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Showing posts from July, 2018

The Edge of His Darkness

It’s 3am. I should be unconscious, earning another two or three face creases from sleeping soundly on His t-shirt, but in the shadows and silence and blessed fuckin stillness, I selfishly steal the time from my pile of obligations to travel back to our last night, our last morning, and just savor the memories.  Words, images, moments flicker through my mind.  Until I settle there.  That.  I hit replay and replay and replay. Fuck. What He did to me….   What I can’t even bring myself to fuckin type.  Even here. No one has dared.  Except Him.  Except Him.  Except Him. Looking back, I see clearly the presence I had felt.  It was there.  In the look carved on His face.  The edge of a Darkness that He holds tightly at bay had come to watch me.  Somehow... after so long... I had caught His interest again.   I met His gaze without fear, and His vicious response was absolute. There was no warning.   No preparing me to take what was to come.   He. Gave. Me. No. Choice.   And in the quiet deep o

Whip Lash

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...THIS.  The dance

My Sacred

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

Soul Searcher

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