“I want to really kiss you right now.
And yes, I knew what type of kiss he was talking about.
One of those deep, passionate kisses that makes me weak at the knees. The kind of kiss that sends electricity straight through me. The kind of kiss that makes my nipples stand erect. The kind of kiss that makes me hunger for him. My breathing goes ragged and my fingers take hold of his face. My tongue searches out his in such a panic. I’m afraid to lose him. To let go. I don’t want to fall away from the moment. He is my lifeline at this very moment as we hungrily stay connected.
There is no chance to break away and undress. Not yet. For now it’s the kiss.
The rest will come soon enough….
Friday, June 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
In the quiet part of the night......
I sit and think, listening to the thoughts that I allow out when I think I can cope with them. In the quiet part of the night,I wonder about the 'what if's', 'the maybes', the 'if onlys'. In this time I ponder about the rights & wrongs, justice, injustice and how if you wait long enough eventually you will see people get their just desserts, both good and bad. I also wonder about friends, loved ones past and present, a fleeting thought for some wondering if they ever give a passing thought, then I chide myself for being sentimental,, because, out of sight is out of mind is it not?
In the quiet part of the night, I think of the future, what it has in store for all of us, not just me. I think of the happiness I have found in the last few months, and it makes me smile. I realise many of us, have dreams and hopes, some as with my own are not so grounded in reality as one would hope. While it's a good thing to have an unobtainable goal or high hope..But I wonder how many get so down hearted when it's realised that it was just pie in the sky to start with. *Shrugs* I speak of none of my friends, but just in general terms.
In this quiet time, I reflect, but don't worry about things that have happened, tis past now and that's where it will stay. I try not to worry about the smaller things. I also don't take people's attitudes as an affront to me, after all it may not be me they are annoyed with. Just shrug it off and leave it be.
I also reflect on decisions that I need to make and they will come soon, but only when I am good n ready and not before. I have to deem when I think the time is right to do them, no one else can decide that for me..
But mostly it's just time, time for me.....
In the quiet part of the night, I think of the future, what it has in store for all of us, not just me. I think of the happiness I have found in the last few months, and it makes me smile. I realise many of us, have dreams and hopes, some as with my own are not so grounded in reality as one would hope. While it's a good thing to have an unobtainable goal or high hope..But I wonder how many get so down hearted when it's realised that it was just pie in the sky to start with. *Shrugs* I speak of none of my friends, but just in general terms.
In this quiet time, I reflect, but don't worry about things that have happened, tis past now and that's where it will stay. I try not to worry about the smaller things. I also don't take people's attitudes as an affront to me, after all it may not be me they are annoyed with. Just shrug it off and leave it be.
I also reflect on decisions that I need to make and they will come soon, but only when I am good n ready and not before. I have to deem when I think the time is right to do them, no one else can decide that for me..
But mostly it's just time, time for me.....
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Collar....
It's fastened about my neck. Black leather. Wide and soft yet unyielding. When I tip my head back I can feel the buckle there and it gives me a shiver of delight. The wide strap attached sits against my spine and my wrists are bound. If I relax them, it pulls on the collar so I must hold myself erect. This is different because I must now force myself to keep my muscles tight. This raises my normal level of docility when I have a collar on. This is a new state of being.
I am aware of being there, aware of the disconnect. I can see myself in your eyes now. Hair loose about my shoulders and arms, I can feel it against my back. I am flushed and wanton. There is no disguising what I am, what I want.
I am there displayed for your gaze. Bound for your pleasure. Kneeling in submission and obeisance. The things I am when I'm not your toy fall away. All I want, all I need is to please you, to be used and owned. Later I'll think this over and it will make me uncomfortable, but not enough to change, not enough to stop the craving to feel it again.
Then your weight is on me, pressing against me. My nipples are abraded against the rug beneath me. My thighs are tightly together and you grunt each time you thrust into me. I can't move back against you. I can only writhe and moan. It won't be long before I begin to beg you.
"pleasepleasepleaseplease..." it's like a whispered mantra, a spell and it hangs in the air around us, mingling with the scent of sex.
I am aware of being there, aware of the disconnect. I can see myself in your eyes now. Hair loose about my shoulders and arms, I can feel it against my back. I am flushed and wanton. There is no disguising what I am, what I want.
I am there displayed for your gaze. Bound for your pleasure. Kneeling in submission and obeisance. The things I am when I'm not your toy fall away. All I want, all I need is to please you, to be used and owned. Later I'll think this over and it will make me uncomfortable, but not enough to change, not enough to stop the craving to feel it again.
Then your weight is on me, pressing against me. My nipples are abraded against the rug beneath me. My thighs are tightly together and you grunt each time you thrust into me. I can't move back against you. I can only writhe and moan. It won't be long before I begin to beg you.
"pleasepleasepleaseplease..." it's like a whispered mantra, a spell and it hangs in the air around us, mingling with the scent of sex.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
This is not.....
I never saw myself in my own fantasies; I couldn't bear it. I didn't see myself as someone who ought to be in those situations. When I made myself come, it was always to faceless men and women in whatever roles I wanted them to be in, saying and doing the things I wanted to say and do but never felt like I could pull off with confidence. Maybe I didn't really want to; I had no one in my life whom I craved to be naked with behind my eyelids at night.
Then you, the dark horse in the running, rode up, and everything finally became possible. Yet, while I love you, this is not a love letter.
This is an I-want-to-fuck-you letter.
Past experiences have taught me patience, how to sweetly torture myself while waiting for the right moment. I want you. This is why, when we spend time together, my fingers are knotted on the tabletop and my ankles are locked.
This is not a love letter. This is a confession.
You turn me on effortlessly. My mind swims with thoughts of your head between my legs and me coming against your tongue while your fingers are buried inside me, locking me to you. My mouth is dry, my panties wet. I can't concentrate on anything but how badly I want you.
This is how I get through the days until I see you again. I picture all the scenarios that will unfold once you know how I feel and feel the same way. We'll do anything, I'll do anything you want. I can see us going further than we ever planned or thought possible, and being so fucking glad we finally did.
You're with me everywhere I go. I fantasize about how your skin will feel against mine. I can hear my own screams in my head. I walk around with my body buzzing and my head foggy. The anticipation—the need—is both killing me and changing my life.
This isn't a love letter. This is a success story.
I respect you. You are a person who deserves what I have to give, and I will give it to you. This isn't a love letter. This is a promise.
I want to enthrall you. I crave you. I want your soft, choked moans in my ear, your hot breath against my neck. I want to hear your unintelligible mumbles of ecstasy. I picture us afterward, our flushed faces resting against the pillows, smiling wordlessly at each other like we both know some amazing secret, and it makes me ache. This is not a love letter. When you kiss me, you'll find out just what this is.
Then you, the dark horse in the running, rode up, and everything finally became possible. Yet, while I love you, this is not a love letter.
This is an I-want-to-fuck-you letter.
Past experiences have taught me patience, how to sweetly torture myself while waiting for the right moment. I want you. This is why, when we spend time together, my fingers are knotted on the tabletop and my ankles are locked.
This is not a love letter. This is a confession.
You turn me on effortlessly. My mind swims with thoughts of your head between my legs and me coming against your tongue while your fingers are buried inside me, locking me to you. My mouth is dry, my panties wet. I can't concentrate on anything but how badly I want you.
This is how I get through the days until I see you again. I picture all the scenarios that will unfold once you know how I feel and feel the same way. We'll do anything, I'll do anything you want. I can see us going further than we ever planned or thought possible, and being so fucking glad we finally did.
You're with me everywhere I go. I fantasize about how your skin will feel against mine. I can hear my own screams in my head. I walk around with my body buzzing and my head foggy. The anticipation—the need—is both killing me and changing my life.
This isn't a love letter. This is a success story.
I respect you. You are a person who deserves what I have to give, and I will give it to you. This isn't a love letter. This is a promise.
I want to enthrall you. I crave you. I want your soft, choked moans in my ear, your hot breath against my neck. I want to hear your unintelligible mumbles of ecstasy. I picture us afterward, our flushed faces resting against the pillows, smiling wordlessly at each other like we both know some amazing secret, and it makes me ache. This is not a love letter. When you kiss me, you'll find out just what this is.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Dom/sub or what? :)
I’m in flux, but I know that I’m a switch. I enjoy the idea of being submissive. I’m a pain slut, which I feel overrides the submissive bit because I bite/hit/scratch, etc back.
I know that for some people BDSM can be non-sexual, but for the most part it is very sexual for me. I do, however, enjoy power. I love having power over people. It’s a rush. It’s liberating and it makes me feel like I can do anything.
When I do submit, they have to have ticked or pressed the right buttons, I don’t just hand over power to anyone and I feel that power exchange should be done with extreme caution. I don’t like using the word submissive to describe me because people think that means I’ll let someone do whatever they want to.
On the contrary, I have very selective standards about who I would play with. I do not have the patience of the saint. Violation of trust and agreement are big no-noes. I honestly think that any “submissive” bit about me would still include me topping from the bottom, well at least in most cases. I’ve only met one man that I would gladly submit to.
I’m also bi. I often refer to my orientation as being“sexual” because I’m interested in whatever makes me happy sexually and I feel that I’m very adventurous and open to trying new things.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Marks....
It is late, and finally I am in that brief peaceful time before I go to bed. I head to the bathroom, I remove my shirt and stare at myself in the mirror, and the reminders of you left on my body.
My shoulders are covered with fiery red marks. Not your standard high school hickeys but actual hard bite marks purple in a few places but mostly that screaming, crying red. Bites (the kind that lets you know it really hurt )when they happen are almost too much. I am on the edge of too much and not enough and you take more from me with the bite than the creamy whiteness of my skin.
It is surprising to me that I am so fascinated by these marks. So entranced by them. I am cataloging them and memorizing them, knowing that I carried away the more concrete reminder of our time together. You get only the memory; I get the marks, which I can look at any time. That is my special possession, but you know I am not possessive; you have only to ask to see them.
I am tired of the word "mark" so I pause here and look for an alternative; my Thesaurus says thus " a device pointing distinctly to origin of ownership" and think that perhaps the word "mark" is a good one after all. I think I will use the word over and over again after all, but you know why don't you?
We love the bite; it is the most direct expression of who we are, within that I feel the ecstasy of need and fulfillment and I know finally I am almost home.
My shoulders are covered with fiery red marks. Not your standard high school hickeys but actual hard bite marks purple in a few places but mostly that screaming, crying red. Bites (the kind that lets you know it really hurt )when they happen are almost too much. I am on the edge of too much and not enough and you take more from me with the bite than the creamy whiteness of my skin.
It is surprising to me that I am so fascinated by these marks. So entranced by them. I am cataloging them and memorizing them, knowing that I carried away the more concrete reminder of our time together. You get only the memory; I get the marks, which I can look at any time. That is my special possession, but you know I am not possessive; you have only to ask to see them.
I am tired of the word "mark" so I pause here and look for an alternative; my Thesaurus says thus " a device pointing distinctly to origin of ownership" and think that perhaps the word "mark" is a good one after all. I think I will use the word over and over again after all, but you know why don't you?
We love the bite; it is the most direct expression of who we are, within that I feel the ecstasy of need and fulfillment and I know finally I am almost home.
Monday, May 16, 2011
endless possibilities.
I find myself at a loss of what to write to you. How can I put into words, the feelings you conjure, and the tantalizing visuals you produce in my head? How can I write a fantasy, knowing it will never be exactly what I want, because I orchestrate it, rather than we? When my lips brush yours, would you lightly stroke the nape of my neck with your fingers? Or would you suck my lower lip, asking without words to gain entrance so that your tongue could find my own? Perhaps you'd demand, rather than ask, pulling me tightly against you until my body is crushed against yours, your mouth devouring my own with no apology.
Each action can in turn set off its own chain of possible reactions, which would in turn set off different responses from me... the possibilities are quite frankly endless my darling. Endless. Let's return to that simple, innocent kiss.
My lips brush yours, lightly, teasingly. Your fingers curl to the nape of my neck, stroking the fine hairs until I feel small shocks of electricity. Gasping, my lips part and you seize the moment, your tongue stroking my lip, coaxing my mouth to open more. Your hands slip down my back, softly tracing the curve of my sides, the tiny indentation of my spine. I exhale slowly, my breath warm on you as my tongue dances tentatively with yours, a game of cat and mouse -- meeting, retreating, but always returning. My hands cup your jaw, thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks as we both close our eyes, lost in a moment that has become an eternity of tenderness.
My lips brush yours, lightly, teasingly. Your teeth catch my lower lip, sucking it playfully. Rather than pull away, I press my lips more firmly against yours, coaxing your teeth apart with my tongue. My hands glide restlessly along your chest, unfastening the buttons in their wake until my fingers soothingly slide against your unrestricted skin. As my tongue swirls against yours my fingers bite lightly into your hips, pulling the evidence of your arousal against my abdomen, where each shift in my movement brushes against you intimately. Our mouths part and my lips move of their own volition along your neck, seeking the hollow of your throat. I hear the soft groan of approval just as I feel the shiver of your voice directly against my lips. My tongue strokes the spot lazily before moving to the side of your neck. My teeth scrape your skin as I suck lightly, tasting you and then bathing the spot in soft tender kisses.
My lips brush yours, lightly, teasingly. Your growl in response causes my heart to leap, and before I can think, your mouth is hot against mine, demanding entrance with such a force I have no option but to concede. Your hands snake around me, grasping my backside and pulling me roughly against you. There is no thought but your taste, your scent, the feeling of your thickening manhood pressing through your pants as if it is mocking the flimsy material of my skirt. Your hands ride higher, sliding underneath my blouse and along my back. My hands grip your shoulders helplessly, and I feel needful, wanton. Your hands stop momentarily at my sides, your thumbs tracing the underside of my breasts and a faint grunt of approval as you find I am only clothed by the shirt. I feel your muscles clench beneath my hands and somewhere mixed in with the sound of my blood thundering in my ears come the rip of cloth, the pop of buttons.
Drowning against you, in you, I wrench my head free with a gasp for air, trying to clear my overloaded senses. Before the breath fills my lungs, it escapes in a moan as you lower your head to my exposed breasts, your mouth fastened to my nipple. Your tongue flicks harshly against the sensitive nub, a tortuous pleasure conceived to once again banish any logical thought from my mind, replacing it with a pure, almost primal, feeling. A desolate sigh leaves my dry lips as you relinquish your possession of my breast. Within moments your shirt is off and my hands aimlessly roam your back, stroking every muscle, every shift and plane in your flesh. You pick me up and deposit me without fanfare on the counter, lowering your head once more to my other breast before I can utter a word. Your lips and tongue circle the rigid peak of my nipple, driving me to distraction as I shift restlessly, trying to coax you into sucking my nipple. Cool stone chills my flushed skin. I tilt my head down, watching you, and realize you've pulled my skirt up to my waist without ceremony. Your eyes catch mine and hold them, a silent challenge reflected there. You continue to watch me as your mouth finally hovers over the painfully hard nipple, lightly brushing your lips against it. My eyes flutter shut and the sensations instantly stop, and as my eyes open once more I watch you, watching me.
Your tongue flicks once and a strangled moan escapes my throat, but my eyes remain riveted to yours. Your teeth scrape lightly and I shudder, watching you intently with what I know is a pleading stare. You finally concede and I am swept away again as molten heat spreads through me with each suck and scrape of your mouth. My nails rake down your back, . I squirm uncontrollably, desperately, until you grab my hips and pull me forward.............
... I really must apologise... I had a point... but I forgot it. Right now my only desire is to have you close to me, to explore these endless possibilities.
Each action can in turn set off its own chain of possible reactions, which would in turn set off different responses from me... the possibilities are quite frankly endless my darling. Endless. Let's return to that simple, innocent kiss.
My lips brush yours, lightly, teasingly. Your fingers curl to the nape of my neck, stroking the fine hairs until I feel small shocks of electricity. Gasping, my lips part and you seize the moment, your tongue stroking my lip, coaxing my mouth to open more. Your hands slip down my back, softly tracing the curve of my sides, the tiny indentation of my spine. I exhale slowly, my breath warm on you as my tongue dances tentatively with yours, a game of cat and mouse -- meeting, retreating, but always returning. My hands cup your jaw, thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks as we both close our eyes, lost in a moment that has become an eternity of tenderness.
My lips brush yours, lightly, teasingly. Your teeth catch my lower lip, sucking it playfully. Rather than pull away, I press my lips more firmly against yours, coaxing your teeth apart with my tongue. My hands glide restlessly along your chest, unfastening the buttons in their wake until my fingers soothingly slide against your unrestricted skin. As my tongue swirls against yours my fingers bite lightly into your hips, pulling the evidence of your arousal against my abdomen, where each shift in my movement brushes against you intimately. Our mouths part and my lips move of their own volition along your neck, seeking the hollow of your throat. I hear the soft groan of approval just as I feel the shiver of your voice directly against my lips. My tongue strokes the spot lazily before moving to the side of your neck. My teeth scrape your skin as I suck lightly, tasting you and then bathing the spot in soft tender kisses.
My lips brush yours, lightly, teasingly. Your growl in response causes my heart to leap, and before I can think, your mouth is hot against mine, demanding entrance with such a force I have no option but to concede. Your hands snake around me, grasping my backside and pulling me roughly against you. There is no thought but your taste, your scent, the feeling of your thickening manhood pressing through your pants as if it is mocking the flimsy material of my skirt. Your hands ride higher, sliding underneath my blouse and along my back. My hands grip your shoulders helplessly, and I feel needful, wanton. Your hands stop momentarily at my sides, your thumbs tracing the underside of my breasts and a faint grunt of approval as you find I am only clothed by the shirt. I feel your muscles clench beneath my hands and somewhere mixed in with the sound of my blood thundering in my ears come the rip of cloth, the pop of buttons.
Drowning against you, in you, I wrench my head free with a gasp for air, trying to clear my overloaded senses. Before the breath fills my lungs, it escapes in a moan as you lower your head to my exposed breasts, your mouth fastened to my nipple. Your tongue flicks harshly against the sensitive nub, a tortuous pleasure conceived to once again banish any logical thought from my mind, replacing it with a pure, almost primal, feeling. A desolate sigh leaves my dry lips as you relinquish your possession of my breast. Within moments your shirt is off and my hands aimlessly roam your back, stroking every muscle, every shift and plane in your flesh. You pick me up and deposit me without fanfare on the counter, lowering your head once more to my other breast before I can utter a word. Your lips and tongue circle the rigid peak of my nipple, driving me to distraction as I shift restlessly, trying to coax you into sucking my nipple. Cool stone chills my flushed skin. I tilt my head down, watching you, and realize you've pulled my skirt up to my waist without ceremony. Your eyes catch mine and hold them, a silent challenge reflected there. You continue to watch me as your mouth finally hovers over the painfully hard nipple, lightly brushing your lips against it. My eyes flutter shut and the sensations instantly stop, and as my eyes open once more I watch you, watching me.
Your tongue flicks once and a strangled moan escapes my throat, but my eyes remain riveted to yours. Your teeth scrape lightly and I shudder, watching you intently with what I know is a pleading stare. You finally concede and I am swept away again as molten heat spreads through me with each suck and scrape of your mouth. My nails rake down your back, . I squirm uncontrollably, desperately, until you grab my hips and pull me forward.............
... I really must apologise... I had a point... but I forgot it. Right now my only desire is to have you close to me, to explore these endless possibilities.
For you.
Bites will turn into beautiful bruises worn proudly..Dark promises that thrill and tantalize whispered in the half light of a shared room, promises that swirl around the head like smoke, filling active imaginings with longing, lust, want, desire for the promises & falling deeper & deeper in love & lust for the owner whose voice utters them.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Afterglow....
Written after a visit....
After glow, that's what I am still seeing as I look into the mirror tonight, just hours before I was in your grasp.
My eyes heavy my body weak, and still wanting, still feeling your touch. I close my eyes and feel you here, touching me right now .
I imagine your voice and it tells me where to touch, just how hard and just how much. I feel your hands exploring me and my body starts to tingle I can hear your voice guiding me as my hands slide across my aching breasts imagining there your hands and not my own. How I wish you were here to see the Goosebumps on my skin. For you to see the wetness you have created with just mere thoughts of you.
When I think back on today, how lost my body became to you, how you took my mind, my soul, and my senses. How taken you made me feel, with skill and strength and the power of lust. With a knowing of what you wanted and how to get it. To feel the power of your body with even your most delicate touches, how you made me respond with such wild uncontrolled abandon. All sounds gone except that of your voice, that of your breathing, all my senses tuned into your hands, your face, and your voice.
The exquisite pleasure you bestowed against my skin with your delicious mouth. Feeling nothing but crashing waves of pleasure the kind that rips the breath from your chest And makes you feel so alive that you could die...
Now hours later just the thought of you and I am now so wet, dripping wet, flowing with the need for you, my breasts and my lips are swollen from the thought of your kisses, the kisses I still feel burning on my lips from hours before, still prickling at my neck, still grazing against my flesh.I can still feel where you had yours placed against me today. I can feel my pulse racing thru my fingertips, I can feel my skin flush my eyes wondering aimlessly uncontrolled, that familiar dizziness from early coming back again.
I can still feel your hands running smoothly down my back and cupping my ass tightly dragging my aching body against yours. I can feel my nipples grazing across your chest feeling them tighten and throb against your warm flesh. I remember staring up into those lips and wanting you to lay them on mine, to tease me with them to devour me with them and in more then any thought I could have imagined your lips burned into me more powerfully then I could express. Make me beg, tease me to my limits. You rendered me helpless, you took all my control, I could feel you breathe your lust into me as I breathed mine into you.
It was like our bodies, and our needs and all our desires dance in a rhythm. I feel you have taken my body and control it now, I feel you always touching me, I still can smell your scent on me, I can still taste you on my lips. You have become like a craved fruit from a forbidden garden to me. Your caresses and your strokes have brought out my carnal urges and left me saturated with desire. .
After glow, that's what I am still seeing as I look into the mirror tonight, just hours before I was in your grasp.
My eyes heavy my body weak, and still wanting, still feeling your touch. I close my eyes and feel you here, touching me right now .
I imagine your voice and it tells me where to touch, just how hard and just how much. I feel your hands exploring me and my body starts to tingle I can hear your voice guiding me as my hands slide across my aching breasts imagining there your hands and not my own. How I wish you were here to see the Goosebumps on my skin. For you to see the wetness you have created with just mere thoughts of you.
When I think back on today, how lost my body became to you, how you took my mind, my soul, and my senses. How taken you made me feel, with skill and strength and the power of lust. With a knowing of what you wanted and how to get it. To feel the power of your body with even your most delicate touches, how you made me respond with such wild uncontrolled abandon. All sounds gone except that of your voice, that of your breathing, all my senses tuned into your hands, your face, and your voice.
The exquisite pleasure you bestowed against my skin with your delicious mouth. Feeling nothing but crashing waves of pleasure the kind that rips the breath from your chest And makes you feel so alive that you could die...
Now hours later just the thought of you and I am now so wet, dripping wet, flowing with the need for you, my breasts and my lips are swollen from the thought of your kisses, the kisses I still feel burning on my lips from hours before, still prickling at my neck, still grazing against my flesh.I can still feel where you had yours placed against me today. I can feel my pulse racing thru my fingertips, I can feel my skin flush my eyes wondering aimlessly uncontrolled, that familiar dizziness from early coming back again.
I can still feel your hands running smoothly down my back and cupping my ass tightly dragging my aching body against yours. I can feel my nipples grazing across your chest feeling them tighten and throb against your warm flesh. I remember staring up into those lips and wanting you to lay them on mine, to tease me with them to devour me with them and in more then any thought I could have imagined your lips burned into me more powerfully then I could express. Make me beg, tease me to my limits. You rendered me helpless, you took all my control, I could feel you breathe your lust into me as I breathed mine into you.
It was like our bodies, and our needs and all our desires dance in a rhythm. I feel you have taken my body and control it now, I feel you always touching me, I still can smell your scent on me, I can still taste you on my lips. You have become like a craved fruit from a forbidden garden to me. Your caresses and your strokes have brought out my carnal urges and left me saturated with desire. .
Monday, April 4, 2011
Herself....
I see her as one face and one body that shows different moods, different emotions, and different feelings. Not the triple aspect or three Goddesses rolled into one. She can be young and full of life and then old and near to passing, just as she can be calm one moment and then battle-enraged in the next.
She is Mother, Sister, Aunt, Daughter but most of all, she is my patron Deity. She is not the easiest to please and can be almost arrogant in her assumption that I will do her bidding.
She sits on my left shoulder sometimes, I feel her laughter at things and I smile joining in with the joke, she is sarcastic, demanding and loving sometimes all at once.
She is the beauty of strong, real womanhood — not an unattainable dream. As a maiden she seduces us with promises of glory in battle and with the beauty of her body. She promises us her honor and she never fails to deliver. As a mother she teaches us and protects us. She helps us to achieve all that we desire. She is both our mother and our consort. As a crone she is old age and the loss of our prowess, but she is also experience and knowledge gained through loving life. She is an old friend. She is loyal and expects her chosen to be the same.
She is a shape-shifter and goddess of magic. Her nature is mutable — swiftly adaptable to circumstance and situation — so that she can be the Battle Raven in one instant and a woman brimming with sexuality the next, or a loving, nurturing mother. Though working with her and being chosen by Her is not easy and it is not without its troubles.It affects my relationships, and what she demands of me. But would I swap her or change my allegiance not a chance.
This evil man of mine.....
He rolls over and looks at me.
His eyes moving up and down me. Looking at what is his. To do with as he pleases. I can feel my body responding to his gaze. No need for more, my skin flushes, shivers run up and down me, inside and out, anticipating his touch. He knows I'm ready for him. He knows my instant arousal. His breath against my skin. His lightest touch. It doesn't take much. It's ridiculous.
My body betrays me. Choosing to submit, whether I will it or not. But of course I will it. This man, with his decisiveness, his demands, his expectations and arrogant assumptions. It totally weakens me. Reduces me to a trembling fool. I give in to it. Every time I give in to it. I revel in it. He takes possession of my body, my heart and mind, with his words, his body, his knowledge of me, his care and thoughtfulness, his sadistic sexuality. I am lost. I am his. I am hopeless. Bound and owned without being touched.
His hand grazes my skin. There is a rush deep inside me, blood flowing and head pounding, my body urgent in its response. He says he thinks some pain is in order. Oh. Ah. But how can I stand that I wonder? See how my flesh thrills to his slightest touch? How can I bear a heavy touch? A depth of pain? A burning? Impact on my tingling sensitive skin? No. How will I deal with that? When his lightest slightest touch is agony in itself? When I could scream just from a finger tip against me. No, its not possible.
He moves from the bed. I bury my face in the pillow. Breathing deeply, as if control of my breathing somehow gives me control of the pain to come. Why? My mind grasps wildly, thrashing about inside my skull. Why do I accept this, want this, need this, feel fear and excitement? So many contradictions. Don't I just want his touch? His body. His cock. What is this, with the pain? Nonsense and madness. Need, desire, passion and heat.
My body is thrilling already, hot and reddened, blood rushing around me as if it seeks to flee the crop. And there, suddenly I feel it and know it. The masochist enters my head. That sensitivity to his touch has flicked into red hot passion, a passion that needs to be fed. Demands to be fed. Seeks intensity. Cries for pain. Howls like a beast, wild, untamed and unnamed on the moor top.
Bind me, knock me into my submissive space. Tear me and hurt me, slam me down to where I belong. . That wants him, needs him deep inside. Pain thrums and burns, agony, searing, mean and cruel pain. It's horrid. And wonderful. I love him. I hate him. And its hot and fierce and made of..... sex... I love him, need him, want him, must have him. Hate him. My body is humming with delight and agony. Why are we wet he says. Because I am a masochist say I. Evil Evil man. Deny it all you want, there is the evidence, the need the desire.
And so he touches me.
His hands dig deep into my red hot welted skin. Oh, the sheer delight. Passion embodied, vividly hot and red. My body is screaming for him, his sex, his touch, his hands, his body. I need it need it need it. Now now now.
Nothing else will do.
Heat surrounds me.
My mind is dazed.
My body weak.
I am replete.
I curl against him. Loving him, adoring him.
This evil man of mine.
His eyes moving up and down me. Looking at what is his. To do with as he pleases. I can feel my body responding to his gaze. No need for more, my skin flushes, shivers run up and down me, inside and out, anticipating his touch. He knows I'm ready for him. He knows my instant arousal. His breath against my skin. His lightest touch. It doesn't take much. It's ridiculous.
My body betrays me. Choosing to submit, whether I will it or not. But of course I will it. This man, with his decisiveness, his demands, his expectations and arrogant assumptions. It totally weakens me. Reduces me to a trembling fool. I give in to it. Every time I give in to it. I revel in it. He takes possession of my body, my heart and mind, with his words, his body, his knowledge of me, his care and thoughtfulness, his sadistic sexuality. I am lost. I am his. I am hopeless. Bound and owned without being touched.
His hand grazes my skin. There is a rush deep inside me, blood flowing and head pounding, my body urgent in its response. He says he thinks some pain is in order. Oh. Ah. But how can I stand that I wonder? See how my flesh thrills to his slightest touch? How can I bear a heavy touch? A depth of pain? A burning? Impact on my tingling sensitive skin? No. How will I deal with that? When his lightest slightest touch is agony in itself? When I could scream just from a finger tip against me. No, its not possible.
He moves from the bed. I bury my face in the pillow. Breathing deeply, as if control of my breathing somehow gives me control of the pain to come. Why? My mind grasps wildly, thrashing about inside my skull. Why do I accept this, want this, need this, feel fear and excitement? So many contradictions. Don't I just want his touch? His body. His cock. What is this, with the pain? Nonsense and madness. Need, desire, passion and heat.
My body is thrilling already, hot and reddened, blood rushing around me as if it seeks to flee the crop. And there, suddenly I feel it and know it. The masochist enters my head. That sensitivity to his touch has flicked into red hot passion, a passion that needs to be fed. Demands to be fed. Seeks intensity. Cries for pain. Howls like a beast, wild, untamed and unnamed on the moor top.
Bind me, knock me into my submissive space. Tear me and hurt me, slam me down to where I belong. . That wants him, needs him deep inside. Pain thrums and burns, agony, searing, mean and cruel pain. It's horrid. And wonderful. I love him. I hate him. And its hot and fierce and made of..... sex... I love him, need him, want him, must have him. Hate him. My body is humming with delight and agony. Why are we wet he says. Because I am a masochist say I. Evil Evil man. Deny it all you want, there is the evidence, the need the desire.
And so he touches me.
His hands dig deep into my red hot welted skin. Oh, the sheer delight. Passion embodied, vividly hot and red. My body is screaming for him, his sex, his touch, his hands, his body. I need it need it need it. Now now now.
Nothing else will do.
Heat surrounds me.
My mind is dazed.
My body weak.
I am replete.
I curl against him. Loving him, adoring him.
This evil man of mine.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Dreaming......
It rains, and I think of you.
Water, racing across the window, sculpts the shadows that fall across my desk; my fingers trace the changing landscape, following the dark lines, and I remember.
I remember the way the rain tasted on your skin. pressed to your skin on your face. I turned my head upwards to catch the drops of rain as they slid over your skin and onto my waiting lips.
I drank you in.
In my room, I can hear the rain, tapping at the glass of the window, and when I open it, just a crack,the torrential downpour has caused streams of rain on the tarmac outside...
I listen, and I remember.
I remember hearing your heartbeat as I stood, my head resting on your chest, and it sounded like the rain outside, that if we didn't let go, the moment would crash through us, leaving us tangled, the space between us lost.
But we didn't let go. We clung together, eager to drown in each other's heat, our desire turning to ferocious need, our legs and arms clasped tightly; you were no longer simply rain-wet, you were fever-drenched, and I felt you tremble and quake against me.
Eventually the rain passed. And, after I had kissed the rain from your lips, after your fingers had brushed my wet hair back away from my face so that you could see my eyes again, we let go, reluctantly, unsure, just a bit awkward, as we attempted to find our footing alone.
I remember.
But you are not here, now, and I have only the memory of rain, the shadow of rain, to remind me.
Water, racing across the window, sculpts the shadows that fall across my desk; my fingers trace the changing landscape, following the dark lines, and I remember.
I remember the way the rain tasted on your skin. pressed to your skin on your face. I turned my head upwards to catch the drops of rain as they slid over your skin and onto my waiting lips.
I drank you in.
In my room, I can hear the rain, tapping at the glass of the window, and when I open it, just a crack,the torrential downpour has caused streams of rain on the tarmac outside...
I listen, and I remember.
I remember hearing your heartbeat as I stood, my head resting on your chest, and it sounded like the rain outside, that if we didn't let go, the moment would crash through us, leaving us tangled, the space between us lost.
But we didn't let go. We clung together, eager to drown in each other's heat, our desire turning to ferocious need, our legs and arms clasped tightly; you were no longer simply rain-wet, you were fever-drenched, and I felt you tremble and quake against me.
Eventually the rain passed. And, after I had kissed the rain from your lips, after your fingers had brushed my wet hair back away from my face so that you could see my eyes again, we let go, reluctantly, unsure, just a bit awkward, as we attempted to find our footing alone.
I remember.
But you are not here, now, and I have only the memory of rain, the shadow of rain, to remind me.
Museings......
Why is it that we fear those parts of ourselves we least understand? Why do we let others pre-define how we should feel about certain ideas?
Strength is accepting the freedom we have and finding the distance needed to understand that the voices we listen to all have their own needs and wants; that no matter how kind and well-intentioned they are, no matter how professional and educated they sound, they cannot separate their own desires from the message they carry.
No one can. The voice you most need to listen to is the one hardest to hear. Your own.
Strength is accepting the freedom we have and finding the distance needed to understand that the voices we listen to all have their own needs and wants; that no matter how kind and well-intentioned they are, no matter how professional and educated they sound, they cannot separate their own desires from the message they carry.
No one can. The voice you most need to listen to is the one hardest to hear. Your own.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Dark Cravings.....
There is a hunger, an aching void that demands to be filled, a desire that is all consuming... I want, I need, I crave, I ache. At times it seems I cannot get enough.
I can't explain it. It's intense, ferocious, savage, out of control. It's the spark that becomes an inferno and devours everything in its path. It is my worst enemy, yet it is a comfortable friend. I am used to it, but I am terrified of it. It is a raw energy. It's something within me, it is me.
It manifests in my dreams, leaving me to wake up drained. It runs through me just as surely as the blood runs through my veins. It sneaks into my thoughts, it dictates my actions. But I can conceal it.
Usually I am the mistress. I am able to hide it, bury it deep within me. I have to restrain it in order to go about my day-to-day business. No one sees it, no one knows it's there. It is content to lurk within, waiting for the moment when I will turn it loose.
But there are times when I am not strong enough to ride out this hunger. There are times I don't want to keep it secret. I let it loose. I surrender to this power. It takes command of me. I find myself shocked by the wanton attitude, the words which slide out of my mouth, the unbridled sensuality in all that I say and do. There is a part of me that is horrified by each and every action. Yet at the same time, I know how much I want this. I know this is also who and what I am. I am nothing but a total Bitch...and I enjoy every second of this passion.
And when this happens, there is only one thing to do, one way to feed this hunger..Let me give the pain. Send me soaring with sensations. Take away my inhibitions. Want to make them beg, whimper, shiver, moan, scream, shake, thrash, reduce them to tears... Use whatever means are necessary. Take me to where I need to go, take me past my limits.
I want to feel it...I need to feel it...I have to feel it. Make it real.
I can't explain it. It's intense, ferocious, savage, out of control. It's the spark that becomes an inferno and devours everything in its path. It is my worst enemy, yet it is a comfortable friend. I am used to it, but I am terrified of it. It is a raw energy. It's something within me, it is me.
It manifests in my dreams, leaving me to wake up drained. It runs through me just as surely as the blood runs through my veins. It sneaks into my thoughts, it dictates my actions. But I can conceal it.
Usually I am the mistress. I am able to hide it, bury it deep within me. I have to restrain it in order to go about my day-to-day business. No one sees it, no one knows it's there. It is content to lurk within, waiting for the moment when I will turn it loose.
But there are times when I am not strong enough to ride out this hunger. There are times I don't want to keep it secret. I let it loose. I surrender to this power. It takes command of me. I find myself shocked by the wanton attitude, the words which slide out of my mouth, the unbridled sensuality in all that I say and do. There is a part of me that is horrified by each and every action. Yet at the same time, I know how much I want this. I know this is also who and what I am. I am nothing but a total Bitch...and I enjoy every second of this passion.
And when this happens, there is only one thing to do, one way to feed this hunger..Let me give the pain. Send me soaring with sensations. Take away my inhibitions. Want to make them beg, whimper, shiver, moan, scream, shake, thrash, reduce them to tears... Use whatever means are necessary. Take me to where I need to go, take me past my limits.
I want to feel it...I need to feel it...I have to feel it. Make it real.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Meme...
I AM.... very different on the inside than a lot of people think, and only a few have been allowed to see.
I SAID.... I would not fix people this year.. so far I am doing pretty well on that.
I WANT.... my self belief to return.
I WISH.... I could just be me, rather than a personality that is made up of triggers that others have left.
I HATE.... nothing.. Hate is wasteful.
I MISS.... my self esteem and confidence.
I FEAR.... losing the ability to think or to write. To being alone. These scare me beyond belief.
I HEAR.... your voice and I melt.
I WONDER.... what people see in me to make them hang around, even love me.
I REGRET.... a lot of my actions when I was living in Penarth, I look back and think wtf?
I AM NOT.... as wordly wise for my age as people think.
I DANCE.... with Annon. Alone. Whenever I can; I love to dance.
I SING....badly and loudly but like the dancing it helps.
I CRY... often. But I believe sincerely that the healing properties of tears are seriously underrated.
I AM NOT ALWAYS.... as confident/strong as people think I am.
I MADE.... my bed, and whatever the consequences, I will lie in it.
I WRITE.... all the time. All of it. But I love to write, so this suits me fine.
I CONFUSE....a lot of people it would seem. I don't mean to.. it just happens.
I NEED.... to believe in myself. Easier said than done.
I SHOULD.... get out and visit more often.
I START.... to think and then I think too much...
I FINISH.... relationships with great difficulty. Relationships of any nature, not merely romantic. And even when one is ended, despite knowing that the person must be ex lover/friend etc for the good of my mental health, it doesn't mean I can forget them or what happened easily. It stays with me for a long time.
I TAG.... no one. Anyone. This is a meme I did for me. For a change
I SAID.... I would not fix people this year.. so far I am doing pretty well on that.
I WANT.... my self belief to return.
I WISH.... I could just be me, rather than a personality that is made up of triggers that others have left.
I HATE.... nothing.. Hate is wasteful.
I MISS.... my self esteem and confidence.
I FEAR.... losing the ability to think or to write. To being alone. These scare me beyond belief.
I HEAR.... your voice and I melt.
I WONDER.... what people see in me to make them hang around, even love me.
I REGRET.... a lot of my actions when I was living in Penarth, I look back and think wtf?
I AM NOT.... as wordly wise for my age as people think.
I DANCE.... with Annon. Alone. Whenever I can; I love to dance.
I SING....badly and loudly but like the dancing it helps.
I CRY... often. But I believe sincerely that the healing properties of tears are seriously underrated.
I AM NOT ALWAYS.... as confident/strong as people think I am.
I MADE.... my bed, and whatever the consequences, I will lie in it.
I WRITE.... all the time. All of it. But I love to write, so this suits me fine.
I CONFUSE....a lot of people it would seem. I don't mean to.. it just happens.
I NEED.... to believe in myself. Easier said than done.
I SHOULD.... get out and visit more often.
I START.... to think and then I think too much...
I FINISH.... relationships with great difficulty. Relationships of any nature, not merely romantic. And even when one is ended, despite knowing that the person must be ex lover/friend etc for the good of my mental health, it doesn't mean I can forget them or what happened easily. It stays with me for a long time.
I TAG.... no one. Anyone. This is a meme I did for me. For a change
Thought I would share this...
1. There are at least two people in this world that you would die for.
2. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.
3. The only reason anyone would ever hate you is because they want to be just like you.
4. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.
5. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.
6. You mean the world to someone.
7. You are special and unique.
8. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you.
9. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it.
10. When you think the world has turned its back on you take another look.
11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.
2. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.
3. The only reason anyone would ever hate you is because they want to be just like you.
4. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.
5. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.
6. You mean the world to someone.
7. You are special and unique.
8. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you.
9. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it.
10. When you think the world has turned its back on you take another look.
11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Reflections.... Looking at myself..
Slowly coming out of the darkness....
It is always an enlightening thing, to step back away from yourself to analyze what makes you who you are.
You hear bits and pieces of how others perceive you, and you have a perception of yourself, often the two do not match up.
I have heard myself described by others as "wild". I don't think that is correct. I have done some wild things, but, I don't think I am wild. I would think the description would be more accurate as adventurous. I have a good sense of adventure, willing to try just about anything at least once.
When confronted with a new situation, I do not fear the unknown. In fact, I embrace the unknown, anxious to experience something new.
I don't have a problem moving on in life, stepping away from the familiar, parting the overgrown brush and entering uncharted territory. That carefully planned, precisely landscaped yard with flowers planted all in a pretty row is monotonous and boring in my eyes for very long. Give me the wild, overgrown, untamed! I may not be wild myself, but I am excited to the wildside and explore.
I am determined. Presented with a problem, or something I don't grasp, I will work on it until it is solved. I like to understand what lies before me. I will charge head first into it wrestling it to the ground, simply to know what it is that sits before me. I am resourceful, surrounding myself with books, Internet, information in any source. There is so much to know, so much to learn, so much to experience, how could a person possibly ever get bored in this lifetime?
Along with those character descriptions walk side effects.Shyness for one thing, lacking in self confidence another.Things I have dealt with my entire life. As I get older, I learn to work around it, but it still stares me in the face. There is another....
I absolutely thrive on the "new", the unknown, the project unplanned, the problem unsolved, that once I solve it, conquer the challenge, plan the project, I'll move on. If the project is an ever evolving one, new challenges, new territory then I can stick with it. If that person is multi faceted, open minded and willing to embrace life with a passionate energy, then I will remain stimulated. It is the mundane, the stagnant that I choose to walk from.
At times it is a character flaw. Other times it is beneficial. Always, it is me, always it is prevalent.
I am not easily impressed by material possessions signifying a person's "place" in life. This says nothing to me except for the fact that they have money to spend.
Where's your passion? Why IS that your passion? What is the motive for your passions? An inner feeding of the soul, or for an image you want to project. I love passionate people. Breathing in their strong energy, allowing the surge of my own when mixed with theirs, and projecting it back to them. This energy exchange with passionate people, merely wanting to share, not steal the other's energy, it is like none other.
Passion within myself along with the passion within others is wonderful. That is what I look at.
I was given the foundation at a very young age by my mum, of self confidence. She constantly reminded me that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. With simple perseverance and determination, willingness to open your mind to new knowledge and ideas, and making adjustments as needed, just about anything can be accomplished. I had forgotten that lesson for a long time....
I am learning that this is a good lesson to keep learning...
It is always an enlightening thing, to step back away from yourself to analyze what makes you who you are.
You hear bits and pieces of how others perceive you, and you have a perception of yourself, often the two do not match up.
I have heard myself described by others as "wild". I don't think that is correct. I have done some wild things, but, I don't think I am wild. I would think the description would be more accurate as adventurous. I have a good sense of adventure, willing to try just about anything at least once.
When confronted with a new situation, I do not fear the unknown. In fact, I embrace the unknown, anxious to experience something new.
I don't have a problem moving on in life, stepping away from the familiar, parting the overgrown brush and entering uncharted territory. That carefully planned, precisely landscaped yard with flowers planted all in a pretty row is monotonous and boring in my eyes for very long. Give me the wild, overgrown, untamed! I may not be wild myself, but I am excited to the wildside and explore.
I am determined. Presented with a problem, or something I don't grasp, I will work on it until it is solved. I like to understand what lies before me. I will charge head first into it wrestling it to the ground, simply to know what it is that sits before me. I am resourceful, surrounding myself with books, Internet, information in any source. There is so much to know, so much to learn, so much to experience, how could a person possibly ever get bored in this lifetime?
Along with those character descriptions walk side effects.Shyness for one thing, lacking in self confidence another.Things I have dealt with my entire life. As I get older, I learn to work around it, but it still stares me in the face. There is another....
I absolutely thrive on the "new", the unknown, the project unplanned, the problem unsolved, that once I solve it, conquer the challenge, plan the project, I'll move on. If the project is an ever evolving one, new challenges, new territory then I can stick with it. If that person is multi faceted, open minded and willing to embrace life with a passionate energy, then I will remain stimulated. It is the mundane, the stagnant that I choose to walk from.
At times it is a character flaw. Other times it is beneficial. Always, it is me, always it is prevalent.
I am not easily impressed by material possessions signifying a person's "place" in life. This says nothing to me except for the fact that they have money to spend.
Where's your passion? Why IS that your passion? What is the motive for your passions? An inner feeding of the soul, or for an image you want to project. I love passionate people. Breathing in their strong energy, allowing the surge of my own when mixed with theirs, and projecting it back to them. This energy exchange with passionate people, merely wanting to share, not steal the other's energy, it is like none other.
Passion within myself along with the passion within others is wonderful. That is what I look at.
I was given the foundation at a very young age by my mum, of self confidence. She constantly reminded me that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. With simple perseverance and determination, willingness to open your mind to new knowledge and ideas, and making adjustments as needed, just about anything can be accomplished. I had forgotten that lesson for a long time....
I am learning that this is a good lesson to keep learning...
Tangled up.....
Interwoven, entangled, inseparable? Or can you delineate, draw boxes around them? Seems some can. For some it is indeed pure power exchange, for others straight up no nonsense SM.
I've thought about this a lot. Well, you know, it's a nice topic to think about while you travel home after having a deep discussion in the early hours..Weigh it up, what would you choose if you had to choose one thing?…. I can't do it. I want it all. I'm greedy. Sex, Ds and SM. Intricately threaded together like a multi coloured tapestry. Wrap it round my body and flood my mind with it. Drown me in it.
The pleasure of SM, the thrill of pain, is enhanced by the knowledge someone is controlling me. Even while they inflict some deviant tool on me, knowing I love it, knowing I hate it, knowing I need it, the extent of pain, too light, too heavy, is out of my control. I enjoy the game as much as the pain. The not knowing, the submission to the strokes, the acceptance and lack of battle with the sex weapon wielder. Plenty of battle with the pain, but submission to the act. There lies the excitement. The control lies elsewhere, power is exchanged, as pain is applied. The thrill of submission, physical and mental.
The release of Ds, give up all tensions, slip away from the day, have someone strong to guide and nudge. Find freedom in control. A rock that supports, arms that cherish, a mind that directs. Boundaries you understand, clarity and honesty. Give and take to the nth degree. Emphasised by submission to pain play. To know the hand that cherishes will be stern too, severe and sadistic. To know the mind that adores you will be demanding and strict, give no inch. The physical intimacy of sexual pleasure with a person you desire. Links it all. Ds till your toes curl and SM full of joy and laughter.
Can I pull out a thread without the whole un ravelling? I'm greedy, greedy, greedy. Don't get me wrong, I find joy in each strand. Pleasure in sex, pleasure in being guided and mentored, pleasure in SM play. Fun and laughter all the way. But when you throw it in all together, the right mix, ah that's icing on the cake.
But I know what I want. And if I can't have it? Well there's always chocolate and coffee…. I know, so much excitement, how do I contain myself? *chuckles happily*
I've thought about this a lot. Well, you know, it's a nice topic to think about while you travel home after having a deep discussion in the early hours..Weigh it up, what would you choose if you had to choose one thing?…. I can't do it. I want it all. I'm greedy. Sex, Ds and SM. Intricately threaded together like a multi coloured tapestry. Wrap it round my body and flood my mind with it. Drown me in it.
The pleasure of SM, the thrill of pain, is enhanced by the knowledge someone is controlling me. Even while they inflict some deviant tool on me, knowing I love it, knowing I hate it, knowing I need it, the extent of pain, too light, too heavy, is out of my control. I enjoy the game as much as the pain. The not knowing, the submission to the strokes, the acceptance and lack of battle with the sex weapon wielder. Plenty of battle with the pain, but submission to the act. There lies the excitement. The control lies elsewhere, power is exchanged, as pain is applied. The thrill of submission, physical and mental.
The release of Ds, give up all tensions, slip away from the day, have someone strong to guide and nudge. Find freedom in control. A rock that supports, arms that cherish, a mind that directs. Boundaries you understand, clarity and honesty. Give and take to the nth degree. Emphasised by submission to pain play. To know the hand that cherishes will be stern too, severe and sadistic. To know the mind that adores you will be demanding and strict, give no inch. The physical intimacy of sexual pleasure with a person you desire. Links it all. Ds till your toes curl and SM full of joy and laughter.
Can I pull out a thread without the whole un ravelling? I'm greedy, greedy, greedy. Don't get me wrong, I find joy in each strand. Pleasure in sex, pleasure in being guided and mentored, pleasure in SM play. Fun and laughter all the way. But when you throw it in all together, the right mix, ah that's icing on the cake.
But I know what I want. And if I can't have it? Well there's always chocolate and coffee…. I know, so much excitement, how do I contain myself? *chuckles happily*
Monday, March 14, 2011
One for Him and One for Her :)
The rest of you get to enjoy the words :)
For Him:
Sin.
If you were chocolate, I would eat you.
I would let you feel my tongue, naughty and rough, running up and down your length, enjoying your bittersweet taste.
I would wrap my mouth around your heat and drown in your depths, taking all of you inside me.
And when you’re ready, I would swallow.
I would taste every last drop of your thick, sticky syrup.
And gods, I am starving.
For Her:
Desire.
Her mouth drew my gaze as I watched her speak, watched the quick, pink tongue swipe over her bottom lip. The air between us grew heavy with want, with expectation and desire.Our bodies leaned in, toward the other. I can smell her - a bit of perfume, her shampoo, beneath that, her skin. I swallow my desire to reach out and lick up the line of her neck, taking in her taste.
Her fingertips trace up my arm as we talk. A casual touch that leaves goose flesh in its wake. Her nipples are hard, pressing against the front of the tee shirt she's wearing. I see the pulse beat at the sweet hollow of flesh at her throat.
For Him:
Sin.
If you were chocolate, I would eat you.
I would let you feel my tongue, naughty and rough, running up and down your length, enjoying your bittersweet taste.
I would wrap my mouth around your heat and drown in your depths, taking all of you inside me.
And when you’re ready, I would swallow.
I would taste every last drop of your thick, sticky syrup.
And gods, I am starving.
For Her:
Desire.
Her mouth drew my gaze as I watched her speak, watched the quick, pink tongue swipe over her bottom lip. The air between us grew heavy with want, with expectation and desire.Our bodies leaned in, toward the other. I can smell her - a bit of perfume, her shampoo, beneath that, her skin. I swallow my desire to reach out and lick up the line of her neck, taking in her taste.
Her fingertips trace up my arm as we talk. A casual touch that leaves goose flesh in its wake. Her nipples are hard, pressing against the front of the tee shirt she's wearing. I see the pulse beat at the sweet hollow of flesh at her throat.
Warning... TMI for some.. It's about self harm...
I have been looking through old journals and came across this..
This was my mind set, quite a few years ago, a lot has changed and so have I, but I though it might be wise to share...
She feels safe here. Safer here than anywhere else. Because Outside… Outside there’s uncertainty. There’s danger, and risk, and instability. She never knows what’s going to happen Outside. But here… here, in this white-tiled haven, she’s got everything she needs.
The people Outside– they think she’s so strong. And she is. She speaks with a purpose, moves with precision. She never lets anything faze her. They just don’t know. They don’t know how much stronger she can be when she is here.
She sits here for hours. Here, she’s an artist, and her body is her canvas.
She pens her story in maudlin simplicity. She writes angrily in lurid strokes on her arms, watching in fascination as her drama comes to life. Her handwriting makes serrations on her broken flesh, her words creating her gory setting. She craves the control. She delights in the coloured strength she coaxes out, the darkness she creates. Her brush dips into puddles of liquid glory, and she gently draws them into sorrowful streams. And it hurts– it hurts like hell, but she knows what she’s doing.
It isn’t long before her weakness spills forth, and she lets it. She cries, and as she cries, her tears roll off her cheeks, turning blood red as it touches her skin. She quiets, and her tears hum their own melody. And when it’s over, she smiles.
This was my mind set, quite a few years ago, a lot has changed and so have I, but I though it might be wise to share...
She feels safe here. Safer here than anywhere else. Because Outside… Outside there’s uncertainty. There’s danger, and risk, and instability. She never knows what’s going to happen Outside. But here… here, in this white-tiled haven, she’s got everything she needs.
The people Outside– they think she’s so strong. And she is. She speaks with a purpose, moves with precision. She never lets anything faze her. They just don’t know. They don’t know how much stronger she can be when she is here.
She sits here for hours. Here, she’s an artist, and her body is her canvas.
She pens her story in maudlin simplicity. She writes angrily in lurid strokes on her arms, watching in fascination as her drama comes to life. Her handwriting makes serrations on her broken flesh, her words creating her gory setting. She craves the control. She delights in the coloured strength she coaxes out, the darkness she creates. Her brush dips into puddles of liquid glory, and she gently draws them into sorrowful streams. And it hurts– it hurts like hell, but she knows what she’s doing.
It isn’t long before her weakness spills forth, and she lets it. She cries, and as she cries, her tears roll off her cheeks, turning blood red as it touches her skin. She quiets, and her tears hum their own melody. And when it’s over, she smiles.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Jigsaw...
My life is -- to put it mildly -- complicated. This journal is my sanctuary, my special place. When I'm down, I write here. When I'm happy, I write here. When I'm stressed, I write here.
Sometimes I cannot find my voice, and I cannot post. These days are the worst as I walk around with the weight of the world upon my shoulders. And then something will happen -- a comment from a friend, whether they think I'm going to like it or not or an email, a text a picture or a whole bunch, or I'll read a post by someone else -- and that's all it takes. A shift, two or three small paces to the left; and I'm back in the room.
The comments I receive from you people hearten me. Your support of me as a person. I shouldn't need validation -- in theory, we none of us do. We "write for ourselves". We "don't need validation". How many times have I written or read those words, pertaining to me or to someone else in this community? Dozens, perhaps hundreds. But the truth is that you help strengthen me by reading. I do not ask you to condone or condemn my life choices. Just read me.
I bare my soul to you. I have been doing so since I started writing here. I have made choices in my life that have surprised even me; I'm not an amoral person, and yet I transgress certain moral boundaries that from an external perspective I once found abhorrent. On one level, I am ashamed of my transgression. On another, it fits into my mad, bad, complicated life like everything else. I perceive it as a multi-piece, highly complex jigsaw... but I'm still missing some pieces. And people like you also help me to find missing pieces too...
And through writing here, I seem to find these pieces, one at a time. Mother, lover, friend, support. Sometimes they are blurred but I still have many more to go. Some pieces are being hidden from me deliberately. Some are just out of reach. Of some I am not even yet aware. Eventually, one day, I'll find them all.
Sometimes I cannot find my voice, and I cannot post. These days are the worst as I walk around with the weight of the world upon my shoulders. And then something will happen -- a comment from a friend, whether they think I'm going to like it or not or an email, a text a picture or a whole bunch, or I'll read a post by someone else -- and that's all it takes. A shift, two or three small paces to the left; and I'm back in the room.
The comments I receive from you people hearten me. Your support of me as a person. I shouldn't need validation -- in theory, we none of us do. We "write for ourselves". We "don't need validation". How many times have I written or read those words, pertaining to me or to someone else in this community? Dozens, perhaps hundreds. But the truth is that you help strengthen me by reading. I do not ask you to condone or condemn my life choices. Just read me.
I bare my soul to you. I have been doing so since I started writing here. I have made choices in my life that have surprised even me; I'm not an amoral person, and yet I transgress certain moral boundaries that from an external perspective I once found abhorrent. On one level, I am ashamed of my transgression. On another, it fits into my mad, bad, complicated life like everything else. I perceive it as a multi-piece, highly complex jigsaw... but I'm still missing some pieces. And people like you also help me to find missing pieces too...
And through writing here, I seem to find these pieces, one at a time. Mother, lover, friend, support. Sometimes they are blurred but I still have many more to go. Some pieces are being hidden from me deliberately. Some are just out of reach. Of some I am not even yet aware. Eventually, one day, I'll find them all.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Her....
In her arms I'm arched back, my hair a black spill on the mattress around my head. Her lips touch the line of my neck, hands sure at the small of my back.
It's good here with her.
We match. Strong desire heats......
It's good here with her.
We match. Strong desire heats......
Rope....
Winding around her body, the bite of the rope into her flesh is sharp. Enough to remind her of who is in charge.
Her breath started quick, shallow, slightly alarmed at the sight of that coil in his hands. Now she breathes slow and deep. Rhythmic, her lungs expand, fill and muscles push out air. Over and over.
Lips slightly parted, eyes halfway closed, her fingers intertwine but loosely so. Her muscles are relaxed. And later this will puzzle her. That being wrapped in rope so tight will bring her lax and warm muscles and a state of tranquility.
For now, she lets it roll through her.
This rope space.
Her breath started quick, shallow, slightly alarmed at the sight of that coil in his hands. Now she breathes slow and deep. Rhythmic, her lungs expand, fill and muscles push out air. Over and over.
Lips slightly parted, eyes halfway closed, her fingers intertwine but loosely so. Her muscles are relaxed. And later this will puzzle her. That being wrapped in rope so tight will bring her lax and warm muscles and a state of tranquility.
For now, she lets it roll through her.
This rope space.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
*sighs* Trying to stop the washing machine that is my head....
The great thing about fantasy is that you are free to think about anything you want and none of your other emotions get involved. Of course this at times can be a draw back too because sometimes you just don’t know how you will feel until you live it or you think that you wont feel bad because it feels so good in the fantasy.
Sexual fantasies are great because they are pure sex and all those other feelings that often can hold one back sexually are freed in the fantasy. When one is sexually aroused they are often in a non- rational state of mind. It is similar to being drunk or high. It is its own high. It’s hard to think clearly when in that state. I know my own state of horniess has many times led me and my rational side has been no where to be found. Now I wonder does the fantasy state where your other emotions are almost hidden from you come about because of the arousal or is that just from the fantasy state??
Sexual fantasies are great because they are pure sex and all those other feelings that often can hold one back sexually are freed in the fantasy. When one is sexually aroused they are often in a non- rational state of mind. It is similar to being drunk or high. It is its own high. It’s hard to think clearly when in that state. I know my own state of horniess has many times led me and my rational side has been no where to be found. Now I wonder does the fantasy state where your other emotions are almost hidden from you come about because of the arousal or is that just from the fantasy state??
Analysing self...
Is never the easiest thing in the word to do. But I am starting to figure out things and why I reach the way that I do. Talking yesterday, I found a whole load of things that I had previously thought was my problem, until I realised that I was reacting to situations that had arisen for the other person in this relationship. That is C. I am not saying that everything is his fault but there are things that would probably be a lot different if I had not had to do what I needed to do with him.I need to be about three steps if not more ahead of him, cos being the impulsive creature that he is, it can lead to all sorts happening. It's also a lot to do with the depression as well. He doesn't like himself very much as a person, and the latest g/f has done such a number on him that he doesn't know which way is up atm.
Examples:
NRE: all encompassing so that the primary partner ie: me is left out. Concentrates solely on new shiny, talks all day all night to them, texts constantly if not emailing, msn etc. Talks about them all the time, and generally making you feel like you are just a bystander in the relationship. Even if you have the same partner in common. Although admittedly nearly all were interested in him rather than us.
Relationships: as with the NRE. He will travel, he will put himself out and he will make every effort for them to be available to go to events or just to be around for them, when they need it, sometimes regardless of what's going on with me. When he is with them there are no phone calls, no texts etc, if there are any they were will be brief, sometimes over effusive if he's not texted for hours. He has expected me to be awake at stupid o'clock when he's got in from somewhere, which soon got knocked on head.
Relationships plus: If we are seeing the same person, if he has a couple of off days and can't be arsed. Then the other person will come to me, to either ask how he's doing then have I done anything wrong and down it will spiral, until they see me as nothing more than a sounding board for their complaints about him. Whatever tenuous relations I had with them have gone out of the window cos they want to complain and bitch about him. As much as I try to sort it, it isn't happening fast enough for them etc. I can't always fix things I do try to explain but doesn't always sink in :(
Sex: Non existent at the moment. I have been replaced by porn and flirting. The only time it ever happens is when he is in the mood, that's normally after flirting with people online or that he's in the mood and I am the only one around. I have been other women's names before now. I have ignored it but it's stuck at the back of my mind. When it does happen it's not fun for me and it's over before I know it, there has been more occasions than not I have felt used, and not in a good way. He almost seems to breathe a sigh of relief if I get involved with someone else.
Yes, ok sometimes hard and fast is good when you are both in the mood, but it's always like that now. I love long slow sensual playing as well as the bite me snogging fizz bang 'Gods I need you now'. While I have never believed sex is the be all and end all for relationships.. I think it helps a lot if there is a good sprinkling of it.. :) What am I talking about a good lot or as much as you can manage is good. Heck is bloody brilliant..
So yes he's not a bad person and I would like the relationship to carry on but I think that I will have to face facts, that may not happen. He is not moving out cos the relationship has ended, he is moving out to give it a fighting chance. Cos I need my own space and for that matter so does he. I also have Mc to think about and how his depression affects her. It's not just me that has seen it now and that to be fair is a bit of a relief. He does sometimes take it as a joke or retreats into himself.. He will not knowing sometimes make me feel as if it is my fault that it's the way it is. Screaming rows don't happen, me losing temper does with C running away. It's not working :(
Examples:
NRE: all encompassing so that the primary partner ie: me is left out. Concentrates solely on new shiny, talks all day all night to them, texts constantly if not emailing, msn etc. Talks about them all the time, and generally making you feel like you are just a bystander in the relationship. Even if you have the same partner in common. Although admittedly nearly all were interested in him rather than us.
Relationships: as with the NRE. He will travel, he will put himself out and he will make every effort for them to be available to go to events or just to be around for them, when they need it, sometimes regardless of what's going on with me. When he is with them there are no phone calls, no texts etc, if there are any they were will be brief, sometimes over effusive if he's not texted for hours. He has expected me to be awake at stupid o'clock when he's got in from somewhere, which soon got knocked on head.
Relationships plus: If we are seeing the same person, if he has a couple of off days and can't be arsed. Then the other person will come to me, to either ask how he's doing then have I done anything wrong and down it will spiral, until they see me as nothing more than a sounding board for their complaints about him. Whatever tenuous relations I had with them have gone out of the window cos they want to complain and bitch about him. As much as I try to sort it, it isn't happening fast enough for them etc. I can't always fix things I do try to explain but doesn't always sink in :(
Sex: Non existent at the moment. I have been replaced by porn and flirting. The only time it ever happens is when he is in the mood, that's normally after flirting with people online or that he's in the mood and I am the only one around. I have been other women's names before now. I have ignored it but it's stuck at the back of my mind. When it does happen it's not fun for me and it's over before I know it, there has been more occasions than not I have felt used, and not in a good way. He almost seems to breathe a sigh of relief if I get involved with someone else.
Yes, ok sometimes hard and fast is good when you are both in the mood, but it's always like that now. I love long slow sensual playing as well as the bite me snogging fizz bang 'Gods I need you now'. While I have never believed sex is the be all and end all for relationships.. I think it helps a lot if there is a good sprinkling of it.. :) What am I talking about a good lot or as much as you can manage is good. Heck is bloody brilliant..
So yes he's not a bad person and I would like the relationship to carry on but I think that I will have to face facts, that may not happen. He is not moving out cos the relationship has ended, he is moving out to give it a fighting chance. Cos I need my own space and for that matter so does he. I also have Mc to think about and how his depression affects her. It's not just me that has seen it now and that to be fair is a bit of a relief. He does sometimes take it as a joke or retreats into himself.. He will not knowing sometimes make me feel as if it is my fault that it's the way it is. Screaming rows don't happen, me losing temper does with C running away. It's not working :(
Do they....
realise that most of my writings from that part of my imagination that's been fueled by one person. Make that two now. Mind you I think they know it by now. *chuckles* if they don't I may have read things wrong.
I am not a nympho or a sex addict. I do however have a very good libido when it gets going. At the moment it's simmering away, bubbling constantly. It takes very little to get it to almost boiling lava atm. There are a few times I have pondered just going into the room and snogging them awake, *chuckles*.But am not that brave due to the niggling fear of rejection, plus it's a work day. See *grins* I can fully justify it. I can't help it if I am dating two people that are very addictive in their own right & together, well I can't imagine not being with them.
Distance & time makes a difference & I know in my head that both together & separately both will make time for me. And I love that, I also want to drag ( although seriously doubt there will be dragging) them both away to a room & show them how much they affect me & how. Mostly because with words I can tell them. With actions, takes it to a whole other level.. And sometimes that's what is needed for me anyway.. I am still a cynic and romantic (go figure...) so while words may woo me, actions will prove it to even to my most cynical self..
Although now I know that I can drag people away to have some time.. * chuckles* I shall be bloody well doing that. I like having the frisson of unfulfilled passion but arggh it frustrates me like nothing else can... it's that time shortly after the all that passion & desire has been spent & you are exhausted, panting, sweaty & grinning like loons, that the world is sharply in focus & all everything is right with it. It can be like that after a good snogging/ petting session but just sometimes it is just all about the sex.
I am not a nympho or a sex addict. I do however have a very good libido when it gets going. At the moment it's simmering away, bubbling constantly. It takes very little to get it to almost boiling lava atm. There are a few times I have pondered just going into the room and snogging them awake, *chuckles*.But am not that brave due to the niggling fear of rejection, plus it's a work day. See *grins* I can fully justify it. I can't help it if I am dating two people that are very addictive in their own right & together, well I can't imagine not being with them.
Distance & time makes a difference & I know in my head that both together & separately both will make time for me. And I love that, I also want to drag ( although seriously doubt there will be dragging) them both away to a room & show them how much they affect me & how. Mostly because with words I can tell them. With actions, takes it to a whole other level.. And sometimes that's what is needed for me anyway.. I am still a cynic and romantic (go figure...) so while words may woo me, actions will prove it to even to my most cynical self..
Although now I know that I can drag people away to have some time.. * chuckles* I shall be bloody well doing that. I like having the frisson of unfulfilled passion but arggh it frustrates me like nothing else can... it's that time shortly after the all that passion & desire has been spent & you are exhausted, panting, sweaty & grinning like loons, that the world is sharply in focus & all everything is right with it. It can be like that after a good snogging/ petting session but just sometimes it is just all about the sex.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Tis a brain dump...
Now figured out why I get so wobbly with other b/f's when they find new partners. It's not jealousy or envy, it's almost like mourning for something that has been lost within my primary relationship.. And while I have that back in small batches, it leaves as soon as the person who provides it leaves. And while there is another who says he loves me. There is no continuation of what I had then so I feel unbalanced and somewhat lost. I feel as giddy & unsure as an hormonally infused teenager.. which I absolutely love... but then I have all the wibbles that have been gained over the number of years since I have been a teenager..
It's wanting to be treated like that a lot more. And when others get that from the same person, it's almost like you are preparing to have lose it, to not have it there, to have it lessened in someway. Then there is no logic to the feeling of meh, when they say oh going to do this or seeing that or whatever logically it's something that will happen & you live so much further away, miles away. Some of it is cos I have been spoilt by having the attention, so you don't want to lose it so because all I know is previous history, I revert to that..
It's not logical nor is it any help when your logical part knows that this emotional garbage is really not helping. Being safe,secure in a relationship is something that I have had very little of. Something has normally had to be sacrificed & compromises made so that I would fit in. I have had to deal with others behaviour that has led me to be uncomfortable but when it was raised as an issue it was my problem, I should just deal with it as it's all in my head. I never had conselling for the abuse (both sexual & mental) that I got from the ex husband and I think I can see where a lot of the defense wibbles come from as well as recent with W.
Which has led to where I am now. I am struggling with the fact I can say what I feel. That I can ask for things. I still can't do point out when I think things are unfair/unbalanced, that is still a major hurdle atm. It's much to do with the sense of fairness kicking in. Plus don't want to be the one that causes problems. It's probably not being unequal my head says but heart says something else.. And that can cause more conflict in my head. They've said, commented that does that mean that I am not as good, not good enough company.. & it spirals down & down. Being selfish or wanting more causes me dilema. That sets,off thewhole needy cycle. Not being needy/clingy but rather being very aware of where it might go.
You know you can text or prod via im etc but you talk yourself out of it saying that they are busy other people need their time as much as you.. and really it's being daft, silly to voice concerns that a woman of my age has..
I need to give myself permission to be who I want to be rather than who I am supposed to be. If you were to ask me who is Kira, then I would have to reply I don't know. Kira has been many things to many people. Wife, mother, friend, lover, punchbag, servant, lodger. So I have what people expect of me but very little of who I am. So when asked what I want... I don't know. I know what I would like but it's the being worried that people will say no, or will say well I don't want to go/be/attend with you would rather with 'insert name '. Again past experiences have taught & reinforced this. So maybe I expect things to go wrong, and then are floored when they don't you know there is a solid floor but you can't see it., you have no bearings no compass and no way of dealing with things.
Things need to relearned but I hope that I have people that love me enough to make that possible. I guess I need people to reassure that I will get as much as everyone else. That even if there are new shiney that I won't be forgotten about. And to a point I let it I will back off and let them have time but sometimes that does tend to backfire on me. But for the sake of my sanity I need to assert myself & my wants, not to the detrimental to others but still that I am heard.
I have been like this, I am like this and I hope that I can change this too.
It's wanting to be treated like that a lot more. And when others get that from the same person, it's almost like you are preparing to have lose it, to not have it there, to have it lessened in someway. Then there is no logic to the feeling of meh, when they say oh going to do this or seeing that or whatever logically it's something that will happen & you live so much further away, miles away. Some of it is cos I have been spoilt by having the attention, so you don't want to lose it so because all I know is previous history, I revert to that..
It's not logical nor is it any help when your logical part knows that this emotional garbage is really not helping. Being safe,secure in a relationship is something that I have had very little of. Something has normally had to be sacrificed & compromises made so that I would fit in. I have had to deal with others behaviour that has led me to be uncomfortable but when it was raised as an issue it was my problem, I should just deal with it as it's all in my head. I never had conselling for the abuse (both sexual & mental) that I got from the ex husband and I think I can see where a lot of the defense wibbles come from as well as recent with W.
Which has led to where I am now. I am struggling with the fact I can say what I feel. That I can ask for things. I still can't do point out when I think things are unfair/unbalanced, that is still a major hurdle atm. It's much to do with the sense of fairness kicking in. Plus don't want to be the one that causes problems. It's probably not being unequal my head says but heart says something else.. And that can cause more conflict in my head. They've said, commented that does that mean that I am not as good, not good enough company.. & it spirals down & down. Being selfish or wanting more causes me dilema. That sets,off thewhole needy cycle. Not being needy/clingy but rather being very aware of where it might go.
You know you can text or prod via im etc but you talk yourself out of it saying that they are busy other people need their time as much as you.. and really it's being daft, silly to voice concerns that a woman of my age has..
I need to give myself permission to be who I want to be rather than who I am supposed to be. If you were to ask me who is Kira, then I would have to reply I don't know. Kira has been many things to many people. Wife, mother, friend, lover, punchbag, servant, lodger. So I have what people expect of me but very little of who I am. So when asked what I want... I don't know. I know what I would like but it's the being worried that people will say no, or will say well I don't want to go/be/attend with you would rather with 'insert name '. Again past experiences have taught & reinforced this. So maybe I expect things to go wrong, and then are floored when they don't you know there is a solid floor but you can't see it., you have no bearings no compass and no way of dealing with things.
Things need to relearned but I hope that I have people that love me enough to make that possible. I guess I need people to reassure that I will get as much as everyone else. That even if there are new shiney that I won't be forgotten about. And to a point I let it I will back off and let them have time but sometimes that does tend to backfire on me. But for the sake of my sanity I need to assert myself & my wants, not to the detrimental to others but still that I am heard.
I have been like this, I am like this and I hope that I can change this too.
Friday, March 4, 2011
NSFW....NSFW...NSFW..... Visit part three....NSFW.....NSFW......NSFW
And I give it to you. Three more times I bring the tails of the flogger down over your nipples until your breath is heaving and your eyes are growing leaden.
Backing up I sit on my heels. "Up. Kneel with your hands at your back."
There is no hesitation in your obedience. I like it even more as I begin to bind you with the crimson rope and I see the contrast between the rough texture and your skin, smooth and creamy. You make soft sounds as it digs into your flesh.
I take my time. Just you and me and our breathing. Your muscles are loose from the massage and I watch as a flush breaks over you from desire and binding.
"Whatever shall I do to you now?" I murmur in your ear as I finish. Your torso is bound, arms at your back, "Clamps? You're ever so fond of teasing me about them."
I move off the bed and pull you back, so you're standing. I pick up the paddle and run it down over your haunches and deliver several hard smacks to warm you up.
"Such a pretty shade," I say softly before I give you several more.
You're writhing against the coverlet. I lean in and whisper, "More?"
Your "yes" is gasped and sends shivers down my spine. Leaning over your body, the fire on your ass and thighs is hot against my cool skin. I lay kisses down your spine.
I untie you slowly, stroking over the rope marks in your flesh, kissing them. Your gasp is surprised and then desire laden.
"Didn't expect that, did you?"
Laying back I smile. "My turn."
Backing up I sit on my heels. "Up. Kneel with your hands at your back."
There is no hesitation in your obedience. I like it even more as I begin to bind you with the crimson rope and I see the contrast between the rough texture and your skin, smooth and creamy. You make soft sounds as it digs into your flesh.
I take my time. Just you and me and our breathing. Your muscles are loose from the massage and I watch as a flush breaks over you from desire and binding.
"Whatever shall I do to you now?" I murmur in your ear as I finish. Your torso is bound, arms at your back, "Clamps? You're ever so fond of teasing me about them."
I move off the bed and pull you back, so you're standing. I pick up the paddle and run it down over your haunches and deliver several hard smacks to warm you up.
"Such a pretty shade," I say softly before I give you several more.
You're writhing against the coverlet. I lean in and whisper, "More?"
Your "yes" is gasped and sends shivers down my spine. Leaning over your body, the fire on your ass and thighs is hot against my cool skin. I lay kisses down your spine.
I untie you slowly, stroking over the rope marks in your flesh, kissing them. Your gasp is surprised and then desire laden.
"Didn't expect that, did you?"
Laying back I smile. "My turn."
NSFW....NSFW...NSFW..... Visit part two....NSFW.....NSFW......NSFW
The air thickens as things change, move to another level. I wait to see what you'll do. Whether you roll over or not, whether you submit.
And you do. You roll over and look up into my face, lips slightly parted, pupils wide with expectation.
The oil makes the friction as your nipples, hard, slide through my fingers. Your breath catches in your throat and I feel hands move up my thighs a bit hesitant at first and then more bold.
Moving up, I straddle your body. My hair slides down and curtains our faces. It's just the two of us.
I reach down and pull the flogger, a coil of rope and a paddle from the floor below. They're in your view and I raise an eyebrow in your direction."Let's see if you're as tough as all that talk, shall we?"
That flash of fear and then excitement I see in your eyes makes me wet and I can't help but smile at you, catching my lip between my teeth.
Oh how you talk tough! I trail the tails of the flogger over your nipples and watch them harden.. Watch your flesh break out in shivers. A flick of my wrist brings a sharp bite of leather against that sensitive skin.
A gasp breaks from your lips but you arch, wanting more.
And you do. You roll over and look up into my face, lips slightly parted, pupils wide with expectation.
The oil makes the friction as your nipples, hard, slide through my fingers. Your breath catches in your throat and I feel hands move up my thighs a bit hesitant at first and then more bold.
Moving up, I straddle your body. My hair slides down and curtains our faces. It's just the two of us.
I reach down and pull the flogger, a coil of rope and a paddle from the floor below. They're in your view and I raise an eyebrow in your direction."Let's see if you're as tough as all that talk, shall we?"
That flash of fear and then excitement I see in your eyes makes me wet and I can't help but smile at you, catching my lip between my teeth.
Oh how you talk tough! I trail the tails of the flogger over your nipples and watch them harden.. Watch your flesh break out in shivers. A flick of my wrist brings a sharp bite of leather against that sensitive skin.
A gasp breaks from your lips but you arch, wanting more.
NSFW....NSFW...NSFW..... Visit part one....NSFW.....NSFW......NSFW
What would I do if I had them alone in my house for 24 hours I was asked. I grinned and said I'd write it here.......
I'd like to think it would be soft and slow, but maybe not. Maybe once you walked in my front door you'd find yourself against it, my body pressing against yours, eyes locked until my lips found that frantic pulse beat at the place just below your ear.
My hands would touch you, slide over your skin, up and under your shirt. You're soft and warm as you reach to touch me in turn.
Lips find lips. The kiss starts slow and burns deep. Stepping back I smile and invite you in, delighting in the desire hungry look on your face.
I hold my hand out and you take it as I lead you into the house and get you a drink. Talk then. Casual touches burn slow.
Until I tell you to go lay down. After you take your clothes off.
I come in and see you there, naked. Moving to you, I put down the warmed oil and lean in, letting my hair drag over your bare back. I press a kiss at the base of your neck before pouring the oil down your spine.
Slowly, my hands work into the muscles of your back. Up and over in a rhythm and I can feel you relax. The scent of exotic oils rises from your flesh.
Leaning down, my lips touch your ear. "Turn over."
I'd like to think it would be soft and slow, but maybe not. Maybe once you walked in my front door you'd find yourself against it, my body pressing against yours, eyes locked until my lips found that frantic pulse beat at the place just below your ear.
My hands would touch you, slide over your skin, up and under your shirt. You're soft and warm as you reach to touch me in turn.
Lips find lips. The kiss starts slow and burns deep. Stepping back I smile and invite you in, delighting in the desire hungry look on your face.
I hold my hand out and you take it as I lead you into the house and get you a drink. Talk then. Casual touches burn slow.
Until I tell you to go lay down. After you take your clothes off.
I come in and see you there, naked. Moving to you, I put down the warmed oil and lean in, letting my hair drag over your bare back. I press a kiss at the base of your neck before pouring the oil down your spine.
Slowly, my hands work into the muscles of your back. Up and over in a rhythm and I can feel you relax. The scent of exotic oils rises from your flesh.
Leaning down, my lips touch your ear. "Turn over."
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Need...
I need you.
Those three words are to me as intoxicating as the other three.
There is, of course, pain involved in needing someone, in the feeling of lacking completion without them. But it is a different kind of pain, one far easier to endure knowing that it can be remedied. So now I seek out a cure for my pain, I plan, I ponder, the best way to broach the subject with you. I discuss it with my K, my friend, my sister, she knows the pain in my heart better than any other.
Right now the need I have is more basic, more animalistic. I need to fuck, to be fucked. As much as I crave your affection. Gods right now I would give all of them up to be in your arms. For that instinct we seem to share to kick in, for desire to get the better of us.
I need you...
Those three words are to me as intoxicating as the other three.
There is, of course, pain involved in needing someone, in the feeling of lacking completion without them. But it is a different kind of pain, one far easier to endure knowing that it can be remedied. So now I seek out a cure for my pain, I plan, I ponder, the best way to broach the subject with you. I discuss it with my K, my friend, my sister, she knows the pain in my heart better than any other.
Right now the need I have is more basic, more animalistic. I need to fuck, to be fucked. As much as I crave your affection. Gods right now I would give all of them up to be in your arms. For that instinct we seem to share to kick in, for desire to get the better of us.
I need you...
Monday, February 28, 2011
A place in my head...
I know you're sat in front of a computer screen and I know you can read these words.
Walk with me a little in companionship. Perhaps feel my arm around you, your arm around me. Look ahead and share with me what I see as I raise my arm and point. There's a glade over there, a few jumbled rocky hillocks one almost looks like a cottage; trees (Ash and elm and the occasional oak) to the left of us and green meadow fields in front of us. To our right is a cliff to the sea. You can hear the waves crashing against the rocks below, not an intruding noise more relaxing with the ebb and flow. Sometimes I sit and watch those waves for hours. Daft isn't it?
This place is special to me. It's always peaceful here... never seems to rain... the smell of rosemary and lavender lingers in the air. Other herbs too. There's a freshness and a peace. Sometimes I'm here alone, sometimes I'm with company. Like now. Occasionally I'm with loved ones who've left me, and we talk a little. Like you and I are now. I come here to think, to put peace into my soul, to visit with old friends. It's a beautiful place I hope you agree. I'm smiling a little here. Look up! See those clouds hanging there? Do you remember as a child how you'd look upwards and marvel at the sight of such beauty? The peaceful majesty of it? Sometimes I forget too.
You think this isn't real? It is you know... :-) It's as real as anything you've ever perceived, as any fond memory you've ever recalled. This place is real all right... and I'm showing it to you for a reason – to share it.
I've seen some amazing things it doesn't compare to those clouds above us right now... yet look around here. The sheer untrammeled beauty of the place. There is no comparison. All our best art ever does is try to recapture or interpret the original. This is the original! :-) But you know as I do that we all take this for granted. Because we see it around us all the time, the ability to marvel diminishes with familiarity. But that's just our perception... what changes is us.... not this beauty. This is immutable, even if our perception isn't.
You ever wondered why as people we make things over-complex? How we'll more readily believe in a conspiracy instead of a simple fact that's open to interpretation? I think religion is like that too. We make these things so complex. Look around you. Smell the clean air, listen to the birds singing. Feel the breeze. Bible, Koran, Torah... they all fall over themselves in their complexity. They're all complex truths constructed by us to help us understand. But we so easily forget how those clouds looked to us as children... and buy something else that's over-complex and even divisive. If they taught about Gaia in schools they'd have to recycle those books! *chuckles*
This place, this secret place. I wanted to share it with you because its special to me. Anytime you want to come you're welcome. But you know... it's your place too now. You can make it your own. And even if you don't visit again, it'll stay there in your minds eye, always waiting for you.
One last thought, while you can hear me and we're together in companionship. This last thought is simple. For everything that divides us, sets us apart, even makes us argue, makes us see things differently - there is so much more that binds us. So much more. But its like those clouds in the sky.... sometimes those things that are so familiar become invisible to us, and we no longer see them. But they never ever go away, its us. Our fault. We're the ones who are blind to those simple things. Sometimes even willfully so. But a different perception is only that, nothing more. Just a way of seeing a particular thing and sharing it.
And so, now, we can see only a screen and a keyboard again. And words. For a moment we were together though and saw through the same eyes. My special place. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed your company. You can do one last thing for me though, if you'd be so kind. If you've shared this place with me, and understood what I meant, add a comment to that effect. You see, I want to come back here and see who my companions were.......
Walk with me a little in companionship. Perhaps feel my arm around you, your arm around me. Look ahead and share with me what I see as I raise my arm and point. There's a glade over there, a few jumbled rocky hillocks one almost looks like a cottage; trees (Ash and elm and the occasional oak) to the left of us and green meadow fields in front of us. To our right is a cliff to the sea. You can hear the waves crashing against the rocks below, not an intruding noise more relaxing with the ebb and flow. Sometimes I sit and watch those waves for hours. Daft isn't it?
This place is special to me. It's always peaceful here... never seems to rain... the smell of rosemary and lavender lingers in the air. Other herbs too. There's a freshness and a peace. Sometimes I'm here alone, sometimes I'm with company. Like now. Occasionally I'm with loved ones who've left me, and we talk a little. Like you and I are now. I come here to think, to put peace into my soul, to visit with old friends. It's a beautiful place I hope you agree. I'm smiling a little here. Look up! See those clouds hanging there? Do you remember as a child how you'd look upwards and marvel at the sight of such beauty? The peaceful majesty of it? Sometimes I forget too.
You think this isn't real? It is you know... :-) It's as real as anything you've ever perceived, as any fond memory you've ever recalled. This place is real all right... and I'm showing it to you for a reason – to share it.
I've seen some amazing things it doesn't compare to those clouds above us right now... yet look around here. The sheer untrammeled beauty of the place. There is no comparison. All our best art ever does is try to recapture or interpret the original. This is the original! :-) But you know as I do that we all take this for granted. Because we see it around us all the time, the ability to marvel diminishes with familiarity. But that's just our perception... what changes is us.... not this beauty. This is immutable, even if our perception isn't.
You ever wondered why as people we make things over-complex? How we'll more readily believe in a conspiracy instead of a simple fact that's open to interpretation? I think religion is like that too. We make these things so complex. Look around you. Smell the clean air, listen to the birds singing. Feel the breeze. Bible, Koran, Torah... they all fall over themselves in their complexity. They're all complex truths constructed by us to help us understand. But we so easily forget how those clouds looked to us as children... and buy something else that's over-complex and even divisive. If they taught about Gaia in schools they'd have to recycle those books! *chuckles*
This place, this secret place. I wanted to share it with you because its special to me. Anytime you want to come you're welcome. But you know... it's your place too now. You can make it your own. And even if you don't visit again, it'll stay there in your minds eye, always waiting for you.
One last thought, while you can hear me and we're together in companionship. This last thought is simple. For everything that divides us, sets us apart, even makes us argue, makes us see things differently - there is so much more that binds us. So much more. But its like those clouds in the sky.... sometimes those things that are so familiar become invisible to us, and we no longer see them. But they never ever go away, its us. Our fault. We're the ones who are blind to those simple things. Sometimes even willfully so. But a different perception is only that, nothing more. Just a way of seeing a particular thing and sharing it.
And so, now, we can see only a screen and a keyboard again. And words. For a moment we were together though and saw through the same eyes. My special place. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed your company. You can do one last thing for me though, if you'd be so kind. If you've shared this place with me, and understood what I meant, add a comment to that effect. You see, I want to come back here and see who my companions were.......
There’s a constant buzz inside her, images of their games wash in and out at the most unexpected moments. Good job no one can read her mind, she smiles.
Always present, an ever burning background noise, her desire for his touch. It’s not as simple as that though. His touch, his control. A pot-pourri of wishes. A raging hunger for a mixed menu. She could bite someone, something, just sink my teeth in and savage while all the time time her mind chants:' I need need need it. It, everything, something, anything, it. Now, please!'
The relief, just the sheer relief of him walking in and taking over. His decisions, his choices, his controls. He’s fully aware of her desperation. She knows he’ll use it.What better sex weapon is there when she is in this state of mind than her own very mind?
Her body screaming and aching to respond to just the warmth of his body. His voice lapping over her, washing her mind with warm sordid wants. She knows her body betrays her, skin flushing, responses apparent in every place that he expects. 'I need need need…. it.' her mind chants still,her body joining in. The craven desperate whore. So close now she can taste it. Yet he waits and plays, toys and torments, enjoys the moment. She's all impulse and burning need, now now now she's screaming inside.
He smiles and loiters, pauses and peruses. Takes his pleasure, builds and calms, builds and calms, her storm. Now now now. How can he wait. What better thing than to see this woman controlled by a smile, a finger, a word, anything.
Now now now. Finally he smiles, to the bed he says
Always present, an ever burning background noise, her desire for his touch. It’s not as simple as that though. His touch, his control. A pot-pourri of wishes. A raging hunger for a mixed menu. She could bite someone, something, just sink my teeth in and savage while all the time time her mind chants:' I need need need it. It, everything, something, anything, it. Now, please!'
The relief, just the sheer relief of him walking in and taking over. His decisions, his choices, his controls. He’s fully aware of her desperation. She knows he’ll use it.What better sex weapon is there when she is in this state of mind than her own very mind?
Her body screaming and aching to respond to just the warmth of his body. His voice lapping over her, washing her mind with warm sordid wants. She knows her body betrays her, skin flushing, responses apparent in every place that he expects. 'I need need need…. it.' her mind chants still,her body joining in. The craven desperate whore. So close now she can taste it. Yet he waits and plays, toys and torments, enjoys the moment. She's all impulse and burning need, now now now she's screaming inside.
He smiles and loiters, pauses and peruses. Takes his pleasure, builds and calms, builds and calms, her storm. Now now now. How can he wait. What better thing than to see this woman controlled by a smile, a finger, a word, anything.
Now now now. Finally he smiles, to the bed he says
Waiting.....
I found this else where and liked it a lot...
What is this thing that growls and snarls inside?... It's irritable, it's unsettled, and it desires to be untied... Scowling around, menacing and threatening... Wanting to be free, head and body wrestling...
The mind craves the vision, all curled up at his feet... The body yearns to be free, and to be complete... But the mind cries and resists, frightened of hurt... Silently the body withdraws, rapidly..
Trying in vain searching to find the right path... Meeting dissatisfaction and frustration... Patience strops and wants to be left at the door... The heart yearns for its saviour
How do you quieten the pacing, prowling tiger?... Watching, waiting to face its missing owner... Then in open, futile defiance holds his stare,.. Will he walk, or will he defeat the coldness...
Testing and probing all the possible limits... Pushing, evaluating and assessing... Is he genuine and real, does he mean all he Portrays?... Will he be there, good and bad always...
Battling to dump all the past and move on... Ugly duckling transcending to a beautiful swan... Who will have the patience and ability to see... The hungry tiger is really not that mighty and gutsy...
But whilst the mind craves for that wonderful vision... So it runs, stumbling and dodging its own mission... The body cries for all its wanton desires... And then just as fast, puts out all its own fires...
The struggle rages on and simmers like a volcano... Darkness covering the yearning with its shadow... Does the volcano erupt and spill its fiery brimstone... Or can he bring peace and comfort alone?...
I am waiting to find out......
What is this thing that growls and snarls inside?... It's irritable, it's unsettled, and it desires to be untied... Scowling around, menacing and threatening... Wanting to be free, head and body wrestling...
The mind craves the vision, all curled up at his feet... The body yearns to be free, and to be complete... But the mind cries and resists, frightened of hurt... Silently the body withdraws, rapidly..
Trying in vain searching to find the right path... Meeting dissatisfaction and frustration... Patience strops and wants to be left at the door... The heart yearns for its saviour
How do you quieten the pacing, prowling tiger?... Watching, waiting to face its missing owner... Then in open, futile defiance holds his stare,.. Will he walk, or will he defeat the coldness...
Testing and probing all the possible limits... Pushing, evaluating and assessing... Is he genuine and real, does he mean all he Portrays?... Will he be there, good and bad always...
Battling to dump all the past and move on... Ugly duckling transcending to a beautiful swan... Who will have the patience and ability to see... The hungry tiger is really not that mighty and gutsy...
But whilst the mind craves for that wonderful vision... So it runs, stumbling and dodging its own mission... The body cries for all its wanton desires... And then just as fast, puts out all its own fires...
The struggle rages on and simmers like a volcano... Darkness covering the yearning with its shadow... Does the volcano erupt and spill its fiery brimstone... Or can he bring peace and comfort alone?...
I am waiting to find out......
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Vulnerability...
is a two sided coin.IMHO
On the one side, you've got people who have absolutely no concept how difficult it is to push past that wall of vulnerability your waning sense of self confidence has erected and put yourself out there, be it emotionally or physically, when it would be just as easy to hide behind that wall for fear of emotional injury, whether it be rejection or an off-handed comment that may or may not be innocently given, but is none the less hurtful. And on the other side, you've got those people who understand perfectly how very hard it is because they live their lives behind that wall and the mere thought of stepping out from behind it leaves their palms sweaty and their hearts racing.
"We can be our own worst critics, can't we?" And there are no truer words. I know that I am, without question, my own worst critic in everything I do, from writing all the way down to the image that stares back at me in the mirror. "We have to love ourselves first, which is so difficult in a world where the idea is virtually unobtainable by all but the slimmest margin of woman.
Someone in a conversation said to me "All of us are forced to be so self critical of our beautiful bodies because society has decided that a woman is not attractive unless she looks like some mans vision of the perfect female specimen."
With those odds, it's hard not to be our own worst critics and harder still to move past that wall of vulnerability we've erected, but yet there are those of us who occasionally throw caution to the wind and step out from behind that wall.
I don't fool myself into thinking that the things I write or the feelings I express here will touch or move everyone who pass through here on a daily basis, I imagine a good amount of people skim through my words and move onto the next place, but when something I've written does touch someone to the point that they feel confident enough to step out from behind their own personal wall, then it's enough...
is a two sided coin.IMHO
On the one side, you've got people who have absolutely no concept how difficult it is to push past that wall of vulnerability your waning sense of self confidence has erected and put yourself out there, be it emotionally or physically, when it would be just as easy to hide behind that wall for fear of emotional injury, whether it be rejection or an off-handed comment that may or may not be innocently given, but is none the less hurtful. And on the other side, you've got those people who understand perfectly how very hard it is because they live their lives behind that wall and the mere thought of stepping out from behind it leaves their palms sweaty and their hearts racing.
"We can be our own worst critics, can't we?" And there are no truer words. I know that I am, without question, my own worst critic in everything I do, from writing all the way down to the image that stares back at me in the mirror. "We have to love ourselves first, which is so difficult in a world where the idea is virtually unobtainable by all but the slimmest margin of woman.
Someone in a conversation said to me "All of us are forced to be so self critical of our beautiful bodies because society has decided that a woman is not attractive unless she looks like some mans vision of the perfect female specimen."
With those odds, it's hard not to be our own worst critics and harder still to move past that wall of vulnerability we've erected, but yet there are those of us who occasionally throw caution to the wind and step out from behind that wall.
I don't fool myself into thinking that the things I write or the feelings I express here will touch or move everyone who pass through here on a daily basis, I imagine a good amount of people skim through my words and move onto the next place, but when something I've written does touch someone to the point that they feel confident enough to step out from behind their own personal wall, then it's enough...
Dreaming...
I’m haunted, I’ll admit it. The mere hint of you turns my world upside down. My existence is peppered with the translucent imagery of you, naked in the half light, your body glowing with desire and need, your ever-slight showing defined by the ache within and the havoc you constantly wreak in my mind. I’m left alone and burning and in want, seeking something that was always there to begin with.
The moment I reach out,when I see you fully, and when I do, you’re gone, whisper thin smoke curls from my fingertips. I’m left with your words heavy in the air, your desires firmly embedded within my own frame. I cannot help but laugh at myself for such imagery.
The moment I reach out,when I see you fully, and when I do, you’re gone, whisper thin smoke curls from my fingertips. I’m left with your words heavy in the air, your desires firmly embedded within my own frame. I cannot help but laugh at myself for such imagery.
A small voice...
This is not aimed at anyone, really not. This is just something to help with understanding things, understanding me & for that matter, others. Thank you :)
There is a small voice I live with. I suspect other people live with this too. It's that little voice that magnifies all your niggles, your wobbles/wibbles to the point that you cannot ignore it.
It starts quietly enough to the point that you try to make it go away. Bit by bit you find that it can get louder.
It will whisper that you will never be as good as what they have now or have had. In a mono relationship it's bad enough but in a poly relationship that can mean that you find more faults with yourself than with others, magnifies everything more. Whispers to you that, why on earth would they be interested in you? :(when the others are so so much better than you.
But it doesn't end there, oh to have it that simple. It can raise it's head when a new person is around, it also can lizard it's way into the most secure feelings you have, ones that you had never doubted before. It can cause you to look at things from every angle.. Micro managing.
And if you secure in the fact that you are poly, this little voice can still give you the wobbles.
All this little voice needs is for them to ignore you a few times, to make an offhanded remark. Forget to tell you something important. It then starts to make you question. What is it that they have got, that you haven't. Why can't they do that with me?? And when you find no answers that are apparent. You turn it on yourself, what have I done? Why am I not good enough? Am obviously too much trouble..... And so it goes on!
And It's not if you can explain it logically, it's not logical. It is reactions to things that have happened in the past, you can't control it and when it starts, oh boy it's not as easy as switching off a light or something. You can do things to take your mind off but it'll be there when all is quiet or you least expect.
Things get twisted, turned inside out & you feel that there is no end. Talking about it helps, and they realise it's not an attack on him or anyone connected most of the time. Writing it down, sharing it with people that have similar experiences does help too. As they know how the small voice works.
It's not people seeking attention, nor are people wanting sympathy. Best thing is understanding, good communication and patience. That way the small voice might just not always get the better of us.
There is a small voice I live with. I suspect other people live with this too. It's that little voice that magnifies all your niggles, your wobbles/wibbles to the point that you cannot ignore it.
It starts quietly enough to the point that you try to make it go away. Bit by bit you find that it can get louder.
It will whisper that you will never be as good as what they have now or have had. In a mono relationship it's bad enough but in a poly relationship that can mean that you find more faults with yourself than with others, magnifies everything more. Whispers to you that, why on earth would they be interested in you? :(when the others are so so much better than you.
But it doesn't end there, oh to have it that simple. It can raise it's head when a new person is around, it also can lizard it's way into the most secure feelings you have, ones that you had never doubted before. It can cause you to look at things from every angle.. Micro managing.
And if you secure in the fact that you are poly, this little voice can still give you the wobbles.
All this little voice needs is for them to ignore you a few times, to make an offhanded remark. Forget to tell you something important. It then starts to make you question. What is it that they have got, that you haven't. Why can't they do that with me?? And when you find no answers that are apparent. You turn it on yourself, what have I done? Why am I not good enough? Am obviously too much trouble..... And so it goes on!
And It's not if you can explain it logically, it's not logical. It is reactions to things that have happened in the past, you can't control it and when it starts, oh boy it's not as easy as switching off a light or something. You can do things to take your mind off but it'll be there when all is quiet or you least expect.
Things get twisted, turned inside out & you feel that there is no end. Talking about it helps, and they realise it's not an attack on him or anyone connected most of the time. Writing it down, sharing it with people that have similar experiences does help too. As they know how the small voice works.
It's not people seeking attention, nor are people wanting sympathy. Best thing is understanding, good communication and patience. That way the small voice might just not always get the better of us.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Arghhh...
I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...I want...
*chuckles*
*chuckles*
Thursday, February 24, 2011
NSFW.... NSFW.... Shhh secrets I keep ......NSFW... NSFW..
For P.
Giving pleasure to my lover is something that transcends arousal, for me - it's everything. There is nothing more erotic, more satisfying, more unbelievable than giving untold pleasure to your partner and watch the pleasure ride them until everything breaks loose and they jump and shudder and moan.
I like to be noisy - again, I've always found it to be a powerful aphrodisiac both for my lovers and for me, as well. Being noisy lets your partner know how well you're enjoying their hands, their tongue, their cock.... or any other body part, for that matter. And to me, sound is an important element in the act of lovemaking - sex is never better than when it involves all the senses fully. The taste of sweat on your lover's shoulder, the musky smell in the crease where hip meets thigh, the feel of hard muscle, soft skin and crisp hair, the look in your partner's eyes as they feel pleasure, and the moans and gasps of sex all combine into a delicious cornucopia that is veritable feast for the senses.
I like to tease, at least temporarily. You know I find it arousing to hold back and delay the gratification... which only serves to make it more powerful when the time finally comes to fulfil the wish that has been promised but not delivered.
What don't you know about me?
You don't know how my face looks when I'm being touched, how my eyes grow smoky and lidded, how the little crease between my eyes deepens as I bite my lip against the onslaught of pleasure.
You don't know what my voice sounds like as my pleasure builds, as my body begins to tighten and I cry out with desire and wanting and...
But what you don't know, most of all, is my secret fantasy.
For all that I love to give pleasure, for all that I love to watch a man shudder and jump between my palms, my lips, my biggest fantasy lies not there.
It doesn't involve whips and chains. In this most secret and important of fantasies, there need be no three-inch heels, rubber toys, devices that vibrate or penetrate or both. No famous people are involved, and very few props would be needed.
My most intimate fantasy is this:
To be touched. Touched in soft and unhurried ways. Touched for the purpose of drawing out the pleasure rather than hurrying it up.
I'd like to be laid out, tied up even, wholly at the mercy of someone (you) who would take their time, build the suspense, draw out the pleasure until I feel like I'm on a rack and someone is slowly, sweetly, tightening the screws.
I'd like to be kissed as though that kiss is the most erotic thing in the world, for either of us. I'd like to be touched in places not so obvious - the sensitive area behind my ear, the back of my neck, the valley between my breasts, the hollow on the inside of my elbow.
I'd like to feel your tongue in places not so obvious - the crease between neck and shoulder, the inside of my knee, the length of my spine.
I close my eyes and imagine your fingers circling my nipples, featherlight. You don't know that my nipples are incredibly sensitive, but they are. I've even had an orgasm just from having my nipples touched and sucked. But that was a long time ago...
The tips of your fingers just barely circle my nipples, and they grow tighter and tighter beneath your touch. I'm going insane at your teasing - whimpers coming from my throat, gasps, while my body starts to shiver from arousal.
I imagine feeling your palms running over my skin - my shoulders, my arms, my chest, my waist, my legs... There are so many places that have gone untouched for years. I imagine your hands finding every hollow, every crevice, every satiny smooth curve.
In my mind's eye, I can see your face, and this is by far the most powerfully erotic component of my fantasy. I can see the satisfied little smirk on your face as I watch your fingers hovering over my nipples, not quite touching. My body is moving restlessly and I'm wholly focused on the movement of your fingers over my body.
I watch your eyes darken as I lift my hips towards you, pleading for your touch.
I feel your eyes bore into me as you lower your head to my breast, taking me into your mouth, watching me as I close my eyes and moan at the sensations glittering through my veins.
You suckle so sweetly just at the very tip of my breast, making my breath come faster, the pulse between my thighs throb harder.
You slide your tongue along my inner thigh. I gasp at the feeling. There is nothing in my world at that moment - no thoughts, no sounds, no scents - nothing in the world but the sensation of your tongue sliding along my inner thigh, so close to where I want you that the imagery stuns me, makes me weak.
You're watching me, fascinated by the play of emotions over my face. Suspense, desire, and a hint of curiosity too.
You slide a hand up my thigh, slowly, and I watch your fingers as they travel higher, higher.
You slip that finger softly, so lightly, between my lips, already wet with desire. My spine bows a little and my muscles start to clench. Your first touch inside me makes me shiver.
You tease and soothe, advance and retreat, over and over and over until my breath is jerking and my muscles are tight and I'm begging you, literally begging you, to end my torment. I feel like a marionette all tangled in knots, all tight strings and helpless tension.
Just as I feel I'm about to scream out in arousal and frustration, you untie my limbs and climb above me and slide your cock in deep, riding high on my clit, grinding your pelvis against mine. I stiffen and shudder and moan with the force of my orgasm, and before I've even had the opportunity to draw breath I can feel you sliding inside me, giving me no quarter, tiny revolutions of your cock against me followed by deep, hard thrusts that seem to fill my entire body.
I can't help myself, I'm moaning helplessly, buffeted by sensation as I wrap my legs around your waist, pulling you down into me harder and harder with each thrust.
My pulse quickens, my breath shortens, even my nipples lift and ache when I think about what you don't know about me - my secret, most cherished fantasy.
Being wanted. Being pursued.
After a seeming lifetime of having to chase, having to beg and being rejected, this alone could drive me wilder than any position, and place, any other scenario. And at the same time, it could serve to heal the wounds that the past several years have left on something essential and womanly inside of me.
For now, at least, the secret is mine to keep.
Giving pleasure to my lover is something that transcends arousal, for me - it's everything. There is nothing more erotic, more satisfying, more unbelievable than giving untold pleasure to your partner and watch the pleasure ride them until everything breaks loose and they jump and shudder and moan.
I like to be noisy - again, I've always found it to be a powerful aphrodisiac both for my lovers and for me, as well. Being noisy lets your partner know how well you're enjoying their hands, their tongue, their cock.... or any other body part, for that matter. And to me, sound is an important element in the act of lovemaking - sex is never better than when it involves all the senses fully. The taste of sweat on your lover's shoulder, the musky smell in the crease where hip meets thigh, the feel of hard muscle, soft skin and crisp hair, the look in your partner's eyes as they feel pleasure, and the moans and gasps of sex all combine into a delicious cornucopia that is veritable feast for the senses.
I like to tease, at least temporarily. You know I find it arousing to hold back and delay the gratification... which only serves to make it more powerful when the time finally comes to fulfil the wish that has been promised but not delivered.
What don't you know about me?
You don't know how my face looks when I'm being touched, how my eyes grow smoky and lidded, how the little crease between my eyes deepens as I bite my lip against the onslaught of pleasure.
You don't know what my voice sounds like as my pleasure builds, as my body begins to tighten and I cry out with desire and wanting and...
But what you don't know, most of all, is my secret fantasy.
For all that I love to give pleasure, for all that I love to watch a man shudder and jump between my palms, my lips, my biggest fantasy lies not there.
It doesn't involve whips and chains. In this most secret and important of fantasies, there need be no three-inch heels, rubber toys, devices that vibrate or penetrate or both. No famous people are involved, and very few props would be needed.
My most intimate fantasy is this:
To be touched. Touched in soft and unhurried ways. Touched for the purpose of drawing out the pleasure rather than hurrying it up.
I'd like to be laid out, tied up even, wholly at the mercy of someone (you) who would take their time, build the suspense, draw out the pleasure until I feel like I'm on a rack and someone is slowly, sweetly, tightening the screws.
I'd like to be kissed as though that kiss is the most erotic thing in the world, for either of us. I'd like to be touched in places not so obvious - the sensitive area behind my ear, the back of my neck, the valley between my breasts, the hollow on the inside of my elbow.
I'd like to feel your tongue in places not so obvious - the crease between neck and shoulder, the inside of my knee, the length of my spine.
I close my eyes and imagine your fingers circling my nipples, featherlight. You don't know that my nipples are incredibly sensitive, but they are. I've even had an orgasm just from having my nipples touched and sucked. But that was a long time ago...
The tips of your fingers just barely circle my nipples, and they grow tighter and tighter beneath your touch. I'm going insane at your teasing - whimpers coming from my throat, gasps, while my body starts to shiver from arousal.
I imagine feeling your palms running over my skin - my shoulders, my arms, my chest, my waist, my legs... There are so many places that have gone untouched for years. I imagine your hands finding every hollow, every crevice, every satiny smooth curve.
In my mind's eye, I can see your face, and this is by far the most powerfully erotic component of my fantasy. I can see the satisfied little smirk on your face as I watch your fingers hovering over my nipples, not quite touching. My body is moving restlessly and I'm wholly focused on the movement of your fingers over my body.
I watch your eyes darken as I lift my hips towards you, pleading for your touch.
I feel your eyes bore into me as you lower your head to my breast, taking me into your mouth, watching me as I close my eyes and moan at the sensations glittering through my veins.
You suckle so sweetly just at the very tip of my breast, making my breath come faster, the pulse between my thighs throb harder.
You slide your tongue along my inner thigh. I gasp at the feeling. There is nothing in my world at that moment - no thoughts, no sounds, no scents - nothing in the world but the sensation of your tongue sliding along my inner thigh, so close to where I want you that the imagery stuns me, makes me weak.
You're watching me, fascinated by the play of emotions over my face. Suspense, desire, and a hint of curiosity too.
You slide a hand up my thigh, slowly, and I watch your fingers as they travel higher, higher.
You slip that finger softly, so lightly, between my lips, already wet with desire. My spine bows a little and my muscles start to clench. Your first touch inside me makes me shiver.
You tease and soothe, advance and retreat, over and over and over until my breath is jerking and my muscles are tight and I'm begging you, literally begging you, to end my torment. I feel like a marionette all tangled in knots, all tight strings and helpless tension.
Just as I feel I'm about to scream out in arousal and frustration, you untie my limbs and climb above me and slide your cock in deep, riding high on my clit, grinding your pelvis against mine. I stiffen and shudder and moan with the force of my orgasm, and before I've even had the opportunity to draw breath I can feel you sliding inside me, giving me no quarter, tiny revolutions of your cock against me followed by deep, hard thrusts that seem to fill my entire body.
I can't help myself, I'm moaning helplessly, buffeted by sensation as I wrap my legs around your waist, pulling you down into me harder and harder with each thrust.
My pulse quickens, my breath shortens, even my nipples lift and ache when I think about what you don't know about me - my secret, most cherished fantasy.
Being wanted. Being pursued.
After a seeming lifetime of having to chase, having to beg and being rejected, this alone could drive me wilder than any position, and place, any other scenario. And at the same time, it could serve to heal the wounds that the past several years have left on something essential and womanly inside of me.
For now, at least, the secret is mine to keep.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Come with me...
Take my hand and follow me. Creep with me down the dark hall. I lead you to the door. It creaks open as I push gently.
Follow me into the room….
The golden glow of candlelight kisses our faces and enlightens our eyes. The scent of roses invades our nostrils. The bed is made and adorned with rose petals. Reds, pinks, yellows… splash the crisp white comforter. So gentle. So soft. So inviting.
Take your hands and run them over my clothed body.
Now work your fingers and release me of such bondage. Lift my shirt over my head. Unbutton my pants and allow your hands to trail my legs as you let them slide to the floor.
Get on your knees before me.
Trace the contours of my body with your fingertips. Press your lips against my tender spots. Let me feel your breath thru the fabric of my panties. Remove them… ever so slowly… run your lips down my legs.
Come back to me. Lay your hands on my breasts. Hold them. Caress them. Run my nipples gently through your fingertips. Send little shocks down my back.
Kiss me… I mean … REALLY kiss me. Press you lips hard against mine. Lose yourself in me. Shove your tongue inside my mouth. Let me taste you. Let me play with you. I want you. Can you feel it in the way I kiss you back? That’s it. No need to worry. Settle yourself into the kiss. Feel my passion and desire for you.
Move me….
To the bed. Take your clothes off. Come sit beside me as I lay here. Show me how much you desire me. Watch the candlelight as it dances off my skin. I see you looking at the oil. Take it. Lather your hands in the oil…. now touch me. Yes… run your oiled hands all over my body. Run your hands down my back and my neck. Let me feel them on my buttocks. Give them a squeeze. Work that oil into my skin. Down my legs. Massage my calves.
Now turn me over…
I can feel the petals sticking to my oiled back. Here I am for you. . Oil up your hands and run them over my breasts. Listen to me moan. My breath quickens. Can you feel that? The heat of desire I have for you? You can feel it as you run your hands lower. I breath in your being. Settling into your presence. Come with me… let us see where the night takes us. What would you have me do?
Follow me into the room….
The golden glow of candlelight kisses our faces and enlightens our eyes. The scent of roses invades our nostrils. The bed is made and adorned with rose petals. Reds, pinks, yellows… splash the crisp white comforter. So gentle. So soft. So inviting.
Take your hands and run them over my clothed body.
Now work your fingers and release me of such bondage. Lift my shirt over my head. Unbutton my pants and allow your hands to trail my legs as you let them slide to the floor.
Get on your knees before me.
Trace the contours of my body with your fingertips. Press your lips against my tender spots. Let me feel your breath thru the fabric of my panties. Remove them… ever so slowly… run your lips down my legs.
Come back to me. Lay your hands on my breasts. Hold them. Caress them. Run my nipples gently through your fingertips. Send little shocks down my back.
Kiss me… I mean … REALLY kiss me. Press you lips hard against mine. Lose yourself in me. Shove your tongue inside my mouth. Let me taste you. Let me play with you. I want you. Can you feel it in the way I kiss you back? That’s it. No need to worry. Settle yourself into the kiss. Feel my passion and desire for you.
Move me….
To the bed. Take your clothes off. Come sit beside me as I lay here. Show me how much you desire me. Watch the candlelight as it dances off my skin. I see you looking at the oil. Take it. Lather your hands in the oil…. now touch me. Yes… run your oiled hands all over my body. Run your hands down my back and my neck. Let me feel them on my buttocks. Give them a squeeze. Work that oil into my skin. Down my legs. Massage my calves.
Now turn me over…
I can feel the petals sticking to my oiled back. Here I am for you. . Oil up your hands and run them over my breasts. Listen to me moan. My breath quickens. Can you feel that? The heat of desire I have for you? You can feel it as you run your hands lower. I breath in your being. Settling into your presence. Come with me… let us see where the night takes us. What would you have me do?
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wild.....
Some days, the animal inside is closer to the surface than others. There's no telling what will bring her up to the surface or what she'll want when she gets there. That's always the question. She's aggressive particularly when she's in one of *those* moods.
Today was one of those days. The only music that appealed to her was music with a heavy rhythm to them, Music she can stalk and slink to...music that she can hurt or be hurt to...music that brings out the driving sexual, sensual side of her, where everything is blood and bone and claw and raw instinct.
The eyes....they can always tell where she's at. Heavy, slitted, they watch everyone that moves around her, seeking out those that are prey and those that might bend her around to their will. Picking out who she will push against and who she'll let pass by was easy.
Arousal. Heat. She won't be satisfied until she finds the person that will match her. The person that has that inner animal that can control and make her give over, who can push her to slip out of the chains she keeps around the wildness inside. To just be. Elemental. Wild.
Today was one of those days. The only music that appealed to her was music with a heavy rhythm to them, Music she can stalk and slink to...music that she can hurt or be hurt to...music that brings out the driving sexual, sensual side of her, where everything is blood and bone and claw and raw instinct.
The eyes....they can always tell where she's at. Heavy, slitted, they watch everyone that moves around her, seeking out those that are prey and those that might bend her around to their will. Picking out who she will push against and who she'll let pass by was easy.
Arousal. Heat. She won't be satisfied until she finds the person that will match her. The person that has that inner animal that can control and make her give over, who can push her to slip out of the chains she keeps around the wildness inside. To just be. Elemental. Wild.
Wanting.......
a glance; a smile
eyes that dance
looking right into my soul
touching me from the inside out
a wink; a touch
skin softer than silk
my breath catches
a shiver runs down my spine
a caress; a grin
throaty laughter
fills the air between us
a whisper; a lick
my muscles tighten - waiting
so much tension.. almost tanglible
a kiss; a moan
the feel of your lips on mine
the glide of your tongue
wanting...
eyes that dance
looking right into my soul
touching me from the inside out
a wink; a touch
skin softer than silk
my breath catches
a shiver runs down my spine
a caress; a grin
throaty laughter
fills the air between us
a whisper; a lick
my muscles tighten - waiting
so much tension.. almost tanglible
a kiss; a moan
the feel of your lips on mine
the glide of your tongue
wanting...
Sunday, February 20, 2011
I constantly battle thoughts like: "I'm such a screw up," "He thinks I'm an absolute emotional wreck," "I can't ever do anything right," "He doesn't really care, he's just saying that so he doesn't lose me," ... you know you've got some baggage inside. It happens to me every time...and worse. And not a single bit of it is true. But it's what's been drilled into my head in the past, quite forcefully. Finally, I'm coming to terms with it.
It's rather humbling to admit that you really do have problems. I never want to say it... It seems selfish and irresponsible to blame my issues on anyone, or anything, except myself and the things I have done. So many times I have watched people use their pasts as a crutch for their present; an excuse for their actions and their biting tongues. That's not the type of person I want to be - I believe that everyone should take full responsibility for who they are in word and deed.
But when you can't understand why you feel the way you do sometimes, and why things get so horribly confused and painful... it's sort of free-ing to your tortured mind to think, "These automatic thoughts and actions are results of my past...and they will go away with time and effort."
My head flashes back, my sensitivities highten, I see resemblences in what's being done, or said, and I immediately merge the present with the past. It's horrible. Something inside me just absolutely panics, and I become terrified of being broken to pieces. I throw up every sort of defense you can possibly imagine.
It's so hard sometimes. But then again, it's helping me to get past it all and the positives soooooo outweigh the negatives. I guess it would have to be a case by case determination.
Trust. Clear communication. Unconditional love. Those are the vitals...without those, relationships couldn't survive.
It's difficult to find the words to express something like this. I think, facts are facts...
I overthink things. Actually, I know I do. And I know why let's just say, it's another one of those defense mechanisms my mind throws up to deflect accidentally saying the wrong thing in the wrong way.
Anyway...
I know that was more like rambling, but maybe it will help me sort things out better for the future.
It's rather humbling to admit that you really do have problems. I never want to say it... It seems selfish and irresponsible to blame my issues on anyone, or anything, except myself and the things I have done. So many times I have watched people use their pasts as a crutch for their present; an excuse for their actions and their biting tongues. That's not the type of person I want to be - I believe that everyone should take full responsibility for who they are in word and deed.
But when you can't understand why you feel the way you do sometimes, and why things get so horribly confused and painful... it's sort of free-ing to your tortured mind to think, "These automatic thoughts and actions are results of my past...and they will go away with time and effort."
My head flashes back, my sensitivities highten, I see resemblences in what's being done, or said, and I immediately merge the present with the past. It's horrible. Something inside me just absolutely panics, and I become terrified of being broken to pieces. I throw up every sort of defense you can possibly imagine.
It's so hard sometimes. But then again, it's helping me to get past it all and the positives soooooo outweigh the negatives. I guess it would have to be a case by case determination.
Trust. Clear communication. Unconditional love. Those are the vitals...without those, relationships couldn't survive.
It's difficult to find the words to express something like this. I think, facts are facts...
I overthink things. Actually, I know I do. And I know why let's just say, it's another one of those defense mechanisms my mind throws up to deflect accidentally saying the wrong thing in the wrong way.
Anyway...
I know that was more like rambling, but maybe it will help me sort things out better for the future.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Bonded....
Have you ever felt that instantaneous bond with someone?
As you read their words, as you allow your eyes to drink the words as you identify with their sexual soul, it’s like there is an unseen connection, a knowing that travels back and forth from you to them.
The longer you spend with them, the more the feeling grows, warm and silky like hot, oozing molasses they snake into the silent parts of your mind, softly settling until you realise they gently haunt your thoughts. This coupling happens immediately, and as you spend time with that person, as you really listen and recognize that you share their values and qualities, beliefs you hold so closely yourself, you feel the bond grow stronger and stronger.
Sometimes you instantly know you like and trust them, it’s as if you’ve known them for a long, long time. And the distance and differences between you collapse in the unique beauty of the priceless and timeless connection between you and them. Barriers dissolve, walls melt and defences relax because you feel so absolutely comfortable, safe and at ease with them, and you are able to imagine a time in the future when you are electrifying close to this person, and you realize that from the first moment you encountered them, you were captivated. As you connect and respond, the power surges as it races through your veins. It feels good, and it builds, pulsing and pounding as your attachment deepens.
Take a few moments to feel out your own pulse…on your wrist…. or maybe your neck, allow the throb of your own lifeblood to feedback through your fingers…and smile because life is so precious and fragile, and for those vital seconds you held your own life-force consciously close. Allow your eyes to meet with those of strangers and share your grace. Someone wise once said, you don’t know that your smile won’t save someone’s life in that moment. It matters, it makes a difference and for all you know, that stranger may be me.
As you read their words, as you allow your eyes to drink the words as you identify with their sexual soul, it’s like there is an unseen connection, a knowing that travels back and forth from you to them.
The longer you spend with them, the more the feeling grows, warm and silky like hot, oozing molasses they snake into the silent parts of your mind, softly settling until you realise they gently haunt your thoughts. This coupling happens immediately, and as you spend time with that person, as you really listen and recognize that you share their values and qualities, beliefs you hold so closely yourself, you feel the bond grow stronger and stronger.
Sometimes you instantly know you like and trust them, it’s as if you’ve known them for a long, long time. And the distance and differences between you collapse in the unique beauty of the priceless and timeless connection between you and them. Barriers dissolve, walls melt and defences relax because you feel so absolutely comfortable, safe and at ease with them, and you are able to imagine a time in the future when you are electrifying close to this person, and you realize that from the first moment you encountered them, you were captivated. As you connect and respond, the power surges as it races through your veins. It feels good, and it builds, pulsing and pounding as your attachment deepens.
Take a few moments to feel out your own pulse…on your wrist…. or maybe your neck, allow the throb of your own lifeblood to feedback through your fingers…and smile because life is so precious and fragile, and for those vital seconds you held your own life-force consciously close. Allow your eyes to meet with those of strangers and share your grace. Someone wise once said, you don’t know that your smile won’t save someone’s life in that moment. It matters, it makes a difference and for all you know, that stranger may be me.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Come inside my world.....
‘View weblogs as online journals, no less sacred than a diary hidden between the mattresses.’
(Part of a disclaimer on another journal site)
Whether you are here by invitation or accident, I need you to understand that this space is sacred to me and that all my words are from the heart. I don’t write for other people’s pleasure, I’m flattered and pleased that people enjoy my words, but I write for myself first and foremost.
So why write online? Why not keep pen and paper journals, or hold the files in a private place?
It’s a valid question, and not one for which I have an easy answer. I believe people start journals with very different intentions in mind, and generally speaking, that flavour is evident and in part determines the readership. Around these common interests communities grow, friendships are fostered.
I have absolutely no idea how many journal contain sexual experiences or referances, there are or what percentage dedicate themselves to sexual content, but I would think it’s pretty high. What are the chances of someone you know stumbling upon you in that colossal cyber sea? Surprisingly high actually, because it is a small world and the notion of 6 degrees of separation is a kinky concept come true. Given this exposure, am I naïve to consider my space safe in some senses?
Perhaps hopeful over naïve but in the main the respect I am afforded suggests that such faith rests on firm ground. As cyber relations evolve, etiquette finds itself in the same strange place as intimacy. Which courtesies are to be observed in this online arena?
Many of us write about encounters and people without seeking the consent of those concerned. We change names, essential details, embellish facts not to deny truth but to protect those we care for and play with, whilst affording maximum expression. It’s not always an easy trade but it allows the disclosure we need.
That doesn’t make it ok and it doesn’t mitigate the hurt or surprise that can be caused. There is a flipside to this, and that is, once you realise you’re reading the words of someone you know, do you continue? Should you continue?
There are 3 choices:
1. write and be damned
2. Don’t write about it at all, or rather don’t post it
3. Seek consent.
Number three is the pivotal one really, because let’s just assume consent is given, what you’re also doing is offering an invitation into your inner world. Are you happy with your erotic playmates reading everything about you? And anyway, it isn’t that simple because while we don’t play in a vacuum, we don’t necessarily tell each other everything. Perhaps we *should*.
I’m also angry because I don’t wish to temper my voice. I was mute for years and years about my sexuality and it was only through online exploration that I came to realise and finally embrace my switch self. If it hadn’t been for those raw and painfully honest writings I’m sure I’d still be as confused now. As it is there is much about this aspect of my nature I struggle with.
And here’s another thing, through writing about this I’ve come into contact with kindred spirits and while protecting the parameters of our private lives, we’ve transcended the details to probe the soul of this sexual need. Before Shades I starved for that communion whereas now I have many amazing friendships. I wouldn’t trade my contact with you for the world and in so many ways my writing is a dedication to you all.
On that bridge from the dark times to now, I discovered writing. I’m doing it again, I’m omitting essential details. Writing was a way out, a way back. That is no exaggeration and you can all happily accept the part you played in that healing. I’m sure it’s evident but I think I’ve changed a lot from the woman I was, from the creature who created this journal. While I’m still as technically incompetent, I’m growing in other ways.
*sighs*
I accept my responsibilities here. But I have a request to make of the people who know me, who read me.
For all the flaws and foibles of this medium, my interaction with it and the people who come here, this is my space, my sanctum. You read in full consciousness. I can’t and won’t censor myself to pacify or assuage your sensibilities or preconceptions of who you think I am. Journaling is often likened to a mirror, only in this context, the reflection speaks back.
Take my hand. Dance with me. The erotic is the most exquisite dance of all, and I remain your secret partner and friend.
(Part of a disclaimer on another journal site)
Whether you are here by invitation or accident, I need you to understand that this space is sacred to me and that all my words are from the heart. I don’t write for other people’s pleasure, I’m flattered and pleased that people enjoy my words, but I write for myself first and foremost.
So why write online? Why not keep pen and paper journals, or hold the files in a private place?
It’s a valid question, and not one for which I have an easy answer. I believe people start journals with very different intentions in mind, and generally speaking, that flavour is evident and in part determines the readership. Around these common interests communities grow, friendships are fostered.
I have absolutely no idea how many journal contain sexual experiences or referances, there are or what percentage dedicate themselves to sexual content, but I would think it’s pretty high. What are the chances of someone you know stumbling upon you in that colossal cyber sea? Surprisingly high actually, because it is a small world and the notion of 6 degrees of separation is a kinky concept come true. Given this exposure, am I naïve to consider my space safe in some senses?
Perhaps hopeful over naïve but in the main the respect I am afforded suggests that such faith rests on firm ground. As cyber relations evolve, etiquette finds itself in the same strange place as intimacy. Which courtesies are to be observed in this online arena?
Many of us write about encounters and people without seeking the consent of those concerned. We change names, essential details, embellish facts not to deny truth but to protect those we care for and play with, whilst affording maximum expression. It’s not always an easy trade but it allows the disclosure we need.
That doesn’t make it ok and it doesn’t mitigate the hurt or surprise that can be caused. There is a flipside to this, and that is, once you realise you’re reading the words of someone you know, do you continue? Should you continue?
There are 3 choices:
1. write and be damned
2. Don’t write about it at all, or rather don’t post it
3. Seek consent.
Number three is the pivotal one really, because let’s just assume consent is given, what you’re also doing is offering an invitation into your inner world. Are you happy with your erotic playmates reading everything about you? And anyway, it isn’t that simple because while we don’t play in a vacuum, we don’t necessarily tell each other everything. Perhaps we *should*.
I’m also angry because I don’t wish to temper my voice. I was mute for years and years about my sexuality and it was only through online exploration that I came to realise and finally embrace my switch self. If it hadn’t been for those raw and painfully honest writings I’m sure I’d still be as confused now. As it is there is much about this aspect of my nature I struggle with.
And here’s another thing, through writing about this I’ve come into contact with kindred spirits and while protecting the parameters of our private lives, we’ve transcended the details to probe the soul of this sexual need. Before Shades I starved for that communion whereas now I have many amazing friendships. I wouldn’t trade my contact with you for the world and in so many ways my writing is a dedication to you all.
On that bridge from the dark times to now, I discovered writing. I’m doing it again, I’m omitting essential details. Writing was a way out, a way back. That is no exaggeration and you can all happily accept the part you played in that healing. I’m sure it’s evident but I think I’ve changed a lot from the woman I was, from the creature who created this journal. While I’m still as technically incompetent, I’m growing in other ways.
*sighs*
I accept my responsibilities here. But I have a request to make of the people who know me, who read me.
For all the flaws and foibles of this medium, my interaction with it and the people who come here, this is my space, my sanctum. You read in full consciousness. I can’t and won’t censor myself to pacify or assuage your sensibilities or preconceptions of who you think I am. Journaling is often likened to a mirror, only in this context, the reflection speaks back.
Take my hand. Dance with me. The erotic is the most exquisite dance of all, and I remain your secret partner and friend.
Wanton thoughts....
They come in flashes of brilliant light. The things I want to do to you, want to watch have done to you. What I want you do to do me.
Brief gasps and moans. A flash of wet lips. The caress of a gentle hand. The hard pinch of a nipple.
The things I'd say. Could I? Would I unleash it all and articulate the things my brain screams out in brief fantasy? Whispered entreaties. Demands. Would I say what's on the tip of my tongue or would I lick you instead, rubbing my words down your neck?
Straps on arms. Wrists bound. Mine or yours?
Wet. So wet. Hard. Trembling muscles. The fire on my thighs. Or yours?
Would I? If I could? Would you?
Brief gasps and moans. A flash of wet lips. The caress of a gentle hand. The hard pinch of a nipple.
The things I'd say. Could I? Would I unleash it all and articulate the things my brain screams out in brief fantasy? Whispered entreaties. Demands. Would I say what's on the tip of my tongue or would I lick you instead, rubbing my words down your neck?
Straps on arms. Wrists bound. Mine or yours?
Wet. So wet. Hard. Trembling muscles. The fire on my thighs. Or yours?
Would I? If I could? Would you?
You....
Just to Be With You
Debauchery is all very well and good. Very good, in fact.
But it's not all there is. It's not the be-all and end-all. And when it comes to you and I, it's not even the most important part of things.
Sometimes, the little things are all that count. A brush of the cheek from an outstretched hand. A soft touch on the arm. An admiring stroke of a soft white belly as we lie, side-by-side, content just to be.
This is what I want today. Just to be. With you.
Please, spoon into my back, and put your arms around me. Let me hear you breathe; feel your soft warm breath on my ear.
Go on. Let me delight in the feeling of our fingers entwining and twistingly playing together; each hand tickling and dancing, brushing finger against finger; sending sparks of electricity through my body.
Pull me towards you with your strong arms. Let our bodies meld together.
Now kiss me. Yes ... yes .... yes. Just like that. Soft, sweet, sensual and full of feeling.
To know that I will return to you. You know it. And right now ... I just want to be with you
Debauchery is all very well and good. Very good, in fact.
But it's not all there is. It's not the be-all and end-all. And when it comes to you and I, it's not even the most important part of things.
Sometimes, the little things are all that count. A brush of the cheek from an outstretched hand. A soft touch on the arm. An admiring stroke of a soft white belly as we lie, side-by-side, content just to be.
This is what I want today. Just to be. With you.
Please, spoon into my back, and put your arms around me. Let me hear you breathe; feel your soft warm breath on my ear.
Go on. Let me delight in the feeling of our fingers entwining and twistingly playing together; each hand tickling and dancing, brushing finger against finger; sending sparks of electricity through my body.
Pull me towards you with your strong arms. Let our bodies meld together.
Now kiss me. Yes ... yes .... yes. Just like that. Soft, sweet, sensual and full of feeling.
To know that I will return to you. You know it. And right now ... I just want to be with you
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Bdsm and boxes....
My thoughts on generalizations and the boxes we set each other in. Oh and of course, where I fit into all this..
Why generalize? But people do, do that. People put people and concepts within boxes, in their minds. It is human natures way of coping with the vast amount of information that gets thrown at it every day. At it's basis is a form of survival.
Now, all us here within bdsm are in a box. Society has put us there. This box has many names, perverts, deviants, weirdos, them people that do that stuff to each other box. And withinn this box of ours, again people generalize and place people in compartments with names also. Dom/mes, subs, sadists, masochists, fetishists, rubberists etc etc....
There are limits we here place on ourselves and where we draw the lines of demarkation that seperate our own little boxes. Within that knowledge I was trying to find out where I fit in withing this larger box of ours.
If it was always done in a certain way *what some people might consider the right or proper way* then wouldn't that be just as boring as straight vanilla sex with lights out? So often when sex and bdsm and vanilla life and everything else all fits together it's mindblowing for the people involved.
BDSM isn't always about sex, but it is sometimes.
Sex isn't always about BDSM, but it is sometimes.
You see, I do not see myself as vanilla, nor do I see myself as solely bdsm. I do not see myself serving a Dom 24/7, neither do I see myself as always wanting sex. I do not see myself being play partner neither do I see myself as never wanting that. I do not see always needing pain, but sometimes cuddles and reassurance. I do not see myself as always happy with my lot, nor am I disatisfied. Sometime I see myself as fat, at other times, I am just me.
The only boundaries that are placed on me in life are the boundries and limitations of other peoples minds. So does me wanting a loving and sexual relationship with a man even a woman,(I bi and happy to be so,) wanting a man or woman to do all kinds of wonderful and painful things to me, in their form as a Dom/me, make me a devient in a sub society of deviants? NO. It just makes me, me!
You see I try to have no boundaries or limits in my life. I try to be free to explore and sense what is around me. I do not feel constrained by my thoughts on what I should be or not be. I have a foot, a hand, a brain cell in every box. We should exist to live, not live to exist.
Why generalize? But people do, do that. People put people and concepts within boxes, in their minds. It is human natures way of coping with the vast amount of information that gets thrown at it every day. At it's basis is a form of survival.
Now, all us here within bdsm are in a box. Society has put us there. This box has many names, perverts, deviants, weirdos, them people that do that stuff to each other box. And withinn this box of ours, again people generalize and place people in compartments with names also. Dom/mes, subs, sadists, masochists, fetishists, rubberists etc etc....
There are limits we here place on ourselves and where we draw the lines of demarkation that seperate our own little boxes. Within that knowledge I was trying to find out where I fit in withing this larger box of ours.
If it was always done in a certain way *what some people might consider the right or proper way* then wouldn't that be just as boring as straight vanilla sex with lights out? So often when sex and bdsm and vanilla life and everything else all fits together it's mindblowing for the people involved.
BDSM isn't always about sex, but it is sometimes.
Sex isn't always about BDSM, but it is sometimes.
You see, I do not see myself as vanilla, nor do I see myself as solely bdsm. I do not see myself serving a Dom 24/7, neither do I see myself as always wanting sex. I do not see myself being play partner neither do I see myself as never wanting that. I do not see always needing pain, but sometimes cuddles and reassurance. I do not see myself as always happy with my lot, nor am I disatisfied. Sometime I see myself as fat, at other times, I am just me.
The only boundaries that are placed on me in life are the boundries and limitations of other peoples minds. So does me wanting a loving and sexual relationship with a man even a woman,(I bi and happy to be so,) wanting a man or woman to do all kinds of wonderful and painful things to me, in their form as a Dom/me, make me a devient in a sub society of deviants? NO. It just makes me, me!
You see I try to have no boundaries or limits in my life. I try to be free to explore and sense what is around me. I do not feel constrained by my thoughts on what I should be or not be. I have a foot, a hand, a brain cell in every box. We should exist to live, not live to exist.
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