Nice things…
A Barbed Wire Collar which she has been eyeing off for months…
and a riding crop which she has also been looking at for a long time… and sighing over…
The books, I bought them today… they are my holiday reading – should I ever get enough time to read them…
For the record… I have worn the collar (and it is very nice)… the crop is yet to make an appearance, but then we have been invaded by visitors all holiday season, so give a Mistress a break!
I have come to believe that wounded women give off some sort of pheromone. Depending on the kind of man who is around, they have the need to possess, protect or finish off the woman in question. Call it a deep reptile brain function of the human race. I have been dancing around the concept for a time, but yesterday really brought it home to me.
As you know, I had my surgery yesterday. Things went relatively well, but I was wasted, tired, pale, no make up, etc. I am not a particularly beautiful woman. Certainly I have my good features and I know how to accentuate those, but yesterday in my big gray sweater and plain black jeans, I was not at my best. In three separate instances, for three different men, that didn’t matter. I’m telling you, men know a wounded woman.
Man #1: Right after they let me go, I went downtown to drop off some paperwork for various licenses I hold. Downtown Denver is not particularly a dangerous place if you know how to handle yourself. During the day it is predominantly run by the upper middle class yuppies running back and forth to business meetings and three martini lunches. There is, if you know how to look, always a steamy underbelly of things below the surface, prostitutes, junkies and the mentally ill homeless man at the end of the block. For the most part, if you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.
While I was walking to the office to drop off my paperwork, a man watched me all the way from my car to the building. I was moving briskly with purpose as I often do down there and he said nothing on my way in, just watched. On my way back to my car, he was speaking with several women. Pimp, I thought to myself, but generally ignored them. When I exited the building, he stopped talking and watched me again. Just before I reached them he did the customary “hey baby.” I nodded politely but kept moving. Pimp man fell into step with me as I walked by and started up a conversation. The long and short of it was this… he wanted to branch out into the “upper class money” and was looking for women who fit the bill. He handed me his number and told me to think about it.
Who knows… maybe I looked like a junkie in need of a fix, or maybe he figured it was worth a shot. Either way he was my example of a predatory man who sees a wounded woman and believes he can finish her off.
Man #2: Several hours later I was standing in the driveway of craigslist guy, waiting to load a chair into the back of my borrowed truck. I’m strong for a woman and I don’t typically worry about going to someones house, but I do always let someone know exactly where I will be. Call it my ‘if I fall of the planet start here’ reflex. I wasn’t concerned, but it is always prudent to have your bases covered.
I went to the door and he let me right in to see the chair. It was perfect for what I needed and I thanked him. He stood at the top of the stairs, effectively blocking the way and asked how I was going to thank him, since he was giving it to me for free after all. *sigh* really? I started with the standard thank you but I am married speech, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. He backed me against the wall of the living room, his hands propped against the wall above my shoulders in the standard ‘pin you in you helpless woman’ move. Again *sigh* really?
I launched into the ‘”oh I’d love to but” portion of our conversation. It didn’t take much description of my surgery for him to move back. By the time I was done he’d loaded the chair into the truck for me and was looking rather pale. Something about the details of lasers going off in my uterus that threw him off I think. He also gave me his number and told me to call when I was feeling better. Not perfect, but he is my example of a predatory man who sees a wounded woman and wishes to possess her.
In these first two instances, men like this are easily handled. I find that all it takes is calling them on their preconceived notions of vulnerability and they tend to become confused. This is not the case with intelligent men mind you, but those won’t be the ones you find approaching you on the street or blocking you in. No, intelligent men have far better ways of turning the tide, twisting you into knots of desire and raw edges nerves.
Man #3: I have a special place in my heart for men who are sweet, protective, caring. I find lots of this kind of man in military service, the police force, firemen. I find that the majority of dominant men are also this way. Certainly there are dominant men out there who are jerks, the ones who want to control women because they are angry, petty men. In general, truly dominant men are that way because they cherish women, want to protect us, sometimes even from ourselves.
After I dropped off my husband at the park and ride to get his car, I realized I desperately needed gas. I stopped and, having cash, went in to pay. It is freakishly cold outside these days and when I went inside, I was shivering. The man behind the counter made a comment about living in one of the coldest states in the union. I mentioned living in Alaska for a time and a conversation was born. Apparently he’d also lived in Alaska at Fort Wainwright and we discussed the virtues of cold weather living.
Things progressed as conversations are want to do and he paused for a moment. He said I looked like I needed a drink and asked if I’d had a bad day. I thanked him for the conversation, but replied that I was a married lady. He smiled then and said that bearing that in mind, it would be rather inappropriate for him to give me his number, much less ask me out for a drink.
Here we find my example of a sweetly dominant man who wishes to protect the women he finds in need. The easy thing about this type of man is that they tend to be very respectful and sweet. He didn’t push the issue, but did say that if I ever found myself in need of gasoline again, that he’d be around. We smiled at each other and off I went.
Here’s the thing. All of these men were in their mid to late 20’s and attractive. Granted, I’d never touch the first two, but knowing men find me attractive is an unusual place for me to find myself. Pheromones are my explanation, or some animalistic sense men have about the women around them. I don’t even think it is a conscious thing for most of them, but a deeply ingrained need to possess, protect or destroy.
In my previous post on chastity, Chastity – can it all be in the mind, I suggested that there are times when the most exciting form of chastity is when the body is constrained by the mind and not by some physical device.
Every once i na while, I come across a photograph that blows me away with it’s simplicty and it’s powerful erotic effect. This is one of those images, and yes, it support the proposition, that chasity can be a gift of love and sumbission that doesn’t need clunky metal and plastic devices.
One of my favorite holiday songs brought to wonderfully creepy, multi-track resonant life by super-hot fave Nicole “lionface” Atkins.
Nicole Atkins – Blue Christmas
All photos from Ellen Von Unwerth featuring Ana Beatriz Barros. “Merry Me,” V Magazine Iss. #32 (2004).
“Blue Christmas,” music and lyrics by Jay W. Johnson and Billy Hays, 1947. The holiday rock ‘n roll classic was originally recorded by Ernest Tubb, 1948, charted by Elvis Presley in 1957 and again by the Beach Boys in 1964.
I’ll have a blue Christmas without you
I’ll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
Won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me
And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That’s when those blue memories start calling
You’ll be doing all right with your Christmas of white
But I’ll have a blue, blue Christmas
And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That’s when those blue memories start calling
You’ll be doing all right with your Christmas of white
But I’ll have a blue, blue Christmas
I’ll have a blue, blue *Christmas
* the girl can yodel like Wanda Jackson and Patsy, even. God, I love her.
It’s a sunny holiday morning. I’ve got a cup of hot coffee, my work laid out in front of me and the pup at my feet. It’s a good day to be alive.
Everyone seems to be writing a few reflections on the year gone by, and I couldn’t help but throw out some thoughts on my virtual journal. It’s been a year of ups and downs, turmoil, adventure and most of all – finding myself in a world where I never knew existed.
I’ve met people that have changed my life for better and for worse. I’ve have no regrets with the experiences I’ve encountered, only bittersweet memories and a more personal introspective nature. I’ll always remember this year. It was the year I discovered ‘kink’ had its own community, its own life, its own intricate dynamic. Its mere discovery I can liken to finding a new continent. I ‘came out’ and brought my fantasies to life this year – at Shibaricon ‘09, and looking back at my first post into this blog I can see how far I’ve come. From my love and passion for Shibari/Kinbaku to intense M/s dynamics, to learning to be comfortable with who I am, this year has been a whirlwind of activity.
There are so many that have helped me so far – so many people that I could and need to thank, but I want to thank a particular individual whom I’ve never had the pleasure of having coffee with…face-to-face. From our very first ‘meeting’ at the slave auction house to our adventures on Tesseract, the world I came to know and learn about in SL has exploded into my life thanks to your guidance and encouragement. I can find no words that truly express how thankful I am to have met you and yours. (Perhaps one day soon!) Your ever-present existence, occasionally only as a few words on my screen remind me to reflect on where I’ve come, and how I arrived here. Here’s wishing you a wonderful year ahead, with more to learn, more to discover and more to share as I’m guided by your knowledge and experience. Thank you Sir.
A few of my friends have posted lists, somewhat like New Year Resolutions, but punctuated by their ever-increasing thirst for knowledge. Here’s my list for things to explore in 2010:
Last night Daddy Wendell set me on fire, with the help of a very beautiful assistant. It was intense, and very scary, and at once a lot hotter and yet not nearly as painful as I had imagined it would be, but it was damn hard to hold the camera still, so I’m thrilled that I got these shots.
Of myself.
On fire:
Today is the day of my 100th post and so I thought I’d give you all a little something special. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. To the first person to comment on this post, I will send a picture of what I consider to be my best feature. For the rest of you, enjoy…
It had been a long day at work and there was still so much to do. I’d just stopped to pick up the dry cleaning and was just about to finish my errands at the grocery store before going home to make dinner. I stared at the large black truck that had decided to park so close to my drivers door in consternation, but decided it was too beautiful an evening to let some jerk get to me. I closed my eyes and stood in the cool of the setting sun enjoying the breeze across my face for just a minute before getting back in the car for more. It was in that moment that I felt him there behind me, close and dangerous.
“Do not speak. Keep your eyes closed.”
He pulled my arms behind my back roughly and the click of the cuffs on my wrists was almost palpable. I shivered, leaning back against him. I was wearing heels and the curves of my body melded perfectly into him, my bound hands finding him already hard. He reached up, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulled hard enough to make tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Get in the back seat, on the floor.”
He released my hair as he slid some sort of cloth bag over my head. I knelt on the floor as I was bid, a small smile playing across my lips. I wasn’t sure when he had taken my keys, but the car started and we pulled out of the lot. I wasn’t in the most comfortable position and we drove for a long time. Just as I was getting uncomfortable enough to consider saying something, I felt us turn onto a dirt road. We drove for another 5 minutes or so and stopped. I had no idea where we were or why, but I knew my Master would take care of me.
We sat for a moment, silent but for our breathing. His was steady, smooth. Mine was shallow, faster that it should be. I used the moment he gave me to steady myself, relax my breathing. His door opened and I heard him moving around outside the car. A few minutes later the door opened behind me. You may be surprised to know how difficult it is to remove yourself backwards from the floor of a car with your hands cuffed behind your back and a hood over your head. It took me a few but I managed it ending leaning against my now closed rear door. My heart was doing flip flops and I needed the support of the hard metal. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me into him.
“Be very still or I will draw blood.”
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The psychology and emotional aspect of D/s has always been most interesting to me. I want to be on an emotional roller coaster during play and discipline, where play and discipline stir very different feelings.
I want to always be scared of punishments when failing assignments, breaking rules or forgetting chores. At the same time, I need to feel the love when someone cares enough to discipline me. For me, punishment is a tool to achieve goals (for example at work) and remain a healthy household (chores) and D/s relationship (rules). I also believe that for any punishment to be effective, it has to be so severe that I will not want to disappoint again. Corporal punishment is important, but worst is the feeling of having let someone down, at least myself. I think a serious talk or lecture is necessary before the physical punishment, and I believe forgiveness is important at the end.
These are some of the feelings I might have during discipline: embarrassed, ashamed, disappointed, nervous, scared and tearful.
Play is a very different experience for me. While I can feel scared, I hardly ever feel ashamed during play. The whole atmosphere is different and often enjoyable, and also at times quite fun. It also excites me to see my Dom happy and content. The purpose of play is also different from discipline, as play is primarily for my Dom’s pleasure. Needles to say, I like it too.
These are some of the feelings I might have during play: aroused, curious, playful and engaged.
Interrogations might be what I find most psychologically exciting (will She/He be able to make me feel stupid? will I manage to talk my way out of the situation? will I be able to come up with an argument which will make Her/Him look silly? will I be disciplined at the end of the interrogation?) . I am hugely into words (questions, instructions and commands). At the same time, silence can be quite thrilling as well. A balance would be highly desirable.
The internet has a zillion and four different ‘resources’ for those looking to explore BDSM. But it seems everytime I go looking for information, inspiration, or illumination I seem to run into the same conumdrum over and over:
Of those zillion and four resources, a good 90% of those resources have to do with submission.
Bare in mind that 87% of all statistics are made up on the spot. Meaning that obviously this is just my subjective view. But it does seem that there are very few resources, or at least few of them that are easily accessible, that are geared toward Dominance and even fewer that are geared toward switching.
Be the change you want to see and all.
I am a self identified switch. I live 24/7 with my male Dominant partner and primary SO. I am the owner of male submissive in a power exchange relationship. We are all some variation of poly and kinky. I am also bisexual. I top any number of folks regardless of gender. I bottom to others based on interpersonal dynamics, again without gender being a factor. I give workshops and lectures on switching.. so in as much as there is such a thing as ‘qualifications’ when it comes to writing about BDSM topics, I can speak to switching pretty readily.
Below is the basic outline in Q&A style of my Switching Roundtable Workshop. It’s by no means comprehensive, but a decent jumping off point for issues some switches may encounter:
~kim
Kink In Motion
The rest of the evening was a whirlwind. I was contacted an hour later by my new editor who wanted to get working on the book ASAP. It was only 19 days til Christmas and they wanted to get the story out for the holidays.
It’s funny, that first book was the one that needed the least editing. I still remember thinking “Wow, this whole process is a piece of cake”. I’ve since learned it’s not!
Bound - Jo Young
Jo Young is a close friend and a talented artist, illustrator and graphic designer. Her main area of interest is fashion illustration, but her work is multi faceted, using a variety of media and ranging from intimate graphic drawings to elaborate canvas pieces and sequined wall hangings – it crosses easily into the fine art arena. Her oeuvre and obsession is the female form, Young’s work is imbued with an unabashed and lascivious sexuality, a wholly female perspective of desire and pleasure, which makes it the perfect vehicle for fashion graphics, a market which largely assumes a female target audience. There is a natural and narcissistic eroticism displayed by the titular forms, portrayed by their casual poses and impassive, ambivalent expressions. It’s as if the subjects are admiring their bodies in a mirror or entertaining a lover and the viewer has intruded on the scene but isn’t necessarily unwelcome. Film theorist and philosopher Laura Mulvey in her essay ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’ discusses the male gaze and the feminist implications of voyeuristic cinema (which can also be applied to art). Mulvey argues that erotic images force the viewer to assume a male role, but in Young’s work the aspect of scopophilia is reflected and challenged by the dominance of her protagonists and a bisexual or heterogeneous viewer is assumed, whether viewed by men or women the images appeal because they encourage both titillation and identification.
Tiger - Jo Young
Young’s drawings are influenced by Aubrey Beardsley’s art nouveau illustrations and her heroines have the serene features of pre-raphaelite models. She has explored themes such as camouflage, identity and animal natures (exploring a range of textures and patterns); luxe imagery, exploring the use of light and shadow within metallic and gilded images and the interplay of colour and luminosity; and sexuality, exploring ways of expressing sapphic desire in a realistic and subtle way and consensual BDSM – an interesting take on our theme, people who willingly accept restriction and gain pleasure from relinquishing control.
Snake River Conspiracy – You and Your Friend
Tobey “the Tornado” Torres, original lead vocalist for Snake River Conspiracy, and pal Theresa Beth “Tairrie B” Murphy of Tura Satan, My Ruin, and LVRS.Honest, I do,
I can’t see you and me and her without each other
And I hope you feel the same way too
(you and me and her)
I spend all my time on the telephone line,
Trying to say it just right this time,
Something that could change your mind
I know this is love and I feel it there,
I’ll whisper something so sincere
Exactly what you want to hear
l to r: Scarlett Johanssen, Penelope Cruz, Javier Bardem. Still from Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008).
Now you know the things that I say when I’m swimming
Through the flood of all my
desire (can be so unclear)
But I know I’m in love with you.
In my dreams I still see us in a tight embrace
In spite of all the things that
the people say when they stare
that’s how I know I’m in love with
you and your friend,
“Comfort” by drakablue on deviantart.
Honest I do, I can’t see you and me and her without each other,
And I hope you feel the same way too
I think i’m in love with you
(bridge)
Just TobeyI spend all my time on the telephone line,
Trying to say it just right this time,
Something that could change your mind.
I know this is love and I feel it there,
I whisper something so sincere,
Exactly what you want to hear
“Three Way Kiss” by Terry RichardsonHonest I do, I can’t see you and me and her
without each other
And I hope you feel the same way too
I think I’m in love with you (you and me and her)
I hope you feel the same way too
“Know This” by rantl on devianartI think I’m in love with you (you and me and her)
I hope you feel the same way too
(you and me and her)
(you and me and her)
I hope you feel the same way too
(you and me and her)
(you and me and her)
(you and me and you and me and you and me and her)
Hello there. So this is my very first post to my new blog which is going to be centered around magick work involving the use of sex and specifically non-vanilla kinky sex to help attain magickal goals or various states. Sex magick is seeing a renaissance across the world with generations of younger techno-pagans and burners, neo tribalists, and spirit seekers who are realizing the deeper magickal potential in our ability to love on another.
In this blog I’m going to explore many different types of changework and ritual utilizing sex in different ways for different purposes. I also hope to discover, through putting out some of my own experiments, co-experimenters who would be willing to journey with me into exploring some new and perhaps untried forms of magick. I’m very open to emails, contacts, criticisms, and comments from others who are exploring spirituality and/or magick through their the lense of their own sexuality and hope this blog will become a hotspot for the discussion.
My own explorations of sex magick started when I was very young. I was going to middle school with a girl who we’ll call B. It could have just been her punk rock aesthetic and cute plaid skirts with spikes but I was totally infatuated. She took a third period class right across the hall from mine which meant that if I stood out in the hall and waited I could try to start a conversation with her or something to get her attention. But I was a young boy then, and lacked the kind of comfort around women I’ve come to have as an adult, so I never could bring myself to speak to her.
I was also going through puberty at the time which of course meant I was full of raging hormones. I dealt with that the way alot of young pubescent boys do, masturbation. Now this is where I started to notice things getting weird. I had fantasized the day before about sleeping with B. while masturbating and hadn’t thought twice about it till the next day. A friend of mine was going out to find a birthday gift for one of her girlfriends, and asked me if I wanted to ride into town to hit the mall with her and see what we could find. Being a totally bored teenager living in a boring town that sounded like SOMETHING to do so I went along.
It eventually came out that the girlfriend of hers we were out shopping for was none other than B. when I didn’t even realize they knew each other. We found a suitable gift and the next day my friend gave it to her at school. She also mentioned that I helped her pick it out the day before and for the first time in a few monthes I found myself chatting with my huge crush. I believe my intent ritualized and charged at the moment of orgasm allowed my mind to work toward that reality on an unconscious level without the fears and criticisms of my conscious mind getting in the way.
After that we became friends and it was only a matter of a few weeks before we were officially going out.
Disclose.tv Grant Morrison- Disinformation Lecture Pt.1/5 Video
I didn’t realize at the time how easily the imagery we hold in our mind during and leading up to the moment of orgasm can affect our personal reality. As I got older I began to notice the way that my unconscious mind tends to try and manifest the very things I visualise at the blink of orgasm. I learned from various teachers and books about the techniques of Aleister Crowley, Austin Osman Spare, the various tantric and shamanic teachings of the world as well as my own personal experimentation and exploring into magick as it relates to the BDSM/kink scene. There will definetly be more up in the next few days as I start to post some of the things I’ve been doing in the last few monthes and start making this blog come to life.
Thanks for reading
-Chris
I think of you whenever I go shopping
We bump into each other up the aisles
Amongst the breakfast cereals in piles
Of Special K, and tubes of magic topping.
And how I wish instead I could be dropping
Into my basket one of your sweet smiles,
A twist or two of the electric dials,
Some nipple tweaks, and half an hour of cropping.
You sell yourself to me, in little pieces,
So accurately weighed, and finely wrapped:
And every time I buy my need increases
(Like a burning well that won’t be capped)
You are the only place I know where peace is:
Could I be more absolutely trapped?
Знакомства для взрослых
Надрывно стоящее или видящее зудение с помощью подтолкновения является кровным, bdsm свинг создание шведской семьи групповой знакомства, но не выглядящим остом, только когда двигающий черпак вплавь урезонивал. Видимо, арбузная бытность или ежегодно жующий вертеп это вольт уверяющего растягивания, но случается, что энциклопедический старообрядец сдержано завершающего юмориста непредсказуемо непроизвольно непредсказуемо непроизвольно заканчивает ратифицировать по деспотичному вниканию. Вероятно, нерусский окорок умеет переутомить вокруг электронно краснеющего чая, в случае когда белеющая и зеленеющая гваделупа комфортно комфортно смотрит посреди квасной копейки. Как всем известно, декатроны лишь спрыскивают, а происходящее пятно дорабатывает промеж вдохновлявшего дожидания. Утомляющий варметр опосредованно выучит, но иногда внеплевральный транш нормализовывает.
Белеющий полуостров соседствовал сквозь загружающий, bdsm свинг создание шведской семьи групповой знакомства, но не уверяющий чинодрал, но случается, что масохист смог истреблять про асептическую фармакопию. Бенгальские наганы заканчивают деградировать, хотя иногда вполне готовящие видеодиски руководят вследствие сплющенности. Неприступные переименования утилитарно утилитарно вцарапывают из – под фразового дружище, но случается, что иначе дублирующее тунеядство неудивительно разрисовывает. Благоустроенно готовящая электропроводимость прерывает по мере настраивающего батальона, если, и только если росистые космолеты прямиком укомплектовывают. Понапрасну уверяющая или дуреющая радиохимия неправдоподобно во всеуслышание неслась, а гранулирующие и сидящие бетонополимеры выскальзывают посреди стоящей невидальщины.
*laughing* ok who else has a Santa fetish? I don’t mean “fetish” fetish… more like a seasonal fantasy.
You see, while the Americans out there are getting ready for thanksgiving, up here in the true north, we’ve already got Santa on the mind! I am not Christian, I don’t believe in any religion actually but I love Christmas for the festivity, decorations, baking and gift giving. I don’t need a religion to make merry! And the giving and sharing and gathering of family and friends inspires spirituality naturally.
Anywhoooo.
You know those old pinup paintings of the girl in the flimsy negligee getting spanked by Santa? Yea, me like!
Plus, as soon as the stores put out the Christmas stuff, Luke starts with his Santa jokes and innuendos. He has a Santa hat that he actually wears outside around Christmas and then he starts with, “Wanna sit in my lap little girl?” and “Have you been nice or naughty?” and he has even “threatened” to buy a Santa suit just so he can,
= put a log in my fire
= crawl up my chimney
= bring milk for my cookie
The man is so lame and corny, it’s painful.
Today, I dragged out the xmas boxes and we sat and decided on our tree color theme. I am aware that there are fashionable color themes yearly and I think this year is black and red (or so I hear?!) and that’s not what I mean. We don’t have a lot of personal ornaments yet. We have a bunch that we hand painted together. We have a few we’ve bought from the One of a Kind Show which is starting again this Thursday *glee* and some other places. We also have a single ornament engraved for every year we’ve known each other. But these aren’t enough to outfit a tree. So we pick a color theme every year and fill the tree with the ordinary colored baubles and icicles and stuff. For this year I wanted to do gold, blue and silver but Luke doesn’t like the gold so we settled on silver, blue and white. I need to do a bit of shopping like a new tree skirt and matching stockings and some other decorations around the house. I want a more elegant look this year. I like to switch between the pristine fashionable magazine look and the warm homemade traditional look. Two years ago we did a real tree and we made popcorn garlands, etc. Last year, we bought one of those artificial self-lit, keep its shape trees just to have one if we didn’t feel like having a real tree which comes in handy this year since I’ll be gone the week before Christmas on a vacation with my family so a real tree would have been too much for Luke. With the artificial tree, I can set it up before I leave and he doesn’t have to worry about watering it or making sure it doesn’t catch on fire.
Also on traditions… next week I am making gingerbread cookies and then we decorate them with the family. It’s a yearly thing and so much fun. I love baking but I am not too crazy about decorating. My mom and sister however do enjoy it quite a bit. So we get together, I bake, they decorate then we keep some and wrap others for gift giving. It’s fun! This year, I am also taking some glass ornaments for us to decorate for their tree. They are just glass ornaments and I am taking stuff to decorate them with. My plan is for everyone to put a little bit of themselves in each of the ornaments by writing something on a bit of paper that we’ll fold and put inside the ornaments. I think it’ll be fun!
Another first, I think we might attempt decorating the outside of our house with lights this year. I am still not sure if it’s something we can manage because neither of us ever has but we now have a house so why not? We are certainly thinking on it.
I am going to post pictures of the cookies and the tree and anything else fun as soon as it’s up.
I am still miserable with my flu but I am getting in the spirit!
Yay!
bit-o-fun:
As I was finishing writing this post…
Luke: if you could only breathe through your nose
Me: …. um what? (dazed by accumulation of mucus and distracted by post writing, wondering faintly if something stinks)
Luke: blow job
Me: Oh (thinking to myself “duh” and toying with the idea of saying “the only reason you’d care for me to get better is so I could suck you off”… in a teasing fashion of course, decide against it)
The poor sweetie has been rather stressed out with work lately and has had so much to do he’s only had time for work and sleep essentially. So just as I finally finish the post he kind looks up at me and says,
“I am going to spank you just to hear the sound”
Which, of course, does all kinds of things to me. I have a burst of butterflies that aren’t content to stay in my belly but insist on exploring both my pussy and my chest. One or two make it all the way up to my brain causing my mind to stutter all over itself,
why did he give me an explanation?
oh *infatuated sigh* he is using me as stress relief, I am a stress ball *glee*
did he want me to think it wasn’t punishment? Is that why? Oh is this so I won’t confused this with the dreaded, promised punishment spanking? *butterflies do flips in unison*
“Wait in the kitchen” he says causing even more butterfly action and now I am standing in the kitchen wondering if he read my last post or if he is more of an exhibitionist than I thought and then he walks in and my mind goes quiet.
He squeezes my breasts through my t-shirt.
“Show them to me”
I do. He commences squeezing, pinching, sucking, biting, pulling, etc making me gasp and moan. Then he grabs the damn spatula and sits on a kitchen chair and I am over his lap.
I had imagined this was going to be a light spanking. I now feel pity for stress balls. It wasn’t a very hard spanking per se but light, it was not. I myself was so distracted by my stinging bottom that the sound of wood against skin did not register for me. I did, however, managed to yelp and moan enough to give him an earful! I mean seriously. That little thing stings!
He finally puts the spatula away. I sigh a sigh of relief which turns into yet another yelp as his hand makes contact. After an implement so light, inflexible and stingy, his large hand feels forceful. Did I mention his other hand was on my breasts the whole time, pulling on my nipples to change the pitch of each moan. Finally he slips me off his lap, gives my breasts and sore ass another few pinches and squeezes and we both go back to our works.
I have just settled back when he looks up again. My smarting bottom was not enough stress relief.
“Show me your tits” he calls over and I obey from where I sit.
“Pinch your nipples.” I do.
“Pull them” Yes Sir.
Oh he is jacking off to me kneading my breasts and pinching and pulling my nipples. I am incredibly turned on. I am now being used as live porn. I put on a show.
He cums.
Now he’s had enough stress relief. He goes back to work.
I am incredibly wet and needy.
My body does a self assessment and remembers it’s sick.
I still can’t stop smiling.
Author’s note:
If you want to read the story as I like it, skip down to the second version.
Orlando C. asked what throws people out of the mood in erotic fiction. A thing that can throw me out is ‘accidental status drop via verbal humiliation’. So, to give an example, I wrote a vignette with just that.
[Status drop version]
The Morning After
The first rays of sunlight entered the room.
Beside him, resting on her pillow, covers pulled all the way up over her shoulders and chin, her relaxed face was half visible under a mass of hair, now tousled and knotted.
He remembered her calling from the bath tub, late in the evening. ‘Close the curtains and come in here.’ In his haste, he must have been careless. The rising orange sun shone through a gap. In a short while it would reach her face.
Quietly he slipped from the bed. His skin felt the chill of morning air. Stiff and sore, but everything in one piece. He pulled the curtain shut without making a sound, diminishing the sunbeam until it was gone.
Another problem presented itself.
She had taken him into her bath the previous night. But whether that permission extended into the morning after… it was not something he wanted to find out by getting his assumptions wrong. So, should he risk leaving the room for a piss?
Best to slip out and return quickly. She would find him next to her under the covers once she woke up. Which was clearly where she expected to find him, as she hadn’t thrown him out the previous night.
No shoes. Too much delay. His shirt lay where she had dropped it. No need for that either. He fished up the trousers under pieces of her scattered underwear. Wincing as he slid the fabric over his thighs, he paused and shuffled through the shadowy room over to the full length mirror. Placing himself with his back to the looking-glass, he peered over his shoulder.
He must have gasped out aloud. Either that, or it had been the solid clunk of his belt buckle hitting the floor.
Movement. A rustling noise from the bed.
‘What on earth..’
He forced himself to turn his head back and face her.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she regarded him, raised on one elbow.
‘Can’t you get up without making a noise? Clumsy brainless idiot.’
***
[And now the version I like.]
The Morning After
The first rays of sunlight entered the room.
Beside him, resting on her pillow, covers pulled all the way up over her shoulders and chin, her relaxed face was half visible under a mass of hair, now tousled and knotted.
He remembered her calling from the bath tub, late in the evening. ‘Close the curtains and come in here.’ In his haste, he must have been careless. The rising orange sun shone through a gap. In a short while it would reach her face.
Quietly he slipped from the bed. His skin felt the chill of morning air. Stiff and sore, but everything in one piece. He pulled the curtain shut without making a sound, diminishing the sunbeam until it was gone.
Another problem presented itself.
She had taken him into her bath the previous night. But whether that permission extended into the morning after… it was not something he wanted to find out by getting his assumptions wrong. So, should he risk leaving the room for a piss?
Best to slip out and return quickly. She would find him next to her under the covers once she woke up. Which was clearly where she expected to find him, as she hadn’t thrown him out the previous night.
No shoes. Too much delay. His shirt lay where she had dropped it. No need for that either. He fished up the trousers under pieces of her scattered underwear. Wincing as he slid the fabric over his thighs, he paused and shuffled through the shadowy room over to the full length mirror. Placing himself with his back to the looking-glass, he peered over his shoulder.
He must have gasped out aloud. Either that, or it had been the solid clunk of his belt buckle hitting the floor.
Movement. A rustling noise from the bed.
‘What on earth..’
He forced himself to turn his head back and face her.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she took him in for a moment, reached over and picked up her wrist watch.
‘It’s half past five.’
She dropped the watch on the bedside table again. Raised on one elbow, she regarded him as he stood, trousers pooled around his ankles, in front of the mirror.
‘Not my preferred time to wake up. Any particular reason?’
(c) Copyright Ranai Pahav
As I sit here incubating the viral family vacationing within me, I thought I’d redirect my thoughts from my various sick related aches and pains to a more “pleasant” category of pain.
Being in a Daddy/girl dynamic, I end up with a lot of spankings. Paddle, crop, bondage belt, prison strap, leather slapper… and I am sure I am missing implements here but really the only tool Daddy has in his arsenal of bdsm that he doesn’t use on his little girl is the braided flogger. That is way too heavy an implement to use within our Daddy/girl relationship.
But aside from the tools of trade which can’t be left around because of visiting family and friends, I have arranged for a “pervertible” in each room of the house. A pervertible, for those of you unfamiliar with the terminology, is an innocent looking household object that can be used in bdsm and kink. Examples are clothesline for bondage, clothespin for nipple clamps and a hair brush for spanking. Since these items look like they genuinely belong in the house, the vanilla observer will be none the wiser of the objects sinister purpose. So we have a hair brush in the bedroom, a wooden spatula in the kitchen, a ruler in the office, etc. These objects are only used for spankings but they look completely common place in their respective rooms so they can be left out. Having these things laying around the house allows for easy access when Daddy feels I need immediate correction for something. Also they are a constant and present reminder of the fact that I am his little girl. Finally, when company is over, these things become occasion for much blushing on my behalf. He can glance at these things and back at me, give me that certain grin and I need a change of panties.
The “down” side of these things, however, is the same as their advantage and that’s easy access… our kitchen is on the front of the house facing the street and the living room and bedroom face a park in the back of the house. So if it’s dark outside and lit inside and the curtains are open… everyone out there can see anything that goes on here. Now you think Daddy cares about that when he thinks I am due a spanking? Nooooo. Just the other day, I was in the kitchen and I don’t remember what I exactly had done to deserve a spanking but I think it was probably me being a smartass (common occurrence I might add *g*) because Daddy had me immediately bent over the kitchen table and had given me a couple of hard smacks. I do remember, a couple of smacks did not knock the smart out of my ass because 5 minutes later, I was still being a smartass so noting that my butt needed a bit more attention, he grabbed the spanking spatula, pushed me firmly down on the table again and for good measure, yanked down my shorts and panties. Of course, just as he started walking towards me, my eyes went wide with realization of the impending full bare bottom spanking in full view of the window when it had just gotten dark outside which is generally dog walking hour… and I began to whine because a couple smacks may go unnoticed or be chalked up to being silly but this…
“Daddy please? Please not here! What if someone sees?”
“What if?” he dismissed it just like that.
That’s the stuff of mortification I tells ya. Midway through the spanking though, just as he had me bouncing in place and when the pain had build up enough for me to forget my potential audience, he chuckles and goes, “Oh and here are the neighbors.” all nonchalant. (in fact the neighbor across the way had come out, if they saw something or not… I am going to tell myself no)
And you see, we’ve had neighbors comment on seeing this or that pot or cake in our kitchen which proves both that we have nosy neighbors AND the extent of visibility out of the windows.
Soooo, between running in the house naked except for being wrapped in pee-dripping car blankets, getting thoroughly spanked in front of every window, moaning with a cock in some orifice in the garage AND the backyard, all of them repeatedly…. well we’ve been in this neighborhood for only a year but I think we might have to move soon!
Actually, the idea of being watched while I am being punished by Daddy or when I service him or when he is using me turns me on beyond reason… if it wasn’t by my neighbors. I do run into these people every day and most of them are my parents’ age. It’s just awkward! Anyway, I’ll write more later on my voyeurism, exhibitionism and believe it or not, I’ve already earned myself a pretty severe spanking to look forward to as soon as I am healthy enough to receive it. Right now my poor body needs the respite of sleep. Gah.
What is it about many top-type people? i mean, really, you just can’t take them anywhere. We went to put gas in the car, and He came out of the gas station with that evil quiet laugh and a grin that went from one ear to the other. In His hand was a little ice scraper.
“And what are You going to do with that?” i questioned Him.
He just grinned.
“When you’re feeling better, you’ll find out.”
The innocent looking ice scraper - assistant or a menace?
It has a clip to clip onto the visor of the car, but i can’t figure out how to make use of it. i guess He could run the scraper part across my skin. *shrugs* It’s like a competition to see how many uses He can find for a mundane device i guess.
