman e-mailer that, and added that if he’s expecting me to be cuddly and sweet and romantic, and thus lure more new submissives to the scene for him to choose from, he’s got the wrong girl.

I’m not sure why this guy’s email (I’ve gotten emails like this before – it’s nothing new) struck me the way it did, but I can guarantee you, he thought he was doing the BDSM community at large a favor by flattering me (the celebrity comment) and then telling me how wrong I was by writing what I know and feel. I dislike being censored, but even more than that, I dislike being told I should be censored because MY truth isn’t someone ELSE’S truth. I take a lot of crap for being sarcastic, for being forthright, and for being honest. And I’ll continue to take it, because I’d rather be honest and take a lot of crap from people, than be insincere and a “celebrity”.

There is very little I hate more than being sick. Somewhere along the line, I picked up a horrible cold. It doesn't seem to be getting any better (three days now) and I have so many things I want to do, but can't. It pisses me off. I can't even do soap or candles because I can't SMELL the stuff.

I'm going to try and write some today, but feeling as woozy as I do, I doubt I'll get much done. I spent most of yesterday on the couch watching TV and I hate the idea of doing that again today. At least I started the laundry.....

Keeping Busy

We're under 60 days now until C comes home. I'm trying to stay very busy so I don't think about it :) So far this week, I've made 5 dozen votive candles, 12 jar candles and 4 batches of soap *grin* More on the plate for today.

You can tell I really love you, and agreed to submit to you if…
I let you fuck my ass

(‘Let’ is not the right word, but I’m short on “right” today)

I wish I were one of those women who really get into anal sex. But I’m not.

Anal sex for me has always been about pleasing someone else. I’ve had several lovers in the past who were truly into it. (One boyfriend, in my mid twenties, preferred it to vaginal sex – which got tiresome and another took it forcefully and without my consent more than once). Even with proper lubrication and plenty of warm up, it still hurts. The best I can muster is relaxing enough so that the pain slips into the background quietly while I concentrate on my partner’s pleasure. It’s a very submissive act for me.

C doesn’t care much for anal sex (too much work, according to him *chuckle*), so I guess I got lucky there. I don’t offer it to him (who am I to push something neither of us really wants? lol), and he doesn’t bring it up. It doesn’t fit into my ‘rape’ fantasies, either. The idea of being taken anally without lubrication is – shiver – unthinkable (painwise).

So, why am I talking about it, since it’s not part of my life? Am I subconsciously wishing for it?

No. *chuckle*.

I’m talking about it, because it’s on my list of topics. If I was ‘going somewhere’ with it when I put it on the list, I don’t remember.

So that’s all I gotta say about that.

Still Here

It's been an odd week around here. Good parts, bad parts, stressful parts. The worst of it, I suppose, is now that we're almost to 2/3 down with this cruise of C's, I'm starting to count days, which is *not* helping.

I've been working on soap and candles, and not finding much energy to write. I'll be trying to rectify that over this weekend.

Spirituality
Or, why I believe what I believe

I made mention earlier of me being a pagan . I guess it’s time to explore that with y’all a little, so you don’t get the wrong idea.

I was born and raised Catholic. (That, in and of itself is enough to make one run screaming for un-organized religion, eh?). I started to have my doubts about my ‘chosen’ spiritual path (oh yea – I chose it. I chose to go so my dad wouldn’t kick my ass) in my teens, and by my early 20’s, it was all over. Eventually, I got booted out of the church (I spent way too much time on television, as our local NOW president, promoting access to family planning and the like). It was a good excuse to stop going, actually. After the age of 17, I just went to please my folks. (I didn’t find CFFC until later, but it probably wouldn’t have helped much)

I started reading tarot cards and runes around that time. I started working with candles. I started meditating (though badly). I started to seek other ‘options’.

When I moved in with C in 1995, he bought me a copy of “To Ride a Silver Broomstick” . I read it. I related to some of it. C considers (or, at least, did at the time) himself to be Wiccan. I don’t. But the paths are remarkably similar.

I still play with my tarot cards and my runes. I still work with candles quite frequently – sometimes daily – depending on what I’m trying to achieve. I studied Reiki (and had my Master attunement in Portland in 2001), and try to use it whenever I can. I’m always researching other healing paths (that seems to be where my interest lies), as well as ritual and intent.

I do believe in God. I also believe in the Goddess. I believe that there is not one singular thing at work in the universe – there are several. I believe that if you want something badly enough – and your intent is pure – you’ll receive it when you’re ready. I believe in Karma (big time). I meditate. I ask. I listen. I send out energy and hope to receive the same kind of energy in return.

I strongly dislike organized religion (though C and I were married by an old Southern Baptist at the Courthouse in Chicago because he preferred it to a judge). I strongly dislike the structure and rules (of which, most are paternalistic at best, and misogynistic at worst) of organized religion. I believe what I believe. I do not think I have to spend an hour a week in a building to prove those beliefs.

I’m not opposed to Wicca as a path. I just do not feel it fits as my path. Again, it’s formal and organized, and I just don’t feel like it fits what I accept as true. As to the question if I consider myself a witch, the answer is yes. (in more ways than one – HA!). About a year ago, I started to develop a shock of grey hair at my right temple. C calls this my “witch’s lock” It seems to come and go at will *chuckle* Sometimes, it’s very clear, and others it seems to fade into the blonde. When I work on body products, I tend to blend together essential oils that have specific purposes, and colors that translate into magickal messages. I’ve seen and felt these rituals and intents work. I believe in them.

One lesson that I’ve concentrated on recently is gratitude. If I send gratitude out into the universe – so that it’s known I’m thankful – and acknowledge the gifts of the Earth given to me, I’m able to pursue other gifts.

Okay. I think you know all you need to now *grin*.

Vive Le Resistance!
Or, Interrogation Role-play, and other reasons to resist

So, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I like role-play. I guess it appeals to the dramatic in me, as well as the escapist. Besides that, it’s just *fun*. In a small package I sent to C, I included one of the lace gloves from the “FiFi the French Maid” costume I bought (and used) before he left, and he got a big charge out of that *chuckle*.

C and I have discussed other forms of role-play. When we first got back together in Las Vegas, the one that came up (and seemed to appeal to him) was the interrogator/prisoner. I find that very telling, in light of my discussions recently about being “broken”. It occurred to me, after I finished my last post about “broken” that that particular scenario fits in quit cleverly. I’m not sure why it appeals to C. I can only speak for myself.

I love resistance. I love fighting ‘it’. C and I wrestle around a lot, although he says I always end up getting hurt *chuckle* (sometimes I do. The man doesn’t know his own strength). I like to struggle on the couch. I like to tussle in the kitchen. I like to fight in bed *evil grin*. I’ve no idea why this appeals to me like it does. Nor do I really care that much. I just know I like it.

I/P (interrogator/prisoner, I love shorthand) appeals to me for that reason. Try to *make* me tell you a secret. I dare you. Torture me all you want. I’m going to resist. Not only for the *fun* of it, but because it empowers me to do so. It’s a test of wills. I love that. Especially when I know no real harm will come to me if I keep defying him. The pomp and circumstance of being tied to something, and then tortured with whatever-means-necessary to get me to reveal some secret knowledge that I have not only satisfies the dramatist in me, it gets me incredibly *hot*.

Ain’t that why we do some of these things, anyway?

I do have a problem though. During some of our experiments with role-playing, I *laugh*. (See my post about laughing during a spanking) . It’s not something I’m real good at keeping from happening. I’m not sure why it happens. The harder I try to resist it, the more it happens. I’m happy to have such a keen sense of humor, but damn…*chuckle*. I’m afraid that, unless C is really *into* his role as “I”, I’m going to start laughing like a mad woman. And maybe that’s okay. But I’m thinking if I do, neither of us are going to get that feeling we’re trying to achieve.

The more I think about that last paragraph, the more I’m chuckling to myself as I write this. C and I are cut-ups. We laugh so much. Neither of us takes ourselves too seriously. And in most situations, that’s perfect. But in situations like this – not so much.

I guess we’ll see how it goes *grin*.

What’s up here today

I have a blogger entry started, but I’m not sure I’ll get it done today. I feel my blockage (writer’s block) coming back and I’m trying to stave it off. Hopefully, I’ll be able to.

So I spent the morning packing up a few soap and candle orders, and made a pre-wash oil recipe for my hair. It smells wonderful – we’ll see if it works (I’ll find out in 25 minutes – ha, ha). I have long hair – maybe the middle of my back – but it hasn’t seemed to have gotten any longer in the last few years, so I’m trying a few hints I read on the web. I’m also going to go get it “dusted” (barely trimmed) this week. C always said he’d be happy with the length as long as he could fully wrap it around one of his fists *chuckle* and I got there before he left, but I’d like it longer. I’ve got a lovely curlish-wave to my hair. No one else in the family has this, although my Dad had curls before his first hair cut, as did my niece. Mine, though – are here to stay. And I like that. At least it doesn’t just hang there, lifeless. I’ve been having it cut recently so it comes in towards my face a little on the sides. It’s the first real change I’ve done to my hair since high school (eeeek). I still feather the top back, though *chuckle*.

As far as my progress on my self-image/weight issues goes, I have good days and bad days. Most times, I eat low-fat or low-cal dinners and lunches (granola bar or yogurt for breakfast), and I do pretty well. Problem is, this is the time of year when that gawd-forsaken candy-corn with the brown bottom comes out (ohhhh…I love that stuff. It’s the devil’s spawn), and I’ve bought a couple bags of it. I also made fudge Friday night and drank a whole bottle of Arbor Mist (ha ha), so I can definitely tell when it’s “emotional eating” and when it’s not. So far, just being able to identify it isn’t helping me stop doing it. But I’ve started riding my exercise bike again, so I feel good about that. I keep telling myself that it took a long time for those habits to be set, it’ll take a long time for them to go away. I also ask the Universe for guidance (I’m a pagan. Have I mentioned that?). So I’m hopeful that eventually, I’ll get to a place where I’m more comfortable.

Breaking the Wall (Yes, again)
Final Conclusions

A couple entries ago, I started writing about not being given a choice. I’ve also said that I think that’s the only way that final wall is going to tumble into rubble. After I finished writing my “BDSM Community Rant” last night, I started to think back on this “wall-breaking” thing. And trying to decide why that’s so important to me right now.

This morning, I read this week’s Leather Views column by Jack Rinella, and I had to laugh. He’d written the opposite side of my masochist entry from yesterday. I felt compelled to write him and tell him of my own thoughts on this (something I rarely, if ever do). And in keeping with the spirit of what I told him “I came to a point when writing my article (which I titled "Pain Hurts. No
Really, it does"), when I had to admit "out loud" that I don't know why I like what I like. And frankly, I've spent too much time recently trying to figure those things out. I love to work with the intellectual side of myself to rationalize and expound on my thoughts, but there comes a time when it's best to say -- Fuck it. I like it. Good enough. “

I wonder if I’ve come to that point with this whole “last wall” thing, too. I’ve run it over and over in my head – 100 different ways or more – and have yet to be able to put together any kind of cohesive decision. I want it. I believe it’ll make the relationship between C and I stronger. That should be enough, right?

So rather than continue figuring out the “why” (we already know the “what”, “who” is a given, and “where and “when” are completely out of my control), I thought I’d spend some time thinking at that “how”.

I did a whole entry about bondage awhile back. One thing I said, as I was listing its virtues was this: But inside their head, they can use the experience as "not having any choice in the matter". This person - the binder - the dominant - the top - has all of the control. And I’m not talking about (necessarily) having to be tied up or down with leather or ropes or metal. Those things are nice and pretty for bondage – but not necessary. Actually, they make things way easier for the submissive. It’s when you’re told to “stay” and “don’t move” without use of any accoutrements that it gets disgustingly difficult to maintain. Sure, I like the bondage “materials”. As a matter of fact, I prefer them. But in no way are they a necessary thing.

For the most part, bondage is the illusion of “not having any control”. Thing is, though – for this purpose – the “wall-destruction” - it’s going to have to be more than an illusion to me. I’m actually going to feel like I don’t have – a choice.

The way my mind works, if I get to a “scary” place, I’m going to try to get out of it. I’m going to work real hard at looking for a loophole. It’s not that I’m going to do this consciously. I just know how my mind works. My “fight or flight” mechanism is in great working order. I can only remember one time – in nine years – that I was ‘forced’ to stay in a situation that made me uncomfortable (BDSM wise). Sometimes, I’ll do it willingly, as a matter of pride. But that time, it certainly wasn’t willing. I was coerced. It stopped long before I got to the wall, but it went on longer than I would have normally let it to go before I started trying to get out of it. This is not to say that I’m someone who “tries to get out of things” as a rule. I don’t. Most of the time, my desire to remain submissive to my dominant well over-rides any “fight or flight” feelings that may come up. Then again, to be honest, I haven’t really been pushed that hard that often. Not to say I haven’t been hurt *chuckle*, but saying that I just don’t hit the “run away! run away!” feeling very often.

(Geez, now I’ve wandered way off topic and I’m going to have a hell of a time getting back!)

(Then, I wandered WAY off into the living room and got a phone call from C *grin* so I’m wayyyy off track. But it’s all good *grin*)

Okay. Back to “not having a choice”. The reason I brought up bondage in the first place is to take away part of the “choice”. There are, of course, many ways to accomplish this whole thing (and I’m certainly not going to tell C how to do it, but you know that if I don’t offer any input he’ll be telling me to quit being so damn vague). If we’ve agreed, at the beginning, that he’s not going to take me out of any bondage – real or mental – just because I ask him or beg him to (in other words, not without a mental or medical emergency), the idea that I “can get out of it” is gone. There won’t be any struggle for me mentally with that.

And I do struggle. Mentally. A lot. Not struggle as in “can’t deal”, but struggle as in “trying to be the best person I can be, and debating between ‘what I want’ and ‘what’s best for US right that minute’”. While talking with C on the phone today, I told him that the reason this is all flowing so easily for me right now is because a) we’re not both living in this apartment as ‘overworked individuals’, and b) because I’m not afraid of him thinking that when I say “I want this” and him thinking I mean “right this minute”. That struggle, for the time being – is gone. Right now, I can freely write about and freely want anything I care to. Because we both know I ain’t getting any of it til he gets home, anyway *grin*.

That struggle is part of the reason that that wall is still standing. The struggle helped build it, and the struggle keeps it alive. Take away the struggle – take away the choice – and the wall will crumble. Bondage is one way to get that started. Pain is another. Ultimately, that decision will be out of my hands. Which is exactly what I want.

For those of you out there saying “If your Master tells you to take the wall down, that should be enough.” – And I know you’re there – let me tell you that I’ve tried that. No matter how desperately I want to please, I can’t break it. I don’t want to just breech it, or build a porthole through it. I want it destroyed.

I ain’t got that kind of wrecking ball.

BDSM Community
Rants from a Burn-out

I already made a few references to how I feel about BDSM community in some entries, so now I guess is the time to get this out.

First, I’ve only experienced a few communities in this country. Some were great experiences (San Jose/smOdyssey and Portland, Oregon’s PLA among them). Some were not so great experiences (No, I’m not going to list those). Second, a community is made up of many many people, and some of those people will be good, and some of those people will be assholes. You find that anywhere. Even in a knitting circle *grin*. My experiences, while they may be colored by a few people with bad attitudes and arrogant perceptions of right and wrong – are just that. Mine. Please don’t base your participation in any BDSM community on my opinions. Get out there and try it for yourself.

I hate politics. I hate community leaders who use SSC as a rule, not a slogan. I hate power struggles. I hate back-stabbing and free-loaders. I hate whining. I hate “black lists” (a list of “bad dominants” as prescribed by one person). I hate gossip-mongering. I hate carpet-bagging and wishy-washy-ness. I hate people who complain, but will do nothing to help a situation. And I hate people who can’t make up their minds. For these reasons, and many others, I’ve spent the last four years out of the public BDSM community. The last event I attended was KinkFest in Portland in 2001. I had a great time – hell, I even DM’d for a shift. I saw some friends. Met some new friends. But by that time, C had already left for his Navy training in Chicago, and I just wasn’t interested enough to get involved on my own. Fact is, after 4 years of organizing community in Monterey, I was burnt out. Leather leadership, for me, was over. C and I have been here since November, and I’ve been looking lately at a couple of local groups, trying to decide if I really want to get back into all that again. And I’m thinking – maybe I do. But not as a leader. My patience for that is gone.

All those things I listed above are some of the things I hate about BDSM communities. Other things – as in the entry previous to this one – and the assumption that if you do d/s, you must also do SM. Not everyone does.

I understand, having started a community (or two or three – ugh – don’t ask) myself, is that you have to have rules. But rules that are born purely of fear are dangerous. Rules need to be born of logic, and have a solid anchoring in reality. Making up rules for the sake of hearing yourself talk is – well – stupid. But if you think people don’t do that – well, take another look.

Something else I abhor is this: I am not your babysitter. You are not paying me 2.00 an hour to keep you safe. You are not a child. If you are a mature adult (as you should be, if you’ve come out in BDSM), you need to learn to use your common-fucking-sense and be responsible. Don’t get me wrong – I think safe calls and introductory discussions are awesome for people just coming out. I think they’re necessary. But be prepared, when you do start going out there and meeting with potential partners – to make your decisions based on common sense and not hormones. I’m adamant about this. And I’ll be honest to you as to why: When I first started meeting people in a BDSM context (after C and I had met, and broken up), I did it badly – meaning – I was unsafe. I was in a hurry. I was letting the desire overtake my common sense. And you know what? No one told me different. No one said to me “Be fucking careful.” All anyone ever said was “We’ll be here to catch you if you fall.” Now, I tell people: Be fucking careful. I’ll be here for you, if you fall – once. If you don’t learn your lesson the first time, do NOT expect me to baby-sit you forever. There are too many “victims” in today’s society. If you can stand there and tell me that “submissive does not equal stupid” then be prepared to back that up. There are people involved in BDSM communities that *live* to be babysitters. They love feeling like the “group protector” and the “daddy” of all the female submissives. Fine. But if you aren’t teaching those submissives how to be their own protector, and something happens to you (or, as in one case I know personally – you get pissed off and leave the community) – you’ve ended up doing much more harm than good in the long run.

Please. Do Auntie Screamer a favor. Stop. And THINK. With your HEAD. The BIG head, not the little one. Thank you.

This is not to say that safety shouldn’t be taught; it should be. And it should be taught well.

I’ve been told in the past, that as someone who’s been doing this awhile that it’s my DUTY to teach new people the rules and safety. No, I don’t think so. It’s not that I won’t – if I’m asked, I will most certainly. But when you start telling me I *have* to, I’m going to get very pissy. People like me – people who write – either online, or in print – often get mistaken for experts. Most of us aren’t. Please remember that. Just because someone wrote a book doesn’t make them the be-all, end-all authority on anything EXCEPT their own experience. It’s okay to disagree with them. Those books aren’t bibles, after all. If you’re reading a book on BDSM and you run across something in it that doesn’t sit well with you, please don’t feel like you have to take it as *law*. You don’t. After having encountered some of these “so-called” experts in face-to-face venues, all I can tell you is – most of them aren’t anything more than people who enjoy BDSM, and have a flair for writing.

Now, having said *all* of that, let me assure you that I do think BDSM community is good over-all. I think in general it fills a space that desperately needs to be filled, and I do support many of these organizations. Groups like TES, Black Rose, Society of Janus – these guys have been around a very long time. And they’re excellent at what they do. I also think BDSM books are, by and large, great additions to your library and even better when you can read them objectively. I think events are *fun*. I think munches are *great*. And I think that the people who are leaders in all of this should be much more appreciated than they are by all of us.

My issues with community are seen through my lens. And I’ll admit that I’ve had some just purely awful experiences in and about the communities I participated in. But over-all, I wouldn’t trade one minute of it – or any of the friends I’ve made during that time.

Pain Hurts No, it really does. I’m not kidding.


I’m not a masochist.

I meditated on that long and hard for a long time, and I finally came to that conclusion. I do not get any sexual satisfaction from the feeling of pain. I cannot have orgasm simply from having pain inflicted on me, even in a BDSM sense.

I do get satisfaction from pain, in a d/s sense, however. There are several ways this can be achieved.
- The feeling of submitting to another’s will, or;
- The depth of meditative space I can get into during the scene, or;
- The feeling of accomplishment once it’s over

I used to believe that I had orgasms from pain. But it was never that. Instead, it was the use of dominance, aggression – and simply, the feeling of being submissive in a scene – bending my will to that of another.

On those occasions when I’ve bottomed to someone that I’m not submissive to, the feeling is more of the meditative space kind; where I close my eyes and concentrate on the pain itself, and allow the energy building inside me to convert any pent up antipathy/aggression/resentment inside me into energy that I can release when I release the yells/screams/cries from the pain. Single tails are great for this purpose. The sting of a whip – especially if done in a nice rhythm and with sharp impact gives a great backdrop. Thuddy things like floggers can also be good. But if the pain is too light, I get more into a dreamy space, and never quite get to the meditative space.

There is one time that I like pain, though. I like pain during sex.

I like to be bitten. I like to have vile, evil nasty things done to me. I like to be talked to meanly, to be held down and tortured with fingers, teeth and cock. I’ve mentioned before that I like rough sex, so this is no surprise to you, right? I don’t want to be treated gently. Save that for afterwards, when I’m sore. *grin*.

I want to be taken. But it’s more than that. And this following word, having been on my list of blogger topics for quite some time, is finally going to get to be explored:

Used. .

Sex is one of the times when I feel the most submissive. It’s when I want to be the most pleasing and put to the “best use”, so to speak. It may have to do with proximity, with hormones, with breathlessness and heat. I go at sex with abandon. It’s one of the few times out of a day where I can completely “let go”. I can’t really identify any one thing in particular, but something about fucking brings the submissive part of me front and center in a hurry. And I think that’s where ‘used’ comes in.

For me to feel good about being submissive, I have to be doing something pleasing or helpful. I want to feel like I’m making C’s life easier in one way or another. This is why when he first went into the Navy and was in Chicago, I kept asking him for things to do – or finding things to do and then telling him that I’d done them.

I believe that perhaps in sex – and more specifically, in sex with C – I have a healthy outlet for allowing myself to allow myself to be completely pleasing, with no ulterior motives and no concern for myself. I’m there to give him what *he* wants. And in doing so, I get exactly what *I* want. Luckily, this seems to work out well for C and I, and is probably one of the reasons we’re so innately compatible.

I’ve tried to analyze and meditate on that. On why I feel that way. And I’ve never found an answer to it. I’ve come to accept that it’s just how I’m made up – and part of what makes me – well, me.

Side note: There’s so much confusion in the online BDSM community about the delineation between d/s and SM. People *assume* that if you are in a d/s relationship, that you ‘play’. That’s not always the case. ‘Play’, in this house, is a rare thing. Our d/s contains very little use of SM or restraint – and if we do utilize those accoutrements, it’s less a part of d/s and more a part of ‘fun time’ for us. A discussion we had recently on StrictlyDs brought this to light. People who come to the ‘online community’ (I still hate that word) looking for answers about d/s are directed to whip workshops and bondage demos. And maybe that’s what they’re looking for. But it’s not always. Maybe what they’re really looking for is a seminar on ‘how to let your dominant know you’re angry with him’, or ‘how to quell a bratty submissive’. There is far less of that out there, than the demonstrations on rope work and caning. (More on the BDSM community later)

Breaking the Final Wall


I don’t want to be given a choice.

That’s not to say I’d like that all the time in my life – frankly, I’m a little too Type A for that. But when it comes to certain things, I don’t want any choices. I don’t want to feel like I can get out of something just by saying “no”. For most of my life, I’ve been able to talk my way out of things – punishment as a kid, groundings, speeding tickets. It’s been easy for me to put a smile on my face, and flirt my way out of too much. I don’t want to be able to do that all the time. There’s a certain security in knowing that there’s one person in the world that I cannot plow over.

I talked the other day about breaking that final wall down, and about how I feel about that. It’s something I want. And I think it’s something C wants, too. All his accusations about me being vague have been true, and he *knows* that’s he’s not getting “all the way in there” (meaning my twisted little mind). Without saying it in so many words, I know he wants that.

I thought about that last night, after I’d posted my little discourse on the subject. And what I thought about was this: What is it going to take to get me there? To plow through that last concrete barrier?

I don’t want to be given a choice.

(This is an incomplete thought - will return to it soon)

I haven't run away... I've just been percolating....

I started an entry that I want to finish, and I'm having trouble with it. Hopefully, I'll be able to hammer it out today.