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Showing posts from July, 2018

The 9 Service Languages | Intensive Session Wrap Up Thoughts

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On Sunday, I wrapped up my first small group FULL INTENSIVE workshop that spanned 6+ hours over the course of 2 days. Anyone who has sat through my Intro class knows, The 9 Service Languages is a fucking BIG IDEA! When I first launched my class, I naively believed it could be tackled in a typical 90-minute or 2-hour session. I quickly learned that was impossible and that few platforms (cons, orgs, mtgs) had the ability to hold space for me and attendees to get DEEP in the weeds of WIITWD as it relates to Service. I am PROFOUNDLY HONORED that @S-O-C—the Service Oriented Conference—reached out to me earlier this year to be a part of their inaugural Intensive Program. They were the perfect partner with the perfect target audience for an Intensive of The 9 Service Languages of Authority Transfer Relationships/Dynamics. The session allowed me to work with a small group as we got our hands dirty, dissecting where, when, how, and why we do Service and considered ways to adjust, tweak, evol...
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Whip Lash

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The first time I heard a whip crack in my presence was a lightning strike. Electricity danced up and down my spine, bit my nipples, and seized my pussy in a vice grip.  Luckily I’d more than mastered the art of masking my sexuality by my late thirties and managed to keep from cumming on my good friend’s lawn chair as her husband continued to practices his throws. With every crack that rang through the air, everything in me responded with a “ Fuck yes...THAT. ” Me being me, it only took a minute or two before I asked for a try. My friend snickered and warned me not to kill myself while her husband raised an eyebrow in typical amused hetero-male doubt. I’d seen that look more often than you can image throughout my life.  He handed my the coiled serpent. I asked a few quick questions about stance, rotation, and placement of wrist snaps.  As soon as I began to swing that six foot bullship's beautiful weight above my head, I felt in perfect synch.   Fuck yes...THI...
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My Sacred

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At my soul...at my very foundation and root is M/s. "The things which are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing." ~Howard Roark, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand Sacred  | ˈsākrid | adjective   regarded with great respect and reverence by a particular religion, group, or individual The Dominance of Owner. The submission of property The Power/Authority Exchange. Simply  sacred . M/s entwines itself across every core element. Of my existence. And delves so deeply into my soul. I will not. C annot. Promiscuously share. Sacred. My sacred... Is not a kinky game. Or haphazard wrapper. Or just spicy sex. It's not pretend. Or a mirage. Or a costume. Or part-time. Submissive property. Is who and what I am. Even if I'm simply waiting. To be Owned. Claimed Treasured. Led. Sacred. To serve. To please. To be used. To support, encourage, guard, protect, love, ADORE. To give... All the best I have. To bel...
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Soul Searcher

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I do not know how to do surface level. Ask any of the few men I've been in a relationship with, and they are likely to say I know them better than anyone including the women they were married to for more than a decade or their mothers. I go deep. Soul deep. Every. Damn. Time. It's just how I'm wired. I don't know how to do chitchat or meaningless casual flings. I'm awkward at them. Besides, those are for silly games and temporary pleasures. Neither of which I indulge in often. Fluff and bullshit do not sate me. I want the richness that comes with depth of knowledge, vulnerability, and soul searing truth between partners. I crave the whispered confessions between us after night falls and the angry explosions of real when pushed against the wall. No...my soul searching is not always comfortable. Truth rarely is. Life, society, circumstances, and pain often force most of us to create illusions and deceptions to hide our souls from the world. We do...
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