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Showing posts from November, 2017

In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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My Masochist v2.0

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I accepted that I was a masochist about seven ago. ~HUGE HAT TIP~ to my dear Chica for opening up the door to the S/m realm of kinkland for me. Our conversations and my experiences with her quickly piqued my curiousity, and it wasn't long before I came to understand... OhFuckYesTHISIsWhatIveBeenMissing! lol In the first couple of years I quickly learned I loved pain and that my masochist extended beyond the physical to mental and to some extent emotional. In the right context, humiliation, degradation and objectification are sweet cream for my lioness.  Unfortunately, my growth was stunted and hindered and v1.0 didn't have any opportunity to evolve for many years. This year I've been attempting to make a concerted effort to move forward on this piece of my journey and have actually made ~some~ significant though slow progress toward understanding my masochist.   Classes, discussion groups, more classes, and more roundtable and panel discussions have sooooo FED
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I Descend

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My Lioness paces her lair. She’s been patient and understanding, but now unrelenting hunger roars through my veins like a volcano about to erupt. I flashback to moments and lick my lips for a feast long overdue. How His mouth shamelessly plunged again and again to drink my soul that very first night in front of a crowded bar. The feel of that cigar pushing through my pussy lips. Those hours He spent beating me just days later with His hands and that leather belt. The ridge of Him pressed against my ass on the subway. Pushing my ass into the air to accept the kisses from that leather strap as I balanced on that saw horse. The raw pleasure etched on His face time and time again as I worshipped and devoured. When He pushed me to the floor like a Man possessed and buried Himself in my ass for the first time as He bit me over and over. Watching Him sink deep into another even as He reached for me and kissed me. The vicious slap to my face before He took His whore to task
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A Lioness’ Surrender

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I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why. Just... The urge... The desire... The instinct... The need... Was simply there. Surrounded by the quiet. With no words between us. In the last bit of time we had in the day... I surrendered. To Him. To us. To my submission. I slipped from His warm embrace and curled on the floor at my Owner’s feet. Slowly... So slowly... I let go. Of what I don’t know. My self control? My pride? My ego? The last defenses around my heart? My...??? I don’t know. I don’t know. He knew. This was no little moment. No casual act. His hand stroked me. His whispered “good girl” became my everything. After long moments. Tears fell. Sprung from everywhere and nowhere. They licked the hem of His jeans and bled into the tiny ridges in His sock. My sniffles and quiet sobs... Gave away my soul. I’m left both shattered and whole. At perfect peace and every seam undone. I didn’t seek this. I wasn’t reaching for it. To have resisted... Would not have been authentic. Woul
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Feminists...Don't Fuck with my Sexuality, Bitches

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I could be about to stir a pot and create a shitstorm, but maybe sticking my foot in my mouth (as some will likely view this post) will start some productive counter discussion to the hot mess I see spewing into the mainstream culture. Dear Uber Feminists and Social Justice Warriors for Women...stop fucking trying to make to make my sexuality disappear. Seriously, bitches...don't fuck with the core of My womanhood. You can't shame me for it, and stop fucking shaming Men for appreciating it.  What the fucking FUCK is THAT??? I wholeheartedly GET that I am way, way, WAY more than a sexual object. Any guy, girl, gender fluid person who doesn't believe that my sexuality is just a piece of me is a short sighted foolish asshat in my eyes.  But just because I am more than my sexuality, does NOT mean I should hide, ignore, or deny the beauty, the joy, and the sheer fucking amazing power of my feminine sexuality in whatever damn form I choose to display it in. And no one else sh
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Shameless

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~sigh~ I am shameless. I typically don't let myself feel the true intensity. In the last year, I've done my best to avoid any kind of potential emotional roller coaster rides. However, the two glasses of wine at lunch yesterday and confessions between very old friends absolutely fuels this current embrace of my truth. Whether or not I let myself get caught up often in such strong emotions doesn't change reality. I am shamelessly in love with that Man. I've been in love before but never quite like this.  Never...so...easy...smooth. I have no expectations beyond our occasional shared moments together. I have no desire to have that which belongs to anyone else. I have no misconception of some unrealistic grand happily ever after. I have no drive to be to Him any more than what I am today. I merely am in love with the Man He is. His outrageous strengths and optimism. His quirky flaws and human weaknesses. I celebrate our differences and learn from them. I appre
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