Fire & Ice

#NYCProblems | Yes...that was a big brand new bottle of ANAL LUBE that just fell out of my Purple-Passion-purchases-stuffed Tumi backpack and rolled down the fuckin 6 train only be stopped by the polite foot of a beautiful 30-ish 6' 5" black man with a nose ring. SMH...making memories on MTA, folks. 🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂

Mmmm...I DEEPLY appreciate and raise up a Man who sees an opportunity and seizes on it without hesitation or apology and leans in to deliberately make room, make time, make the fucking most of what is in front of Him. He didn't sit on the sidelines. He didn't have to find His balls. He didn't think on it for eons. He didn't waste fuckin time. ^^^ALL THAT is HOT as HELL.  My cunt drips just thinking/typing those words and acknowledging those truths.  Thoughtful action toward opportunity and vision seems to be sadly lacking in the world these days. He ordered a good ole fashioned dick worshipping and informed my other holes they had the night off.  I eagerly and gratefully did my very best to comply.   He took from and demanded of me every fuckin thing I craved and then some.  I didn't even have to ask for Round 2.  He simply stated that's what we was doing.  Honestly, I’m…shell-shocked.  First time in the 13+ years of doing WIITWD that any man has granted my int

Most days I handle business like a champ and get done what needs to get done if not more.  Then there are other days.  Today is/was one of those days.  The ONLY thing that consumes my mind is having THAT dick in my mouth.  Not for just a few minutes.  Naaaa...I want His dick in my mouth for fucking hours. I. Fucking. Crave... The sight of Him hard and ready, silently demanding I get to work like a good whore. That first sexy earthy taste of Him on my greedy tongue. The feel of that baby soft skin stretched tight over blood-flooded dick as it slides through my hungry lips. The intoxicating scent of Him as my nose presses up against His base while I try to breathe with the head of His dick jammed down my throat.  The sound...oh fuck yessss...those sloppy, messy, nasty sounds of suction and saliva when I release His head, the slurps of the excess spit drenching His meat, of gags and coughs after He grabs a fist of my hair and holds himself against the back of my throat for way longer than

2am.  Top space has me tightly in its fist.  Sisterhood bonded.  Energy shared.  Knowledge imparted.  Friendship built.  The truths we reveal sippin Writer's Tears in the cool breeze on a Bronx fire escape and over platefuls of piping hot empanadas leave us nowhere to hide. Leather Living explained...the sex...the pain.  A different level of it all.  Messy.  Hot and sweaty.  Piss.  Even shit.  Real.  Raw passion ripped from flesh and spirit without filter.  Tears licked.  We leatherfolk wallow in the grit and purity of our religion because there...we find our truest selves. The floor...fuck yes that mother fuckin floor.  Where there is no pride or ego.  Where we let go.  Where we are stripped bare of everything... Except our fucking surrender.  To the Universe.  To one another.  To ourselves.  To the One who in that moment holds our pain, our minds, our hearts, our bodies, our very fucking souls. The floor is where serenity and peace finally find us. Amazing fucking night.   ~Domin

3am writing...forgive any needed edits.  The call outweighed basic protocols.   "Transformation is not accomplished by tentatively wading at the edge." ~Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass That quote slammed into me and nearly brought me to tears with its validation 36 hours ago.  I couldn't read another word.  I slipped the marker in the crease of the pages, gently placed the book on the worn formica tabletop with trembling fingers, and leaned back against the booth's vinyl.  Epiphanies at ancient NYC diners are a long standing city tradition that I haven't been blessed with nearly enough.   I sucked down some water, sighed in silence, and let a very familiar truth sink back into my bones.   Discomfort is a natural and normal part of the transformation process.  For someone used to pushing herself forward into the unknown in search of growth and evolution without much a fuckin safety net, I don't know how I'd forgotten about the danger and risk that

  Intro to 9 Service Languages Session Service Languages/Dialects Handout External Resources/Books Link The 12 Goals of S&M 

As night creeps in, I can sense the world crawling toward me to rupture the only reality I want to embrace.  Let the fucking world burn.  I have no use for it anymore.  Don't tell a Lioness to be reasonable.  My only reason is instinct.  I know where I belong now.    My heart races with memories of Him, and I growl softly.  In need?  In lust?  In understanding?  In truth.  This cannot be undone.  All of me is present.  Fully.  Tomorrow is irrelevant.  So are the damn details.  Only now.  This moment. This...beginning.  Matters.  I regret nothing, and I have no time or patience or desire to reassure anyone or anything.  Even myself.  Instinct calls. I stroked and clawed at His beautiful frame for hours.  I drank in His scent.  I lapped, sucked, and swallowed His taste.  Shivers flutter down my spine as I relive His fierce control and such total consumption that I could barely stand, and the tenderness of my body reminds me in no uncertain terms that my journey has altered irrevocabl