The Missing Pieces

A prude on New Year's Eve

2012-01-29T15:54:00.004-07:00

2012 began with an invitation to an orgy.
Except that I wasn't aware the invitation was for an orgy.
A friend, who enjoys an open marriage with her husband, and who is a bit of slut, invited me and my son to join her family for a New Year's Eve celebration.
Now, do not misunderstand me when I refer to her as a slut that I am doing so in a negative connotation. She is woman who owns her sexuality and enjoys it with many, both males and females. It isn't a judgement, only a word that gives an accurate definition of her sexual behaviors.
And yes, I also refer to her husband as a slut.
I adore them both but I have throughout the several years of our relationship avoided having sex with either of them for one reason or another.
New Year's eve I was expecting the usual undercurrent of sexual energy among the adults but because there were children there, including my 13 year old son, I was not prepared for anything blatantly sexual to happen.
I am not a new age mother.
Sex is not a taboo subject in our house and I have discussed homosexuality, pornography, and fetishism with my son in a manner that is appropriate for his age and maturity.
However, I still teach my son to respect and expect a measure of privacy, expect and exhibit a level of modesty, and I always separate my son (or any children) from unabashed sexual activity.
So, when my hostess answered the door to her "family" New Year Eve's party in a corset that displayed her ample DD sized breasts, I began planning an exit strategy.
There were five or six couples, only one of which I had met before and didn't particurarly care for the wife.
I was the only "single" in the crowd. I was also only one of two who were sober.
Here is where I admit I have sexual hang-ups when it comes to strangers.
I am not comfortable with becoming sexual with a person, or in this case, people who I just met for the first time.
It isn't that I am always uncomfortable because I have had my one night stands but those are the rare exception and usually do not include multiples of people.
I was off balance because I was expecting a "family" event and was blindsided by make-out sessions around every corner, women exposing their boobs, and men getting blow jobs in the bathroom.
All the while, my son and other children are in the house.
I was anxious in trying to keep all the children from being exposed to the sexual exploits of the drunken adults who didn't seem to care about the inappropriateness of their behaviors.
At one point, as I was telling a woman to put her top back on because the children had a path through the kitchen where she was, I was called a prude.
So be it.
The responsibilities of adults and the expression of sexuality should change when children are present. The fact that it didn't during this party had me practicing breathing techniques to keep my blood pressure in check.
The clock hit midnight and at 12.01 a.m. I was out the door with my son.
My lesson is to never accept an invitation from this particular friend without expecting the event will include sex and to know I have boundaries that could make declining the prudent thing to do.

Unicorns are easier to find

2011-12-28T21:02:00.002-07:00

I am becoming jaded.
The submissive males I have become acquainted with recently are incredibly selfish and only submissive because it suits their laziness.
During conversations with men who proclaim themselves to be submissive I listen to detailed fantasies that have transformed into list of wants until I am exhausted from their selfishness.
Every sentence begins with, "I want".
I no longer have the patience to listen.
I no longer care to be courteous enough to smile and nod as they babble on about their sexual proclivities as if they rubbed a lantern and I am a genie there to grant their wishes.
Tonight was yet another disappointment.
I met him at a coffee house and didn't stay to finish my cup of chai.
I took it with me and finished it on the drive home.
I explained as I was gathering my purse, "You aren't submissive because you don't understand it isn't all about you".
"But I would do these things for you".
Gee, how wonderful that he was willing to do everything he wanted to experience, everything that excited him and was part of his fantasies - for me [sarcasm ended].
I was in a particularly nasty mood and scathingly told him I doubted with him being so selfish he would even be an interesting fuck.
I am not usually given to being cruel but I am disgusted with men who describe themselves as submissive not because they want a woman to dominant them but because they want a woman to do all the work.
Dress me, fuck me, force me, tie me up, spank me, whip me, do this to me, do that to me....do it all for me...make it all about me while I do nothing and offer nothing.
I stopped one in the middle of his very detailed monologue about all the things I could provide him so he could experience being submissive and told him I would gladly perform for him for an hourly rate.
"I don't pay for it", was his indignant response.
To which I responded, "You want me to do all the work for your sole enjoyment, then you certainly will pay for it. Otherwise, you will get nothing".
A few sentences later he was asking, "how much" and I was answering.
He paid for the hour.
It wasn't a fulfilling hour for me.
I was more frustrated when I left him than when I first met him.
I am beginning to think truly submissive men, men who enjoy servicing a woman for the pleasure of her gratitude, are mystical creatures much like unicorns.
At this rate I may ride an unicorn before finding a truly submissive male.

Magic act and escorts

2011-11-05T15:05:00.002-06:00

I pay $65 an hour for his services. There are times I pay that much for just 40 minutes.
I would pay more if he would provide more services not listed on his business card.
It isn't that he is gorgeous, although that certainly adds to the value of the money I spend.
I do admit that he isn't every woman's type.
He is the type of heterosexual male that gives definition to the term metrosexual.
I am aging myself by making the following comparison but it is accurate; he looks like what Andy Gibb would have looked like at 40ish years old.
I mean exactly. If Andy Gibb had remained thin and kept a full head of hair.
He has mentioned that people of a certain age tell him the same often.
Although he is easy on the eyes, it is more than that, it is about the magic he performs.
What do you call it when a person is able to suspend reality and create an alternate reality for a period of time?
I call it magic.
The reality is the attraction is not reciprocated on his side and I am fully aware of that.
I am fully aware our interaction is based on the exchange of services for money.
I hold no delusions that when he puts my feet up and has me relax beneath the warm water to wash my hair with luxuriously scented shampoo that it is anything put professional.
And when he massages my scalp, temples, and neck with an expertise that relaxes me into a nearly coma-like state, I know it isn't personal, even if my cunt does start to twitch from the sheer pleasure of it.
But that part about my cunt, that's between me and you...I do my best not to moan while his hands manipulate the tension out of my neck beneath the flow of warm water.
I am sucker for a sensual massage.
I let reality slip while he is running his fingers through my hair and cutting it with expert precision because as we talk sexual innuendos are tossed about, flirtatious comments bring a blush to his cheeks, and intimate details are confessed.
I get completely distracted when he has to bend in such a way that he rubs against me or leans in so close that I notice the soft freckles beneath his eyes.
It's magical because he has the skill of suspending my reality to make me feel incredible, in the way a girl feels when she is 15 years old and her first crush says hi to her in the school hallway.
It's an hour long fantasy of having a man I find so exceptionally attractive, intelligent, and whitty cater to me.
The incredible way I feel after spending an hour with him isn't any less real because I pay him for his time and services, and by services I mean hair styling and the magic act.
So, it got me thinking about the upcoming social events of the holiday season and how I do not have anyone steady to attend the events with, and that a possible solution would be a male escort.
I did some research on the Internet and was disappointed to discover that this state is as lacking in male escorts as it is in decent available men in general.
I found one site that listed two men and another that was "gay escorts" for men.
Evidentially, there isn't a market for male escorts for women in this state.
Shame since finding a male the old fashion way just isn't something I have the time or patience to do before the holiday season is in full swing.

Reason #116 why I'm going to hell

2011-09-17T09:56:00.002-06:00

The date I had scheduled for tonight texted inquiring if we could meet last night after I got off work.
It was Friday night and I wasn't much in the mood to go home and do homework, so I said yes.
My red flag should have been the text that followed, "let me see if I have any money".
But I guess I need a bright neon red flashing flag before I'll see it.
I have discussed this before on this blog but since the issue keeps coming up, I'm going to repeat myself.
I am understanding of money being tight - the economy sucks, people are out of work, cost of living is increasing while salaries aren't - if you are living in middle class America, stretching a nickel into a buck is unfortunately a fact of life.
I do it daily.
I'm perfectly okay with dutch dates, splitting the bill, or even separate tabs on dates.
Planning inexpensive dates is just fine with me. As a matter of fact I often search for inexpensive activities to suggest as dates. For example, I asked this guy if he wanted to go to the roller derby. The tickets were $5 and a group of us are carpooling, so we're just chipping in a couple bucks for gas. An entire night of fun entertainment plus transportation for under $10.
So, back to the text about the money...understanding he doesn't have a lot of money, I suggest we pick up inexpensive Chinese ($18 with tax) and catch a movie at the cheap theatre ($2.50 for evening tickets).
He says, "yeah, I can do that".
OK. Here is where there was a communication breakdown.
I interpreted "yeah, I can do that" as "yeah, I have enough money to pay for our date".
Imagine how uncomfortable a moment it was at the Chinese place when the cashier asks for money and he starts to nervously count bills and looks at me with the expectation that I will be going for my purse.
He didn't even bring enough money to cover an $18 dinner...so low class in my book.
Of course, I bailed him out and paid for my dinner.
I was bugged.
We had driven in separate vehicles to meet at the restaurant so I was to follow him about five blocks to the movie theatre.
I purposely allowed traffic to get in between us and then I turned onto the freeway and headed home.
I know, totally horrible to ditch a date like that but I honestly could not stomach the thought of spending another minute with this guy.
It wasn't just about the money, that was just the proverbial straw.
He wasn't very attractive and he was dressed in clothes that I'm guessing came off his bedroom floor after being tossed there on Tuesday.
What has happened to dressing nice for a date?
Is everyone okay with dates showing up looking like they just walked off a hard day at the construction site?
Or is that a guy thing?
Eventually I sent him a "thanks but no thanks" text.
I felt a twinge of guilt when he called me out on ditching him.
He was right, it was a terrible thing to do, and just added to the list of reasons of why I'm going to hell.

Loser! Loser!

2011-09-15T20:08:00.006-06:00

Seriously, what does a girl have to do to get fucked?
Okay, maybe I should rephrase, what does a girl have to do to get the guys she finds attractive to fuck her?
So, Mr. Winner turned out to be a real "winner".
He emailed in the morning that he was definitely interested in me and we progressed from email to IM.
We IM'd for most of the day, flirting, being a little dirty, sharing a few fantasies...and then BAM he IM's "I'm sorry. I'm being inappropriate with you."
WTF?
I knew it was coming...the "It's not you, it's me".
Damn right it was him.
I was honest about what I was interested in from the word go and let us not forget HE contacted ME after reading my personal ad and deciding it was what he wanted.
Friends with benefits (FWB) is the new term for fuck buddy.
That's the term I used.
How much more clearer do I need to be? How difficult of a concept is it?
FWB: someone to hang out with socially and have sex occassionally.
Not a boyfriend.
Not a comitted, twitterpatted, you could be my soul mate kinda thing but a casual friendship with the option of sex.
Seriously, how does a guy go from telling you that he is into you (or wants to be into you *snort*) in one hour and then in the next is saying, "I'm confused about what I want"?
How fucking difficult is it to figure out if you want sex or not?
Yes, I'm frustrated.
Sexually frustrated too.
So, my winner turned into a loser and I am left wondering where all the male sluts are when a girl needs one.
I was having my hair done today, telling my woes to my hetreosexual and amazingly attractive hair stylist, and I asked, "So do the answers to male behavior come with the penis, or is that an after market addition?"
He said, "The answers are in the penis because it makes all the decision".
I said, "Gawd if only that were true, I would be getting laid".
We laughed about it but I was crying inside.
My sex drive is off the charts and I can't find ONE male that I am attracted to that wants a sexual relationship.
I wish I didn't have standards that kept me from screwing losers.
Damn standards always getting in the way of getting dick.

Winner! Winner!

2011-09-14T20:10:00.003-06:00

The Universe works in strange and wondrous ways.
I had a lunch date with a self-proclaimed submissive.
First, the picture on his profile has to be AT LEAST ten years old.
Gawd, that pisses me off.
Really, why do people do that? Is the theory that if they can get someone to meet them in person they will be so overwhelmed with how wonderful they are that it won't matter they posted a photograph from another decade?
It doesn't work.
Also in his profile he wrote that he dresses fashionably.
So, yeah, maybe I missed it but when did a t-shirt with smatterings of paint splattered on it and jean shorts with frayed legs become fashionable?
It wasn't even neat, as in clean, let alone fashionable.
Don't misunderstand me, I could care less about fashion, but I do care about someone misrepresenting themselves.
Having my time wasted is not on my top ten favorite things to do list.
We did meet at my favorite sushi restaurant, so the food was excellent.
After work I had plans to meet another guy for dinner.
He cancelled.
Earlier I got an email from an interesting prospect.
We had been emailing throughout the day and the conversation was intriguing.
He asked me if I wanted to meet after work.
Since my previous plans were cancelled, I said yes.
My first impression: SHIT.
6'1, 180 lbs, blonde hair, blue eyes...yeah, so my ex...3 inches taller but damned if I don't seem to be typecasting the role of my lover.
Completely unintentional.
But this guy is 10 years younger and how do I put this delicately? I wanted to pull up his shirt and lick what I instinctively know was a ridged stomach.
He's definitely the winner in my search for a friend with benefits.
I am really hoping he takes advantage of the prize package.

Dating Recap

2011-09-13T20:16:00.006-06:00

I have been dating a lot.
A lot.
Men and women.
More men than women but that is because men are easier to date.
Women want relationships.
I don't want a relationship.
Friendship, maybe. Friendship with benefits, sure. Relationship, no thank you.
Met one woman for coffee and knew from her handshake, which was like having a cold lifeless fish in my hand, that I wasn't interested.
Unfortunately, I had to endure 90 minutes of her talking about herself interspersed with her talking about her exes.
All of them.
We were only meeting for coffee so I didn't have an emergency contingency plan. You know what I am talking about - that friend who you text when you go to the restroom that calls at the appropriate moment to tell you there is an emergency and you MUST cut your date short to attend to it.
Lesson learned. An hour and half can be an eternity; have a contingency plan.
I met another woman, who was about 10 years older than myself, for sushi.
She was a PhD and worked in the medical field like I do so I thought for sure we would have common interest to discuss. Oh, I was SO wrong.
First, this woman exhausted me because she had the energy of dirty sock that had sat for a week in the laundry basket.
Everything about her was tired. The way she dressed, the way she spoke, the way she ate...
I was suppressing yawns the entire time.
The men haven't been much better.
First there was the guy who pulled out his cell phone to calculate the tip so we could split it between us.
Seriously, I am okay with splitting the check, but the tip?
Cheap that deeply rooted is a personality defect and isn't attractive.
Then there was the guy who offered to get a hotel room during our first date. We'd known each other for all of an hour...that's confidence in spades.
His persuasive argument, "It won't take long, just half an hour or so".
Wow, hold me back from an offer like that...a whole half hour? Does that include checking in? Taking my shoes off?
At least he offered a hotel room, that was just so damn gentlemanly of him compared to the loser, I mean guy, who texted me from his car after the date with a picture of his erection and the caption, "I had a really good time".
I wasn't kind in responding, "Glad you're taking care of it because we won't be having a good time together, ever".
Nut job. Literally. (*snort*)
There was one success.
He was 23, a vegetarian, a bit of geek, a little shorter than I usually prefer, quiet and shy.
He took me to a vegetarian place and the food was amazing.
The conversation was challenging but we made our way through it.
Went to a bar around the corner, and the alcohol helped alleviate his shyness a bit, and the conversation was easier.
We decided to go back to his place to watch a movie - part of the conversation at the bar was about movies - and watching the movie turned into having the most amazing sex.
Twice.
It wasn't even kinky sex.
Well, there was little bit of power play but...it felt so intuitive...I would think it, he would do it.
And the "making out" --- wowzer. hubba.hubba.pant.pant.drool.
Kissing is a lost art form.
I left with my lips sore and swollen in that wonderful way that makes you bite them just thinking about how they got sore and swollen.
*biting lip*
As it turned out there wasn't to be a repeat performance.
I was extremely disappointed but...well, life does go on.
Tomorrow I have a lunch date with self-proclaimed submissive male.
I hope I am not disappointed.
I think I've been disappointed enough for a while.

A new dating strategy

2011-08-14T21:44:00.008-06:00

My new approach to dating, is to not date.
I meet guys for sex and interestingly enough, a date happens.
I discovered this by accident.
The child that lives at my house was going to be gone for two weeks.
I decided to take advantage of having the house to myself by arranging "sex dates".
I needed variety in my sex life.
And quantity.
I posted on-line, went through my electronic version of the little black book, and called previous sex partners letting them know I was available and that I wanted play time, extended play time if possible.
As it turned out I met several men for coffee, drinks, and various meals. The majority of them were first time meetings with men who had responded to an ad I posted on-line.
I made it clear that although I was looking for a sex partner, one that preferred kinky sex, I wouldn't fuck just anyone, so a first meeting was required to determine if there was a "real life" attraction; for me as well as for them.
But let's face it, men generally have very few requirements for fucking a woman, other than she is breathing and warm, so the decision to fuck was mine to make.
First meetings were arranged and interestingly enough I found myself going out on dates.
Dates defined as meeting for a designated period of time for the purpose of having a drink, sharing a meal, or both and getting to know a little bit about each other.
Engaging in conversation. [Oh. Ah.]
With the issue of sex discussed and settled before meeting, the time I spent with the men was actually enjoyable.
It was ironic to me because nothing was really different from going out on a date compared to meeting as a prelude to possible sex. If I went on a date and wanted to have sex with any one of them or all of them, I would and if I didn't, I wouldn't.
No change in the rules of the game.
Saying, "There is a chance I'll fuck you" upfront seemed to change the dynamic and make the exchange more casual and less like a boxing bout.
Not one of them attempted a sexual overture or made a sexual innuendo.
I only fucked one.
It wasn't an unpleasant experience, but it wasn't satisfying either.
He was an attractive guy, very good at kissing, but not very good at sex and his dick was on the smaller side.
His dick was pierced though, which is why I fucked him.
I had never had sex with a guy who had a piercing there before and I was curious.
It was pierced on the shaft, on the backside (furthest away from his body), with the bar going horizontally.
I have to admit, it felt good rubbing over my clit as he stroked his cock in and out of my pussy (yes, I could feel it through the condom).
Unfortunately, it was a small bar bell on a small dick, so it was a teaser more than anything else.
After we had sex I went home and masturbated to orgasm, which I hadn't achieved with him.
I have a few more dates scheduled, be interesting to see if the unintentional strategy works.

Playing dodge ball

2011-07-27T21:31:00.003-06:00

The arrangement was specific; we would meet halfway in the middle and go Dutch on the tab for sushi.
I specifically made these arrangements so there wouldn't be any pressure or uncomfortable moments.
No expectations.
I wasn't particularly enjoying the sexual innuendo dodge ball we were playing.
It had begun after the server brought our sodas.
The service was not slow.
He would throw out a sexual comment, thinly veiled, and I would let it smack down into our conversation with a stinging echo like a rubber ball against hot cement.
It would take him a few moments to chase down the echo, the silence following it into an awkwardness, until he could rebound into a comfortable conversation.
Comfortable conversation wouldn't last long before he'd smack in another sexual innuendo and I would dodge it again, it was tiresome.
I had decided fifteen minutes into the date that it would be ending as soon as the meal was over.
It wasn't unbearable, just not enjoyable, so I opted not to be rude and leave in the middle of the meal.
But I had better things to do...laundry, cleaning out my car, washing my dogs...
At the end of the meal the server brought the bill. I reached for my purse.
He snatched it up with a "sorry, babe, but I got it".
First, very few people can call me "babe" and not have it piss me off.
Babe is a term of endearment that when said by the wrong person sounds like nails scrapping down a chalk board.
Second, I felt my blood pressure spike with irritation that he wasn't abiding by the agreement.
I reminded him what we agreed to and he responded by telling me that he didn't want to be obligated to "put out" because I paid the bill.
He joked about some unwritten rule that if a women paid for a date, even partially, the male was obligated to have sex with her.
It wasn't a funny joke.
It was a failed attempt at convincing me that I owed him repayment in the form of sex.
My reaction was to give the server my card with instructions to charge half of the bill to it. Her tip increased for being astute enough to just nod, smile, and do exactly as I instructed.
Then I turned to him and said, "Since we're both paying we can just go our separate ways and masturbate".
It is possible I was snide when I said it but he just laughed in that way that people laugh when they are uncertain what to say or do in response to something someone else said or did.
Outside the restaurant we said good-bye.
No physical contact at all. No promise of future calls. No feigned interest in "doing it again".
That was two hours I will never get back.

Subject X is in a relationship now...

2011-06-19T19:54:00.006-06:00

I have been living at a tremendous speed since I last wrote with little enough time left at the end of the day to take a breath let alone update this blog.
It has become such a neglected space but I refuse to vanish it with the delete button because I have hopes it will soon receive the attention from me it deserves.
I do miss the exchange I have here as my D/s secrets can be told to few and often not to anyone in detail.
But, until I can schedule more time to write faithfully bits and pieces will have to suffice in keeping it alive, if only barely.
Subject X and I have had extensive scenes in the past couple months. Although we have only been able to play once or twice a month at most because Subject X is in a committed relationship.
My feelings about his relationship status are mixed.
With much thought I have decided, or maybe the better word is justified, that his intimate relationships are matters of his concern, not mine.
The decision causes me to feel as if I am coping out of my responsibility to not be a participant in activities that could potentially cause harm to another person.
It isn't my intention to cause anyone harm but...I have continued my playing with Subject X...no justification other than to admit I don't want to stop.
Ironically, our scenes have increased in intensity since he entered into a relationship.
I think Subject X gets excited by the duality of being in a relationship with a woman who wants him only as a man and being with me who wants to feminize him.
It isn't that I don't want Subject X's cock because I do but I prefer the sexual charge I get from controlling his sexuality more than just controlling his cock.
Feminizing him brings out his submissiveness. He isn't able to express it as fully when he isn't feminized wearing pretty feminine lingerie, clothing, and shoes.
When he is dressed and made into a "girl" he becomes extremely willing to please me. It is like a switch is flipped into the on position when he wears a pair of satin panties or slips into a pair of silky thigh highs and he gives into his submissive nature.
His submissive nature is well hidden behind an Alpha male exterior.
When he sheds that exterior to become vulnerable and express his need to be submissive, it is an exhilarating experience.
The secrets we create and keep between us excites me.
Trust is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
The fact that Subject X is in a relationship enhances that excitement because I know he doesn't share his fetish with her.
He trusts me with the secret. Trusts me not to use it to cause him harm.
There is power in knowing the secrets of another.
We've incorporated her into our playing and into our scenes. Of course, she is not aware.
I suppose that part of the excitement.
After feminizing him I have instructed him to call her while I listen to their mundane conversation.
He maintains normalcy in his voice but the act of calling her while he is with me, dressed like a girl, arouses his cock.
Subject X doesn't initiate sex with her because he wants to be dominated so it is difficult for him to be the aggressor.
I have instructed him to initiate sex and given him instructions on what sexual acts to perform with her.
Being under my instruction, fucking her because I want it, thrills him.
It thrills me that he does it for me - allowing me to control his sexuality so completely as to decide when he uses his cock and when he doesn't.
He recently purchased a camera small enough to be hidden to provide me with videos of him and her fucking.
My conscience nags me that she is not a willing partipant so I have not given him instructions to use it.
However, it may be my cunt that decides, not my conscience.
I have kept his cock under lock and key during the day while he is at work, making him come to me to be unlocked and sometimes ejaculate before he goes home to her.
Sometimes I make him go home without cumming, making him wait to give his cum to me.
The power of dominating him is addictive.
He says the same of being submissive, that he is addicted to the rush of it and that vanilla sex isn't satisfying to him any longer.
Of course, I doubt that vanilla sex ever was truly satisfying for either of us, or why would have explored so deeply into D/s?

Dating is a strange concept...

2011-03-05T23:12:00.002-07:00

I haven't really dated since I was in my twenties, before marriage and becoming a mother. Before D/s.
Subject X and I do not date.
We play. We scene. We have sex.
We are friends. We discuss topics unrelated to our sexual relationship but we don't go out on dates.
Occasionally the ex and I will have a meal together, work on a project together, take our son to an event, or even have sex but we don't date.
I have male friends who invite me, and I invite them, to concerts, out to a dinner, to have a drink, to watch a movie, or to go to parties but that is in the context of socializing as friends, not dating.
The men I have met from online "dating" sites are purposeful. We meet to interview one another for a designated purpose, usually one that has been defined through e-mails, texts, and the occasional phone call. Usually that purpose is to interview one another for engaging in D/s activities.
The process of dating for the purpose of dating is foreign to me.
I realized just how foreign it is to me when I admitted to myself there is a man I want to...well, date.
I worked with him at a previous job and found myself attracted to him. Of course, the attraction was physical at first but then we had conversations, I learned a bit more about him, and I became interested in him beyond the physical attraction.
When I no longer worked with him, I still thought about him, until I decided to contact him through Facebook as I had no other means to interact with him.
We've been communicating on Facebook e-mail, much to my surprise, for a couple months now and as I have learned more about him I have become fascinated with him.
I want to know more about HIM. About his life. His likes and dislikes. His views on politics, religion, and his philosophy on life. I want to spend time with him getting to know him.
But I was at a loss as how to progress from e-mailing on Facebook to actually spending time with him in "real life"...how to ask him out on a date. It seems I am a product of the electronic age and my interpersonal skills have become limited to developing relationships via the computer or texting on my cell.
It seems a bit ridiculous that at my age I was perplexed as to how to ask a man out especially since I am by no means a virgin or a spinster.
I debated with myself. The man has to know I am interested in him, doesn't he? If he was interested wouldn't he ask me out?
Oh yeah, that's when it struck me - I'm seriously waiting for a man to ask me out? WTF?
Yup, it comes down to being afraid of rejection. Turns out I am human, who knew?
I don't worry much about rejection in the normal ongoings of my life because I simply don't have to worry about it.
The men in my life have been screened through electronic interaction - they responded to my profile, they answered a personal posting, or they are friends that I haven't any interest in beyond friendship.
SAFE.
This one is different because I honestly don't know if he is interested in me beyond conversation on Facebook.
Hell, I don't know for sure if he is single. I know he isn't married and he hasn't mentioned a girlfriend but that doesn't mean there isn't one.
So, I found my big girl panties, put them on, and in responding to his latest e-mail casually suggested we meet for sushi one night after work. I thought it was too presumptuous to give him my phone number. Or maybe I just didn't want the stress of waiting for a call.
Now I am just waiting for his e-mail. Not sure there is much of a difference but I figure he will e-mail me back letting me know if he is interested or not, and for that I can handle waiting. The phone call never coming just seemed a harsher reality to reconcile.
Meanwhile, I accepted an invitation to go on a date, just to try it out.
We went to dinner and a movie.
I enjoyed myself.
It was...nice.
I think I'll do it again.
Although, do admit I hope to do it again after getting an e-mail...

Raindrops on roses...

2011-03-01T21:22:00.004-07:00

I told Subject X exactly how I wanted him to be dressed for our session.

I gave him instructions to send me photo-texts as he progressed in preparing himself for me.
This was my favorite.

Coming out as a BBW admirer

2011-02-10T19:58:00.005-07:00

Subject X misses me.
It confuses him.
I am not his type, so he says.
I am always amazed at how many men will confess to me that I am not their type after admitting they are attracted to me and no one else can give them the orgasms I give them.
It use to confuse me until I came to understand that men of the American society are raised to be heterosexual and with the belief that Playboy bunnies are the type of women that they should want sexually.
So, like most homosexual men who have to undo what they are taught to accept who they are, so do men who are attracted to BBWs.
The process is the same.
First they date women who fit the stereotype they are taught to be attractive by society's standards and discover they are sexually unfulfilled.
They begin to explore sexually, and eventually, maybe even by accident discover the truth that big women are desirable to them. But it isn't a truth they share for fear of being socially rejected by their peers.
So, they fake it. They hide their attraction, even their relationships with big women from their family members, their friends, their classmates, their co-workers and even strangers so they appear to be "normal" so they will fit in.
Meanwhile, they admire big beautiful women from a distance. They surf the web for BBW Internet porn and they wank off their dicks in secrecy to the image of full figured women.
They may even feel ashamed of their attraction to such women. Abnormal in their sexuality.
As these men mature, as they learn about the reality that they are not the only ones with a distaste of thin women, they begin to become more comfortable with their sexuality, and may even begin to secretly seek out curvaceous woman on BBW dating sites and by posting anonymously on Craig's List.
But to be seen with a woman of size in public still makes them anxious. They limit their social activities to places that they are the least likely to accidentally run into someone they know, with social groups that accept their odd sexual preferences, or at private engagements.
Finally, they come out.
It may be their best friend they tell first. Or maybe a brother or a sister. Maybe a stranger at a bar who pulled out a photograph from his wallet of his sexy wife/girlfriend who is a large woman.
Once they come out they begin the process of expressing their preferences, of defending their desires for thick waists, rounded stomachs, full hips, big asses, and ample thighs. They become vocal about how aroused the softness, curves, and fullness of a large women gets them and how disinterested their cocks are in protruding bones, flat butts, and gaunt frames.
With the development of their own sexuality, introspection, and acceptance of themselves, they openly become "chubby chasers" declaring their adoration of full figured women publicly.
Subject X is still in the process of accepting he is attracted to me physically, as I am, curvy, round, and plus sized.
He is still denying it to himself and to me, although his cock's reaction to me tells me everything he is unwilling to say.
He has to concentrate to become erect for woman who are "his type" and often doesn't orgasm with them. With me there has never been an issue of arousing him or bringing him to orgasm, but his brilliant mind hasn't made the connection yet.
He simply won't admit to the truth.
It has become my goal to bring the truth to light for him, to give him the freedom of admitting it to himself, and to me.

From shampoo to snow...

2011-02-07T20:16:00.005-07:00

The only resolution I made for the year 2011 is to eliminate as many emotionally depleting relationships as possible from my life.
I began by deleting all the names and phone numbers attached to names or that were just miscellaneously stored in my cell phone that I hadn't used in more than 6 months. I don't answer my cell phone if the number on caller ID is unknown or private. That is what my voicemail is for, to screen calls from people or representatives of companies who have come in possession of my cell number without my authorization. I just ignore the call and delete it from voicemail if it is someone I do not want to call back.
I love the delete option on my cell phone.
It is magical.
It takes just a millisecond to make people disappear without a trace from my life.
Oh, sure the deleted can still call but I won't answer and eventually, he or she will get the hint to stop calling.
So, all those flakes that kept coming in and out of my life through a revolving door will now get my voicemail and then I'll push the magical button until they disappear permanently from my life.
I did the same with the buddy list on my IM and with my electronic address book.
If I hadn't had some form of contact with the person in the recent 6 months, *hocus pocus*, they were deleted.
Now if someone contacts me and they are not on a list the only reply they will get will be silence.
Call it the Head and Shoulders method as I am getting rid of all the flakes in my life.
I am not doing it to make room for new ones.
I want substance.
I belong to social networking sites because I want to meet new people. It isn't complicated. Introduction, a few e-mails to get a feel for the person, move onto IM or text, and then a phone conversation to make plans to meet.
The complications seem to arise at actually meeting. As in IRL (in real life). There isn't an excuse I haven't heard, "my car broke down", "I have to work late unexpectedly", "I got into a car accident", "I have the cold/flu/sinus infection/, "my grandmother is in the hospital", "someone in my family passed away", "my dog is sick", "I've met someone [in the 18 hours since I confirmed our plans]", "I have food poisoning", "I was expecting my ex to have the kids..." --- oh yeah, and my very favorite, "my girlfriend read my texts".
Ironically, those were the considerate ones because they actually took the time to come up with an excuse and to cancel. Others just didn't show up.
I haven't done a scientific study but I am guessing I meet between 2-3% of the people I 'connect' with via electronics means in person. So, out of every 100 people, I will meet 2 or 3. Basically if I contacted 1 person a week who responded to me, it would take me more than a year and a half to meet 2 people in person.
Hell, I could meet 2 guys in a bar in one night and at least have carnal sex with them.
I know the odds. Flakes are in abundance like winter in Minnesota. My plan is to identify who they are, delete them, and move on. No more second chances. It's a damn blizzard out there and I'm not getting snowed in.

What I call someone makes a difference

2011-02-03T21:43:00.006-07:00

I was asked a question the other day that had me thinking about the language I use when referring to the variety of people in my life, mainly men. I contemplated women as well but the answer came quickly and didn't require more than a few moments of thought.
The question was, "Do you call all guys, boys?"
My retort, which was meant to be witty but actually ended up being more truth than funny was, "Only the ones I really like."
It seems I insulted his sensibilities, or maybe deflated his ego a bit, when I referred to him as, "IT Boy".
He's a manager for the Information Technology and Analytics Department, and I like clever references to old phrases, such as It-Girl. IT was certainly not meant as a derogatory reference, either was boy. Honestly, does "IT Guy" or "It Man" have the same ring?
The answer is no. The nickname was meant as a term of endearment.
It seems a lot of my terms of endearment for the male of the species whom I deem worth a nickname have the word boy in it.
Possibly it is because I am a dominate female and once I feel affection for a male it translates into the Domme/submissive dynamic for me, in which "boy" is a common term used to describe submissive men.
I don't refer to women by nouns that define generic unspecific people if I have a relationship with them or if I have a favorable perception of them.
I call them by their names.
Interesting isn't that I rarely use men's names when speaking of them? Occasionally, I do when speaking to them but if a nickname is appropriate for the relationship, I prefer to use it.
I do two things when I have a dislike for a woman.
First if she is inconsequential in my life such as someone I have briefly met who I don't foresee interacting with again, I forget her completely. I don't bother to remember her name, the color of her hair, or even the reason I didn't like her. Often my friends will say, "you know, that one you didn't like" and I'll have a vague recollection of not liking someone but all that is left in my memory is an impression.
Second, if she is someone who I do have to interact with I give her an unpleasant nickname, like Disease Girl or Cockroach or The Gap (a personal favorite of mine) but I refuse to speak her name and although I usually end recalling it if asked what it is, it takes me some time.
With men, my language is more complicated, possibly because my relationships with them are more complicated.
Let's be truthful when you hang out with Alpha males who prefer to be dressed in women's clothing and treated like submissive whores in the bedroom, dynamics can get complicated.
I've established "boy" is a term of endearment.
If I use "guy" that means I have noticed he is male but he is outside my monkey sphere. I know he's there but really I don't pay him too much attention.
Now, "guy-friend" is an entirely different animal to me. These are males that I am not having sex with who are in my monkey sphere as close friends. Considering I prefer to have sex with my friends as opposed to strangers, these guy-friends tend to be gay or not sexually attractive to me.
With males I have had sex with but am no longer having sex with I usually refer to by their name when speaking of them and when speaking to them I'll use terms like cutie, sweetie, gorgeous, past nicknames, or their given names. Their current relationship status has a lot to do with how I address them because I am not interested in dealing with a possessive woman.
"Dude" is definitely a derogatory term. You'll hear me say, "that dude is a jerk". The term itself is annoying. It's teen-speak, it is to pot heads what the word snow is to Eskimos, and it is outdated. If I call a male a dude, I don't like him.
So I wonder, am I the only one who uses differentiating terms? Care to share?

Money and dating

2011-01-31T20:07:00.002-07:00

I started up a conversation with a guy from an Internet "dating" site and within the first 10 minutes he mentioned he didn't have a car. The conversation lasted for about 3 more minutes and fizzled out.
Yes, the fact that a middle aged person doesn't own a car in a state where public transportation is a common punchline to jokes is a negative on the point scale for me.
First, I am not going to drive to pick up a stranger at a strange location and drive alone with him in my car.
That's just stupidity asking for tragedy to happen.
A person wants to go out on a first date with me then he or she is required to figure out how to transport him or herself to a public place for us to meet and hang out. It would also be wise for that person to have a plan on getting back home because I am not likely to be driving someone I just met to any place.
I'm not a taxi service. I don't pick up strangers and drop them off at various locations.
Now there are cities like San Francisco and New York, in which the public transit system is so good, the traffic so congested, and the price of parking so inflated that it makes sense not to own a car.
There isn't a city in Utah that qualifies.
So, when someone tells me they don't own a car - not that their car is in the shop or some major mechanical failure has occurred that will cost an arm, a leg, a foot, and two front teeth to fix so they are saving for the expenditure - I am inclined to think they are a) not financially responsible and b) unemployed.
Judgemental?
Yup. And I am perfectly okay with that.
I don't care what kind of vehicle a person owns but I do believe that owning and maintaining a car in the age group I am in is an indication of being a responsible adult. Where I live it is difficult to impossible to earn a living without being able to drive to work. The city is spread out over a lot of distance and public transportation is scarce to none in all but the downtown areas.
So, when Mr. No Car accused me of rejecting him because I was "looking for a man to pay my way", my response was, "I'm just looking for a man who can get himself to a date without inconveniencing me to pick up him or the tab."
In this economy it is understandable that a person is short on cash, between jobs (been there and done that...more than a couple times) or just being fiscally conservative. I have no issues with planning an inexpensive date but I am not going to be footing the entire bill.
Dutch, yes.
He buys one time. I buy another. Sure. Financial equality is my expectation.
The expectation of the man picking up the tab is outdated. I don't need to pick-pocket a man's wallet to pay the dinner bill, buy the tickets, or pick up the bar tab. I have my own wallet. What I do need is an honest conversation about expectations, including those related to who is paying for what and when.
It amazes me people can discuss sex as casually as discussing the weather but when it comes to a conversation about money people rather fry themselves in oil like chicken in the South than be honest.
And honesty doesn't have to be tactless.
It's about wording.
When I wasn't working I would suggest inexpensive dates, sometimes doing things that didn't cost any money except for the gas to drive somewhere, and had a wonderful time.
For example, I suggested going up into the canyons with our digital cameras and taking photographs of the autumn colors. We walked along trails, waded our feet in streams, and showed each other the pictures as we took them. Lunch was packed in knapsacks and we ate by the river enjoying the beautiful landscape while we talked.
Another time we spent the afternoon at a local car show. The entrance fee was $5 each and we packed bottle water and a lunch. We walked around socializing with people, daydreaming about the cars, telling stories about our own car experiences, and ate lunch on the lawn while listening to a free concert by a local band playing bluesy rock.
Really, it isn't that difficult to date on a budget when a little creativity is used.
Never did I say, "hey, I'm broke so I can't go out with you" or "you have to pay because I don't have the money" - I just made suggestions to do interesting things within my budget and usually a good time was had by all.
So, yeah, when Mr. No Car told me he thought I was looking for a man to pay my way, it made me laugh because what he didn't understand about me is that I'm more interested in who I go out with as opposed to what they pay to go with me.

Making my way out of the darkness

2011-01-30T16:07:00.002-07:00

This space fells like the local hole in the wall bar. You know the place. The place that has been owned by the same family since before you were old enough to drink, the place you had your first alcoholic beverage legally, and the place you know will always have an open stool for you to sit at with a bartender who knows your name.
Yup, I grew up watching Cheers. Does that date me? lol
As it turns out life is pretty good at the moment.
I'm sorry to have left this place with such a miserable post, but at the time I was miserable.
At the moment I am taking anti-depressant medication. It is helping take the edge off.
Being gainfully employed again is also helping with the depression.
I love my new job which I started only weeks after being fired from the last place which I now refer to as Hell with cubicles.
I had no idea how miserable working for a wretched woman with self-esteem issues was making me until I didn't have to force myself out of bed, throw up, and go to work there anymore.
I still know people who are employed there and I realized with some distance that they are all miserable too. Guess the saying is true that misery loves company.
I prefer better company.
I also prefer making more money. The additional $400 a month on my paycheck has helped a great deal in alleviating the financial stresses I was facing. I have slowly began to heal my credit score, which we all know is the totality of what we are as human beings (sarcasm ended).
I began the New Year with a new attitude.
I spent the evening being openly bisexual, expressing my sexuality without reservations, and being among people who accept me as I am with all my beautiful parts as well as the broken ones.
I have decided that spending a single moment pretending to be anyone but who I am throws me into the dark void of depression, a place I want to avoid spending anymore time in.
I am still struggling to recover from the dark place with the sign "Depression" hung on the door but I have my hand wrapped around the knob and I am poised to turn it.
I have a plan.
A good plan on what I want to do with my life, at least in the next five years.
I am the type of person who easily loses focus without a plan. Some people are able to spontaneously live every moment without a map, a compass, or any concept of what direction they are traveling. I envy those people to a certain degree but I have accepted I am not one of them.
I managed to continue my college courses even as my world spun around me in chaos. College was the center of the tornado I called life. The calm place. I knew if I didn't remain in school it would be like stepping into the roaring winds of a twister, giving myself to the power chaos and becoming clutter strewn about into unidentifiable pieces.
I love the process of learning.
I have learned much about myself in the past weeks since I last wrote.
I have learned I am the common denominator in the equation the results in chaos.
If I change, the equation changes, as does the result.
I erased my electronic black book of all the people who cause me to be chaotic.
I am returning to the center.
I have at this time two lovers, both men who have been in my life for too many years to be who I am without them.
I had an interest in someone else but the interest was not reciprocated. It was a painful rejection but one I am not sorry for experiencing. If a person doesn't take risks then a person becomes stagnate and goes about life completely unnoticed. Eventually drying up like a pond forgotten to be watered by nature.
I haven't yet come back to the place from which I can risk more than I already have but I am healing, giving myself the nurturing I require to open up to nature, so I will become full, so full I can blossom and share all that is within me.

Bah-fucking-humbug

2010-11-27T17:24:00.006-07:00

A friend of mine, who is religious, and who I know repeats inspirational cliches to me from the goodness of her heart, said to me, "God, only gives you what He knows you can handle."
She's a sweet thing so I do my best to smile at her instead of rolling my eyes or feigning to gag myself with my finger pressed against my tonsils.
Currently, if I am to believe in her theory, God must think I am Sisyphus because I feel as though I am eternally struggling to roll a rock of shit up a hill.
Yes, I realize I just meshed together Christianity and Greek mythology into the same metaphor.
Sue me.
Oh, you'll have to stand in line to sue me because I've already been through a criminal trial and have a civil suit pending for $100,000 plus punitive damages to be decided at trial.
The criminal charges were 7 counts of misdemeanors but due to lack of evidence I was found guilty of 4 counts, slapped with a $850 fine and a suspended jail sentence of 60 days.
All this because an 11 year old boy trespassed on my property and I own big dogs.
Of course, the boy couldn't recall a damn thing such as when, where, how, who or what, but hey, he's 11 so there isn't a possibility that he would lie - evidence? What is that is in a court case? - so, the judge found him credible and since the boy said it happened, well, then it damn well happened.
So, if I understand the law correctly I am liable for everything an 11 year old says or writes but he isn't liable for a damn thing he says or does regardless if the evidence doesn't support his claims.
I still have a reparations hearing.
I would say that the fact my homeowner's insurance is being filed against for $100,000 should cover any reparations but hey, I also thought there would be REASON and LOGIC during the court case, so what do I know?
I am already heading toward bankruptcy because I was terminated from my job due to "attendance issues" that were a direct result of having to take time off to appear in court, meet with attorneys, attend hearings, and be questioned by investigators not to mention file paperwork to the court, fill out subpoenas, and run around picking up documents.
Thankfully, my home owner's insurance is paying for attorneys to represent me, and their financial interests, in the civil suit.
The irony is that if I wasn't a responsible homeowner who reviewed her insurance policy coverage annually and diligently paid her premiums, my bottom feeding neighbors wouldn't have found an attorney to sue me.
No good deed goes unpunished.
I do not know what my scum sucking neighbors think I have that they don't but now because of their irrationality to blame me and refusal to accept responsibility for being negligent parents, I am unemployed.
At Christmas time, no less.
So, yeah, bah-fucking-humbug.

Twiterpated, delated, reality check

2010-10-16T18:10:00.008-06:00

Wow...time flies when you're trying to keep up with life like a one armed circus juggler throwing fire balls close to a flammable tent wall.
I know I have been neglectful of this blog, and that I have apologized for being neglectful before, but unfortunately it is one of the things that I can neglect.
I have officially reached the half-way point of obtaining my bachelor's degree. It is unbelievable to me how quickly a year has passed but it is exciting to know that in a year I will finally be graduating. Of course, I will continue into a graduate program to obtain a master's --- or should that be mistress? --- degree.
Okay, bad BSDM humor, but hey, I still have a day job.
I am still enthusiastic about my job although more because I know it will lead to more lucrative opportunities after I graduate.
Presently I am occupying a bottom rung and barely making my financial commitments. But I suppose one has to be a starving student before they become a chancellor.
Oh yeah, and there is Thumper, a department manager who works at the same organization I do.
I call him Thumper because when I am near him I am twitterpated.

"Why are they acting way?"
"Why, don't you know? They're twitterpated."
"Twitterpated?"
"Yes. Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in springtime. For example: You're walking along, minding your own business. You're looking neither to the left or to the right, when all the sudden you smack into a pretty face. Woo-Woo! You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head's in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you're walking on air. And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop and you completely loose your head!"
(Bambi, 1942)

I have a horrible crush on him.
On most days I have no intention of doing anything about having a crush on him because of a little thing called sexual harassment in the work environment.
The restrictions of having to behave properly so I don't get fired have me feeling like a school girl who has a crush on her teacher and doesn't want to be asked to the principal's office.
It is distracting in a frustrating way as I am not use to having to behave according to rules that aren't my own.
Maybe there is a lesson to be learned for me in this situation.
If I learn it, I hope my gold star comes dressed in a suit and tie.

Subject X and I have discontinued experimenting.
The drugs weren't having an effect even after nearly 30 days.
The intention is to make his cock useless for long durations of time.
Unfortunately caging his cock is not a viable option.
I am researching more potent antiandrogen medication such as cyproterone acetate which has an additional benefit of minimizing hair growth.
Currently, Subject X is shaved smooth from the neck down.
Strangely, I prefer his chest and stomach with hair.
I say strangely because I have always had a preference for men with minimal amounts of body hair especially on their chests and stomachs, and always on their backs.
Back hair is just not attractive (*shivering*).
Subject X does not qualify as ape-hairy but he definitely has a significant amount of body hair although he shaves his pubic hair, which I think is always a good idea.

Ace and I are still having fun.
After work I still occasionally wander over to the place he tends bar at and relax with a few drinks while I wait for him to finish his shift.
I am always amused at the looks I get from the younger-thinner-bustier-female patrons when Ace winks at me or leans across the bar for a deep kiss.
One twenty-something blond was sitting two stools over from me in her size 5 jeans when I crooked my finger at Ace. The gesture got the immediate response of his full attention and a contorted lean over the bar just so I could whisper naughty promises in his ear while my fingers entangled possessively in his hair.
He went off to serve drinks and the blond scooted a stool over to sit next to me.
Before she could ask the offensive question her type usually ask about how "a woman like me" (meaning mature with a figure that doesn't resemble a broom with two balloons taped to the upper portion) gets a guy as attractive as Ace, I answered her.
My answer was simple, "It takes experience to learn how to seduce a man beyond just making his dick hard."
I am the first to admit that I am not Playboy material.
Nor do I want to be.
That is usually what shocks people, that I don't aspire to imitate Barbie, that I am comfortable in my own skin at the size I am.
I realize I am not every man's type of woman but then that is fair because not every man is my type.
Reality is that there are attractive, intelligent, productive, sexy, and interesting men who prefer a woman of a size.
It is a simple reality.
And I'm always happy to have a reality check. ;)

Mark Gungor - Men's Brain Women's Brain

2010-08-29T15:30:00.000-06:00

Status quo it is

2010-08-27T14:51:00.000-06:00

I am always optimistic when I begin a search for a new playmate.
Unfortunately, this search was unproductive.
After the usual barrage of email responses I had arranged to meet with three men who had various levels of experience in BDSM and were interested in exploring their submissive natures in a D/s relationship.
As it turned out I decided not to pursue meeting one guy after a phone conversation during which he admitted to being a semi-practicing Mormon.
There are just too many conflicts between practicing religion and practicing BDSM for me to be interested in developing a relationship with someone who identifies as being submissive to a diety.
Conversions are just not my thing.
I did meet one of the remaining two and discovered I wasn't interested after spending an hour with him.
There were too many inconsistencies. He said didn't drink but admitted to getting "blitzed" with friends the prior week. He said he didn't have experience in the scene yet offered to send me fetish related photographs. He said was a submissive but used phrases to describe himself such as "natural born leader".
Inconsistencies are flags for liars, people with hidden agendas or dominant personalities masquerading a submissives.
No thanks.
The third one has been a no show.
So, I have concluded my search for a submissive male and resigned myself to the status quo of my sex life for a while longer.

Response to emails

2010-08-14T17:56:00.005-06:00

I received several e-mails regarding my last post about men who have small cocks and the women who love them - is that a book?
Quips aside, I wanted to respond to the e-mails collectively, first because several male subs wrote to me and I am not comfortable writing back to them individually without the permission of their Dommes, wives or girlfriends. Call me old fashion but I respect relationships.
Secondly, I am responding here because I want to clarify, answer questions and expound on the topic.
I wrote, "I require a man to have a reasonable size cock".
Lady A responded to this statement by writing, "It is not for you to judge if her man's cock is a reasonable size for her, you came across as demeaning to all women who have chosen differently than you, as if your choices have been better and the only right one."
I accept the criticism, however, my intent in making that statement was to express my personal preferences.
Yes, I made a judgement of D's cock size based on my personal preferences.
I am a single woman. I CAN decide to accept or reject men for any number of reasons and a small dick is just one of them. Let's face it, the reality is everyone has preferences that guide us to accepting or rejecting other people. If we didn't, it would be sexual chaos in the world.

Do I negatively judge L for her acceptance of D's cock size?

Absolutely not.

The truth is every woman has different preferences; some women perfer tall men, men with hairy chests, men with a specific eye color, men who are rich, men who are older...the list is extensive...and I live by the credence of "to each her own".
Perhaps I didn't state it clearly enough in my previous post but I applaud women like L who love their men without the condition of dick size.
I asked the questions in the previous post because I am not sure how *I* would respond to being in a situation in which I loved a man who had a cock that was by my preference too small.
I also applaud men, including those who wrote to me, that accept their limitations and are earnest in wanting to fulfill their women's needs by exploring options such as chastity and cuckholding. (Sidebar: why isn't that word "cockholding"? Spelling it with a "u" instead of an "o" never has made sense to me.)
Using their dick is not the only way to fulfill a women's needs as women are multifacted and have a myriad of needs, wants, and desires.
Men are more than the sum of their dick size.
They are husbands, providers, partners, fathers, protectors, and friends.
It is the sum of the male that is important.
To the men who wrote me, this is what I would remind all of you, you are the sum of the man you are to your wife or girlfriend.
If you are loved, accept that love as proof you are worthy of the woman who loves you and do not degrade her love by degrading yourself.

Contemplating small cocks

2010-08-08T19:08:00.003-06:00

L was kind enough to send me this picture of D with a comment of, "I think you can also see why chastity is a good path for us."

I am always amazed how women continue relationships with men who have, as is the case with D, inadequate cocks and are satisfied.

I am reminded of a scene from "Sex in the City" (Yes, I watched it. We all have our dirty little secrets of perversion.) in which all the women are crammed into a public restroom stall with Samatha crying on the toilet seat because she just discovered the man she was falling in love with had a small penis. Charolette, in her eternal optimism suggests, "You can work around it" and Samatha in an uncontrollable fit of tears wails, "I don't want to!"

I am definitely with Samatha on this one.

I love cock.

I require a man to have a reasonable size cock.

A dick the size of Jack Napier's is not required but there is a minimal requirement - I mean if you can't feel it, what is the point?

I have been lucky in being with men who are adequately sized.

Of course, I also have a policy of sending small dicks home because I have no use for them.

Perhaps it is a cruel policy but I am not about to waste my time and effort on a small penis that will not give me any sastisfaction.

Which brings me back to the question of how women like L maintain relationships with men who are lacking.

The answer for her has been to keep her husband chaste as she has no interest in using his dick but does that mean she doesn't get ANY cock? Is a dildo enough? Or does she have sex with other men? Or is it enough D sexually satisfies her in other ways? Has her libido decreased due to not having a desirable penis at home? Has her sexual frustration increased for the same reason?

My mind is boggled.

A night of distraction

2010-08-01T12:21:00.005-06:00

This weekend was my 14th wedding anniversary.
As I am still legally married, although separated for the past 2 1/2 years, I am in a place of limbo.
Yes, I still spend time with the Ex. We have a child together and have known each other nearly half our lives, so it inevitable that a true separation will take time.
Yes, he is my Ex even if the courts do not agree as dissolving our marriage legally is but a formality that we have postponed for financial reasons.
As a means of coping with the occasion I planned a scene with a boi I occasionally play with to distract myself with a bit of D/s entertainment.
The night didn't go as planned but it did go well.
I met the boi at a sushi restaurant that he had chosen as he wanted to take me out for a belated birthday dinner.
We arrived an hour before the place opened for dinner and decided to have a couple drinks in a bar around the corner.
It was one of those neighborhood bars that was small and quaint and fairly busy with regulars, so we decided to sit among them at the bar.
The bartender was a hilarious bar hag that I liked immediately for her quick whit and outrageous sense of humor.
As it happened the boi was in a depressed mood and had thought I would be a pick-me-up for his mood.
Unfortunately for me his mood, brought on by being rejected by his latest love interest, was not to be overcome.
Normally, I am more considerate of other people's heartbreaks but I was suffering from my own borderline depressed mood and wasn't in the frame of mind to give more than a courtesy shit about his current rejection.
I listened as he droned on whining about his broken heart all the while scanning the bar for other opportunities.
Yes, I realize how cold and callous that seems but honestly, don't we all have our selfish moments?
If it hadn't been for the bartender providing entertainment I would have been bored enough to make an excuse to exit and cut my loses.
Instead, I had a few drinks and planned to make an exit after sushi.
What can I say? I love sushi and it seemed worth an hour of listening to his boo-hooing to have a free meal.
Yes, I know, cold, callous, bitchy and all of that...whatever.
His mood improved slightly when we went to the restaurant. M
Maybe because the venting was cathartic or maybe because of his consumption of alcohol.
It was a hole in the wall place owned by a lovely Japanese couple who barely spoke English but were friendly and engaging.
The sushi was delicious. The sake was bitter.
I was feeling flush with alcohol and good food and decided to accept the boi's offer to go back to the bar for another drink.
There had been a shift change in bartenders.
He was incredibly good looking; a dead ringer for the American Idol hopeful Ace Young.
The moment I saw him I wanted to entwine my fingers in his hair and pull, hard.
Boi and I continued our conversation as Ace washed glasses in the sink located directly in front of us.
I caught him inconspicuously listening several times. He may have been bored as the usual crowd had thinned out and it wasn't quite time for the party crowd to arrive.
Boi left to use the restroom and Ace nonchalantly made his way back to comment about the boi and I having interesting conversations, throwing in the one word question, "boyfriend?"
I am always surprised to be noticed by strangers.
I am one of those women who tends to become more attractive the more you know me. Many people have told me this, so I believe it to be true.
But I had been drinking, was in a mood for dirty, hot, nearly violent sex and needing an excuse to feel good about myself so I responded with a flirty answer, "No, but I could use one for the night". I
If we'd been at the race track the horn could have been heard behind the commentator announcing, "And they're off".
As my luck would have it Ace was only working a four hour fill in shift for another bartender and his shift was half over.
I walked boi to his car and sent him on his way about an hour before Ace's shift ended and made my way back to the bar.
At Ace's apartment it didn't take long for me to discover he was submissive.
He leaned in for a kiss, I backed away only slightly, my fingers in his hair pulling him back and smiled against his mouth telling him he'd have to earn it.
He responded immediately with his body becoming the consistency of puddy and breathing out a ragged, 'oh god'.
I made him strip for me.
It was obvious he worked out. Long. Lean. Toned. Smooth. Muscles.
I told him as he removed each piece of clothing the effect he was having on my pussy which seemed to inspire him to perform as if my voice was music and he was on a stage.
As he stood naked in front of me he asked if he had earned a kiss.
I told him yes but when he took a step forward I stopped him, pointed to the floor and said, "come to me on your knees".
I was impressed that he did not hestitate, he dropped to his knees, his torso upright and crawled to me.
The movement of his body was beautiful to watch.
I took his face in my hands, leaned down and kissed him as if I owned him.
And for the rest of the night, I did own him.

Do you mind?

2010-07-31T12:15:00.009-06:00

I have been corresponding via email with a married couple, L & D, who are experimenting with male chastity in their relationship. L, the wife, sent me this photograph of D and gave me permission to share it.

I had to share it, it is just too damn amusing not to.

It has been an interesting exchange, one that I have enjoyed, as they have been kind enough to share details of their journey into chastity.

I always find it interesting how other people integrate chastity into their relationships, the obstacles they experience in living daily with chastity and the lessons they learn as they progress in their endeavor.

I do not consider myself an expert in male chastity. Honestly, when someone says they are an expert on the topic I become hesitant to give them credence.

Chastity is a personal experience, one that is unique to those who practice it be it individually, in a couple or only within a scene.

Yes, there are common components to the experience but chastity is practiced by individuals and brought into relationships for a variety of reasons and has a personal meaning for those who practice it.

One of the aspects that I discussed with L, that I believe is lost for most couples, is the psychological component of male chastity.

Often the focus is on the biological response; keep him locked up so he will not have the ability to become erect, have sex or to ejaculate, other than in a "ruined orgasm" that occurs spontaneously without an erect penis.

For me, the true dominance that occurs when a male is chaste, either by being locked up in a cage, given drugs, by his own willpower or by whatever means one employs for the purpose, is of his psyche not his biology.

Here is a bit of an email I sent to L on the subject:

A man's mind is never far from his dick. Again, I do not say that meanly - observation of men prove it - they wake up with an erection, they touch their penis to urinate throughout the day, they "adjust" as a daily activity, they experience spontaneous erections in the course of a normal day, they are focused on not allowing erections in the course of a normal day such as noticing a sexy coworker they want to fuck, if physical danger is present their genitals receive the first protection and even in their sleep they experience hard ons.

Ignoring the psychological connection a male has to his cock lessens the experience of chastity.
Of course, I tend to prefer the psychological aspects of D/s over the physical aspects because I find it more satisfying to effect a sub's mind.
It is more challenging to alter another person's thinking patterns than it is to control them physically.
I am not discounting that physical engagement, such as chastity, bondage or whipping, can have a psychological effect but for me the physical aspects are simply means to get to the psychological aspects.
Using a sub's physical responses can assist a Domme in gauging their psychological status, making it possible to create a connection between the two.
Being aware of a sub's responses also helps a Domme understand what a sub finds pleasurable or when they might be pushing a limit that could be harmful.
I have also found that establishing a psychological connection creates an intensity in the relationship or in the scene that heightens the enjoyment of the experience beyond the fleeting moments of physical interaction.
A sub can forget the sensations that are experienced by their bodies, but when the sensations are created in the mind, those are more difficult to forget as they tend to linger even when the scene is done or they separated from their Domme.
The mind is capable of reliving experiencing at any moment, not only during the moments that the body is being engaged.
There is nothing quite as exhilarating as having a sub confess s/he was unable to concentrate at work, was distracted during a social event or tossed and turned in their beds because her/his mind was distracted by a wanting, a craving, a need that I created.
The body only needs until the need is satisfied.
The mind is not so easily satisfied and amplifies the need at the most inconvenient times for the sub.
Physical needs can be satisfied in a variety of ways, with or without the Domme, in or out of a scene, or by a person other than the Domme.
A psychological need is focused on the source. It must be met by the source that created it.
Ironically, unlike with physical satisfaction, when a psychological need is met it creates more of a need, it creates a mental addiction.
When cultivated that is the most powerful and exciting aspect of D/s, the addiction, as once a sub is addicted they are nearly powerless to the Domme's control.
And isn't that the point of D/s? To create a dynamic of imbalanced control?
Where else can such a dynamic be created if not in the mind?

A the end of 14 days

2010-07-21T22:29:00.004-06:00

Today was the last day for Subject X to take his pills.
Unfortunately, it was overall an unsatisfying experiment.
He has been able to become erect without difficulty even after two weeks of taking the medication.
Although he has had difficulty ejaculating, he has been able to accomplish it with determination.
And he has been determined.
The amount of fluid has decreased but is still present. I did find a measure of satisfaction in watching his cock dribble out a half a teaspoon of cum after his increased efforts. So little for so much effort.
Otherwise, the results have been disappointing.
Subject X's lack of communication has also been disappointing.
His expectation is that I will ask questions instead of he will provide the information without prompting.
I have become fond of saying, "I do not have D.D.S after my name" as it is like pulling teeth to get him to tell me what I want to know.
I am reviewing the course our two week experiment took to determine a more effective communication strategy for our next experiment.
I have determined, and correctly from what I can assess from my conversations with Subject X, that he withholds information because I use the information to understand him, and with understanding him I can control him.
Knowledge is power, just like School House Rock taught us all those years ago. (Wow, I think I just dated myself. lol)
It can be comforting, exciting and scary to submit to a person who is capable of controlling you, not using standardized methods but using methods that are customized, developed with personal information, making the control intimate.
Subject X and I have talked about how he distances himself from me without realizing it because of his fears of that intimate control.
He will stop referring to the experiment, stop telling me about the outcome of his masturbating, stop volunteering information about the effects of the pills, and basically revert to interacting with me almost in a casual manner, discussing the weather other superficial topics.
He also will bring other women as topics into our conversations, with the intention of offending me so he could rebuff me.
I called him on it, and he didn't realize he was doing it. He said he had purposely tried not to bring other women into our conversations because his perception was I didn't like it.
I explained that discussing his relationships with other women does not bother me except when I feel he is using it as a way to create distance between us.
I sent him off on his long week-end trip with his female friend with permission to fuck her and instructions that he is to text me the outcome of any sexual encounters with her.
It is a completion of the steps: ask for permission, use the permission and thank me for giving the permission.
I want to establish the protocol of him asking me and thanking me even if he does not use the permission.
One step at a time...

A 14 day experiment

2010-07-09T16:18:00.000-06:00

Subject X is again taking the Estelle 35ED pills.
It is day 4, too early for there to be any effects from the antiandrogen components of the pills.
He is still capable of being erect, remaining erect and ejaculating at his normal volume.
Although, unlike during our last experiment, he is excited at the prospect of not being capable to do any of these things.
He had 14 pills left from the last experiment. He asked for more and I have denied him with an explanation that he must first willingly take the remaining pills and follow my instructions in reporting to me all physical effects he is experiencing as well as discuss any concerns that arise.
Open and honest communication will be the key to the success of our experimenting.
I have timed his taking the remaining pills just prior to his taking a trip with a female during which he expects to have sex with her.
As I promised him balance in our play and in his sex life outside of our play, he will discontinue taking the pills two days prior to taking his trip.
I acquired Viagra pills for him to take on his trip but only after he followed the rules I set of asking me permission to have sex.
It was difficult for him to ask me permission as our play has been separated from his sexual encounters with other women. He still had control of the sex he had outside of our play.
Of course, he has admitted to having to use fantasies of our play to get his dick hard for fucking other women as well as thinking about me while in the act of fucking other women, so in reality I am already a part of his sexual life outside our play.
I remind him often that he begs for me to take control of his cock and that to do so requires controlling when he uses it, either for masturbating or for fucking, with or without me.
This 14 day experiment is the first stage; I have allowed him to discontinue the use of the pills prior to being with another woman and provided him with an alternate method to be capable of having sex, the Viagra pills, should they have not worn off to allow him to get hard.
We have discussed that my control will extend and his will diminish until he has willingly given me complete control of his cock in all sexual situations.
Although he tells me he wants to be chaste, his cock made useless by the drugs I give him, unless I decide otherwise for him, I want him to prove to me and to himself that what he says is true.

An afternoon well spent

2010-07-04T12:54:00.001-06:00

I found myself with an afternoon to play and decided to take advantage of it.
I sent a text instructing him to shave his cock, balls, legs, and chest for me.
It was the first time I had instructed him to shave his legs but he didn't hesitate in following my instruction, said it gave him an instant hard on.
I like men shaved but do not like to perform the task myself, so I was pleased he was so willing to do it.
Once he was done, I instructed him to perform an enema on himself, another task I dislike doing myself on subs but that is a necessity for anal play. Dirty anal play is a HUGE turn off for me.
I told him I would be fucking his ass as he had been begging me to do all week if he followed my instructions so he was more than willing to do it himself.
Then I sent him to the store for a few items for our play time wearing a CB, a pair of silk crotchless panties (so the CB could be worn comfortably) and shorts.
He reported that his cock was straining against the CB while he was out in public, legs shaved smooth and visible to everyone.
Since he had never shaved his legs before his skin was sensitive to every sensation from the heat of the sun, the texture of the upholstery in his car, to the feeling of the air as he moved through it.
I had been invited to an arts festival with friends and had texted him that he was to find me at the festival and give me the key to his CB. Then I would meet him at his house after I left the festival.
It excited him to come to a public event, caged, dressed in panties and legs shaved, to give me the key while I was with my friends.
I gave no explanation as to what the key was for or why he was giving it to me to my friends. None of my friends asked making him wonder if I had told them before he arrived was it was for.
Although the exchange was casual, I could tell he was excited as the public nature of it.
I sent him home to wait for me with permission to watch porn and a warning not to play with his anal toys.
When I arrived, he had a drink prepared for me as I had instructed and his excitement was barely contained. He reminded me of a puppy greeting its owner after being left alone during the day.
I explained to him that he would service me by shaving my pussy and that if he did a good job I would reward him by allowing him to give me oral sex.
I also explained if he spoke out of turn or tried to top from the bottom that I would put a ball gag in his mouth and not remove it.
I find having a sub that I trust shaving my pussy to be very relaxing and stimulating at the same time. The feel of fingers manipulating my pussy, the sensation of the razor against my sensitive skin and the splash of warm water heightening the tingly sensation of being bare is all very sensual.
I was greedy to have his tongue, mouth and face buried in my newly shaved pussy.
He truly enjoys giving oral sex and having me squirt my orgasms on his face, drenching him.
His cock strained within its CB. I love the look of a straining cock that is locked up when I have the key.
I was in the mood to tease him mercilessly so I made him fuck me with a strap on over his caged cock.
His balls were engorged and had turned a dark red hue with his sexual excitement.
I slapped them, gently, but enough to make him groan loudly with the sensation of pleasurable pain.
I had him clean the strap on and choose the lube of his choice as I relocated from the bed in his bedroom to the couch in his living room.
I rewound the porn he had been watching on his big screen television and after putting on the strap on, had him get on his knees to suck it.
He took the entire dildo in his mouth, down his throat, surprising himself.
I was surprised he didn't gag, and turned on by his greediness to suck it so deeply.
I had him sit next to me as I stroked my fake cock, lubing it up to fuck him.
He tried to stroke his cock and was frustrated that the CB kept him from touching it.
I laughed and taunted him with my fake cock.
He was turned on by watching me stroke the dildo as if it were part of my body.
I instructed him to situate himself on the dildo, straddling me so it went deep inside his ass.
He fucked it as if he were riding a bucking bronco bull.
First his back was towards me but then he repositioned himself facing me, using the back of the couch to balance himself, so I could see his cock small, caged and bouncing as he fucked the dildo.
I had to put the ball gag in his mouth when he began to say sentences that began with "I want", reminding him that what he wanted was irrelevant.
I unlocked his cock and sent him to wash off as I do not like the taste of cock that has been sweating in a CB.
His cock was limp from having been caged for hours.
I like sucking on limp cock, it is one of my sexual idiosyncrasies.
When a cock is flaccid I am sucking it for my pleasure, not for his, making my dominance more evident by his useless sex organ.
His entire body was shaking from the frustration of not being capable of becoming hard and I berated him for it.
I instructed him to get on his knees, bending his upper body over a coffee table, and whipped his back, buttocks, and thighs for not having his cock hard for me.
He pathetically apologized, begging me to give him another chance and I finally did.
The whipping had excited him.
I took advantage of his hard cock and had him fuck me until my cunt felt gloriously raw, and then gave him permission to cum.
As he came he breathlessly repeated the words, "Thank you, thank you for letting me cum", making me pleased that I had let him.

Is BDSM normal?

2010-07-03T15:42:00.001-06:00

In the past twenty years that I have been practicing BDSM I have listened to hundreds of individuals defend their motivations for engaging in what is considered by mainstream society to be deviate sexual practices. The purpose in defending themselves was to convince the audience, be it one person or a full auditorium, that practicing BDSM is a natural progression of sexuality, healthy behaviors for those who accept themselves without self-depreciating judgment and a natural extension of dominant and submissive personality traits. The message, regardless of who was delivering it, was that people who practice BDSM are as normal in their psychological and sexual development as their vanilla counterparts and should be accepted as such.
I disagree not with the message but with the rhetoric used to support the message. I disagree with over twenty years of personal experience in what BDSM practitioners refer to as the “lifestyle” or the “scene”. I disagree because my personal history, the story of how I became to practice BDSM, doesn’t differ from anyone else I have met over the years except in the details; the who, what, where, when and how differ from one person to another but always there is the commonality of violence, abuse and identity confusion in our pasts as well as possibly in our present. We have all been broken either emotionally, physically, spiritually and/or psychologically. Ironically, to defend from a position of denying the truth of this is to deny the normalcy of being influenced by violent, abusive or otherwise damaging events of our lives.
From the moment we are born we are at the mercy of imperfect people; our parents, our siblings, our relatives and strangers, all who have access to inflict damage upon us physically, emotionally and psychologically as well as to protect and nurture us. It is a coin toss who will enter our lives; heads we become well-adjusted adults who lead productive lives, tails we become institutionalized adults in a mental health facility or prison. The coin is always tossing, from infancy, to childhood and into adulthood. It can flip from heads to tails or back again in blurred moments that flash like spinning silver being thrown in the air. I am not one to give excuses for who or what, if you prefer labels, I am but like all human beings I am a product of the influence of others, my personal experiences and the choices I have made throughout my life. I take ownership of my sexuality without the need to defend it. I take responsibility for making choices without asking for anyone to excuse me for them. I embrace what my life has been and how I live it now with the acknowledgement that I have been broken, and still am in many respects, and that that makes me as normal as any other person.

Training Subject X

2010-06-27T10:39:00.006-06:00

The training with Subject X continues.
I have not given him permission to begin taking the antiandrogen pills again, although he has asked if he may start.
I appreciate his enthusiasm to begin taking them so that his cock will become sexually dysfunctional, essentially under my control, but I learned my lesson from our last experience and have an agenda.
I instructed Subject X to use an eyeliner pencil, as not to be harmful, to write my name on his cock and to wear panties Monday through Thursday. I blurred out my full name to post one of the pictures he sent as proof that he did as he was asked. I instructed only those days as he was taking a camping trip with a female and other friends from Friday until Sunday. It was the balance I promised him between our play and his life outside of our play.
We discussed that if he thought the circumstances of his week-end would lead to sexual activity that he was to ask permission prior. He could text, IM, or call since it wasn't likely he could tell me in person. He said he didn't anticipate that he would be having sex with the woman he was going camping with but I discussed with him that if he did, he was to notify me as soon as he was able, without my asking him, after the fact.
My intention in these instructions is to establish psychological ownership of his cock.
He was thrilled to write my name on his cock every morning before wearing panties I chose for him, as doing so gave him a sense of "giving" his cock to me. It also kept him reminded throughout the day of my ownership.
We played together once during the week and I used the scene to continue to reinforce in his psyche my ownership of his cock.
He could not touch his cock without my permission and he had to refer to it not as his cock, but as mine, as if it were a toy I owned.
I made him verbally repeat the rules of my ownership before allowing him any physical pleasure in an effort to associate following the rules with receiving pleasure.
Basic behavorial training.
He needs to be trained to think of his cock as my property and to treat it as such. To be trained to enjoy my owndership of it.
His reward for following my rules will be to be given permission to take the pills.
I want the "taking away" of his cock to be a reward, something he works towards out of a desire to obtain it so that he will not so easily stop, as he did last time.

Gump style and Subject X, part II

2010-06-18T20:34:00.007-06:00

Wow, it has been a month since I have posted.
Life has been crazy busy.
Unfortunately, when life is crazy it requires living and leaves little time to write about it.
There aren't a lot of sexy details to catch up on because the reality of my life is that I am a single working mother who is attending college and has little time for a social life.
Excitement in my life is defined by the anticipated completion of my final algebra class with a passing grade at the end of the week.
Currently I have an A- in the class.
I will have that passing grade because I have been whoring myself out in exchange for math tutoring.
It isn't a formal agreement, we haven't even spoken about it, but it IS the arrangement.
It isn't that I wouldn't be having sex with him if he wasn't helping me, we've had sex on and off for quite a while, but I wouldn't be having sex as often with him.
He has spent numerous hours helping me with my algebra homework and he deserves to be compensated for his time, it just happens the currency of sex works best for both of us.
The sex varies from being kinky good to mind numbing vanilla. I refer to it as "Forrest Gump Sex" because it is like a box of chocolates, just never know what you might get.
I figure bad sex in small quantities is worth passing algebra because if I didn't pass I would have to spend another 5 weeks of my life stressed out, fork over another small fortune to take the class again, delay my graduation date and have my GPA plummet to unacceptable depths.
So, yeah, I'm doing it Forrest Gump style.

Subject X and I have renegotiated the terms of our play.
The agreement is I will balance our play, especially the chemical "castration", with his active sex life so that neither suffer from the other.
Subject X and I had a conversation about what didn't work and what did work in our last experiment.
Communication is essential in any relationship but especially critical in D/s relationships.
Although the common perception is that the submissive does not power, that the power of the relationship is held only by the dominant, that has not been my experience. A submissive has the power to give a dominant that enables the dominant to be in charge of the relationship, scene or play.
It is the willing exchange of power, from the submissive to the dominant, that is critical to a healthy and balanced D/s relationship.
It can be summed up in one word: consent.
In the previous experiment with Subject X he consented to taking antiandrogenetic pills allowing me to control his sexual activity through the administration of drugs.
My mistake was not questioning Subject X if he had any concerns as we progressed, so that we could discuss them at the time they arose. I hadn't anticipated well enough the issues that would arise from him taking the pills, the impact their effect would have on him psychologically.
I acknowledged that making a man's cock unusable for sexual activity would have a psychological effect; making him feel useless, emasculated, and controlled. These were all part of the play with Subject X, what he wanted to experience, at least what he wanted to experience when he fantasized. I didn't acknowledge that practicing in reality can create real concerns or emotions that aren't present in fantasy.
As the pills were having an effect in reducing his cum volume and making it more difficult for him to become and stay erect, Subject X was both turned on by and anxious about what was happening physically even though we had discussed it beforehand.
He was struggling with giving up control so completely in a real-life situation. The transition from fantasy to reality was challenging because it was actual. It is one thing to think about something happening and another to have it actually happening.
The reality was he had sex with a woman and wasn't certain if he had had an orgasm or not. He became overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.
Unfortunately, because I didn't ask, he wasn't forthcoming with the concerns he had and as the concerns were left unaddressed, he revoked his consent by discontinuing to take the pills.
As we begin another experiment we have agreed to honest communication without hesitation.
As of yet he is not taking the pills again.
He has asked if can begin taking them and I have said no as I want to make certain he is ready for the commitment.
The rules to follow are: he has to ask permission to have sex and if he is unable, due to spontaneous circumstances, to ask before he has sex, he has to tell me he had sex as soon as he is capable.
The purpose of the rule is to integrate my control into the sexual encounters Subject X has separate from me. If I am to control his cock by chemical "castration", he must understand and be comfortable with me controlling it not only during our scenes but when he is having sexual relations with other women. Part of his anxiety in our previous experiment was caused by his not fully understanding this and being comfortable with it.
Since we have renegotiated the terms of our play, he has not has sex, so hasn't had an occasion to follow through on this rule. Until it is well established as a routine in our relationship, I won't agree to him taking pills.
We are scheduled to play in a couple days and I plan to use the scene to reinforce the necessity of my control extending beyond our relationship and into his other relationships.
Balance will be the key, and now that I fully understand what it is I am balancing, I think our experiment will be successful.

The beauty of ball gags

2010-05-16T12:17:00.004-06:00

Some people are very good at sex talk and others, well, others just need to keep to moaning and short exclamations like, "oh gawd" and "fuck that feels so good".
Otherwise, they ruin the mood or more specifically, they irritate me and ruin MY mood.
He talks too much, not letting me drift mindlessly into the sensations of physical pleasure, and says things that make me roll my eyes into the back of my head, and not in a good way.
There are times I simply do not want to think during sex but want to lose myself in carnal bliss.
He has this habit of asking me questions during sex that require me to engage my intellect to answer him, most annoyingly to tell him my masturbatory fantasies.
Evidently he believes when I masturbate I fantasize about him.
Incorrect.
Maybe it is just me but the fantasies I indulge in for masturbating have little to do with reality...isn't that the point? And somehow I think it would hurt his ego if I was truthful and told him I don't fantasize about him.
Not to mention the fantasies I masturbate to are private.
I don't want to share them. If I did, he would already know what I fantasize about when I am self-gratifying because I would have included them in our sex without his inquisition.
Being compelled to lie to save hurting someone's ego and to protect the privacy of my thoughts is not sexy.
My solution: I put a ball gag in his mouth.
A sexy black rubber ball with a leather strap that kept him quiet except for muffled groaning.
It worked beautifully.
I enjoyed the texture of the smooth rubber being moved up and down with the motion of his head on my clit and having the ball secured in his mouth added an extra pleasurable sensation to sitting on his face.
I didn't remove the gag until we were laying, panting, over-heated, sweaty, and sexually satiated.
He opened his mouth wide to stretch out his jaw and commented that he thought his jaw would be sore for at least a couple days.
I just smiled and didn't tell him that if he would have shut the hell up, his jaw would not be sore.
I did tell him that the incredible sex was worth his jaw being sore.
He agreed.

A myth and BBW fetish wear shopping

2010-05-11T22:19:00.004-06:00

Being a BBW, that's the acronym for Big Beautiful Woman for those who don't know, and kinky can be challenging in a multitude of ways.
One of the ways in which it isn't challenging is in finding play partners that are attracted to full figured women.
It is a myth that men, wait, let me be more specific, it is a myth that attractive, educated, intelligent, witty men are only attracted to women that resemble prepubescent boys wearing short skirts and sporting a set of inflatable boobs.
Think I'm just assuaging a jealousy I won't admit to? Do a Google search for "BBW porn" - I did, just to have statistical information to support my claim - and you'll get a listing of roughly 3,970,000 sites to chose from.
Honestly, if there wasn't a demand for it, would there be so many sites dedicated to offering and charging for access to it?
And that is just one search phrase on one search engine.
In my own experience I have had thin women ask in astonishment, "how did you get him?" when I have an attractive male escorting me. It's annoying.
The insinuation is that attractive men are not of the same species as plus sized women, as if we have to perform some black magic trick or drug them into finding us desirable.
My answer to such degrading inquiries is usually along the lines of, "some men just have good taste", with a smile that says, "fuck you for asking such a stupid question".
Okay, now that I done with that tangent, back to the topic of this post; being a BBW and kinky does have it challenges.
Finding flattering, affordable and well fitting fetish or kink wear is on the top of my list of challenges.
Adding material to a pattern originally designed for size 4 women does not make a plus size outfit comfortable, flattering or worth the increased price tag. Plus sized women are shaped differently, thus have different style needs than smaller women.
How difficult is that to understand for designers?
Thankfully, the concept of designing patterns specifically for fuller figures is slowly integrating into fetish wear fashion.
Here are a couple sites I recommend be checked out if shopping for plus size play wear.
Domme Shop has a small but decent BBW leather and BBW patent section. The models are wearing the outfits are actually full figured to give a realistic visual of how the outfit will appear being worn and they offer up to a size 3x (24/26W). I wasn't impressed with their BBW silk, satin and lace selection. The styles are examples of "just add more material" designs, not specific for BBW's.
Big Gals Lingerie has a fabulous selection of sexy costumes for role playing including school girl, French maid, nurses, cops, military and cheerleaders. They offer sizes from 1x to 12x. The prices weren't dirt cheap but reasonable when compared to other online stores that charged an average of $30 to $40 more for the same costumes.
Happy shopping!

Reality in fantasy

2010-05-10T22:20:00.007-06:00

So, I got the job.
I had decided that I wanted one but I chose the other because it has the potential of allowing me opportunities to obtain my future goals.
Not to mention the benefits package is outstanding.
It has been a long time since I have had future goals.
It feels good to have goals again.
I start work next Monday.
Then I got a call from a different department in the same organization to apply for another position.
I had spoken to a recruiter about a month ago that forwarded my resume after deciding I was over-qualified for the position for which I had originally applied.
The position pays twice as much as the one I will begin on Monday and it is more in alignment with the work I want to be doing after I graduate.
It is exciting, although, I still have to apply for the position and be approved for an interview.
Regardless, it is exciting to know my resume is being considered for higher level positions that I had not anticipated I would be qualified for - "It's an honor just to be considered for this award".
So, I am applying for the position.
The worst that can happen is that I am still employed with the organization and will have to work my way up the food chain over a course of time.
That isn't terrible.
I am glad to be employed again.

On the personal front, things have come to a screeching halt.
First, Subject X stopped taking the pills without speaking to me about it.
I suspected he wasn't taking them and had to ask him directly about my suspicions.
It annoyed me that he hadn't spoken to me before making the decision to stop taking the pills.
It wasn't that he wanted to stop taking them but that he shifted the control dynamic by making the decision without my input after challenging me to provide stronger medication to control the sexual use of his dick.
His explanation of, "It doesn't make sense to pursue since we don't have a full-time thing" irritated me considering he agreed to taking the pills with full knowledge that we don't have a "full-time thing".
It felt dishonest. Not completely dishonest, there was truth in the statement, but it was veiled by his attempt to not to tell me the complete truth.
I was hearing more of what he wasn't saying than of what he was saying.
During a discussion, in which I questioned him to led him to tell me the full truth, he admitted his "personal life" was suffering from taking the pills.
Evidently he didn't fully contemplate the real ramifications of taking medication to suppress his sexual abilities.
He got caught up in the fantasy without truly considering how it would effect his reality.
It is frustrating to engage in fantasy play with a person who doesn't consider the real life consequences of their actions: the submissive who wants to be beaten but doesn't consider the marks and bruises that will be left, the Dominant that wants to be served but doesn't consider the time involved in instructing the submissive, or the married submissive that wants to serve a Domme but doesn't consider the impact that doing so will have on his marriage.
Although I understand that fantasy play and reality have to be separated out of the necessity to be a functional adult, one that has to devote time to sustaining life's responsibility, such as earning a living, parenting, caring for family, socializing with friends, doing the laundry, fixing the car, renovating the bathroom, etc., I also understand each can impact the other.
Time can't be devoted to playing out a scene if it isn't taken from other aspects of life.
Money to pay for toys can't be spent without it being not spent for other things.
Energy exhausted during play can't be summoned without recovery time.
Reasonable explanations have to be given for the appearance of bruises and other markings that could be questioned.
Basic common sense.
Unfortunately, it isn't so common.
What is common are people becoming enthralled with the fantasy aspects to the point of ignoring how those aspects will impact, combine, coincide or clash with reality.
Such ill considerations screw up the fantasy.

Chemical chastity

2010-05-02T22:44:00.007-06:00

Today Subject X took his fourth anti- androgen pill for the purpose of inducing chemical castration.
Castration seems too harsh a word. We have altered it to "chemical chastity".
After our last experiment with Provera, in the pill form, not Depo (meaning injection) Provera, I decided on Estelle 35ED after doing research.
The Provera was effective in reducing the amount of cum that Subject X produced, almost making his orgasms dry, but it was ineffective in diminishing his ability to become erect.
Estelle 35ED works differently, is a stronger medication, and is used specifically for transgender transitions. Of course, that requires long term usuage, longer than Subject X will be taking it.
The result I am wanting is to restrict Subject X's ability to become erect and to ejaculate. Chemical chastity.
He willingly takes the pills so that I will have control of his cock.
The control for me is in having possession of the magical blue pill that would allow Subject X to have sexual function of his cock.
He will have to ask me for permission to use his cock for sex if he wants me to give him the pill.
Permission will be required for masturbation as well.
I get a thrill from his daily updates that he has taken a pill for me.
Having someone willingly given me their sex is thrilling.
The ultimate goal is to keep him chaste for an extended period of time and then keep him feminized for several days, 24 hours a day.
I have a fantasy of watching him suck cock after spending hours of preparing him, of watching him being fucked as if he were a girl, at my direction.
He wants to fulfill that fantasy.
He says I have manipulated his thoughts and desires to want to be feminized, to have his own cock made useless while he is a cock slut for whoever I bring to him.
It is a process, this game of creating an ultimate fantasy; the pills, him wearing girly panties under his boy clothing during his usual daily activities, and dressing him in feminine clothing during our scenes.
I enjoy the process. I enjoy the dedication he has to it.
The dedication he has to do it for me.

Moving right along

2010-04-28T08:45:00.008-06:00

Officially, I am still being paid to be unemployed as my severence pay from my previous employer extends for two more days.
I filed for unemployment last week as there is a week waiting period.
It was depressing. I haven't been unemployed, not by choice, for more than 10 years.
However, I have been interviewing.
I had an hour long interview for a position that, on paper, sounds exciting. The company is stable but in transition of growth. The position would be one of collaborating with the management to improve and develop the processes and structure of a department. Unfortunately, I sensed the company didn't have a plan of execution for their growth transition and that could equal chaos. Another factor is the commute; it would be a 30-40 minutes drive in good weather each direction.
Tomorrow I have an interview with an organization that is on my list of "most perferable" employers. Being employed with this organization would be perfectly suited for my future plans. However, there are uncertainities, the most deciding one is the salary range. The organization uses a pay rate matrix based on years of experience, testing scores and various other factors. So, until I have the interview, do the testing and am made an offer, I won't know the salary.
Next week I have a third interview for a position that is in my field but is different work than I have previously done. It would be challenging, the pay is decent and the commute wouldn't be extreme. However, I am concerned with being able to perform the job since it is outside my expertise.

My personal life isn't as optimistic as my job searching.
After several weeks of being the invisible man, JW sent an email explaining he had been avoiding me because he was struggling how to tell me that he is involved in a long distance relationship and has decided to be faithful.
It stung.
But it wasn't unexpected.
He had sent a couple e-mails upon returning stateside to let me know he was back but that was his only communication.
I am suspicious of people who avoid conversations beyond the computer. They use the computer as a shield to hide something. Or someone. Or from someone.
Then he vanished.
I let him. I didn't e-mail. I didn't IM. I didn't call his work phone number, one that he probably isn't aware I still have, to talk to him or leave messages.
There are times you just have to give a person their space to work things out for themselves.
To his credit he admitted to avoiding me, being unfair to me by avoiding me and acknowledged it was a pussy thing to do.
Unfortunately, the outcome is still the same.
It is disappointing.
I have had the weeks of his silence to reconcile the disappointment. To come to terms with it as an eventuality, each day without communication a confirmation of things that won't happen.
As the time passed the thoughts he put into my mind, the thoughts of what we would do together, have begun to fade.
I don't curl myself around the thoughts, around the ache they create in my body, and shake with the need to submit to him any longer.
I miss that.

Death and love

2010-04-22T20:47:00.000-06:00

Death is eventual.
It cannot be avoided. For anything that is living, death is the eventual end.
But still it can catch a person by a surprise when it happens.
Sometimes death will be considerate enough to come with a warning.
I hadn't noticed she was becoming old. No one really did. She just didn't appear or act old.
I smelled death on her before I processed that she would die within days.
Her kidneys were shutting down. Her other internal organs would follow.
She was wasting away. She was vomiting. Dehydrating into flaking dryness. Bile drooling from her slack lips. Blisters bleeding inside her mouth.
We did our best to comfort her. Offered her food that she ignored. Offered her water that she refused to drink. Wiping the vomit and drool from her chin.
The doctor injected her with pain and antiemetic medication, intravenously hydrated her until her veins collapsed on themselves, and performed diagnostic tests.
The test results were conclusive; she was dying. Rapidly.
We, my son and I, were with her when she died.
My son was her favorite. She was his.
The last night of her life he had laid by her side to comfort her.
He held her as her eyes became unfocused glass marbles, as her head lolled to one side and she became still.
I held him. He sobbed uncontrollably. My heart shattering inside of me with his pain as if made of glass, impaling the shards into my flesh from the inside out.
Horrifically, her body spasmed in death.
The doctor closed her eyes.
Anguished, my son laid his body on hers, his face nestled into her neck where a pulse no longer beat, and wept.
How long does a mother wait for her son to say good-bye?
When is the moment to pull him from her dead body, knowing it will be the last time he sees her?
Gently I told him it was time to leave and pulled him into my arms.
So brave to have made the decision to be there for her in her final moments.
He pulled the sheet around her, not wanting her to be exposed and told her for the last time that he loved her.
I love him more, if it is possible for a mother to quantify her love for her son, for his loving her so much.

Escaping my mind

2010-04-17T21:09:00.005-06:00

I didn't want to think.
At least I didn't want to think about being unemployed, about my dwindling savings account, about the lack of job prospects, about a failed marriage, about unfulfilled relationships or about algebra problems that I struggle to solve.
I wanted a reprieve.
So, when he offered to come over to his place to smoke spice (yes, it is still legal here in Utah...for now) and play card games, I took him up on it.
It turned out to be an incredible night of escape sex.
I am not usually a proponent of mind altering chemicals, mind altering sex, yes, but I have to say the spice was a perfect antidote for my stress.
I became giggly. Uninhibited. Carefree.
The card came became the catalyst for sexual activities as we bet on the outcome of the game as well as on the jokers placed in the deck. Whoever drew a joker had to perform a sex act predetermined by the other player.
As luck would have it, I didn't draw the jokers but a couple times and won a streak of 9 hands.
I tapped into my creativity.
A wet charcoal brick from a Kingsford bag and a hairless bare chest made a combination too irresistible not to take advantage of. I let him see what I had written across his flesh from the picture I took with the camera on my cell phone.
He blushed.
His cock was raging hard.
The words later ended up a black messy smear across his chest after I had him lay on the floor, on his back, holding a vibrator while I straddled it.
I was slightly bent holding onto a chair as I positioned myself on the vibrator, looking down at him as he intently watched me work my pussy on it.
He had a very intimate vantage point being underneath me as I stood with my legs spread on either side of him.
It was all about me. About the sensations that the vibrator was creating with its twirling shaft and massaging beads.
He was involved only a prop, to hold the vibrator, as I went up and down on it, letting it work its magic; first on my clit and then deep inside.
His face was an erotically beautiful composition of submission, lust, and fascination.
I am a squirter.
One of those women who ejaculates when she orgasms.
When he stood up my juices ran down his chest in iridescent droplets, smudging the writing as they slid down his chest in a wet path through the dry charcoal.
I was fascinated.
Probably more so as a result of smoking the spice.
I found myself trailing my fingers across his chest, finger painting in charcoal and cum.
I licked across his chest, a smooth bark with a sweet dripping sap and black ash.
I was mindless but for absorbing every sensation of touch, sight, smell, sound and taste.
Hours of mindlessness.
It was exactly the escape from my mind that I needed.

One moment, please

2010-04-13T19:39:00.001-06:00

One of the benefits of being unemployed is I have more time in my schedule to socialize.

I have been reconnecting with friends and realizing how much I have missed having a social life. Although I suspect with beginning my algebra class this week that my social time is going to diminish, I have been enjoying spending time with my friends.

I took a friend of mine out for sushi to celebrate his birthday. I love sushi. It is nummy.

There is a wonderful trendy sushi restaurant in a trendy outdoor mall downtown that is my favorite. Since he had never been there, I ordered.

I am not a big fan of warm saki but I love sparkling saki that is served so cold that you expect a thin layer of ice to be covering the top. He had never tried it so I persuaded him to broaden his horizons and he decided that it was in fact delicious.

Sparkling sake is one of those alcoholic beverages that doesn't have a bitter alcohol taste to it, but is sensually smooth passing over the palate and sneaky in giving a warm flush to the brain.

After his second bottle my friend was definitely flush and became quite amusing.

Although he is exceptionally intelligent and has a fabulously wicked sense of humor, he generally isn't talkative. He's a voyeur at heart, like me, and when we are surrounded by others, which has always been the case, we are the observers. We rarely have to speak to one another to laugh about something we have observed because it only takes a glance in the other's direction and we know what the other is thinking.

He's told me it unnerves him because I will answer out loud a question he thought but hadn't spoken. Often he'll admonish me, "quit violating my mind!", and my reply is, "quit thinking so loud then."

It's fun to be with him.

This was the first time we had spent time together without our common circle of friends.

He shyly made a comment, in reference to someone else but definitely directed at me, about the definition of a "date".

Although I do enjoy him, there isn't any hope of a "romantic" relationship between us.

It isn't that he is 27 and I am...well, I'm not...but that we are in completely different stages of our lives. That is the first factor. The second is that he is polyamorous, which I am not opposed to for other people, but I know myself well even to know I am a monogamous person.

Of course, my definition of monogamous isn't what you'll find in the dictionary but it still is a different type of relationship than what he is wanting.

We discussed our differences and thankfully came to the conclusion that we could still be good friends who hung out together, read each other's thoughts, and flirt for the fun of it.

After sushi we walked, my arm comfortably in his, around the mall with a mission of locating Ben & Jerry's for dessert.

We also checked out the hot girls walking by, pointing them out to one another, and conspired in little fantasies.

An odd couple we made, for sure.

I had decided in feeding him ice cream samples - too many delicious choices! - that I would kiss him should we find ourselves within a moment that doing so wouldn't seem awkward.

First kisses seem to always create awkwardness.

It was a rather selfish thought considering I had no intention of going beyond a kiss but he has full supple lips and I couldn't help but consider the thought.

I wanted to know if there was a possibility beyond what I had decided there could be.

Unfortunately, a moment never presented itself.

We walked to a certain point in which we had to venture off in opposite directions to our vehicles.

Although I felt happy from spending time in his company, I felt a pang of sadness at not having a moment with him.

Maybe it will present itself the next time we are together.

We have plans next week to go see The Clash of the Titans.

Contemplating food

2010-04-10T16:14:00.000-06:00

Although I have a vagina and natural breasts, not the ones made out of material I use for chalking my bathtub to make it waterproof, I do not like to shop. I admit this publicly even though I know my "girl-card" may be in jeopardy of being revoked. Of course, I have a uterus AND I understand baseball statistics, even how to apply them to figure out an accurate earned run average (ERA) for a pitcher so my "girl status" is probably already being reviewed.
Unfortunately, shopping was a necessary evil I had to endure because after working in a casual business environment, in which jeans and t-shirts were acceptable, I did not have attire appropriate for an interview.
Since misery loves company, and I am miserable shopping for clothes for myself, I convinced a friend to go with me.
As it turned out the final mall, and by final I mean the last one I could stand to go into, was located across the street from a Cheesecake Factory.
Cheesecake Factory is as close to an orgasmic experience as I can have with my clothes still on.
Actually, scratch that, I CAN have an orgasmic experience, nothing close about it.
White chocolate blueberry cheesecake. Oh yes, a slice of heaven with whipped cream on top!
We decided to share a piece.
It occurred to me as I was sliding the fork into my mouth, my full concentration on taste experience being transmitted to my brain by my tongue, moaning as the decadence registered, that I could possibly be a food slut.
I don't mean combining sex and food, although there is something erotic about feeding a partner finger food, especially in public, but that wasn't where I was going with my original thought.
Food can be a sensual experience. The aroma of baking bread that wraps around you like a comforting blanket, the enticing scent of garlic roasting, the heat of the oven warming the air, the steam of boiling food weighing heavily in moist droplets being breathed in, the visual display of a scrumptious meal displayed artistically as a palate of colors, the texture, temperature, and various tastes congregating on the tongue make eating an experience that is devoured by the senses.
When all of the senses are involved the memory of the event, not just eating but the events linked with it, is indelible.
Unfortunately that is true of negative events as well as positive ones.
I still remember the anxiety I experienced as a teenager camping for the first time with a boyfriend's family because of rubbery, salty, cold, scrambled eggs. *shiver*
It was the only time in my life I ate eggs with ketchup. I smothered them in ketchup as if the red sauce were the blood that would save my life.
I also remember the nervousness of cooking for my ex-father in law for the first time; the green beans were seasoned so severely in wanting to impress him that they were inedible.
Although there are those memories, most bring a smile to my face, like the first Thanksgiving dinner I cooked for my ex-in-laws that solicited a rare compliment from my mother-in-law.
Of course, these aren't sexually charged memories, but then I never have fully recognized my emotional response to food, so it is possible if I combine sex and food that I might discover a new pleasure.

Duplicity

2010-04-08T09:47:00.006-06:00

One of my favorite podcasters (Is that a word?) is Axe who conducts interviews with a variety of kinky people, both lifestyle and pro over at Masocast.
If you haven't listened to his interviews, you should. They are wonderfully entertaining and I never fail to learn something new with each interview he does.
After listening to the recent interview with Mistress Wynter I couldn't help but wonder if I am the only person on the planet struggling with my kink identity.
Mistress Wynter, like many other Masocast interviewees, are incredibly secure in their kink identities and live their lives without the slightest hesitation in expressing those identities.
There is no conflict, no secret life, or hidden identity. The live openly displaying their sexualities without fear of condemnation or consequences.
Maybe it is because they are living in New York, and perhaps in New York there do not exist the fear of social consequences that exists in my world in Utah.
Maybe it is because Axe is an unmarried male without children that his social circle consists of unmarried people without children.
I have listened to Masocast since it began and I do not recall any of those interviewed mentioning they were parents; single or married.
It is as if New York is the Oz of kink.
It seems the yellow brick road to the land of kink is well kept, the poppy fields blooming along side it and the gates are always opened with welcoming dominants ready to whip and kneeling submissives willing to serve.
Listening to their stories leaves me a bit jealous of their freedom.
It feels fraudulent to purposely create duplicity in my life, to exchange masks depending on the audience, existing in multiple personas that are not allowed to socialize with each other.
It is mind acrobats to remember not to give oneself away in the company of those who would criticize and ostracize.
I live dishonestly every day; sneaking about with my playmates, parading ourselves as a common couple, pretending my kinky sexual nature is only the punchline for a blue joke and feigning interest in kinky sex only as one is interested in a car accident - with a compulsion to look at the horrific.
Conflict between living in the world of kink and in Small Town, U.S.A is as natural to me as the rain falling in April.
Natural. Oppressive. Exhausting.
I am left wondering if my experience is an anomaly or shared by others?

Spring has sprung

2010-04-07T11:03:00.006-06:00

A Spring day should never begin with having to dig out your car from under a pile of snow. That is just wrong on so many levels. But that is Spring in Utah. On a positive note, if you don't like the weather in Utah during Spring, just wait 15 minutes because it will change.
Although the snow hasn't melted, it seems libidos are heating up as my revolving door has again begun to rotate.
Boi is back after his relationship with his live-in girlfriend dissolved with an emotionally dramatic scene during which he claims to have thrown her out of their apartment. Evidently he needs a therapeutic fuck to make his emotional boo-boos all better. It is all a bit boring to me. Although he did let me whip beautiful marks onto his wonderfully chiseled body, sex with him was, for the most part, too vanilla for my current tastes.
Stone is also back although I admit I tracked him down through Facebook. I had been thinking about him recently, some very erotic thoughts that included stringing him up and using a whip, and wanted to check his availability status. Unfortunately, he is still in a relationship with a jealous and possessive woman. I'm not willing to risk being hunted down by a woman scorned for a few hours of play; even though I suspect playing with Stone would be worth the risk. I definitely react to him.
A new player, Sam, someone I have chatted online with for quite some time but haven't had the opportunity to meet is wanting to explore his submissive side with me. He had a first time experience with two Dommes that didn't go badly but didn't go well either. In discussing the experience with me, the positives and the negatives, he mentioned he thought he and I would be a good match. I am hesitant to commit to anything beyond meeting in person in a public place for a casual meeting as a first step. It has been my experience that online "attraction" doesn't always translate into real life.
Subject X and I are no longer experimenting due to his schedule but there is still an interest there. I think we will continue when he finishes the class he is currently taking. We are still playing when time permits but the intensity has diminished quite a lot. It is still enjoyable to play with him but somewhat anticlimactic after our previously intense sessions.
Then there is the return of JW.
Oh, JW.
It has been a couple years since we have played and I remember details of our sessions as if they happened only hours ago.
The chemistry between us was lightening strikes during a summer storm; powerful, fascinating and pulse surging.
Our time together passed as quickly as a summer storm too.
Then he just appeared on IM.
I could never quite convince myself to delete him from my buddy list.
I sent him an instant message as if I were sending a message through a seance to a spirit.
It was the beginning of several days worth of conversations.
He is currently in a land far away serving the military. He is a reservist. He is coming back relatively soon, although the exact date I don't know.
He isn't coming back to a wife; JW is no longer married.
Purely selfish elation knowing he was available.
We chatted online until 3am, greedy for each other, as if time hadn't passed.
When we weren't chatting online, we were e-mailing each other.
His writing can bring a broad smile to my face, a blush in my cheeks or an ache in my cunt.
Within just a few days he created a greediness in me for him.
My submissive side reacts so strongly to him that I lose my breath thinking about being with him.
I haven't heard from him in a week because his unit is preparing to deploy.
It seems like a month. Or longer.
He said not to worry, that he wouldn't disappear again, but I am not convinced.
I am hoping every day to hear from him again.

Take this job and shove it...

2010-04-04T21:08:00.004-06:00

It was 4:00pm on Friday and my boss said the words, "Can I see you in my office?"
I knew I was going to be fired. Firing employees is what happens at 4:00pm on Fridays.
I had known my time with the company was limited. I had begun a couple weeks ago to send out my resume and hadn't bothered to returned any personal items to my desk after we moved our offices three weeks ago.
I had just hoped to find employment elsewhere before the buzzer went off and "game over" was called.
It sucks to be fired, even from a job I was actively planning to leave.
It sucks because I know the reasons why I was fired have nothing to do with my work performance but with my inability to work for incompetent management.
During my interview I warned my employer not to hire me if they were seeking someone who would never challenge status quo, who wouldn't make suggestions on improving processes, and who would always say, "yes,sir,you right,sir" because that isn't me.
It turns out they wasted both their time and mine by not listening to me.
To be fair, they were decent in giving me a month's salary as severance. Ironic since one of my loudest complaints was their lack of paid personal time off.
Although I am sure to have moments, possibly extended moments, of wallowing in self-pity, currently I am forging ahead optimistically.
I am applying my qualifications and experience to an expanding list of job titles. I have sent out half a dozen resumes for familiar jobs and for some I hadn't known existed before.
I have been encouraged to find job openings for which I am qualified that pay decent salaries.
Perhaps, if I remain open to the Universe and continue to search diligently, it will bring me fortune in the form of a well paying job.

Saying good-bye to a friend

2010-03-30T22:16:00.004-06:00

I had missed the call because I was conducting a training class at work.
I had felt the vibration of my cell phone in my pocket and made a mental note to listen to the voice message during the next break.
My next break came at 3:45 p.m..
I grabbed a bottle of water from the break room fridge, flipped open my phone, and was picking up packets of training material to take back to the training room when the words stopped me short, the papers almost falling from my grasp.
"Charity* died. Her funeral is today at 4 o'clock."
I must have gasped or said something to alert others of my shock because concerned co-workers were asking me what was wrong.
I heard them but not really, they were noise in the background that my mind registered on a subconscious level.
I had to focus to make sense of the voicemail. My mind kept processing individual words: Charity, died, funeral, today, 4 o'clock.
I couldn't comprehend what it all meant.
A co-worker asked me something and I must have answered, although I don't remember, because she said, "It's nearly 4 o'clock now. Where is it?"
I didn't know.
The numbness gave way to anxiety. My friend's funeral was being held in minutes and I didn't know where.
I pulled up the obituary for our city newspaper hoping to find where the services were being held.
Nothing. No notice of her passing.
I pulled up the large regional newspaper obituaries.
Again, nothing.
Finally, as horrible as I felt for imposing at such an emotional time as during a funeral, I texted my friend's husband, "I got your message. Where are the services?"
He texted me back.
The church was only a couple miles from where I was; I grabbed my purse and ran out the door.
I wasn't dressed in the traditional black but in a colorful sweater. I worried for a moment at the appropriateness of going to funeral services in cheerful Spring colors.
I didn't know I would be attending a funeral when I dressed for work that morning.
I wanted to give my respects and I knew that Charity wouldn't have cared if I showed up wearing an Easter Bunny costume.
Her daughter was at the podium speaking about her.
I came in quietly and sat in the back.
"My mother said she had so many tests done in the last year for so many things that she was sure she'd find out she had a bad prostate too."

I smiled.
Charity's sense of humor was as constant as the sun rising.
Her son, in his military dress uniform, stood next at the podium. He told a heartwarming story of his mother, worried for her son's life, telling him before he went into battle, "Don't do anything stupid and don't let anyone stupid do anything to you."
Charity was never one to mince words.
Charity's husband spoke next.
He told a sweet story of how Charity, then a truck driver, led a group of other truck drivers to safety during a white-out blizzard.
She always said she preferred to do things herself because then she knew things would be done right.
Then a frazzled woman I didn't know came to the podium balancing a toddler on her hip and breathing heavily from trying to keep the boy controlled.
She introduced herself as Sister So-and-So, Charity's home teacher.
It was the second shock of my day.
The Charity I knew wasn't religious. She enjoyed drinking alcohol, didn't hesitate to show off her boobs, freely talked about sex, and occasionally smoked a joint.
The woman that Sister So-and-So spoke about wasn't someone I knew.
But she didn't say more than a couple sentences about Charity before she began to "give testimony" about Jesus Christ.
Out of frustration I tuned her out.
I was there to honor and remember a friend. I was not there for a sermon.
I didn't care how Jesus Christ changed this woman's life. I cared about how Charity had changed mine.
I was thankful when the woman finally said her "amen" and left the podium.
Then an older man with white hair wearing a dark blue suit and matching tie stood to speak.
He introduced himself as the Bishop of the local ward.
I didn't know the woman he spoke about either; a woman who had a strong testimony of Jesus Christ and impressed him with her quiet demeanor.
I could have forgiven that he didn't know the same woman I did if he didn't spend nearly 10 minutes giving his personal testimony to Jesus Christ.
With each religiously saturated word he spoke I felt myself choking more and more for air.
I was about to sneak out when he finally said, "amen" and stepped down.
Anyone who wanted to speak about Charity was invited to come forth.
I went forth.
My heart was full of sympathy as faces of friends sadly smiled at me as I situated the microphone.
I began honestly, "To be Charity's friend meant giving up your personal space and sharing it with her, either willingly or simply because she demanded it." I told my story of the first night I came to bowling league without my husband and with another male partner. I told how uncomfortable I felt because it seemed everyone was whispering their conjectures about me and my bowling partner. I told of how Charity, someone I barely knew at the time, sat at my table without hesitation or pretense, leaned her face within inches of mine and asked, "Are you dating that man?" That was the beginning of our friendship. Her honesty, directness, and genuine caring touched my heart.
I am already missing her.

*Charity is not her real name.

Simplicity

2010-03-21T00:40:00.004-06:00

I found myself with a free day pass this week-end.
It was unexpected.
I thought I would be spending the day catching up on the domestic chores I have been neglecting and finishing homework assignments.
I did finish my homework assignments but was pleasantly detoured from doing chores.
Spring fever had hit and the walls were closing in on me.
I was out roaming a shopping complex just to get out of the house.
As it happened I ran into a friend I have played with occassionally for several years who was killing time before catching a flight for a work trip.
He had several hours and I didn't have any plans so we ended up in a motel room.
His kink is Daddy/little girl role playing.
Although, during our time together we switched roles to Mommy/little boy - something I've never done before because I didn't think I would like it- and it was hot.
I love playing with another switch when there is good chemistry. Although, I have played with him for several years and never realized he was a switch. He'd always been in the dominate role. I can't specify for certain what he did or said that made me realize he wanted to be in the submissive position, but it was a comfortable switch, no friction or uncomfortableness.
It was effortless to go back and forth, working intuitively from each other wants and desires without a verbal script.
Since it was random that we got together neither of us had toys to add to the scene, so we went into the role playing deeper than we usually do.
Our voices changed, we used language differently, called each other names, and created fantasy situations that we acted out.
It was so arousing to play off of each other instead of using toys as the central component.
Exchanging power through role switching with only our minds and bodies; no tools, equipment, or props. There was a continuous flow of energy between us; no interuptions of setting up equipment, stopping to get a toy or fumbling with a prop.
It was basic. Raw. Intense.
It reminded me of how pleasurable an experience can be without all the complexity that is sometimes more binding in BDSM than actual bondage.

Life in the right lane

2010-03-15T21:53:00.004-06:00

Yes, on paper, life has been a bit boring.
No exciting sexual exploits to write about.
I have had good sex; a half-drunk fuck while half-undressed, a quickie during lunch from work, and well meaning if not well orchestrated date sex.
Vanilla has been the flavor of the month since Subject X has left for his vacation.
However, life isn't all about sex. *gasp*
I have been dealing with an annoying health issues.
It isn't dramatic but it is interfering with my daily life and has been for nearly 6 months.
I am starting to get pissed about it.
I think all health problems eventually mess up a person's sex life because when a person doesn't physically feel good sex isn't as enjoyable.
I have had two occasions recently of being wound like a top and ready for crazy hot sex, only to be screaming in frustration because of my annoying health problem instead of from orgasms.
Medication should make it go away permanently but it isn't. Now my body isn't responding to the medication as successfully as it was 6 months ago.
In my effort to discover the cause of the problem I was diagnosed with kidney stones.
Explains the constant ache beneath my ribs on my right side like I was sucker punched in a boxing match.
I don't box so I was a little bewildered by it. Mystery solved.
According to my doctor they are "small" - now, I have issues with anything foreign in my kidney being dismissed as small - a pebble in an ocean, yeah, that's small but also the fucking pebble BELONGS in the ocean. Damn stones do not belong in my kidney.
Onto another body part - my ankle is healing well. I am still limping a little, especially at the end of the day, but otherwise I'm ready to dance an Irish jig for St. Patty's Day.
Okay, maybe not quite an Irish jig but I could manage the Texas Two-Step.
School is kicking my ass.
I have been taking classes non-stop since September; this is the beginning of week three of my fifth class.
I'm taking a week break after this class is finished.
I am truly enjoying my classes but I have spent many week-ends at home in front of the computer finishing an assignment instead of being getting drunk and committing some illegal sex act.

"Utah state legislation outlaws all sex with anyone but your spouse. Next to that
adultery, oral and anal sex, masturbation are considered sodomy and can lead to
imprisonment. Sex with an animal - unless performed for profit - however is not
considered sodomy. Polygamy - provided only the missionary position has been
applied - is only a misdemeanor (http://www.jamesfuqua.com/lawyers/jokes/sex_laws.shtml)."

I am beginning to feel like that nerd in high school who spent Saturday nights in the research section of the library instead of in the cheering section of the football bleachers.
Of course, that nerd is probably a multi-millionaire now...
Okay, that's depressing, let's move on.
My point is I need to balance being a bookworm and having a social life.
Although, recently my friends have started hanging out at the local bowling alley bar listening to karaoke.
Welcome to Small Town, America where the most happening place is a bad cliche.
"I love you, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face the fact you're a goddamn moron."
I tried it.
"At least I'm housebroken"
I just c-o-u-l-d-n-t...
"What ya do for recreation?"
"Oh, the usual. I bowl. Drive around. The occasional acid flashback."
[Please Google "The Big Lebowski"]
Maybe I'm not missing much.

Subject X: update

2010-02-26T20:07:00.007-07:00

Subject X is leaving next week for vacation for a couple weeks so the experiment will be postponed because he will run out of Provera pills while he is gone.
It is unfortunate timing.

I have decided the Provera needs to be replaced with stronger anti-androgen drugs. It took doing research and discussing options with medical professionals, who are into kink, to decide on which drug.

Yes, there are benefits to working in the health care industry, although let's be clear that medical scenes involving needles, examine tables, and scopes of any kind aren't my kink.

Unfortunately, I had to order the medication on-line. Hence the unfortunate timing as it won't be delivered until after Subject X has left. By the delivery schedule; a day after. Argh.

I decided stronger drugs are needed because Subject X has been able to become erect, masturbate and ejaculate almost every day. Although he is ejaculating barely enough to fill a teaspoon.

Of course, at this point, he is doing it just to be bratty.

He is challenging me each time he purposely becomes hard to take control of his cock.

The sexual tension has ebbed and flowed depending on the time and energy I have had available to devote to him.

I haven't had the time available to play with him as often as I would like.

I haven't had a lot of free time, or energy for that matter, after work, school, parenting, taking care of homestead and trying to have a minute of social interaction.

I am three weeks into a five week class and then I will have an entire week without class.
I plan on taking advantage of time off...to get off.

Experimenting

2010-02-13T14:59:00.008-07:00

The lure of BDSM for me is about the psychological aspects more than the physical aspects.
It has been difficult to connect with a submissive male who agrees with me.
I am sure there are a multitude of reasons including media portrayal of D/s as a purely physical act, the evolution of the male species being centered around their dicks and the issues of trust that are involved in engaging another person's psyche.
I'm not going to analyze all the reasons but will just say that finding a male willing to be psychologically dominated and who enjoys it without their masculinity or mental status being threatened is a lot like finding a pig that can fly.
Maybe it took me so long to discover such an animal because I like the taste of bacon too much to have had the patience to notice if any of the pigs I have encountered had wings.

And yes, I just referred to men as pigs. [smile]

However, I have found a submissive male who has the mental strength to be psychologically dominated.
I suppose it seems a contradiction that a male must possess superior mental capabilities to be dominated psychologically, but it is required. At least it is a requirement for me. Otherwise, dominating him is equivalent to interacting with the underdeveloped mind of a child. No fun at all.
It is the challenge of creating thought patterns designed to illicit submissive behavior within a rationally resistant mind that is intoxicating to me.
We are experimenting.
Subject X masturbates 4-6 times a week and has average sexual activity with partners.
Many scientific studies have concluded that men think with their dicks.
Okay, maybe not scientific but...well, it's one of the absolute truths of the Universe so let's just accept it.
So, if one wants to control a man's mind, a good place to start is by controlling his dick.
That is where my experiment with Subject X begins; with controlling his dick.
We are experimenting with "chemical castration".
The term is a misnomer in that it refers the administration of medication to reduce libido and sexual activity. The penis remains functional but the desire to fuck is diminished. Some studies - and yes there actually have been studies on chemical castration - suggest sex drive is decreased by 96% of normal.
The most common medication used is Depo-Provera, and injection that last 3 months that was originally intended as birth control.
Well, Provera also comes in pill form and can be easily ordered over the Internet.
Of course, females of child bearing age can get a prescription for it fairly easily as well but as I have had a tubal ligation, not a medication I can convince my doctor I need.
Subject X has been taking one 10mg Provera pill for the past 7 days.
He has purposely masturbated 5 out of the 7 days to measure the amount of his cum. He has noticed a decrease in the amount, that it takes longer for him to cum and that he becomes softer quicker after ejaculating.
He also said he had to rub his cock before sex with a partner, for about 10 minutes and that he become semi-soft during the sex, although he was able to cum.
The idea of having him taking Provera is to bring him to ground zero.
To control his cock as a method of controlling him, completely.
He wants to experience having a female control when he is allowed to have an erection, masturbate, have sex and cum.
The theory we are testing is that in controlling his sexuality I will also, eventually, have control over his sexual thoughts.
The results have been promising that we will prove the theory correct.
More on that later...

Good things are happening.

2010-02-10T19:01:00.003-07:00

I am standing upright to take a shower again! After a week of sponge bathing and another week of sitting on a stool with one leg wrapped in plastic and over the edge of the tub, I am glad to standing on two feet to shower.
I am still leaning to the left a little but hey that's the way my politics go too, so it's all good.

I became a New Orleans Saints fan in 1998 when Kyle Turley, born and raised in Utah, was drafted onto the team.
He was the epitome of a football player. Big. Mean. Loyal. Tough. Rough. And played a little a dirty. I own a Kyle Turley Saints jersey.
I wore it proudly Sunday for Super Bowl - yes, I know, Turley hasn't been with the Saints since 2002 - and took bets that my Saints would whoop pony ass (as in Colts).
Oh yeah, collecting those bets was sweeeeeet. I was one of three Saints fan in the crowd.
My Jeremy Shockey jersey is on order. A Colt's fan ordered it for me, right after the game from is iPhone with me looking over his shoulder. *big smile*

I discovered an active BDSM group in Utah!
Utah Power Exchange.
I am very excited to be evolving from a closet kinkster to a semi-public one.
My identity as a woman who participates in kink has slowly been expanding from a private identity to a more public one.
I have friends in my circle who know I am kinky, who are kinky themselves, and who support me without judgement.
I also have vanilla friends who are curious about kink and although remain predominantly straight, let me influence them to be a little twisted.
In a recent conversation about collars and leashes I made the statement, "Don't knock it until you try it" instead of averting eye contact and swallowing a nervous laugh.
I am beginning to feel a confidence in being more extroverted about my sexual and lifestyle preferences.
I am still not ready to climb on the roof and begin shouting, "I like to fuck men in the ass with a strap on!" but I am developing my sexual identity to be less shrouded in pretense and more openly honest.
Although I am enjoying the evolution, it is scary.
I still live in a small rural city where "red neck" isn't a derogatory term but a title of pride and heritage.
Feminism is the other "f" word and women's rights refers to the choice a woman can make on if she wants to make dinner for her man at 5:30 p.m. or 6:00 p.m.
Sexual liberation refers to that section in the library on "making babies".
Thankfully the UPEX operates mostly out of Salt Lake valley which is close enough for me to make a drive but far enough away to be in the open without the fear of being strung up in a tree with a yellow tag on my ear.
I have already asked a friend of mine if he will attend a munch with me after my ankle heals and I can drive again. He was enthusiastic about accepting my invitation. I will glad to have his company.
I am also excited in meeting other people who are like minded and attending the workshops.
I am feeling like an elementary student graduating to junior high.
Eventually, I might make it to BDSM high school to play with the big kids.

Have a cake and eat it too...

2010-01-31T21:15:00.002-07:00

This is the creation I made for my son's birthday. It is a bowling ball cake.
Believe it or not the frosting is cream cheese and the cake is strawberry.
The bowling pins on the outside are sugar "paper" and edible, however the ones on top are plastic and not so edible. Unless you're my dogs, then, well, everything is edible.
Including light bulbs.

Yes, I know, this has absolutely nothing to do with kink, but then, most of my life has absolutely nothing to do with kink.

Especially recently.

So I am sharing.

I can do that since this is my blog. :)

Everything happens for a reason

2010-01-29T18:48:00.004-07:00

Every once in a while I discover a gem in my e-mail.
It is polished. Shiny. Bright.
I have to share:

"I was struck with the thought that, after no doubt being run ragged juggling
being a parent, a student, and an employee, you needed a little down time... and
this kind of accident was the only way it was going to happen!
It may also be that you were forgetting how great your friends are (and maybe had too little time for them) - and you have now been reminded how great they are in a big way!"
I wanted to say thank you to the person who was caring enough to write this to me.
You are right.
I didn't know exactly how right until I was forced by a fractured ankle to allow people to do something I hadn't allowed in a very long time...to take care of me.
It is a contradiction to be a dominant person who needs to be taken care of.
But it is exactly who and where I am currently in my life.
Since my injury I have not been able to drive and have had limited physical mobility to do daily tasks such as cooking, cleaning and doing laundry.
I have had family and friends providing for me by way of cooking me meals, cleaning my house, and driving me to work, to the store or whereever I have need to go.
I have been reminded that I am cared for and have people in my life willing to take care of me because they feel I am worth being care for.
It is a tremendous feeling to know that people feel that way about me.
It is something I needed to be reminded of and perhaps the reason the Fates gave me a shove off my steps and into the care of others.

Mr. Clean

2010-01-26T10:42:00.003-07:00

I admit it, having to be dependent on others due to my fractured ankle was taking a toll on my mood.
I prefer independence and never having been dependent on anyone since becoming an adult, this experience of dependency was making me depressed and cranky.
I was reluctant to agree to have him come over as I simply felt out of sorts and not at all capable of being dominant.
He came prepared with a bucket full of cleaning products and rags. In his truck was a shovel, a broom and a hose.
He began on cleaning the dogs' kennel.
As it had been a week since it was last cleaned, it was not an enviable task.
He was thorough in remembering how I had said I wanted it done.
I smiled in spite of my dower mood.
Inside he asked politely if he could clean and arrange the downstairs for me.
I gave him permission and watched him move furniture, vacuum and clean my carpets.
There was no expectation of reward, he was there performing these services for me to make my life easier.
It felt so intimate.
It was touching.
Once he was finished with the downstairs he asked if he could clean my kitchen for me.
I gave him permission but only if he stripped to put on ankle and wrist cuffs and a collar.
He thanked me and immediately went to get the cuffs and collar.
As he stripped for me he was nearly giddy.
I was inspired by watching his beautiful body in motion to get the riding crop to smack his ass, back of his thighs and balls with it while he washed dishes and cleaned counters.
I made him spread his legs wide while he was standing at the sink and slapped his balls from behind with the crop.
I loved hearing his noises as he concentrated on finishing his task as if his balls weren't being abused.
I watched as his body tensed, then slowly relax between each hit, and then tense again with the sound of the leather slapping against his scrotum.
I could stand only for short periods as I was balancing the swing of the riding crop with a crutch under one arm and a supportive boot on my leg.
When I tired, which was frequently, I would sit and call him over to stand before me, giving me access to his cock and balls.
I loved watching as his balls swell from being slapped, becoming a deep shiny red and how hard his cock remained throughout.
Before he began to wash the floor I asked him to get a dildo from the toy drawer that he would like to have in his ass.
He was so enthusiatic in scampering off that I couldn't help but giggle. His energy was infectious.
I wasn't able to use the strap-on due to my injury but I was able to randomly insert the dildo into his ass as he was washing the floor on his hands and knees.
I loved how he would offer his ass to me and moan as I insterted the dildo. He so enjoys having his ass fucked that watching him enjoy it is a turn on. (Maybe that's a bit of my submissive side coming out?)
I was wanting sexual release but knew I would be risking further injury to my ankle, so I refrained but allowed him to stroke his cock off wearing rubber gloves and cumming into the cleaning pail. I liked the continuation of the theme.
He thanked me for allowing him to serve me and allowing him to cum.
He also said he would return the next day to clean the upper floor of the house.
I sat on the couch after he had left, breathing in the scent of clean and enjoying the peace of being in an organized space and felt so incredibly pampered.
I was looking forward to the next day...

The year...so far

2010-01-23T21:12:00.004-07:00

The year began dismally, with no celebration of champagne, music and tinny horns, but instead with a fever spiking high to cause hallucinations, lost days spent in bed and sheets in need of changing.
I recovered and there was a celebration, not of the new year but of the twelfth year since I gave birth to my son.
He invited girls to his birthday party of rolling balls down alleys and aiming laser guns at glowing targets affixed to high tech vests.
I was quietly glad when only boys attended.
I met my yearly challenge in producing a 3-dimension bowling ball cake complete with bowling pins, x's and /'s and black frosting.
I will be posting pictures. It was a proud moment.
As the first month of the first year progressed my first anniversary at my job found me being denied a raise but given a written warning.
I wrote my response to my written warning in my resignation letter.
I used phrases such as "incompetent management", "complete lack of training", "inadequate tools to perform my job duties", "unfulfilled promises and ignored requests" and "ineffective policies and procedures".
Had it not been for a co-worker noticing the quiet packing of a few personal items into my purse, I would have left the office before the papers I tossed on my manager's desk settled.
I may have regretted my hasty decision but I sincerely doubt it.
As it turned out I was talked into not quitting by the president of the company, but more so by my own rationale once my temper dissipated.
I will complete my degree in 22 months.
If I were not old enough to realize how quickly time passes, that would seem like a forever from now, but I know better.
I am enjoying earning my learning experience.
I feel productive when I learn.
My productivity beyond learning has been limited by a sheet of ice on my front steps.
I took two of the three at once in a graceful maneuver that landed me in the emergency room.
Two fractures in my ankle, one going upward and one going diagonally.
My first bone fracture and an experience that redefined pain for me.
My friends are awesome.
I have been spoiled. Cooked meals, chauffered, my carpets cleaned, my floors mopped, my laundry done, my dogs' kennel cleaned out and my dishes washed, dried and put away.
Spoiled. Rotten. I have awesome friends.
So, those are the basics of the how the year has been...so far.

Love Stinks

2009-12-17T15:21:00.001-07:00

I know, I have been neglectful of this blog. It isn't intentional. Between work, home, school work and trying to have a resemblance of a social life to keep me sane, I have found I have little time to devote to writing here.
Living life always trumps writing about it.
There is a lot to write about.
First, I am healing.
It is a slow process to heal the heart when it is wounded by the betrayal of love.
Anyone remember the J. Geils Band's, "Love Stinks"?
Although, I did find a certain twisted satisfaction in learning his girlfriend's female parts are broken and she isn't capable of engaging in sexual activities beyond using her mouth and hands.
BE admitted to me they don't have sex "all that often".
If you listen real close, with the window shut to outside noise, and hold your breath, you can hear my heart break for him.
I also learned of her being drunk at the bar she tends, lifting her shirt to show her tits to anyone who would look.
Classy.
This is a small town, people I know, know her and her husband. One of them told me where she lives, another told me of her Facebook account, which lists herself as married (what a joke) and I found her home phone number and husband's email address. Bless the Internet and all its search capabilities.
I haven't done anything with the information but when I am in vindictive mood I think about sending an anonymous email asking if he knows she is fucking around on him.
I think about giving him BE's address so he can locate her when she doesn't come home in the morning.
I think about knocking on the door while she is home with her husband and children, all four of them, and telling them about her affair with BE.
I think about typing a note that lists all the ways I have to contact her husband, telling her that if she doesn't break it off with BE, I will contact her husband.
It can't be said I don't have self-control because if I didn't I would have already acted.
But she's not worth it. And he's not worth it.

Got milk?

2009-11-26T19:09:00.004-07:00

I have received two communications today from BE, one text and one e-mail.
The text came shortly after he came to my mom's house to pick up our son to take to his family's Thanksgiving celebration.
I knew I was going to have to see him, there was no way to avoid it, not without making everyone else uncomfortable, so I had my hair done, bought a new outfit and carefully applied my make-up.
I was going to be damned if he saw me broken.
The text read: "This may be bad timing but I thought you looked absolutely astounding."
I didn't respond.
It was the reaction I wanted and I didn't feel a need to go beyond feeling satisfied with it.
The e-mail read, "Do you want to hook up for just sex? I thought a game of strip pool would be fun."
I haven't responded to the e-mail either.
Do I feel gratified that he asked?
Yes, it is gratifying to know his sex life with the woman he left me for isn't satisfying.
It is gratifying to know I am still in his thoughts, that I still effect him on some level.
She has a Facebook page, so maybe I should post both the text and the e-mail in that public forum for her to be humiliated by him like I was humiliated.
I have other thoughts too, like having sex with him just to video tape it without his knowledge.
I could give her a nicely wrapped little Christmas present to watch.
Or have a "concerned" mutual friend text her to let her know I am at his house, so she can experience the pain of finding the man she cares about with another woman. Not just any other woman but the one she so selfishly caused pain.
Although, my favorite is to drop by the bar she works at on the way to his house and tell her to her face where I am going and why.
Yes, I want revenge.
Yes, I want to hurt her by extracting revenge.
Yes, I want to mess up her relationship with him as profoundly as she messed up my marriage.
Will I?
No, I won't be his whore because his girlfriend and him are not, and I quote him, "compatible sexually."
Oh-boo-fucking-hoo.

What is that saying about getting the milk for free? Yeah, well, this cow has a price tag and since he's not willing to pay it, I rather my milk curdle into soured cottage cheese before I give it to him again.

He made his bed and if he isn't satisfied fucking her, well, then he can go fuck himself.

I know he owns the toys to do it.

Maybe I'll just put a package of batteries in his mailbox with that suggestion.

Broken into pieces

2009-11-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

I have to begin.
I have spent the last month trying every day to begin.
I have been devastated.
Devastated by hope.
The hope I could reconcile my relationship with...I can't use the term "husband" any longer...it doesn't apply and it is painful...so, reconcile with BE who was previously my husband.
Now he is another woman's boyfriend.
He has made the choice to dissolve our relationship completely.
After asking me to move across country, to being our life anew as husband and wife with our son, it was after he asked that I drove by his house to find her car in his driveway at 2:47 in the morning.
I am not proud of my reaction.
It was the reaction of profound pain caused by the loss of hope.
"Just friends".
I fucking hate that term with every fiber of my being.
I smashed in his front door, not knowing that I could, not knowing that I had the strength but I find the strength in the intense anger I felt at being betrayed.
She was there, in his bed, but of course, I didn't understand. I had it all wrong.
Until I was right, she was more than just a friend, a fact that he admitted to me days later after clarifying that the sex he had with me the day before shouldn't be misunderstood as something more than...more than him just using me for sex.
I already knew I was right. I wasn't the last to know. I was the last he told the truth to.
Our relationship can't be fixed. He repeated those words, "it can't be fixed" like a mantra.
He believes it.
I believe every problem, no matter the size and scope, has a solution.
He has moved on.
Moved on while giving me hope.
I went to her place of employment, a bar, THE bar, the local hangout for all my friends and all of her friends, everyone knowing our situation, knowing of my humiliation.
I told her I would forgive her.
It only took a few sentences for me to understand he lied to her as he did to me.
I am different than her in that I know when he is lying.
She still believes him.
She admitted to being selfish.
I agreed with her.
She is married. She is living with her husband but yet she "needed" to be with mine.
She pleaded her innocence in not knowing BE and I were still together.
Liar.
Both of them are liars.
Her story is she is frightened of being diagnosed with the same cancer that killed her mother.
Cancer is too slow of a death. I want it to happen sooner. I want her to be a two dimensional obituary in a newspaper I can throw away in the trash beneath the dog shit from my kennel.
I had moved on after he left the first time and he came back into my life with promises of honesty and rebuilding our relationship for a future.
I let him.
I love him.
Loved.
The line that separates love and hate isn't visible but it is audible, it can be heard in the lies.
He's sorry.
She's sorry.
I am so fucking sick of people saying they are sorry as they are making decisions that devastate me. Knowing the pain they are causing and not being too selfish to do anything but continue to cause it.
I begged for two days.
I was broken. My life was broken. I wanted it and me fixed.
I am still broken but less now than I was because I have a son who depends on me not to be broken.
I stopped begging. I stopped talking to him.
I won't allow him to talk me into hoping again.
I don't want to hear his words if there is no hope.
I don't want to hear him talk about her. Them. Together. Their hope.
I need to begin again.
I need a beginning that doesn't include him.
I told him to file the divorce. I won't do it. I won't contest it.
I changed my name. I need to disconnect my identity from him.
It was symbolic, a taking back of the person I was before he came into my life, reclaiming my identity.
Every day I revise my plan, my plan to build a life without him, and every day I make an effort toward that goal.
I am still hurting. Profoundly.
The tears haven't stopped but they are becoming less frequent, less erratic.
The pieces of my life, of myself, they are like a puzzle on the shelf of a second-hand shop, stored in a ripped box that has been tapped up.
I don't know if all the pieces are there. The shapes, sizes, colors and textures are all foreign to me. I don't even know what I will have when I put them together.
I spend every day trying to find them again, trying to decide where they are best placed and examining what they will be when they are all connected.

Confused and conflicted

2009-10-31T13:15:00.006-06:00

My sessions with WK have always been about escapism.
Our play has been about creating an empirical place that is derived from the fantasies that exist in our imaginative thoughts.
It has been about escaping the responsibilities, expectations, standards and obligations imposed on us by every entity and person in our lives from the goverment to ourselves.
In our sessions we create a nothingness that allows us to bring forth our fantasies that only exist because everything real has ceased to exist while we play.
During our play we suspend reality. We create an alternative. Reality and the alternate we created did not exist at the same space or time.
Now, with the line crossed, it does.
Now his wife in an unknowing player in our play.
Now our play is no longer separated from our reality.
I don't know how I feel about it...other than confused...guilty and yes, to the detriment of my character, excited.
WK was my playmate years before he was a married man.
That was my justification.
Although I never admitted it, not even to myself, there was a power shift when she came into his life because she become more to him as his wife than I am to him as his playmate.
I never admitted it but I respected it because I was someone's wife so I understood it was the natural order of things, it was the right order of things.
Now...now with fantasy influencing reality, shifting the power...I'm conflicted.

Lines

2009-10-28T22:34:00.000-06:00

Once the line is crossed, once you are standing on the other side of it, it can be difficult to determine how you got there.
I may not fully understand the path we took that led us to the edge of the line, but I know the moment we crossed it.
The clarity of that moment isn't soon to fade.
It began, as our play time together usually did, with him standing naked before me, the clothes he had handed to me neatly folded in a pile and set aside.
I had other clothes for him to wear; silk stockings, garter belt, pretty lace panties and a corset.
I watched as he dressed, beginning the transformation and when I pulled the strings constricting his waist to a mere 26 inches, my body reacted.
I became so focused on him I forgot anything existed outside of the walls of the room we were in.
I pulled from the closet the flouncy skirt, feminine blouse and high heeled shoes, handing them to him so I could continue to watch as the transformation progressed.
I do enjoy watching him.
It seems he never looses his shyness in dressing for me.
I applied the final touches of mascara, glossy lipstick and page boy wig with hands I barely kept steady as anticipation surged through my nerve endings making my body vibrate.
When I was finished, I made him turn for me, letting me see him as I made him, completely transformed.
That is how he gives himself to me, by letting me know his secret, by sharing it with me and having me be a part of it.
It is that we share this secret with only each other that excites me.
Once I finished my inspection, I instructed him to lift up his skirt and show me his cock tucked in the pretty panties I bought for him.
He bunched his skirt in one fist, the material being pulled upward one finger at a time until he grasped enough to pull it to his waist and then pulled the white lace panties down over his cock, letting it spring out.
He has a gorgeous cock.
I told him this and he blushed, his eyes cast down as he shyly said, "thank you".
His cock was only semi-erect, not from a lack of desire but because he had purposely taken pills to decrease his ability to get hard.
He had taken them for a week and had not been able to become erect for five days.
For five days, with our session planned, he purposely had taken pills that made him physically unable to fuck his wife.
The line had begun to blur.
I sat on the edge of the bed and told him to bring his cock to me.
The small sounds he made sent a thrill through me that pulsated in my cunt.
I love sucking his soft cock.
The feeling of it stuffed in my mouth, rolling my tongue around it, having it so pliable and easily manipulated was delicious.
As I sucked, listening to his whimpers, my cunt began to throb with need.
It was a pill that took away his erection, it would be another one that would give it back.
"You will be hard for me". I placed the pill on his tongue and gave him a glass of water for him to swallow.
I positioned myself with my ass nearly off the edge of the bed, my knees up and legs spread, my pussy exposed and ordered him to use his semi-erect cock to make me cum.
He got between my legs, his cock in his hand and began to rub it like a dildo between my pussy lips and over my clit.
It felt so incredible to have him rubbing the ache, increasing it, until my orgasm gushed to give me relief from it.
But it was a momentary relief, I craved his cock inside of me and nothing else would fully satisfy me.
I made him stand, his hands at his side, his cock peeking out beneath the hem of his skirt.
"Is your cock hard for me?"
"Yes." He said it as if it caused him pain.
"You couldn't get your cock hard all week, could you?"
"No."
"You took those pills knowing your cock would be useless, didn't you?"
"Oh...yes."
"You knew you wouldn't be able to fuck while you were taking them, didn't you?"
"Oh, gawd, yes, yes, I knew."
His voice with nearly inaudible, a child who had gotten caught doing something bad.
"Tell me."
"I took those pills knowing I wouldn't be able to fuck my wife."
There.
That is when the line evaporated.
"You want your cock in my pussy don't you?"
"Yes, please, yes."
I instructed him onto the bed, on his back, so I could tie his wrists together over his head.
I flipped up his skirt, his cock was engorged and wanted it buried in my cunt.
I straddled him, spreading my pussy over his cock and grinded.
"Do you have to think about being dressed to get hard for her?"
"Oh, gawd, yes, it's so bad." His voice was raw with the conflict he felt and my orgasm flooded over him in response.
I felt mad to have his cock in me, so maneuvered and slid down his length slowly, feeling as he filled me, it was ecstasy.
His groans were maddening.
"You think about this don't you? When you're fucking your wife?"
"Oh, please..." He thrashed, the lust of his body and conflict of his mind colliding.
"Tell me."
"Oh, yes, I think about you when I'm fucking her...you control my cock...it belongs to you."
It was an intense explosion, his cock inside of me and my cunt wrapped around him.

With no lines to restrict us, now what?

(more thoughts on this later)

I say "fork" it

2009-10-15T18:51:00.000-06:00

I was introduced to this beautiful little tool, called a tuning fork, by a friend of mine who is massage therapist. He is not only very skilled in using it as an effective massage tool but also in using it to stimulate my sexual parts.
In the case of massage, he rubbed down my shoulders and upper back first using manual manipulation and Reike energy (A Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing by using the "life force" energy in our bodies.)

The pressure of his manipulations was too much for my knotted up and extremely sore muscles to take, even with the warmth being generated by his Reike technique through his hands.
It was a good hurt but it was a hurt that became more intense with each touch and I couldn't endure it long enough for him to work my muscles into a proper state of relaxation. A masochist I am not.

He pulled out the tuning fork, explaining the low sound frequency (the vibration) would relax my muscles and relieve the pain sensation by aligning the Chakras (energy centers) of the body.

I have had Reike massage before and understood the concept, have even benefited from the practice of it in the past and so didn't have any hesitation in allowing him to use the tuning fork.

The sensation of having the tuning fork placed on my body and spreading vibrations through my muscles to the depth of my bones was incredibly relaxing.
I felt the pain relief almost instantly as if the tuning fork was a magnetic that pulled it out of my body.

He used the tuning fork at the base of my neck, across my shoulders and at various points down my spine until I felt like a jelly fish.

As he worked my lower back and butt, with a combination of manual manipulation, Reike energy and the tuning fork, especially the tuning fork, an undeniably sexual energy was building.
Being the shy and reserved person I am [cough], I told him about the sensation and how erotic I found it.

He laughed asking, "Is this where I admit I have ulterior motives?"

Honestly, the man could have cut me in half at that point and I think I would have enjoyed it or maybe just not cared since I was simultaneously relaxed and stimulated.

My response was simple, "Do more."

He had me roll over onto my back (he had to help because I seemed to have lost all physical strength and coordination) and began at my collar bone, using a mist oil that smelled exotically of almond oil and lavender.

The feeling of his Reike warmed hands, the skilled application of pressure and the scent of the oil had me with my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my mind so void that I am not sure I would have known my name if asked at that moment.

Then he used the tuning fork on my nipples and on the sensitive areas of my tits.

Oh.My.Gawd.

There really aren't words to accurately describe the decadent feeling of having sound waves vibrate through my tits.

The energy spread from the center of my nipples like a thousand point of warm light. I have never had my tits feel so sensuous.

Although I felt detached from my body, I wanted desperately to be T.O.U.C.H.E.D.

He made his way down and after spraying a bit of mist between my legs, he used the tuning fork on my pelvic region, causing the deepest ache of sexual need I have ever experienced next to being denied an orgasm for two weeks.

He massaged my pussy, the heal of his hand at the top and pressed downward, without his fingers penetrating.

It was crazy making teasing.

I was literally humping his hand with wanting.

Then he spread my pussy open, and hit my clit with the tuning fork.
My orgasm squirting from my body as I screamed in pure ecstasy.

My clit throbbed and when he used the tuning fork again, I was screaming, grinding my teeth, thrashing and clawing into the massage table from the intensity of my orgasms.

As intense as it was, it wasn't enough, and I was wild with wanting to be fucked.

I felt like an animal in heat, no cognitive thought, just the primal need for a cock to be inside of me.

Luckily, not only did he bring his tuning fork, but he also brought his cock.

At the end of it I felt rejuvenated with energy and as if every bone in my body turned into helium infused gelatin.

I am buying one of those tuning forks.

Gone again

2009-10-09T08:15:00.003-06:00

So, Husband and I are no longer together, again.
I sound like a broken a record enough that even I am weary of hearing myself say the words.
The break-up was completely unexpected, although our relationship was teeter-tottering on a weekly basis we hadn't crossed the line into not wanting the relationship.
It came down to money.
Yup, I know exactly, to the penny the dollar amount Husband was willing to give up our relationship for, and it isn't over $5,000.
Thank goodness someone didn't kidnap me for ransom because it seems I wouldn't be worth the price to Husband.
Of course, the break-up wasn't truly about the money, that was just the catalyst, which it shouldn't have been because the money was a) jointly ours and b) being used to secure our future not on something frivolous, like say a pool table.
Sadly, I haven't shed one tear.
I am actually relieved more than I am saddened, although I am saddened because I do love Husband but, well, to quote a song that I can't remember the title too, "sometimes love just ain't enough".
I am in selfish mode at this stage of my life, having been left financially in ruin by Husband the first time, not to mention emotionally battered and having to rebuild my life from the ground up.
This stage of my life is about me.
It is about fixing the damage done by having Husband leave the first time, which I have been slowly doing for the past year and half.
Within an couple hours of Husband declaring he wanted me out of his life, I was planning all the things I could now accomplish that I am not obligated to spend time with him.
I realize that is a very sad statement, that I should have been curled up in the fetal position crying my heart out, but yeah, I've done that before and it isn't very productive.
I suppose him leaving me has become so routine that I am effected by his departure less and less each time it happens.
Of course, the true ugliness is on the horizon as we work out the conditions of the divorce especially the financial aspects in regards to dividing the 401k money, untangling financial responsibilities for mortgaged real estate and deciding the ownership of personal property. Not to mention the terms of custody of our child, although we have to this point agreed to joint custody with the provision our son lives full-time with me and Husband has unrestricted access for visitation. However, if Husband becomes disagreeable to these already established terms, I will fuck up his world. *smile*
I am a reasonable woman, right up until someone messes with my kid.
Although, I am hoping that with us having been separated for nearly 2 years, our own lives established in different households, that we can keep the ugliness to a minimum, filing the divorce paperwork ourselves as uncontested and not involving lawyers.
I have proposed a time line of no more than 6 months to Husband that we work out the divorce details, all of it in writing with no verbal negotiations, as there has been too many misunderstanding between us and only with a written record will similar misunderstandings be corrected.
If I could wave a magic wand and have it be done and over with, I would swinging my arm like I was aiming for the bare backside of a strung up submissive.
Unfortunately, disconnecting two lives, as much as they can be disconnect when a child is involved, that have been connected for nearly two decades takes time.

Meanwhile, I will be continuing to focus on improving my life.
I am three weeks into the first course of my undergraduate studies.
One of the reaons I haven't been posting here recently very often, although I do have several semi-written posts I plan to finish this week-end.
I am still waiting for previous college transcripts, that were written about the time of the Dead Sea Scrolls, to be received so I will know my full curriculum, as well as an estimated time for graduation.
Although the time I need to study does cramp my schedule up a bit, I am enjoying being a college student again as I do love to learn.
There is a certain pride that comes from working toward a goal, accomplishing the small steps toward it and doing it even though the odds are not in your favor.
Or maybe the accomplishment is all the more to be savored for that reason.
I may not graduate until I'm 109 but I WILL graduate and then they can bury me with a smug smile on my face.

Details

2009-09-30T21:36:00.000-06:00

WK has taken to calling me Monk in reference to the television character played by Tony Shalhoub, who does an amazing job portraying the phobic, obsessive-compulsive, dysfunctional yet amazingly perceptive detective.
The nickname isn't in reference to the phobic, obsessive-compulsive, dysfunctional characteristics, at least I'm fairly certain, but to the character's ability to notice and remember details that are often over-looked by others.
Of course, if you ask me where my house and car keys are at during any given moment I will have to spend 20 minutes locating them but I remember every piece of jewelry, in detail, that WK wears on a daily basis even though he removes all but his wedding ring before we play so I rarely have seen him actually wearing it.
Noticing the details about people, situations, locations, environments, objects is something I do naturally without purposeful thought.
Let me tell you it makes watching a movie without continuity annoying because I notice the inconsistencies from one frame to another.
WK wondered to me if people would feel comfortable in my presence if they knew all that I observed about them.
It was an interesting question; do people want their details to be noticed?
People communicate without knowing they are doing so by their details; the way they stand with one hip slightly jaunted out when they are relaxed but stand with leveled hips and locked knees when they are tense, the way they twirl the stands of their hair tight when they are nervous but let it slip lazily through their fingers when they are relaxed or the way they bite the inside of their mouths at the bottom of the front of their teeth when they are thoughtful but drag their teeth over their lower lip when they are sexually excited.
There is history in people's details; the fade line around a significant finger from an often worn ring, the scar that leaves a jagged line mid-way across the right thigh and the slightly bent pinky finger on the left hand that never set correctly from being broken.
It is the details that make people unique; the strawberry colored birth mark that resembles the petals of a blooming flower just along the pubic line, the freckle that provocatively peeks out of cleavage, and the slightly crooked front tooth that makes a smile endearing.
It isn't just about physical details either; it is about favorites such as foods, music, colors, movies, as well as birth dates, style, habits, personal history, moods, speech patterns, interests, causes, individual politics, religious beliefs, thought processes and idiosyncrasies.
I have made people nervous, anxious even, in noticing their details, especially the lesser noticeable details because in this world where people mingle together noticing so little about each other, my perceptions have been misinterpreted as obsessive and Annie Wilkes-like.
On the other hand, as is the case with WK, my Monkish perceptions of him give validation to his ego that he is interesting enough and important enough for me to make the effort in knowing so much about him.
Although there are occassions when I unbalance him with my knowledge, he finds it flattering that he is a subject of my observation.
Of course, that could be because when I tie him down it isn't with the purpose of subjecting him to physcial torture like breaking his ankles with a sledgehammer...it's little details like that that make all the difference.

Taking things into consideration

2009-09-28T10:15:00.007-06:00

A friend and I were sitting on my porch, having a couple drinks and discussing life.
She is married, in a female led marriage with a submissive man and is also involved in a lesbian relationship outside her marriage with her husband's knowledge.
You'll notice I said knowledge, not permission.
As we were discussing our lives I commented that I wish I had a domestic submissive who had a cleaning OCD and no interest in a sexual arrangement because my house was in need of cleaning but I was too exhausted to clean it and had no interest to be sexually involved with an additional person.
My friend didn't understand what domestic service and being sexually involved had to do with each other, so I shared my experience with her that every submissive I have encountered has had expectations of exchanging their services for the fulfillment of sexual fantasies or as part of a sexual arrangement, including Husband.
In my experience there is no such creature as a submissive, domestic or otherwise, that is content in performing service for a Mistress simply because it lessens the burden on the Mistress.
The caveat is there is always a sexual component to the submissive's expectations; dress him in a frilly maid's outfit with high heels, put him in a diaper and humiliate him, make him strip and wear only a cock ring...the expectations are endless and maybe it is selfish of me but I rather clean my house than expel my energy to fulfill a fantasy of a "submissive" who is only interested in serving as a means to an end in satisfying his sexual agenda.
Ironically, if I had a submissive who would serve me selflessly, their only intent to ease my burden however they could, their selflessness would have me wanting to reward them.
It is like with an animal pet, when they are selfishly devoted to you, you can't help but adore them.
After my friend listened patiently she made an observation, "You're going about it wrong."
As she is a friend, and a dominant woman who has a relationship of which I am envious, the comment didn't ruffle my feathers but peaked my interest in knowing what she meant by "going about it wrong", so I asked exactly that, "what do you mean going about it wrong?".
"You're asking what they want other than to perform service for you and it doesn't matter if they want something else, that's their problem to solve, not yours."
I understand the concept, I really do, but maybe it is because I am a switch at heart or still struggling with traditional concepts of compromise that I struggle to put the concept into practice, more so with Husband than with anyone but the struggle is there with everyone.
Adults have responsibilities of work schedules, parenting, taking care of their parents, relationships with other people, paying the bills, maintaining a household and a thousand other things, things I believe have to be taken into consideration...she stopped me..."you can't be that considerate, if they're with you, they're there to serve you, that should be the your only consideration".
I sighed.
I am still sighing.
I not that I don't think she is right, because she is right, I know that but what I don't know is if I am capable of doing a D/s relationship "right".

He's whining, and now I am

2009-09-24T21:38:00.001-06:00

If Husband and I lived in the same house, perhaps our relationships would be more easily constructed into the D/s relationship both of us have agreed we want.
Unfortunately, we live in separate residences and much of our lives are lived separately because of it.
It is difficult to incorporate D/s when the time we spend together is limited not to mention the time we are able to spend alone is even more limited.
Hell it is difficult to find the time to have vanilla sex let alone to find the time for a scene.
Currently, there is no longer a D/s aspect to our relationship and without it Husband has become moody, edgy and insecure, complaining weekly about how he feels I don't express a sexual desire for him or even a general interest in him.
It is exhausting as every week I have made an effort to mollify his insecurities, followed by his moodiness with discussions and implementing plans that address his concerns.
We discussed my schedule and time restraints between my responsibilities as a mother, my job and the time needed for my studies.
We discussed his need to remain flexible if our plans didn't happen for a valid reason.
It only took two days after having sex for him to withdraw into his insecurities and into accusing me of losing interest in him.
He constantly has a complaint regarding our sex life ranging from the frequency we have sex to the quality of the sex we have.
It seems no matter the effort I make to address his complaints, he still complains and it results in me feeling hopeless that he will ever be content with our sex life or with me as his sex partner.
He seems incapable of understanding how his complaints negatively effect me and my sexual desire for him even though I have discussed the issue with him nearly every week for the past several weeks.
There is nothing sexy about a man who is always complaining and rarely seems grateful for the relationship he has or the person with whom he is the relationship.
I've considered I am just lacking in the skills or possibly the motivation required to be dominant in this relationship.
It seems he is the passive-dominant, his moods dictating the course of our relationship not to mention effecting my emotional status, and that doesn't make me happy.
The problem is with my time and energy focused on improving my life, the one that exists separate from Husband, I simply don't have a reserve to focus on finding a viable solution.
Sadly, my attitude can be summed up in saying, "He left once and I did fine, let him leave again."
I know, it is a piss poor attitude and one I need to change if I am going to stay in a relationship with Husband, but at the moment that is how I feel.
I want a relationship that enhances my life and selfishly I want it with a person who supports my becoming the woman I am trying to be and to become, not throws me back into my previous co-dependent behaviors of being the secondary partner in a patriarchal marriage.

An endorsement

2009-09-21T18:28:00.000-06:00

I am so happy to have sound again on my computer!
One of the reasons I am so very glad to have my "ears" back is because I can again listen to Axe's Mascocast which I immensely enjoy.
If you are into kink of any kind you NEED to check out this podcast not only because Axe has one of those sexy voices that could read the phone book and make thighs quiver, but because the interviews are entertaining, the topics are interesting and the interviewees are informative.
I rarely endorse anything or anyone on this blog, my exceptions being Male Submission Art and now Mascocast because in all honesty these two projects are worth endorsing.
I am going to take it one step further in suggesting that if you listen to Mascocast and enjoy it, then make a donation.
I am not suggesting a huge donation, I understand most people aren't philantropist, but I am suggesting you skip your daily $7.50 latte mocha at Starbucks and instead donate it to Mascocast to keep it viable.
[Sidenote: Jay Leno couldn't possibly do it better than Axe does it, certainly never with the same sex appeal. ;) ]

Honesty = respect

2009-09-17T22:12:00.000-06:00

WL admitted he identifies as a switch, the sentence ending in, "obviously" since I had established in a previous conversation with him that submissive was not a term that applied to him in any true definition of the word.
Actually, it wasn't obvious because he spent a great deal of time and energy trying to present himself as a submissive, trying to convince me that was what/who he was instead of being straight forward that his nature was not naturally submissive.
I suspected very early on he was being disingenuous with me and like all people who are not authentic, his true self filtered through his facade, like a painting that is hidden by another, the outer paint cracking and flaking off little by little showing what is underneath, without even realizing he was doing it.
He is still being disingenuous with me in using the term switch because he isn't submissive he is just a masochist.
He's a perfect example of the manipulating Alpha men in sheep's clothing that I wrote about
in this post.
His not so hidden agenda was to manipulate my dominant nature so that he could be sexually gratified by a kinky experience of his masochist design.
I may be a switch but my dominant tendencies, or perhaps my sense of self-preservation are strong enough that manipulation doesn't work well with me so his plan was a failure.
I have never understood why Alpha men who want to be sexually dominated pursue Dominant women to begin with; it seems counter intuitive to seek out a person that by definition most likely won't allow themselves to be manipulated when there are plenty of willing submissives who thrive on being the instrument for another person's sexual gratification.
Perhaps, in WL's case, beating the balls of a Dom black and blue is so against the nature of a submissive that finding a submissive to fulfill his needs is extremely difficult, if not impossible. Not to mention that physically abusing a Dom is not usually asked of a submissive so experience is going to be minimal in that area, so perhaps not fully gratifying.
Although it seems to me that training a submissive to perform specific sexual acts, including physical abuse, to gratify a Dom would be easier than trying to trick another Dominant into being the bottom in a scene even though she would be performing as a Top.
Wow, is your heading spinning because mine sure is and at a high velocity!
I prefer anyone, be them male, female, transgender, submissive, dominant, sadist, masochist, switch, pain slut...whatever...to be honest about their motives because being contriving only serves to complicate matters and create distrust.
In WL's case if he had come to me as the Alpha he is and stated, "I want to experience this" and then gave me the definition of "this" as having his cock and balls beaten with implements such as wooden spoons, crop whips, wooden rods, paddles and even a rolling pin, I would have responded by telling him CBT isn't my usual kink but I wouldn't mind giving it a try to find out my the depth or shallowness of my interest in it.
Basically, we could have worked something out that was beneficial to us both especially as I am also interested in new experiences.
As it is, WL and I are likely never to play together because I don't play with people who I do not trust, be it because I caught them flat out in a lie or because they tried to manipulate me by omitting the full truth about themselves and their motives.
I don't reward dishonesty on any level with my attention.
To put it simply, I am worth the respect that comes with honesty and unfortunately for WL he didn't respect me to tell me the truth.
I have been honest in telling him this fact and immediately he apologized for not being "honoring" and although I accepted his apology it doesn't change that I have lost interest in him for his failed attempts.
I expect, actually demand is more accurate, honesty because not only do I give it but in receiving it I am allowed to make decisions that are in my best interest.
It is true that I have declined to play with honest because of their honesty, it isn't a kitchen pass, but I have respected those people for their respecting me and have in turn developed relationships with them that have been beneficial in ways other than sexually.
It is because the truth is rarely fully present at the beginning that I wait to become involved with a person, I wait to define the relationship itself and I wait for the truth to be known.
It is an effective method as I have discovered girlfriends/wives who were not mentioned, risky sexual behaviors that were practiced after being denounced and negative animas that were glossed over with well rehearsed personas.
After encounters with people like WL I am left wondering if there are people out there, especially in the kink community, who are respectful enough to be honest.

The infliction of my mood

2009-09-14T16:03:00.002-06:00

I'm cranky.
Actually, I am beyond cranky.
I am to that point where it would be very satisfying to throw breakable things, like glass or pottery, watching and hearing them smash against a hard surface.
Even more satisfying would be to string up a male submissive, shirtless, jeans dangling precariously about narrow hips, arms stretched out and head hanging forward, to lash taunt skin over contours of muscles with a heavy whip.
I want to watch as the blood trickles down, being spread in delicate patterns among freckles by the tails of the whip, angry lashes opening up as a sacrifice to my mood.
I want to hear the grating of clenched teeth, his mouth will fill with enamel sawdust before he asks me to stop, his grunts and swallowed screams the reflexive protests of his body, the shame of his mind.
I want to watch as sweat mingles, droplets following the contoured path from his shoulders down his back like the condensation of heat sliding down a glass pane, the clearness being clouded with red, sweat and blood soaking into the seams of his jeans.
The rhythm of the strikes altered with a pause, muscles contracting in response to the change, waiting, waiting for the moment the strikes will challenge their endurance once more, twitching with tension, heart never slowing in pumping blood, fight or flight still the innate reaction.
It is the sound of the air scattering from the wielding of the whip, the leather rearranging it, making it stagger from the intrusion of the object that is the warning, too short of a warning, that pain will be inflicted again.
Body flushed with blood brought to the surface, skin heated with lashing pain of stiffened leather, exhaustion brought on by the physical endurance and tears releasing silently the agony of wanting to please.
I want that person today, that person who will willingly submit to what my mood inflicts upon them, who wants to absorb into their physical being the punishment that will satisfy and ultimately alter my mood, a human object that will not break.

Sleep, glorious sleep

2009-09-09T13:42:00.001-06:00

I love to watch men do physical labor.
I know, that ranks me in the category of Neanderthal, but hey, can I help it that a guy without his shirt on that has muscles twitching beneath skin glistening from laborious sweat is sexy?
I had two of them helping me excavate my side yard of weeds that had grown to the height of trees in the mountainous mounds of dirt that had been dumped there from previous landscaping projects.
The work was tedious; dig, shovel, load, shovel, unload, dig, shovel, load, shovel, unload but I was happily distracted by watching the male bodies doing the process as I worked beside them.
Although, I must admit I felt the furthest from sexy covered in sweat, dusty grime and wearing filthy sweats as one can feel but still I wasn't immune to their sex appeal.
Maybe I can thank my Neanderthal relatives for the gene that switches on my libido from the sight of flexing muscles, the faint smell of hard worked sweat and the pure masculinity of strength required for such physical work even while I am feeling as unattractive as a over-heated pig wallowing in a mud bath?
At the end of a the day I could barely move being sun burnt and unable to flex out the soreness of my exhausted muscles and joints.
Oddly, because of my own weak condition, I found the stamina of the men, who labored longer hours than myself and were still capable of continuing into the night, even more appealing.
It was a strange sensation to be thoroughly physical exhausted but sexually stimulated because it left my sexually turned on mind trapped in a body incapable of being responsive.
Husband stayed, we showered together and plopped our bodies into bed with every intention of going to sleep the second the room went dark.
My body felt simultaneously numb and aching from the physical overexertion of the day.
My mind refused to quiet, flashing images captured throughout the day of straining arms tightening into definition, glistening skin stretching across flat plains of stomachs and taunt muscles contracting across backs exposed to the sun.
It was a directive; make me cum.
Husband protested, he was tired, worn out, it was an expected protest.
I was as relentless with him as my mind was with me.
I spread my legs, felt the muscles protest at the movement and felt ache pulsate in the depth of me, unsure if it could be brought to the surface but decidedly wanting it be brought there.
My instructions were precise, I had no interest in foreplay, only in having the ache relieved.
It took only minutes with his tongue following my instructions for me to achieve orgasm.
It was a lazy orgasm, a teasing prelude, making my need more intense.
His mouth continued to manipulate my pussy until I was desperate for penetration.
I needed, badly, to have his cock inside of me.
At first our fucking was slow, our bodies void of energy but slowly we became rejuvenated with sexual energy until our fucking was almost violent.
He pounded my cervix, finally reaching the depth of me where the need was the most intense and the orgasm that followed left me dizzy.
My mind and body were finally in agreement and I feel asleep with his cock inside of me, as he feel asleep sheathed by my cunt.
It was a glorious way to sleep.

Waiting to make a life change...

2009-09-07T14:25:00.000-06:00

In an effort to pursue my inalienable right to happiness given to me not by a God but by the drafters of the Constitution of the United States, who gave me only the right to pursue happiness, not possess it, I have made a life altering decision.
Perphaps I am restless in my current status of life because I am a woman of a certain age and it is time I enter into a stage of restlessness, a stage of reinvention, a term I much prefer to the one of "mid-life crisis".
I am not in crisis but in reflection.
I am very fortunate in my life and I do not disregard what I have been given, what I have earned, what I have created and what I have accomplished as I begin to reinvent my life as I am using all that is currently mine, that currently is me, as a foundation of my pursuits.
I have made the decision to continue my education to expand the breadth of vocational opportunities available to me.
Simply, I am earning an income that limits me and I do not want to live with those limitations any longer.
I am capable as well as deserving of more and although I live within the principles of moderation, I am determined to increase my
I have applied for and been awarded Federal grant money to offset the amount of debt I will be incurring, the overwhelming debt, in the continuation of my education.
It took two days for me to sign my application for my student loan because it has only been about 5 years since I paid off my previous student loans.
Now I wait to find out if I have been approved or rejected.
Waiting for obscure people who hold the determing power over my future plans, sucks.

The Key to Manipulation

2009-09-01T21:46:00.003-06:00

WL has been quite manipulative and I am now discouraged about him being a third in a scene with Husband and me.
When we were all at the bar enjoying ourselves WL gave me the key to his chastity device with the understanding he would wear the device for a specific time period, according to my instructions, in anticipation of a planned play date with Husband and me.
Well, WL took it upon himself to put on his chastity device with the plastic locks that have a sequenced security number without my instruction.
He IM'd me the security number and when I did not respond, as I hadn't been on my IM for a couple of days nor in contact with him, he sent me a text telling me he was caged and had sent me the security number.
I was annoyed.
I had not given him instruction to wear the chastity devise so if he chose to do so, that was his for his own gratification and I am not interested in being the "Mistress" of his self-gratification.
So, I ignored his communications as I had no interest in giving him the satisfaction of my participation.
When we did speak, days later, he suggested he drive to my house, while my son was home and while Husband was not with me, for me to remove the plastic locks and lock him in with the metal padlock.
It was a mistake on his part to make the suggestion, a big mistake.
Our agreement was that I held the key to his chastity device only for the arrangement of all three of us playing and I was explicitly clear that when my son was home there was absolutely no in-person contact.
As I perceive it WL was out right ignoring the boundaries I set to achieve his agenda of self-gratification once more and when I called him on not adhering to the boundaries he explained himself with innocent intentions.
Yeah, so, let me see if I have this straight; he's been caged for several days, without release, but really all that he wanted was for me to give him the key so he could lock himself back into the chastity device in anticipation for a play date that wasn't even planned yet?
How silly of me to think he might be trying to manipulate a situation in which I would be alone with him and sexual activity might occur between us as I would be handling his cock, his caged for several days without release cock, to remove and then replace the cage.
Nah, he's male, he would never have the hidden agenda of wanting to initiate sex even when it disregarded hard boundaries, especially after having his cock caged for several days.
Oh, wait, didn't I have that "naive as a newborn" tattoo removed off my ass?
Additionally, he aggressively lobbied that since he was already caged up, that we should plan a play date for this week and he is only available one day out of the week so let's do it then.
And oh, he'll bring along his toy box with toy A, B and C in it for me to use on him, oh yeah, if that is something I want to do and he's certain I would enjoy using toy A, B and C, so hey, why not just plan on using them?
So, again, let me see if I understand; he caged himself up without instructions or frankly any interest from me but now Husband and I were to arrange our schedules, including arranging for childcare for our son during a week day, around his availability AND conduct the scene accordingly to include all his favorite toys?
Fuck.That.
The arrangement that was discussed and agreed upon was simple; I would arrange the scene for a time and place that was convenient and comfortable according to my criteria, I would arrange the activities of the scene according to my wants and desires, taking into consideration their wants/desires only if I felt inclined but certainly had no obligation to do so and all implements, toys and devices would be of my choosing.
I called Husband, advised him I would be giving him the key to return to WL and that I was no longer interested in scening with WL because I felt he was being manipulative and disrespecting the boundaries to which we agreed.
I had an IM conversation advising WL that Husband would be returning his key and he was to text him to arrange a time and place to receive it.
I will not be manipulated into circumstances that violate my boundaries, period.
If WL wants to try again, without the attempt to manipulate me, I may be willing to give him a second chance but my feeling is he describes himself as submissive as a way of fulfilling his agenda and that he truly is just a manipulator.

Second thoughts

2009-08-28T14:59:00.002-06:00

[con't from "One the count of three..." ]

I was, up until a few nights ago, very excited about the prospect of having two submissive men wearing chastity devices for days (possibly a week) before a scene, both interested in "forced" bi-sexuality and at my disposal for a scene lasting several hours to a couple days.
What has me having second thoughts is Husband's jealousy.
We had met with friends, including WL, at a bar in town for drinks.
It was a night of sexual frivolity enhanced by the consumption of significant quantities of alcohol.
There was unabashed flirting among both genders and the group played musical chairs to sit next to whoever caught their fancy at the moment in wanting to rub body parts together.
Money for the next round of drinks was collected in the bras of the women as we all took our urn to open our shirts just enough to allow bills to be slipped down across our nipples.
Salt was being licked from wrists, throats and even thighs as shots of alcohol were being drank from glasses situated in cleavage.
Sexual innuendos, kinky jokes and even personal pornographic pictures stored on cell phones were being passed around the table like salt and pepper shakers at supper.
Toward the end of the evening I was pulled aside, literally pulled with a grasp on my shirt, my hand yanked from Husband's grasp by Cheider* as I was walking back into the bar from getting air on the patio.
Husband went back into the bar angry, if at me or Cheider or both of us I couldn't be certain but I knew that as soon as I had spoken to Cheider I would be dealing with Husband's anger.
Cheider asked if he could kiss me.
I explained to him that Husband and I were in a committed relationship and as we are not poly nor have an open arrangement it would be inappropriate for me to accept his kiss.
He understood, we hugged and returned inside and almost immediately the atmosphere of our group became tense with Husband's anger and Cheider's pouting at the table.
Thankfully, it was last call and we disbanded.
As it happened we all, with the exception of WL, ended up going to the same Denny's without that being the plan.
Husband, our friend and I were already seated when Cheider came behind me, wrapped his hand in my hair and forcibly yanked it, sending a pain through my neck, as he passed to their table.
I was annoyed but knew it was not the time nor the place to discuss with Cheider the inappropriateness of his action, so I ignored him and tried to continue the conversation he interrupted.
Husband's reaction was to throw a temper tantrum saying he was going home.
I held my temper and requested in a quieted tone for him to go outside with me to talk.
I spoke with Husband who explained in a furious tone that Cheider disrespected him by yanking me away at the bar, talking to me without him being present and "hitting on" me knowing that we were together. He was also irate at the manner in which Cheider pulled my hair in the restaurant.
Admittedly, Cheider could have handled wanting to speak with me alone in a more tactful manner but considering a) he was plastered drunk and b) he is only 24 I had forgiven him for the oversight and gave him credit for having the respect to ASK permission to kiss me, not just doing it.
However, I agreed with Husband that Cheider had crossed a line with the hair pulling and explained I would be having a SOBER conversation with him at another time.
This did not satisfy Husband.
He ranted at me, jealously insinuated I had been dishonest with him about not having sex with not only Cheider but the entire group and in general behaved like a jackass.
It took two days of conversations with Husband before he relented in being angry.
His jealous reaction of a 24 year old boy who I am not sexually attracted to in the least caused me to question if Husband is emotionally capable of scening with me and a third.
What if I had more orgasms with WL (or whoever) than with Husband during the scene?
What if I vocalized my pleasure more with WL than with Husband during the scene?
What if my attention was focused on WL a fraction of second longer than on Husband?
How could I enjoy a scene in which I was constantly measuring in an effort to contain Husband's jealousy?
These were all questions I confronted Husband with when I expressed to him I was having second thoughts about scening with WL.
His answer was, "It's different".
For some inexplicable reason, I am not convinced

*As usual I have changed the name for the protection of his identity, although, if you were there that night, you know who I am writing about.

On the count of three...

2009-08-26T20:14:00.000-06:00

It was decided that Husband and I would invite a third person to scene with us.
It was not a decision that was made lightly on my part because unlike Husband who tends to have a narrow view of consequences, thinking only about the sexual gratification to be had, I was concerned about the negative possibilities of scening with a third person.
Although I am a forgiving person, I am still a person who is healing emotionally from years of Husband's infidelities during our marriage and the residual effects his promiscuity has had on my self-esteem.
Intellectually I understand that the relationship we are now constructing is fundamentally different than the marriage we had previously that failed so miserably.
I understand that previously our marriage was structured after the traditional model of Husband and Wife, following the predisposition of roles that came with that and that now we are reconstructing our relationship with a more suitable model, one that is based on the truths of our natures, he as a submissive male and myself as a dominant female.
In understanding and embracing the D/s structure of our relationship, I accepted Husband's proposal of introducing a third into our sexual relationship only according to my terms.
Those terms would be set for my emotional protection because although I have an intellectual understanding of the difference between the past and the present, I still struggle with the sabotage on my self-esteem that is indicative of infidelity.
If it seems I am dishing out hypocrisy in saying that I struggle emotionally from the thought of Husband engaging in sex, even while I participate, with another woman than perhaps I should explain the history that brought me to be hypocritical.
Husband's first infidelity occurred two years into our marriage, while I was struggling with the responsibilities of being a new mother and at a time Husband proclaimed he did not find me sexually attractive because I had gained a significant amount of weight during my pregnancy.
It was emotionally devastating to be unwanted by the man I had loved, at that time, for 7 years.
There were more infidelities and the devastation of my self-worth was so complete that I become emotionally barren.
My sexuality shriveled like a grape in the unrelenting sun and my self-esteem was a battered ship so severally damaged it simply could do nothing but be led by the tide to crash into rocks and be sodden by crushing waves.
It was a very dark time for me and one that, although I have emerged from it, still effects me when I think about the events that took place and the person I was at that time.
I will never again allow myself to be in similar circumstances nor will I allow the person I am to be obliterated ever again.
As with any person who experiences an event that so profoundly impacts their life, I am susceptible to being triggered psychologically by similarities to it that exist in the present.
Hence, I still struggle with the thought of Husband having sexual relations with another woman.
My reaction is purely emotional and as the circumstances are not as they were then, my reaction is illogical, although I do consider them reasonable considering the psychological damage I endured.
However, I have accepted the circumstances are different, I am different and so is Husband.
There have been years of personal growth for us both, including sexual maturity and I am willing to work through the issues that haunt me from the past as not to miss future experiences.
So, the terms were set by me and agreed upon by Husband, as now my position in our relationship is to dictate our sexual experiences and in doing so I have created a safety net I need to move forward.
The third is to be male.
No exceptions.
I am to decide who the third will be that we will include allowing for Husband to approve or disapprove although truthfully he would only disapprove if the person I chose was exceptionally offensive to him, as his standards are not as high as mine.
I will arrange the scene and will be the Dominant that leads it.
The scene is to be centered around my fantasies, not the fantasies of Husband, although I would take into consideration his, as well as the third's, fantasies and if they suited me to include them then I would but solely at my discretion.
The first candidate I have invited is WL.
Although he is a masochist who enjoys CBT he is also exceptionally willing to expand his kink into forced bi-sexuality especially after being locked in a chastity device for several days to a week.
One of my fantasies, which I have not yet experienced, is to have two submissive males servicing each other at my direction, especially cock sucking.
There is something so incredibly powerful about having a straight male suck cock because he is doing it to please me.
WL has accepted the invitation and we have for the past couple of weeks been trying to plan a scene a time to get together but it has been difficult with our schedules and even when plans have been made they are disappointly cancelled for one reason or another.
With the passing of time, other events have occurred and I am having second thoughts...

[to be continued]

A few reasons I love my digital camera

2009-08-19T20:12:00.007-06:00

[I saved this post for a few days trying to get the text to work with the pictures but couldn't seem to get the format to work and ended up with the hack job you will see below. Obviously I am not a technology wizard.]

I love owning a digital camera. It was one of the best purchases I have ever made.
It provides me with so much blackmail...I mean proof.
When my good friend, who has a definite liking for Jello shooters - and if you're from a place other than Utah, those are shots of vodka mixed with Jello and they are dangerous because they don't taste like alcohol but like a sweet treat - made the statement, "I didn't strip at your party, I just changed my shirt because it was wet", I can pull out the photo to correct her memory.
Enter into evidence exhibit A:
Now I ask you, the jury, does this look as if she is removing a wet shirt?
I know that when I remove a shirt I usually do it by removing it over my head and usually if I am wearing a bra, well, that has to be removed separately and in a different manner but maybe I am odd and most people do it this way?
Of course, I'm not complaining, however she wants to remove a wet shirt is just fine with me, especially if I have my digital camera handy.

I also love having a digital camera because it allows me to share with others the creativity of my friends.
One of my friends made a dick shaped Jello shooter by using a phallus shaped cake pan, putting plastic in it to create wrinkles on the dick, pouring Jello and vodka into it and then letting it gel up. Then it is flipped on a smooth surface, in this case a plastic serving platter to be served.
It was great fun to share the "cock shot" with guests, each of us at an opposite end, slurping up the Jello and occasionally, depending on the friend, meeting in the middle to share our edible cock, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue.
Here is a picture of the cock shot being made:
Also, because she is a considerate friend and didn't want to leave the straight boys out of the fun, made a pair of boobs complete with cherries in the middle of each one, for me to share.

Being bisexual has so many advantages.

Another reason I adore my digital camera is for its documenting capabilities.
Of course, by documenting I mean I can take picture of special events, such as Husband's recently shaved cock caged up for the first time in a CB2000.

It has been such erotic fun playing with the chastity device that viewing the picture of Husband's cock locked away in it makes me wet.

I also love my digital camera for very G-rated reasons, such as taking photos of fun things like this truck I came across during a local car show.
Ya gotta love a truck that can wink at you!

Cock control, and I don't mean a rooster on a leash

2009-08-13T23:05:00.001-06:00

WK was at the hotel preparing for our scene and sent me a couple of teaser pictures via his cell phone to mine.
I love technology.
These teasers were definitely efficacious, shall we say, in motivating me to leave work to play with him sooner rather than later.
I was wet before I left the office.
What can't be seen in the pictures but that I was delighted to find, was that WK was also wearing the silver cock ring I bought for him. If it is possible to have a fetish for silver, well then I do.
I love the look of it, especially around a cock, the feel of it, especially when my hands are wrapped around it as it is wrapped around a cock and the smoothness of it, especially when my tongue is licking it as it constricts a cock.
It is the perfect accessory.
I adore WK's body, which I refer to as his "girlish figure" because it is possible to cinch in his already trim waist to a mere 24 inches.
The curves this creates, the narrowing of his waist accentuating his hips, is delicious as it combines his masculinity with femininity and for a bi-sexual woman such as myself, that is the best of both worlds.
The striped thigh high stockings, silky to the touch were a contradiction to contour of the hard muscles that flexed beneath the material as I slid my hand across them.
I love the eroticism that overcomes me when I dress WK in a pinstriped skirt just so I can slide my hand up his thigh and caress his cock and balls while still encased in lace panties.
It is the duality of the masculine and feminine, combined in feminizing him, that excites me.
It is the transformation from the confident Alpha male into the trusting feminized slut willing to do almost anything to please me that thrills me.
I am responsible for the transformation, from dressing him in women's clothing, giving him feminine curves and creating a separate sexuality for him that he only shares with me and in that responsibility there is power.
He becomes mine in the transformation.
I treat him like a girl slut with a cock.
I write my name in scrawling black on his cock, my cock and he tells me I control it, control when it gets hard and when it gets used.
He wants me to control it.
He begs for me to control it.
I use pills to keep it hard and injections to keep it unusably soft.
I had him make me a mold of his erect cock so that I could use it to fuck his tight ass, an ass he willingly offers to me no matter what object I want to insert into it, but I use it in other ways too.
I make him suck it, a replica of his own cock, as I call him a cock-sucker and I know it makes his real cock surge with hardness in the pretty lace panties he is wearing.
I stroke his throat as I press the replica of his own cock down his throat, the make-up I applied smearing around his eyes from the tears caused by his gagging.
I tell him what a good little slut he is to take his own cock into his mouth, to be trained on it and how he will suck another boy's cock for me.
He moans how he wants to do that for me, how he wants to be a good cock-sucker for me, how he wants to perform for me as I have trained him to perform; prettily dressed and willing to be used however I want him to be used for my enjoyment.
I grab his cock, so engorged, and smile at him, telling him how I like that he gets hard thinking about sucking cock for me.
His head falls back, his eyes rolling into his head as he groans at my touch, pressing his hips forward to give me more access.
I lubricate the long, thin rubber tube well before I begin to slowly and carefully insert it, snaking it down his urethra, watching as it travels, protruding like a throbbing vein.
Nearly breathless he chants, "oh gawd" as the tube goes deeper into him.
I have to hold the tube in place or it will slither out as he strokes his cock for me, knowing he will be taking the open end of the tube into his mouth, to drink his own cum.
His conflict in wanting to jack off into his own mouth while I watch excites me because I know he does these things that conflict him to please me.
He opens his mouth when it is time to drink his cum from the tube and keeps it greedily open even though his face contorts with the force of his orgasm.
After, but while the tube is still inserted in him, while my name is still written on his cock, while I still control his him, I kiss him and he thanks me for making him do bad things.

Ultimate tease and denial

2009-08-11T12:59:00.000-06:00

I especially enjoy the sensitivity of newly shaved skin especially the skin of my womanly parts.
I was tempted to do the shaving myself but decided it would much more enjoyable to have Husband do it for me it.
He drew me a bath, sprinkled in the bath salts and as I sat in the whirlpool tub he went off to put on his chastity device.
He came back with the tiny padlock and key and I locked the cage that was firmly in place on his cock.
I sent him off to run errands with his cock locked away as I lounged in the bath.
Upon his return he found me spread out on the bed, naked and reading a book.
As we had already discussed his tasks for the evening, he retrieved the necessary items to do the shaving.
I continued to read as he lathered up my pussy with shaving cream and began to meticulously shave it.
It is such an intimate act to be shaved by someone else, especially there and I thoroughly enjoyed having him do it.
His fingers were so gentle in their task, he was concerned with how sharp or dull the razor was and if he was causing me any discomfort with his manipulations.
He was very sweet.
I am sure I must have read the same section of my book at least four times while he was shaving me as my attention was completely distracted by the feel of the razor stroking across my feminine mound and how his fingers were gently manipulating the entirety of my pussy.
I wanted his mouth on my newly shaved smoothness the moment he was finished and forgot about my book completely before it hit the floor.
It is an exquisite sensation, a tongue licking, a mouth sucking on freshly shaved flesh, so sensitive it is to even its exposure to air and I came quickly into his eagerly opened mouth.
His cock bulged inside of its cage, his balls full and heavy as I instructed him to strap on a dildo to fuck me.
It took a bit of adjusting, to keep his caged cock and the padlock out of the way of the strap-on dildo, but he managed although with a little rubbing of one against the other and as he drove the fake dick into my pussy with his own caged up, I made him watch it and tormented him about not using his cock.
I wantonly came, having orgasm after orgasm as he pumped me with the dildo strapped to him.
He begged to fuck me and I took the greatest pleasure in telling him no.
I thought his cock would break the cage it was in as it was pressing violently against the plastic.
I put him on his knees, ass up in the air, swollen balls visible between his spread legs and his cock heavy with its cage, then pegged his ass while reminding him he was mine.
I took his ass until he could no longer support his weight and then pulled him into a bent position over the edge of the mattress and fucked him more.
I love watching "my cock" going in and out of his ass, pulling on his ass and listening to him whimper, possessing him.
When I was done, as I removed my harness, he laid on the bed whithering from the intense need to cum.
His need effected me as I knew he was suffering for me and it made me greedy for more.
I grabbed the vibrator, flipped him over and straddled his face keeping myself high enough to use the vibrator and as he begged beneath me to have my cunt I came on his face, twice, squirting ferociously from orgasms that I was sure would drown him.
He was begging to have his cock inside of me, to feel my cunt clench around it, to feel its heat sheath his shaft and to feel my wetness drip down his balls.
I straddled across him, spreading my pussy on the cage and used it to rub my clit until I was mad with the need to cum again and when I did, his balls were dripping with my juices.
He was nearly in tears from wanting release, release I wouldn't give him after being so greedy in having mine.
His suffering, his begging and pleading, how he tried to rub his caged cock on me, like a humping animal as I laughed at him, told him how sad he was, it gave me an incredible thrill.
His every body movement was of desperation and it caused me to want more.
I spread my legs for his fingers to enter my cunt, to rub my clit and to bring me to more orgasms until finally I was so sensitive, so raw, that I had him stop.
I was exhausted from the exhilaration.
It took icing his balls and to give him a measure of comfort and then I left him, feeling high on the power of dominance as this was the first time I had denied him his orgasm.

Ego tripping...

2009-08-09T22:28:00.001-06:00

Husband and I met WL at a bar that featured a dueling piano/comedy show.
He was already seated, in the back, against a wall at a table for two with an extra chair pulled over.
He waved when he saw us at the front.
We hugged, it was as if we were old friends, it was a good hug.
Introductions and handshakes between the men.
I HATE those tall bar stools as I am too short and too uncoordinated to hop up on one without making an ass out of myself, nearly tipping over the table, the chair and myself.
I positioned myself in the middle, as graceful as a pregnant cow, between the two of them, flustered from embarrassment at my lack of coordination but recovered to send Husband off to the bar to order drinks so I would have a moment to size WL up since it was the first time we met.
He was younger looking than I expected for his age, decent hair, deep brown eyes and an easy smile. Nice looking.
I had already surmised, out of habit really, that he was slightly shorter than the 5'9 he claimed to be, more like on the underside of 5'8, but with a better physique than I had expected.
When Husband returned the conversation had an edge to it, they knew they were meeting for potentially having a sexual experience with each other, all of us together.
It is interesting how men socialize, especially when the potential for sharing a sexual experience is the purpose for meeting, their egos where tangible, pressing against me from both sides.
Both took a practiced relaxed posture.
I steadied myself and smiled into my martini.
Our table for the show was ready and we moved there, it was more comfortable, each was closer to me on either side, a male thigh touching each of mine.
The interaction during the show was limited but I found myself having to balance between the two of them, not excluding either, touching each the same amount but in different ways, Husband reassuringly and WL with a promise.
I was repeating practically everything I said, first to one and then to the other.
Eye candy was all around, a 21 year old that was cute as a button at the table next to us, a flirty brunette with spiked hair, an excellent boob job and spiked heels, a luscious bleach blond with deep cleavage and a tight ass, a natural blond with swaying hips and jiggling tits...it was an endless parade and it amused me how many were without male companions as I sat with two.
A little elf of a man was making his way around a table of females celebrating a 20-something's birthday, he wasn't part of their party, spreading his legs over their laps, bracing himself on the back of their chairs and gyrating like a rabbit being electrocuted.
The woman all responded the same; they sat, embarrassed, not knowing how to dislodge him.
I excused myself from my table and caught him mid-stride going from one table to another, caught him by one of his Dumbo ears and pulled him down with me as I sat in an open chair, then caught the other ear as I pulled his freakishly small head down until he knelt and proceeded to catch his face between my legs applying vice grip pressure.
There were cheers, hoots and hollers, even the piano players threw in their comical comments as he struggled to remove his head from between my knees, I clutched until he agreed to leave the women alone.
It took barely a minute.
I returned to my table to two men with looks of awe on their faces.
"Needed to take care of that, did you?", Husband asked.
"Looks like she did", WL responded.
I returned to enjoying the show feeling exceptionally empowered in my dominant nature that I suspect was fueled by my consumption of several martinis.
Each shifted just slightly more toward me, now shoulders, arms and thighs were touching, me comfortably in the middle, the body language was becoming more intimate, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone who happened to glance in our direction noticed.
At the end of the night I walked between two attractive men, talking candidly about scheduling a scene together, one with his arm wrapped around my waist and the other holding my hand.
One of the girls from the table that suffered the Rabbit Man was walking toward us, "I know you! Damn! You are so fucking cool!"
Yeah, I was on an ego trip.

Taking possession...

2009-08-06T19:13:00.001-06:00

Reconstructing my relationship with Husband has been about honesty.

I haven't in the past been completely honest with Husband because I haven't been completely honest with myself.

I was struggling with the traditional ideals I was taught to follow in male/female relationships, trying to incorporate those ideals even though they weren't genuine to who I am into a D/s relationship and that compromised myself as well as my relationship with Husband.

Since we've been separated I have been able to be more genuine because I didn't feel an obligation to try and fulfill the traditional role of being a "wife".

Being a single woman allowed me the freedom to explore myself, to develop relationships that began with expectations that were in alignment with what I truly want out of them and to focus on my needs and wants instead of being distracted from them by fulfilling another person's needs and wants.

In experiencing my sexuality more genuinely than I ever have before I have become capable of expressing myself more authentically and being comfortable with that expression.

I am more comfortable asking for and expecting to get exactly what I ask for without feeling emotional conflict.

After a long day of working I wanted Husband to cook me a dinner, wearing a frilly pair of
panties while I relaxed with a glass of wine.

I got exactly that.

I enjoyed watching Husband cook our meal while he wore a pair of lacy crotchless panties, his cock dangling between his legs and fully accessible to me.

Randomly I would stroke his cock to make it hard and send him back to his chores.

When he brought me a fresh glass of wine I tilted the glass, grabbed his cock, dipped it into the wine and "drank" from his erection.

As I remained fully clothed for the psychological effect I would call him over to the couch were I sat, in full view of the kitchen, and have him rub his cock on my clothed body as I kissed him possessively and then send him back into the kitchen with another hard on.

Additionally, there has been no intercourse (or my consuming Husband's cum) as he has not gotten the test results from the doctor yet, so I stripped off my jeans and panties to spread my legs as I lounged on the couch to give Husband a full view of my pussy.

It pleased me to have him whimpering as he begged to fuck me and after dinner I allowed him to use a dildo to make me cum, taunting him that it wasn't his cock that was satisfying me.

Then I put him on his back, pushed his bent knees up and fucked him with a strap-on, taunting him even more that I could use my "cock" when he wasn't allowed to use his.

I loved looking down as my hips pushed forward and the dildo entered his ass, it gave me a high of possessing him.

I loved the expressions on his face of pleasurable pain as I randomly slapped his balls and shoved the dildo deep into him.

I loved how he responded so submissively when I was done taking his ass and shoved my pussy onto his face, cumming on it until he was nearly unable to breathe.

He begged for permission to cum and I gave it to him, making him jack himself off while I reminded him that he was not allowed to fuck my pussy because he was being punished.

Afterward, Husband told me that being punished turned him on.

It was then that I introduced the idea of another type of punishment, a male chastity device.

Husband hasn't any experience with chastity devices, so I explained the concept to him and then we spent some time looking at them online.

Of course his first reaction was to be hestitant but after a few conversations and my obvious interest in having his cock caged, he is now excited to try it.

We will be experimenting later this week and I am looking forward to having control of his cock on a 24/7 basis, knowing he will be unable to be unfaithful to me because I will have the key.

Although I am introducing the chastity device to Husband as a fun addition to our play I have an alterior motive.

Husband's infidelity is one of the contributing factors to our marriage failing and keeping him in a chastity device when we are apart is the solution I am going to implement.

It will be a gradual process; first he will be wearing it while we go to dinner, to get use to wearing it for a short span of time and then he'll be wearing it to work for the day while still having the key in his possession so that if it becomes uncomfortable he can take it off.

Once he is comfortable wearing it for the day, he'll be wearing it for a couple days, then a few more until he's wearing it for a week and gradually he'll continue to wear it for longer periods of time until he is wearing it whenever he isn't with me.

Of course, when he isn't with me, he won't have access to his cock or to the key to unlock it as they will both belong to me.

Who we are...the beginning of acceptance

2009-08-03T11:31:00.003-06:00

During our conversations about beginning anew with our relationship Husband and I discussed his submissive nature and my dominant nature.
Even though we have discussed both topics in previous conversations, these conversations have been enlightening because we are both in a more accepting mindset regarding our sexualities.
Husband admitted his concern that if he embraced his submissiveness and didn't at intervals dominate me that I would feel a void in our sexual relationship because I am a switch.
I understood his concern and admitted that before I understood how strong my dominant sexual self was, that may have been true.
What I have learned about myself, that I shared with Husband, is that I am a dominant woman and although I enjoy submissive acts occasionally, those acts do not change who I am at the core.
[Only one person has ever dominated me beyond a scene, that being WK and we discussed that as well but let me begin at the beginning as I did with Husband.]
Although I consider myself a switch, the more accurate description would be I am a dominate woman with the possibility of being submissive.
As I reviewed the experiences I have had in my life sexually I recognized a pattern; 90% of the experiences I remember as positive, fulfilling and well, even memorable, were experiences in which I was in the dominant position.
Unlike dominance, submission isn't an extension of my sexuality as much as it a deviance from it. In retrospect I have noticed my need to be submissive is parallel to being overwhelmed in my life and needing an escape from the responsibilities I take upon myself as the Alpha female.
Being submissive is escapism for me.
It is a moment in the continuum of dominance that is my life to escape, to be for a moment something I am not regularly and to allow myself to let go of the control.
I think of it like riding on a roller coaster, that exhilaration of giving up control, to just experience the ride with all my senses but knowing the thrill is structured and that I will regain control at the end.
I like being in control, that thrills me 90% of the time and although there is the need for the other 10%, it can be derived by simple acts of submission; a role playing scene as the little girl to my "daddy" or as the domestic help that finds herself sexually serving her employer.
Those are roles in which Husband can satisfy my need to be submissive when it arises.
We discussed Husband's submissive nature and his internal struggle with how to accept his submissiveness and express it.
He feels a lot of shame for being submissive and wanting to express that by being feminized and dominated by a woman.
He struggles with being the definition of a man he has defined for himself by way of his own thoughts and thoughts of influential people such as his parents; physically strong and capable, the primary wage earner, the disciplinarian fathers, the hunter, the builder, the mechanic and all the other macho stereotypes (good and bad) that include beer, poker night, farting in the bathtub and pool leagues.
It is difficult for him to acknowledge he can be what he is and that none of it is mutually exclusive from everything else.
As I explained it to him; he can still change out an engine while wearing frilly panties because wearing the panties doesn't negate his skill at fixing cars.
He can still be one of the guys at poker night, drinking beer, smoking pot and telling raunchy jokes, even if his cock is caged and I am holding the key.
He can still discipline our son as a father should even though at night it is his ass that is bent over the bed and being spanked.
He is still masculine and capable physically even though I have him kneel at my feet.
We discussed how I can help him achieve compatibility with his masculinity and his sexuality, how we both can be who we are in all facets of our lives.
We've spent the last week doing exactly that...[to be continued...and yes, it includes a male chastity device for him.]

Confessions and monogamy

2009-08-02T19:49:00.004-06:00

Today is my wedding anniversary.
If you have read my blog for a certain length of time you know that Husband left me 19 months ago.
Technically, I am still married, at least on paper as we have never filed paperwork not even legal separation papers.
The reasons we haven't are mostly financial as both of us stand to lose a lot of money in a legal divorce while the housing and stock market are weak not to mention we would lose the tax benefits of being legally married and I would lose my health insurance.
There were other reasons as well, reasons neither of us wanted to admit, emotional reasons that in admitting would make us vulnerable to being hurt.
A few weeks ago Husband and I had a conversation, a conversation about being together as the changed people both of us have become since our separation and allowing our relationship to develop without expectations or the influence of the past.
The weeks that followed were wonderful, a falling back in love, until I found the diet Dr. Pepper in Husband's fridge.
As innocuous as a soda may seem it wasn't to me because I knew it was there because a female had been in his house.
A female who I knew he had been sleeping with and who I had thought he was no longer seeing since we were together.
I thought us beginning again meant we were being honest with one another.
I had known he was "seeing" someone, it hurt, deeply, but at the time when I figured it out it wasn't my right to ask about his relationship with her.
This time I asked.
Husband has mastered circular thinking; his response was he knew that I knew he was sleeping with someone else and I knew that he knew I knew so he didn't think it was dishonest not to discuss her with me because if I had wanted to know specifics, I would have asked so he didn't bring her up because by me not asking, well, obviously I didn't want to know.
Let me iterate here that it wasn't the fact he was having sex with her that pissed me off but the fact that he didn't take the responsibility to be honest with me about his relationship with her while he and I were in a relationship.
As I was processing that a) Husband had been having a relationship with this woman for four months and b) wasn't honest with me about the relationship, Husband tells me a fact that sent me into a near emotional breakdown; he had been having UNPROTECTED SEX with this woman for FOUR MONTHS.
I hung up the phone, threw up for 10 minutes and then sat crying uncontrollably until I could reach a friend on the phone who talked me back from my hysteria.
Why was I hysterical?
I can count on three fingers the number of men with whom I have had unprotected sex.
The first, was my first sexual encounter when I was a stupid teenager.
The second was my first "love" and we were in a committed relationship for four years.
I was still young and stupid during that relationship considering he was my high school "sweetheart" and we broke up my freshman year of college.
The third was Husband.
In every other situation I have practiced safe sex, almost in some people's views, to the extreme.
If a guy wanted to have sex with me and didn't have protection, we didn't have sex.
If a girl wanted to use a dildo on me and it didn't belong to me, it was wrapped in a rubber before it was inserted.
I don't play with other people's sex toys; I bring my own and they are used only on me unless they are wrapped in rubber and then often times I would purchase others anyway.
I sanitize my personal toys after and BEFORE I use them and that is after storing them in plastic.
So to have Husband tell me that he trusted MY HEALTH and potentially MY LIFE to someone I haven't even met tossed me into an anxiety attack.
Once I came down from the emotional edge I called Husband and simply asked, "What gave you the right to risk MY health?"
Yes, it was my mistake to have unprotected sex with Husband when I knew he had had sex with other women even if he didn't confirm it.
It was stupid of me to assume that since he had used a condom with the women before her that he would have used one with her.
I should have treated him as I treated every other sexual partner and insisted on using protection but well, he is MY HUSBAND.
After hours of conversation interspersed with tears Husband and I were still discussing continuing our relationship but I put forth requirements.
The first: he is to be tested for every sexually transmitted disease from A to Z in the English, Arabic AND Cantonese alphabet and I am to review the test results. Until I know he is clean I am not having sex with him.
The second: he is to discontinue having ANY sexual relationship with anyone else but me.
The third: he is to discontinue his relationship with the woman he's been seeing.
I am sure the first requirement is self-explanatory but let me explain the others as I am sure they seem contradicting to my usual open-mindedness about nontraditional relationships.
I like monogamy.
However, I define it slightly different than the traditional meaning.
My definition of a monogamous relationship is one in which two partners are emotionally exclusive and sexually exclusive with the expectation of when it is agreed that as a couple they will have shared sexual experiences.
It is a convoluted definition but one that works for me.
I explained my definition as what I would accept in a relationship with Husband.
I want emotional monogamy.
I want exclusive emotional commitment and that requires sexual monogamy unless the sexual experience is agreed upon and shared as a couple.
My example to Husband was this: you go to a bar with me, are attracted to a woman and go back to her place and fuck her.
Not acceptable. Not monogamous.
We go to a bar together, you are attracted to a woman, we discuss your attraction, we agree to a sexual encounter with her as a couple and we go back to her place and fucking ensues.
Acceptable. Monogamous.
In wanting monogamy, both emotional and sexual I know Husband well enough to know that he would not be able to be monogamous to me while having a "friendship" with this woman.
A scenario I described to him: she is a bartender at a local bar, he goes in for a drink with the mindset he is only going in for a drink and nothing else, they begin to talk and at the end of her shift she suggests going back to his place to continue the conversation. He agrees with the reasoning it is only for conversation, he is in control and is certain nothing sexual will happen.
The result is that he is apologizing to me for having sex with her while his actions have ruined our relationship.
Husband contacted her and explained he can no longer continue his relationship and he has a doctor's appointment on Tuesday.
He has also agreed to purchasing and wearing a chastity device...more on that later...

Friends...

2009-07-27T18:42:00.005-06:00

This week-end there was an occasion to get together a group of my friends at my house for a BBQ and as we sat in a circle on my front lawn I couldn't help but reflect what a motley group it was:
My (ex) husband: the straight man who has a proclivity toward wearing woman's underwear and being fucked in the ass with a strap-on.
My best girlfriend: the straight woman who is open minded enough to take a strip-tease class in Las Vegas and pose in a leather outfit complete with corset and 6 inch platform boots while wielding a whip even though she blushes when I ask if she has gotten laid.
Poly-amorous group 1: a dominant female who is an attention whore and positioned herself in the middle of the circle with her blouse opened provocatively, her submissive secondary male who was attentive to myself and the other females by always being there at just the right moment to be chivalrously helpful and her tertiary male who is outwardly quiet and misjudged as submissive although he has an intellect that dominates when he is in the mood.
Poly-amorous group 2: a dominant male who uses his physical presence as the primary tool of his dominance although he possess whit and charm that is unassuming, his wife who is a previous "Internet model" who is still at 25 years old exploring her sexuality and learning how to use it effectively and their third*, a dim-witted 19 year old with low self-esteem who uses exaggeration to boost her confidence without understanding how annoying it can be to those of us who have actually "been there and done that".
The female-led couple: she a former Pro-Domme and he a submissive husband who provides for her as she dictates, including being in agreement to an open marriage as she has a female lover, or two.
The straight couple: both with the traditional patriarchal beliefs they rigorously practice, often to the point of being judgemental and closed minded but still manage to voyeuristic.
The party girl: recently divorced, probably exploring her sexuality with more than just men but not yet ready to admit it and partying every chance she has the opportunity.
The wall flower: she's recently divorced, shy, insecure and a little lonely as her circle of friends have been minimized by an unsociable ex-husband.
It is humbling to realize I have such a wonderfully diverse group of friends who would come together at my invitation to celebrate an occasion with me that without them would not be quite as special.
Of course, my ass wouldn't have been so sore if some hadn't taken enthusiastic pleasure in giving me the celebratory spankings but hey, what are really goods friends for if not for that? ;)

*I should note they are currently encouraging her out of their relationship.

Strap ons: Penis envy or redefining gender roles?

2009-07-23T20:32:00.000-06:00

It isn't about penis envy, it is about penetration, and that is why I enjoy using a strap-on.
There is a theory I remember becoming aware of when I was in high school that it is males' physical ability to perform the act of penetration that gives them the innate designation of being dominate.
In the days when conking a woman on her head with a big club and dragging her by her hair constituted foreplay...wait, that still can in some circles but you know what I mean...and before the identification of testosterone, I think there was some validity to the theory.
As I remember it was based on the premise that males, having the penis designed as it is, quite literally carry a weapon with them and that sex was not a nurturing act of love but an act of violence.
I was reminded of the theory in college during an anthropology course in which the professor discussed that intercourse, for primitive humans, was anthropologically speaking, a violent act perpetrated by males against females. This makes sense when one considers that the males of the species have a built in weapon.
Consent was not a consideration so it also made sense the gender with the weapon become dominant.
Fast forward to the year 2009 where consent is the premise of human sexual interaction, where sexualities have evolved from being a biological need to propagate to a diverse social and personal expression and where women can purchase a phallus, or anthropologically speaking, a weapon.
For a man to be penetrated by a woman is redefining the gender roles designated to us by our anatomical forms from the beginning of our species.
Wow, that's deep, huh?
My point, is that in using a strap-on dildo I am not imitating males but rather using the most basic of weaponry to gain power over them, using if you will, an imitation of the weapon that gave them [if you find the theory valid] prehistoric dominance to diminish that dominance.
Oh yeah, and it's hot.
It is hot for me because the act of penetrating a man so irrevocably changes the dynamic of He=Dominant to He=submissive.
For some men it is humiliating and there is definitely value in that but humiliation isn't my kink, my kink is about the relinquishing of power and I find that presenting ones vulnerabilities to another person to be one of the sexiest forms of relinquishment.
Basically, it is still taboo for a guy to admit he likes to be fucked up the ass, so to challenge that taboo, to push the limit created by it and to have him submit willingly to something that will dramatically change or solidify my domination over him...yeah, that's why I like to use a strap-on.

Submissive men...aisle 12, bottom shelf

2009-07-22T19:48:00.005-06:00

One of the first things I read in various online forums, about being a Domme, is that I would have a myriad of options like being a solitary female choosing from a ship full of men just returning from sea after a year without so much as seeing a Playboy magazine.
So, I began my search for a submissive male with optimism.
That optimism has dissipated.
First, I have discovered the term submissive, as well as the term slave, are defined so diversely in the kink world, each person having a definition based on their personal experience, that using them seems rather pointless because there seems to be no widely accepted definition of either.
In this discovery, and learning other people's definition, I have had to question: When I say submissive male, what do I really mean? What do I really want?
It seems what I want has evolved from wanting play partners, those who are only sexually submissive, to wanting a submissive natured male as a primary poly-partner.
Honestly, I am still trying to attach all the correct adjectives to what I want but I think that sums it up.
I am content with the play partners I have in my life.
Sure, if I could wave a magic wand I would prefer to have a steady play partner, one that was available at my beck and call but I am not dissatisfied with the arrangements I have currently.
It is the transition of having play partners to wanting a primary relationship with a submissive male that is proving to be more difficult than I expected.
A true submissive male is nearly a mythical creature.
A large part of the issue is that society forces them to live as mythical creatures; not seen except by those who truly believe, like fairies in the forest.
It just isn't possible to go to your local BDSM-R-US store and check out aisle 12 for the latest selection in submissive men.
Submissive men live as Alpha men when society is looking because if they don't they are regarded as less than the macho standard that is set for men in this country.
They are taught practically from the moment their heads crown in their delivery into this world they are to be dominant and anything less is unacceptably unmanly.
There is the acceptance of being dominated sexually by a woman. That has to some degree become sexy and desirable, but there is a clear message to males that sexual domination by a female is the only exception in which they can retain their masculinity.
So men are not openly submissive because to do so would be risking being ridiculed and being ostracised.
That is the dilemma for a dominant female; how do we recognize them when they are pretending to be something they are not in an effort to hide their true submissive natures?
I specifically ask this question in regards to the area in which I live, that being a rural, right-winged, predominately religious area where patriarchal views of relationship are still the standard.
The most common way is via the Internet as it allows submissive men to become members of BDSM groups or D/s focused "dating" sites and with the protection of relative anonymity, seek out dominant women.
It is an imperfect solution as the focus of Internet interaction becomes on the sexual aspects of BDSM as opposed to the relationship aspects of a D/s coupleship.
It becomes about the kink exclusively; Do you like to have that done to you? Do you like to do this to someone else?
In my experience as a dominant woman it is an exhausting process to weed out all the Alphas in sheep's clothing seeking to fulfill selfish fantasies, all the wannabes who don't understand the first thing about D/s relationships and all the men who want only to be sexually dominated.
It was suggested to me that I expand my search beyond the Internet and into the "real world", to use observation and notice the males who go beyond chivalry in their behaviors; the ones that rush to open the door, that offer to assist in unexpected ways, that are attentive in noticing my drink needs to be refilled and that, in the words of the suggester, treat their mothers well.
I have begun to put into practice that suggestion but truthfully I am stumped as to how to engage a male I may identify as submissive.
How does one approach them?
"Hi, I noticed you do [insert whatever was noticed here], are you by chance a submissive male interested in being with a dominant woman?"
It isn't about rejection for me, it is about discretion.
Of course there is the possibility of being rejected when approaching a stranger who has caught my attention as they may not reciprocate the attraction but that is just part of adulthood, it happens, it isn't personal and I move on.
However, imply to a male he's submissive when he's not, yeah, that could create an awkward situation especially if he feels you have insulted him or demeaned his masculinity.
Yes, I know, it isn't necessary to even mention the words dominant and submissive in the first contact, I am just using the example as a way of expressing that first interactions are exceptionally difficult to navigate when you're not wearing name tags that read, "Hi, I'm Jaye, a female dominant" or "Hello, my name is Bob and I'm submissive".
Unfortunately, there is also the possibility that even though Bob is a submissive, that we are not a good match.
Of course that compatibility encompasses our kinks but it also includes; is he a couch potato or does he like to be active, do we have common interests besides BDSM, do we listen to the same types of music and most importantly, are we able to communicate effectively?
None of that really matters when all you do with someone is scene with them, well, with the exception of communicating effectively but that is specific to the scene, not in a generalized sense.
I have a play partner, who I have played with for a couple years now, and I don't even know his name, it just isn't necessary.
It is possible I am not "doing" this right, but it seems if I am honest from the onset that I am interested in a D/s relationship the focus immediately shifts to the sexual components not allowing for the development of a full relationship.
If I am not honest from the onset and allow a relationship to begin without the D/s aspect then I risk struggling to redefine the relationship or losing it completely.
So the question becomes, do I start dating a vanilla guy and bring the D/s aspects into our relationship, hoping he'll be into it? Or do I try to evolve a relationship with a submissive guy with whom I am sexual?
And how to I know the difference between a submissive male posing as a vanilla one and a vanilla one posing as a submissive guy?
And does anyone know how to make a really good meatloaf?

Alphas in sheep clothing

2009-07-15T19:07:00.009-06:00

Recently I decided I would begin with BDSM, meaning I would be completely honest with anyone interested in a "romantic" (for lack of a better word) relationship with me upfront regarding the fact I am only interested in pursuing a D/s relationship.
I have my profile on the few BDSM sites that have gained reputations for being reasonably decent at introducing people of like minds to one another.
So, I've been introduced to a few men who identify as submissive and am finding out that submissive men, in general, are extremely selfish creatures.
My profiles all read that I am seeking a partner for a well rounded coupleship including spending time developing a relationship that includes laughing, spending non-BDSM time together doing non-BDSM activities we both have an interest in, having conversations (intelligent and silly); basically sharing ourselves and being a couple.
Is the concept of being a couple foreign in the kink world?
Of course, my definition of "couple" is that we have an open sexual relationship but an exclusive emotional relationship.
Yeah, I know, I don't want much, huh? [end sarcasm]
The problem I am encountering is the moment I say I am interested in D/s relationship the male becomes completely focused on the sexual aspects of what that means and it is like getting an errant jackass that is munching on berries back on trail.
It becomes about what he wants; he wants to dress in pretty panties...oh yeah, for me...he wants to have his balls abuse...oh, yeah, if it pleases me...he wants to be humiliated in front of my friends...oh, yeah, if I want that too...he wants to be tied up and left for a duration...oh, yeah if the idea excites me...he wants me to "force" him to suck another guy's cock...oh, yeah, if that would get me off...he has list, or perhaps agenda is a better word, compiled with the motivation of sexual greediness that has nothing to do with being submissive.
Basically he wants me to enable his sexual fetishes and fantasies, validate them and be the conduit for realizing them into reality.
Hmmm...maybe I am confused but that doesn't sound submissive to me, that sounds selfish and prefacing selfishness with "Mistress" doesn't make it any less selfish.
Of course, I have come to realize these men aren't submissive at all and are only using the context of BDSM as a means to get what they want sexually; Alphas in sheep clothing.
I am left wondering if the submissive male is real?
Is the term "submissive male" a contradiction in terms?
Are there any men who truly want to worship a female for her dominant qualities?
Are there any men who truly want to serve a female because they find happiness in serving her?
Are there men who want to submit their desires to her, making her desires their own?
Are there men who would find contentment at being at her feet, his head in her lap as she entangles her hand in his hair at the end of the day?

I raped a man today...

2009-07-10T20:09:00.000-06:00

I raped him.
Yes, he was willing to be fucked, to be taken, but what I did, even though it was with his consent, was rape.
I find him utterly lovely to look at when I dress him.
He doesn't dress himself, it isn't about him or what he wants, it is about me and what I want.
I chose the outfit; the plaid skirt, the white sweater that leaves his midriff bare, the silky thigh highs with the bows above the knees and the shiny Mary Jane shoes.
I want to see his waist cinched to 25 inches, pulling the strings myself, listening to his deep intake of breath, the change in his breathing as I tie off the strings restricting his diaphragm from expanding.
I want to run my hands along his hour-glass curves, the curves I have created and listen to his small moans while I button up the sweater, hook the skirt, smooth the silk over his legs and strap on the shoes.
His cock in all its masculine glory is swollen and protruding beneath the skirt as he kneels in front of me, looking up at me beneath lashes long and thick with mascara, his look so submissive it makes me ache.
Around his cock is a polished, wide, silver ring engraved with the words, "[Jaye's] property".
He opens his mouth.
He doesn't ask what the pill is I am putting on his tongue, it is an act of absolute trust and as he swallows I feel dizzy with the trust he has given to me, with its eroticism.
He willingly holds out his wrists without for me to wrap leather cuffs around knowing he will be bound with them.
He quietly stands, legs apart, as I buckle matching leather cuffs around his ankles.
I hold his hand as I take him to the bed.
I tell him what I want, to insert the electrodes, to use to stimulate his prostate and he positions himself so that I can insert the speculum and affix the small pads.
When I am done he spreads his arms and legs spread wide, so I can loop rope through the metal circlets of the cuffs and secure the rope to the bed posts.
My fingers trace the muscular lines of his arms as I admired their sinew strength.
I slowly rub my palm over the defined muscles in his thighs enjoying the feel of their solidity.
I lick across the pattern of his abdominals, making them contract and move against my tongue.
He is my possession.
He is beautiful as I look down from above, sliding his engorged cock into my slick cunt and I tell him this, how gorgeous his is, how I get off just looking at him and my words make him moan as he bites his lip with his eyes rolling back in pleasure.
He relaxes into his bondage as the pills begin to take effect and he becomes my toy to be used for my own pleasure.
I pleasure my cunt with his cock, riding him rhythmically, moving my hips to take him as deeply as I can and he is helpless beneath me.
The drugs are my insurance he will remain hard until I am done using him.
It is many orgasms later that I am crazy with wanting his cum inside of me.
His pleading protests excite me further.
His cock belongs to me, not to him and impossibly he becomes harder inside of me when I tell him this, when I tell him I own him.
I am redefining a boundary, turning a knob, his prostate contracting against his will, stealing his cum from inside of his body, raping him so completely by forcing him to cum inside me.
Proving that I do own him.

Single cell organism...or is that orgasm?

2009-07-07T21:12:00.004-06:00

I had a house full of out-of-state relatives, a 40 hour work week to clock in, events planned until the moment the last member of my visiting family left, had already advised friends of my unavailability for socializing and that is when WK decided to trump all my protests with,"You need to have my cock inside of you".
I crumbled.
I will never understand how he pulls the rabbit out of the hat in knowing when I am needy, needy being my code word for "wanting to be dominated" especially when we had communicated so infrequently, our lives being lived as separately as fish and birds with only moments of scales taken into beaks, feathers diving into water.
I had become edgy with the need, my mood shifting from one of tolerance to one of intolerance without the passing of days or even hours but merely minutes.
Often I had felt on the verge of tears for no other reason than I needed a physical release of the stress I was internalizing in an effort to keep all things external balanced.
My mind had become too easily distracted, flashing images of my submission leaving me unable to retain information or to process my thoughts without extended time to do so.
I haven't submitted in a l-o-n-g time to anyone but especially to WK as the dynamic of our relationship has changed to a constant of his submission to my dominance.
But we're both switches and the beauty of our relationship is that we recognize in each other the need to be one or the other.
I felt a twinge of guilt in abandoning the responsibilities of my life and carving out time to scene with him when my time had already been scheduled elsewhere, but only until I was on my knees and his fingers were entwined at the base of my neck into my hair pulling my head back.
The sensation of submitting was so intensely sexual but more it was an exquisite emotional release.
I let go.
Of everything.
Every thought.
Every worry.
Every concern.
Every responsibility.
Every plan.
Every burden.
Every complexity.
I even let go of time.
Beneath his dominance I became a simple organism with such basal needs that I acted on instincts rather than cognitive thought.
His dominance is a potent healer for me.
I cried, shaking from being broken down so completely, waiting for the particals of my body to return to form me again, and he soothed me with the words he knows effect me, "I've missed you, baby".

Eventually, I'll give up sympathy

2009-06-28T19:27:00.006-06:00

I was approached on Collarme.com by a lesbian Domme who once lived in my area but had moved several months ago out of state leaving behind a contracted, cuckold, domestic slave.
Her contract with him was based on blackmail. She had photographs as well as names and addresses of his family and friends to which she would send the photographs if he was not chaste and in service to a Mistress within a certain time frame.
She contacted me asking if I would be interested in taking his contract.
First, I have written before I do not participate in the theory of slavery. It is my personal choice as I view people as human beings, not as chattel.
Secondly, I find blackmailing distasteful.
The D/s dynamic for me is defined by consent by the submissive and the Dominant, both agreeing to the terms of their relationship and entering those terms without coercion.
Thirdly, contracts are not my style, especially contracts that are based on the concept of slavery enforced by blackmail.
Now, I am not stating that any of these things are wrong in a general sense as I abide by the "live and let live" rule as well as "different kinky strokes for different kinky folks" which applies here.
After conducting an interview with the Mistress and her cuckold, I turned her offer down.
I wasn't interested in the complications.
Tiny, as he is mockingly called by his former Mistress, has been in chastity as a cuckold domestic "slave" for two years.
She had kept him in chastity for several reasons the first being because he masturbates excessively, 3-5 times a day, if he is not locked up in a device. Also, the chastity kept him from straying in his obedience, as if he was allowed release he would become insolent.
Tiny has not had sex in 5 YEARS.
Yes, there are reasons, Tiny's dick when it is erect is 4.75 inches.
For comparison, that is about the size of an 11 to 12 year old boy's penis.
Tiny is 6'5 and in my estimation tipping the scale at 300 lbs so his penis appears ridiculously small.
Another reason, Tiny has issues with bladder control and urine leakage so has to wear a diaper.
The diaper isn't about an infantilism fetish, it is a necessity due to his medical condition.
The "Domme" is a sadistic, man hating, and arrogant B-i-t-c-h. (And I don't mean the good kind of bitch, I mean the foaming at the mouth, snaffled tooth, flea infested, rabid, kind.)
I have this opinion of her because she took advantage of a weak individual to create circumstances that benefited her exclusively and exploited his fantasy of being a "slave".
There was no consent.
Yes, he signed the slave contract but only after she had locked him in a chastity device for several months and would not release him without his signing the contract.
I, unfortunately, am incapable of not becoming involved in complicated situations like this one because I am one of those people who can't be unaffected by sympathy.
I had a few hours with Tiny.
Then he disappeared, not contacting myself or his previous Mistress.
His disappearance led to his previous Mistress fulfilling her promise of sending blackmailing photographs along with a letter explaining the photographs in embarrassing detail to a friend of Tiny's.
I received this email cc'd to me:

Please don't send out any more pictures, i am so sorry, please don't. John called me and he had quite a laugh at me over the phone. Why? i cannot help it if i masurbate.....i need to masturbate. i asked him to tear it up, he refused and said he is going to scan it in an save it for a rainy day, as he put it.
Just STOP, ok, fine, i will get the chastity device, but i want to wear a cb-3000 like before, ok?
Mistress Jaye, is that ok, can i wear a cb-3000 instead?

finally, YES, I HAVE A SMALL PENIS!!! It is 4" erect, ok? It didn't grow, like the rest of me, since i was 12, about the same time i stopped wearing diapers. i have had intercourse less than 30 time...i'll wear a chastity device because that is all i am worth to a Woman. I GET IT.

At this point all I can say is, "I don't care".
Truly, I don't care if this man masturbates 3-4 times a day, what does it matter to me?
Hell, he can't even spell the word, so why should I have an interest in if he does it until his penis falls off?
I do not want a submissive that is being coerced into service as there are plenty of TRUE submissives who WANT a D/s relationship with a dominant woman and wouldn't be a whiny pain in the ass about it.

Off the Wall topic

2009-06-25T20:08:00.004-06:00

Michael Jackson died today, of course, you know this, it is plastered all over the news.
My first reaction, as it usually is when a relatively young person dies suddenly, is one of disbelief and shock.
Michael Jackson was an icon of my childhood.
Christmas of 1982 I unwrapped a thin square present excitedly, it was the one thing I had asked for that year; Michael Jackson's Thriller album.
Yeah, an album. As in a vinyl LP record. LP stands for long playing, 12 inch diameter, in case you needed a bit of a music history lesson.
I wore that record out.
I mean o-u-t.
I had to buy a second one and even a third one, that I got at the second hand music store.
My theory is that if MTV, that began airing in 1981, didn't have Michael Jackson's videos as part of their program, it would have been like Star Search is to American Idol, about 20 years ahead of its time.
Does anyone realize that Michael Jackson only produced 6 albums his entire solo career?
He averaged 1 album every 5-6 years.
It is phenomenal that his music made such an impact that he was able to sustain mega-stardom status while only recording once every 5 or 6 years.
He was a musical genius.
There is no debating that as he has a solid place is music's history.
There is also no debating he was a child molester.
Okay, there is some debate, but I don't believe in the coincidence of him being tried for child sexual abuse, not just once but twice, and that doesn't include the case that was settled out of court.
Ask me if I care that he was acquitted of his charges?
The short answer is, "no".
A successful criminal defense for a guilty person can be bought.
So, yeah, I was at first shocked to hear of his death and saddened by the loss of the musical genius that was an icon from my childhood, but my secondary reaction was, "I am glad he can't hurt any more children".
It is difficult to separate admiration for his genius from my abhorrent feelings about his criminal actions against children but I do it by remembering that people are not absolved of their immoral conduct by their brilliance.
In the end, as the person he was, no longer the brilliant musical prodigy but the predatory letch with a sexual depravity for young children, I hoped he suffered in his death and is suffering beyond it.

Conversational foreplay

2009-06-21T12:40:00.004-06:00

Intelligent conversation is extremely sexy.
Especially when it is interspersed with intelligent humor.
It was already late by Utah-Mormon-time when we began our conversation in the evening, but it was the perfect time for it, quiet except for the sounds of the wind and rain, both of us in a reflective mood without any edginess.
There is something about the late hour, that hour that takes us from one day into another, when the shadows are at their deepest, at their darkest, that provides an intoxication giving courage to share secrets.
He is a submissive male and he lives that life quietly having only experience with women who weren't capable of understanding him or valuing him.
I was already attracted to that quality in him so it wasn't a surprise when he told me.
I didn't ask the obvious questions because I sensed he would tell me, wanted to tell me, wanted someone to tell who would accept what he was saying and be understanding.
The insecurity was there but he braved beyond it and told me he had fantasies about being feminized, that he owned women's lingerie, and that he desired to serve a Dominate woman although with his lack of experience he didn't understand completely how he wanted to do that, he just knew that he constantly thought about it.
His fantasies weren't all sexual.
His fantasies were about being a submissive male in a D/s relationship with a Dominate female.
There was something so pure, almost confessional about everything he spoke about, it felt as if I were listening to a virgin tell me how he lay in bed at night, his cock erect, knowing at a basal level he wanted to fuck but not knowing the details of how to fuck to even fantasize about it. All he knew was that stroking his cock wasn't bringing him release, he needed those details, he needed to experience those details to bring him completely over the edge.
We passed the hour when the morning is confused as still being the night, and the hours of being awake were pressing on my mind, slowing down my thoughts but not my interest.
My interest was throbbing between my legs.
It was evident his cock was hard, I could hear it in his voice and I knew when he was distracted by it as I purposely changed the tone of my voice and used words to evoke images in his mind to gauge his reaction.
We had privacy.
We were in the dark, comfortable with each other and in a state of relaxed arousal.
I told him to stroke his cock slowly while we talked.
He reached down into his pants and into the confinement of his underwear and wrapped his hand around his cock.
I did the same, sliding my fingers into the wetness between my legs.
It was so simply erotic, masturbating with one another, not touching each other only ourselves, knowing we wouldn't touch each other, using just our sounds to turn each other on.
He pulled his cock out, pushing his pants down to his knees and I slid mine down to my ankles and the smell of wanting sex aroused me even more and it took a gloriously long time for us to reach our orgasms, almost as if we didn't want to stop the tourment that was so delicious.
The sun was fading into the sky when we said good-night and although I only had time to sleep for a few hours, I woke up with a renewed engery, or maybe it is just hope, hope that something real can become of this.

Revolving door...

2009-06-20T20:51:00.008-06:00

*Caution: Whining and bitching do take place in the following entry but since it is my blog, I get to use it to whine and bitch occassionally, so there.

My life has become a revolving door again and it has left me disappointed and considering celibacy as a viable option.
I had spent a couple weeks playing long distance/online with a submissive male who had a propensity for CBT and also wanted to experiment with chastity, both of which are of interest to me. However, the play stayed online because he lived an hour's drive from me and with our schedules we couldn't seem to meet in real life.
I am not interested in continuous long distance play with a person I haven't met, so when another meeting with him was postponed, I stopped the play.
It is disappointing to put time and energy into an online relationship, hoping, expecting it will evolve into a real-life one, only to have it completely disappear.
I am implementing a rule; no online or long-distance play with anyone I haven't first met in person.
Steve has resurfaced, as he usually does after a period of being absent, and he introduced me online to Dave who has fast become an annoyance.
Dave and Steve met online and then in the middle of the week got together for as Steve put it, "a gay encounter" that included a blow job and a quick fuck in the back of Dave's SUV.
Maybe I should mention that both are bisexual, so it makes sense?
I will admit I was slightly pissy about them getting together because Steve had cancelled on me several times when we planned to get together, so I felt put off.
When Steve suggested we get together Friday for a morning session I mouthed the word yes but without any meaning behind it since I figured he would cancel on me again.
Of course, this was the one time when he didn't.
I was disappointed that we wouldn't be getting together but at the same time I was indifferent because he HAD cancelled every single time before so how could I expect he would actually follow through?
In the meantime, Dave advised me that Steve and him are to meet up to do a guy on guy scene for a woman Steve knows that has a guy on guy fantasy.
Okay, I was seriously annoyed because I have expressed to Steve how I would love to get him together with WK because a guy on guy scene is a huge unfilled fantasy of mine.
The fact remains, Steve and I still haven't played and I am contemplating if at this point I want to play with him at all.
Unfortunately, he is so fucking hot and the thought of having his body to use in unspeakable ways just turns me on too much to be rational.
Besides, he needs to be punished for introducing me to Dave.
Dave is a boring whiner.
He is a self-indulgent, boring, whiner that only wants to talk about his fantasies especially those surrounding a woman feminizing him.
He is also irritating because he called excessively until I warned him that he needed to stop or I would not take any of his calls.
Unfortunately, to him, three calls a day is not excessive.
Next time I talk to him I will give him my definition of excessive.
There's a vanilla guy who I am 75% sure I won't be interested in but that I am not completely writing off until I have met him because I could be wrong.
But it is the same story with trying to meet up with him, he's doesn't have the time between working strange hours, working week-ends, playing in a softball league and whatever else.
It is truly aggravating how men don't have the time to date.
They all say they do but it never fails that they really don't and none of them seem to know how to schedule their time so that they do.
It isn't like I am sitting on my ass with nothing to do but I always seem to figure out how to MAKE the time to go out once in a while.
Granted, lately, I haven't put forth the effort I did before because I am cynical after being cancelled on so often that I figure why the hell put myself out when nothing will come of it?
Actually, at the moment I am cynical about the entire dating processing.
Even the men I've somehow managed to connect with are damn near impossible to connect with a second time.
Boi, the original, IM'd me out of the blue, to let me know he has a free schedule as his job is on hiatus for the summer but when I mentioned that we should get together, no reply.
Honestly, I am getting a complex.
Then there is WK.
We haven't played in weeks.
We were suppose to have all of last week to play together as he had told his wife he was going on a business trip and my son was to have gone to a summer camp.
Well, it didn't happen partially because I didn't want it to happen but mainly because my son's summer camp trip was rescheduled for July.
WK and I haven't spoken for nearly two weeks.
I know it should matter to me that my feelings for him have changed, have all but disappeared, but I haven't been interested in examining my feelings for him or the lack thereof.
All I really want is a single, submissive, interesting guy who has the time to devote to a D/s relationship and is interested in doing it with me.
*end of whine*

Stages of sexuality

2009-06-16T20:41:00.006-06:00

Over at Unspeakable Axe this topic has been posted for discussion and I am stealing it, with Axe's permission, because I would hate for him to find it in my virtual-pocket, all waded up, the letters slightly fuzzy from perspiration and used without him knowing I took it.

Here’s the description: The 30-40 Wasteland: “The BDSM community doesn’t lack for members of the older set. TNG too thrives. But what happened to our members between 30 and 40 (give/take a couple of years)? Is there a reason that this population is scarce and what can we do to bring them out more?

My theory, that I am going to regurgitate from what I wrote in the comments over there, is this:
Sexuality is experienced in stages throughout our lives partially because of biology but I think mostly because we live so much of lives in stages, especially socially.
In our teens, when our sexualities begin to become prevalent, we are incapable of understanding the complexity of our sexualities and are instinctively driven on a basal level; insert tab B into slot A.
Often it takes the entirety of our teens just to figure out the mechanics of inserting tab B into slot A, and if we really want to do insertion per the diagram we're given or if at all.
In my personal sexual history I am fairly certain that I didn't experience an orgasm from the time I started having sex at 16 until I went to college.
In my 20's I was figuring out the parameters of my sexuality and doing a whole lot of experimenting to get the answer. My experimentation included everything from discovering masturbation (first vibrator, first dildo), discovering sex with other females (beyond high school kissing and groping), experimenting with alcohol and sex, tossing in a few sexual experiences while on drugs, having a few experiments with numbers (3-somes, 4-somes) and answering the question, "Can you really do it in the back of a hatchback?"
I also experimented with the basics of BDSM but back in the day it was just called rough sex. Actually, I remember being called a freak for my sexual proclivities.
Some times it was said as a compliment and some times it wasn't.
I entered my 20's before the Internet entered mainstream so beyond the gay "Leather" magazines, badly produced misogynistic porn videos and an occasional trip to the sex clubs in the Tenderloin of San Francisco, I didn't have a healthy introduction to BDSM so although I was curious, I was also slightly scared of it.
I also spent the majority of my 20's putting a strangle hold on my sexuality with negative body image issues and struggling to become comfortable in my own skin.
I was convinced that I wasn't sexually attractive because I wasn't a carbon copy of the emaciated images I viewed in magazines, on billboards and on television.
Lacking self-confidence contributed to my insecurity in exploring my sexuality fully.
By 26 I was married and began to follow "The Plan" of owning a home with the white picket fence, starting a family, focusing on advancing my career and basically setting the foundation for the rest of my life.
Becoming an adult.
At 28 I became a mother.

There is a psychological shift that occurs when women become mothers regardless of their past sexual histories and beliefs surrounding sex; they shift into believing their sex lives are not mutually exclusive from their motherhood.
All of the sudden those short skirts and tall boots are shoved into a box and thrown into a cardboard box to be stored in the basement because those aren't clothes that a "mom" wears.
All the sudden it isn't conceivable to wield a whip on a tied up person that has a gag in his/her mouth because that isn't what "a mom" would do.
The concept of "Mother" is described by words like wholesome, maternal, loving, caring, nurturing, words that are in opposition of having a sexuality especially one that is kink focused.
Mom - think about it - the word doesn't evoke sexiness, passion or kink.
There is a standard for women who are mothers that is evoked the moment we give birth and although none of us know exactly what it is, we strive to become it and we understand it is necessary to become asexual to achieve it.
We understand becoming this way is the ONLY way we can be good mothers because good mothers are not sexual deviants.
There is also another component to being a parent; lack of time.
Children are like black holes that absorb time into an abyss from which it cannot be recaptured.
I remember days I didn't have time to shower let alone have a kinky scene.
I loved it when childless friends would say, "Just get a babysitter" as if other adults a) were available, b) were willing to babysit, c) were liked by my son and d) were trustworthy.
As children get older their schedules becoming increasingly demanding on a parent's time.
If you're a parent, I don't have to explain further, if you're not a parent and plan on becoming one, you'll get it when you have children.
It took until I was about 33 years old, to begin to understand that my entire identity was not wrapped up in the word "mom" as well as to become comfortable with my body.
I began, with my ex-husband, to explore again.
As it happened my marriage dissolved but the exploration we did together led me to be more active in the life-style and now, at the age of 38, I am as active as I can be as a single mother with a full-time job.
I think my experience follows the pattern of most people my age, especially women and I expect that as my son becomes more self-reliant and I become less worried about the impact my sexuality will have on him should I be "outed" that I will become even more involved.
I also believe that as I have aged I have become more sexually mature in understanding my sexuality is a part of myself that is healthy to express. I no longer think of myself as a "freak" or a "deviant" and perhaps it has helped to be able to connect with other like-minded people, to share experiences and ideas, to feel a part of a kink community.

Me and Humpty Dumpty...

2009-06-15T07:51:00.002-06:00

When a scene goes wrong, it needs to be talked about, made part of the healing process as well as a learning experience.
Otherwise, the wound that was created will just become infected with an array of negative emotions that are flesh eating from the inside out.
It was too intense a conversation for me to have all at once or even face to face, I needed it in small processable pieces from a distance and that required days of texting, IM and emails.
I needed the detachment provided by the one dimensional conversation, the pauses to be able to wrap my mind around the information I was being given and to give my emotions distance so I wasn't reacting completely irrational.
There were moments, moments when he wasn't aware that his words were blaming and invalidating, that I was desperately struggling to hold onto rational thought to translate the meaning from what he said to what he meant.
There were moments I was overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions that my reaction was physical; crying until my tears were used up, screaming into a pillow until my throat was searing with pain and going into a walking emotional coma of nothingness; numbed.
At first he didn't understand the reasons I was broken.
Didn't I understand it was a scene, a fantasy?
Didn't I understand it was a fantasy he wanted to experience with me?
I began at the beginning; he didn't have my consent to involve me in a scene.
The difference from the beginning was consent.
It wasn't my fantasy, it was a trigger for a traumatic past experience, it was a boundary I trusted him to always respect.
He was selfish in not respecting it.
It was a selfish, inconsiderate and trust shattering "scene".
No, it wasn't his intent to cause me emotional pain, but the result was that he did.
I needed that acknowledgement.
I didn't need his defense of intent.
He gave me the acknowledgement I needed, the validation of my fear, my anger, my resentment and my heart break.
Trust is held in the heart so when it is broken, so is the heart.
I haven't forgiven him but I know I will and with time I will trust him again.

I know I will not remain always broken because as the trust is restored, as I know it will be, the pieces are put back together and the cracks are filled, I will become whole again.

Being broken...why bad scenes should never happen

2009-06-15T07:51:00.001-06:00

I wasn't aware what was going to happen.
I had finished my nightly routine and had went to bed, falling asleep even before my head hit the pillow.
I stirred, not waking fully but just enough to shift positions due to the weight pressing on my leg, as I normally do to allow my dog to lay as he will at the bottom of my bed and put out my hand to pet him.
My hand rested on skin not fur, it was a male arm, then I remember my body reacting in a flurry of kicking and wailing of my arms as I screamed in terror even before my mind registered if it was reality or a dream.
Then he spoke.
His was a voice I trusted.
I stopped screaming, the rush of adrenaline my heart had pumped into my system like an exploding volcano had me sobbing as the terror left, no longer in need of the flight or fight response, leaving me shaking uncontrollably and suddenly depleted of any strength.
I was confused to be pushed, and not consoled, back onto my mattress before I was able to gain control of myself.
A knee came down on my arm, imprisoning it against the mattress, as the rope wound tightly around my wrist to be tied off to the bed.
My reactions were slowed by my confusion making my attempt to keep my free arm out of his grasp feeble.
I was being tied down.
I couldn't reconcile the person, someone I trusted with the activity of rope winding around my wrists and then my ankles, with the manhandling of my body and the ripping of my clothing.
I began to protest and found a ball gag shoved brutally into my mouth and fastened tightly.
Tears stung my eyes.
A cloth blindfold was wrapped around my eyes and secured tightly.
I was crying against the blindfold and sucking in the ball gag with my sobbing.
I wasn't emotionally prepared for the scene.
There was no thrill.
There was no heighten sexual response to the surprise of it.
There was no exhilaration from the helplessness.
There had been no consent.
It was a breaking of trust.
It was a violation of privacy.
It was brutal.
When it was over and he had untied me, he dressed and left.
I was in shock.
I desperately needed aftercare but I was left alone.
I felt broken.
I sat in the tub with the shower pouring water over me and cried until water ran cold and I was once again shivering.
I called a friend and she talked to me for hours until I was numb enough to fall asleep.
When I woke up in the morning, just a couple hours later, I knew he had damaged me but that I had to gather up the pieces of me that were left and put them back together.
I am still picking up the pieces...

I need a white flag, not a whip

2009-06-12T17:10:00.007-06:00

Tonight I was suppose to be meeting with an attractive, articulate, interesting and submissive male who I have spent the last couple weeks having fun with in training "remotely" because he lives about an hour's drive from me and we hadn't been able to meet in person even after scheduling a few meetings.
As a single parent it is difficult to arrange to have the house to myself and even more difficult to arrange to have time for myself. To get both at the same time is practically an act of Congress.

Tonight the pieces all seemed to finally fall into place for us to meet; my son was to spend the night at a friend's house, I had arranged for him to be taken there so I could devote more time on preparing for my date/possible session and I had scheduled to leave work early so I could prepare my home for hosting a session, should we connect in person, and I truly thought we would since we were having such fun with the remote training.

When we IM'd in the morning I was excited at the prospect of finally having a session with a sub who enjoyed CBT and was open to allowing me to experiment with my sadist side, including cock and ball beating.

Not to mention he seemed genuinely interested in a long-term relationship, not just play dates.

He had even purchased a chrome plated CB6000 that he had in place the moment it arrived in the mail, express delivery, to replace the CB2000 we had been playing with during the last couple weeks.

He took this picture to send to me and I thought the chrome, not to mention the swollen balls, looked stunning!
I woke up this morning thinking of how delightful it would be to have him caged all day just so that he could present his cock and balls to me, and the key to the cage, for my toys.

The thought of whacking his cock and balls ebbed my exhaustion a bit and I began to look forward to the end of the day when we would meet.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of admitting to him that I was exhausted, as a means of tempering his expectations of our first session, should it happen and unknowingly changed the course of how my evening would play out.

Work was a disaster.

I had uncovered several issues that had to be immediately corrected or my company would be liable for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

It took a team of us, myself as the spearhead, to work on resolving the issues, so I was not able to be on IM at work as I usually am throughout the day.

As the day progressed I realized I would need to set back our meeting time by an hour in order to complete my work and to have time to "freshen" up.

I IM'd him to change our meeting time by one hour and the end result was him postponing, yet again, our meeting.

After my stressful day at work I was extremely disappointed because I had spent the day looking forward to our meeting and possibly a session in which I could take my frustration out in creative ways with a wood spoon, a hair brush and a whip on his cock and balls.

I needed a nice dinner with good company and then to administer a beating to alleviate my overworked mind and the stress in my body that was leaving knots.

To have him decide not to give that to me, as promised, quickly went from disappointment to being irritated and upset.

There was no question asked of, "Are you certain you rather not rest tonight?" or any concession made for the extra amount of time I needed, he just made the decision to cancel our date.

He took responsibility for the decision and my only choice was to abide by it.

It was all about him.

Yeah, some Domme I am, I change the order of my life to work around his schedule and than am left with my plans dropped in my lap at the last minute because he say so.

Right now I am feeling like the punchline to a not very fun joke.

I just can't seem to do this right. Maybe I should be considering my failures are due to my lack of having a true ability to dominate. Maybe I am giving myself too much credit in identifying myself as a dominant woman.

Gee, that sounds like a fun way to spend the evening...ironic, I was suppose to spend it beating a male submissive, now I'll just spend it beating up on myself.

A dick in hand...

2009-06-01T21:42:00.005-06:00

Internet dating is the Gods' revenge for my ability to have multiple orgasms.
I am not even going to waste my time describing how this guy resembled the picture on his profile as much as I resemble, oh, how about Andy Rooney? Daffy Duck?
Not my type, at all, with an accent so fucked-up he sounded like Apu from The Simpson's doing an impression of Sean Connery faking a Russian accent.
He spoke, unceasingly, without the ability to hold a conversation. His head kept drifting to the side and his eyes kept rolling into the back of his head as if he was going to be overcome by fatigue and pass out.
I paid for my dinner because my instincts told me this guy kept a tab of an entirely different sort, one I had no interest in paying.
He suggested a walk, I obliged with my eyes on my watch, as I had already given my excuse to be leaving early.
As if to punctuate the terribleness of the date, it began to rain within minutes into our walk.
He suggested we duck for cover from the rain to his car which was parked closer than mine.
I went to the driver's side because I don't know this guy from Adam, hell, his name could have been Adam and I wouldn't have known it. I wasn't putting myself in a situation where he could lock the doors and drive off so after a little fox trot dancing, he got into the passenger's side.
He was clearly annoyed as he was not comfortably able to invade my personal space.
He said, "Come sit closer."
I asked why I would do that when I had no intention of being sexual with him.
"I didn't say get naked, did I?"
Oh, well, that was considerate of him that he hadn't expected me to get naked with him, in a public parking lot, after only having met him hours before...chivalry isn't dead.
He made the decision to grab my hand and press it to his cock that was semi-hard expressing to me that I should be overwhelmed, maybe even grateful, for his attraction to me and show my gratitude with a hand job.
I made the decision he needed to be taught that I am not that type of girl but that I am an entirely different type of woman.
I smiled, unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and balls, then twisted his balls ruthlessly with one hand while catching his dick in the zipper with another.
As he was schreaking in agony, I got out of his car and went to mine.
Who know he wasn't a sadist that got off on cock and ball torture?
Hmmm...guess he should have mentioned that before he gave me access to his dick.