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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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Why I Love the Lifestyle

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Before We Die...

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Spending some time again with Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah this evening.  Somehow he always seems to help me find my words.  He teases them from my soul like he does the haunting notes from his trumpet.  Long.  Drawn out.  Strung together to tell his truth.  Maybe today, I'll find mine. A milestone.  One few can understand the personal and emotional significance of.  The summit of Everest after years of climbing in treacherous, punishing conditions.  A triumph over evil.  A redemption after hell.  It was beautiful and moved me deeply.  A reality I once never dreamed could come to pass. An anniversary.  Five years in NYC.  Where I've grown in ways unimagined.  The dichotomy of the demands and opportunities.  Of harsh practicalities and limitless awe.  My gypsy wanderer dances under the shadows of steel and glass through the concrete jungle.  More pieces of myself unwrapped and stacked on a foundation made stronger. The blessings shared in service to a community.  To give
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#NoDickShaming

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Calm the Lioness

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I didn't kink last night.  Despite two of my favorite presenters and a topic I'm still curious to explore, I looked at the NYC skyline, the cramped streets, and the endless rain, and I chose the uptown track to carry my home. I didn't kink tonight.  Too leary of wacky icky energy of strange ones, couples with their own focused agenda, and Times Square on a hot sticky night, I avoided another preferred event.  I just didn't have it in me to sift through chaos to find positive crumbs, so I met a friend and talked 1:1 kink for two hours. My choices weren't born of a need to preserve my strength.  I'm almost vibrating with the need to move, an echo of my pacing lioness. My choices were about a need to shield myself from unnecessary aggravation, and if you've never hit Times Square between 5 and 6 pm or spent a rainy evening on New York City streets, at best it can be one hassle after another as everyone fights to avoid the misery of a wet, humid, icky rush
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When a Sleeping Lioness is Poked

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It's been an odd few weeks...outing myself to a distance acquaintance against my better judgement, my slave self making a spontaneous appearance in an unhealthy situation, a heartbreaking confession, a confrontation with a bully who escalated dumb shit to put his hands on me and ended up on the floor for it, a non-consenting witness to group therapy.  I've racked up a fair share of negative encounters in a short amount of time.  None of them earth shattering or world-changing by any means.  I'm just not at my best.  All of it has left my energy in a funk that I'm not sure how to dissipate. My Lioness is wide awake after having been in a coma for much of the last year, and it wasn't passion and sexiness that woke her.  She definitely rolled off the wrong side of the bed from all the pokes and prods.  She's not angry, but she is annoyed and watchful.  Her claws are unsheathed.  She paces. I know I am well equipped to handle almost anything that comes my way.  
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I'm Not the Concierge to the Kinky Wonderland Entrance

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I fucked up a few weeks ago.  Did something stupid.  REALLY STUPID. At the enthusiastic prompting/encouragement of a half-outed kinkster, I fully outed myself to a friend of his (who he swore was kinky) and invited them to join me for a local class I was about to attend. Commence the fucking TRAINWRECK. In under 120 seconds... She revealed missing KEY pieces to their previous interactions that caught me completely off guard.  No...owning my shit here...I felt like an absolute fool. Yes, she had her own alternative lifestyle interest (poly) and seemed openmind to hearing about my own BDSM interests.  She was decently knowledgeable on basic terminology and agreed to join us, but she acted WAY cooler than she was. He got weird and started a bit of a shock-and-awe act as I answered her questions, which amplified my feeling used and more a fool. I without really thinking in this rushed conversation that was quickly picking up speed and tension outed Him another significant deg
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Is Control the Bane of Pleasure and Authenticity?

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