"I'll tell you the horrible truth... no matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. Life doesn't give a fuck that you're sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on, and you gotta go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself." -Blue Moon (Laurell K. Hamilton, p 399)

Samhain

Today is Samhain.
Today is the day when from the moment I wake to the moment I drug myself to sleep, the faces of those I have lost whisper behind my eyes.

My mother, with her drunken good-night kisses and bitter naivete.
My Mema, with her ever-open arms and deep-rooted faith in a vengeful, loving God.
My Nana, with her soft heart and steel spine.

Vainkitten, with her her darkness and her naivete.
Ranger, who shared my life and my home without judgement.

My brother, who I believed loved me.

Oh, there are others. There are so many others. Joseph, who sang to me, "Sober," trying to warn me about his own untrustworthiness. Wolf, my once-consort, who still is in my life but not in the way that either of us would like. Jewel, who loved me with a deep and abiding love, and whose heart and loyalty I broke. Sunny, who never once stopped challenging me.
Some of them I don't even allow myself to think about anymore, and I probably won't remember until tomorrow morning.

There are more- there are always more. But those are the ones whose names aren't merely written on my heart today, but carved into it.

Tonight, while everyone else is at the party, I will lay the table for the Dumb Feast, and I will eat my dinner surrounded by my ghosts. I will close my eyes and see them in front of my face, and I will speak to them. I will tell my ghosts that they are not forgotten, that they are still written in my soul, and that their memories are still cherished.

Happy Samhain, my friends.

I'm in Florida this weekend, in a small town outside of Gainesville.
Jack's parents live here, and he is visiting them. Originally, I wasn't going to go- this was his trip, as my trips to Atlanta are mine.
But at the last minute, I agreed to go. I've just set up our wireless router in his mom's house (where we nearly always stay), and I'll be posting about Samhain soon.

Samhain

Tomorrow is Samhain.
Yes, people, that's Hallowe'en. All Hallow's Eve.
Samhain.
The Day of the Dead.
The Day of Remembrance.
The day pagans like me remember those who have gone before us, who have passed through the veil.
It's both solemn and merry- we laugh to remember the good times together, and we cry to know that those we love are gone. We treasure the memories of those who have been with us, and if sometimes our laughs are sometimes choked with sobs, and our tears sometimes drip onto smiles, well then, that is how the day goes.

Samhain has always been a hard day for me. I use it to celebrate not only those who have passed on, but those who have simply passed out of my life.
And there are a lot of those.
Some for the better, and some still leave an aching hole in my heart.

This Samhain, I don't know yet where I will be or what I will do. I may go to Atlanta, but if I do then I don't know where yet.
I don't do Halloween parties, at least not on Samhain night.
Many Samhains, I cook a Dumb Feast, and I invite my loved ones who are still with us. We set a place at the table for those we have lost, and we share joy and tears in their memories.
This Samhain, I don't know if I will have the opportunity to do that.
But wherever I am, those I love and have lost will be in my heart.

Anita Blake

"We all know in some ancient part of ourselves that blood is the thing. Without it, we die. Steal enough of it from our enemies and we steal their lives. There's a reason that blood has been associated with almost every religion on the planet. It's primal stuff, and no matter how snaitized we make our world, part of us still recognizes that." -The Killing Dance (Laurell K. Hamilton, p. 181)

Erotica

I sent in my sumission for the Erotica: A Woman's View anthology yesterday.

I'll let everyone know if I make it, once I find out.

Meanwhile, I'm still feeling like crap. Come cuddle me and keep me supplied with tea.
Now.
Please?

Sick

I feel like crap- stuffy nose, light-headed, freezing cold (fever), and massive headache.

Needless to say, I probably won't be posting much for the next couplt of days.

Long story short, though, Terry got sick Sunday morning and she and Lucivar stayed an extra day. Can they please just move in with us? I really do love having people in my house.

Weekend

Terry and Lucivar came to visit.
In fact, I'm writing this early in the morning (ok, 0830) as everyone else sleeps in a little. We went out to my favorite gay bar last night- a little hole-in-the-wall with the best drinks, best bartender, and sweetest people ever. I'll never be able to replace it once I move.

There's nothing spectacularly kinky to report- they got in late Friday night and we all hung out for a bit, went to the Farmer's Market and the beach, then to dinner with my minister and his husband and another very kinky couple Jack and I are close to, and this morning, post-services, we'll be going horseback riding at a friend of mine's.
Well, the conversations have been spectacularly kinky, and it seems like it may have been an interesting relief for them to be able to be open in what was ostensibly a vanilla setting about their interests and dynamic.

Quick vignettes:
Yesterday, at the beach... I live 45 minutes from some of the nicest beaches on the Gulf Coast. Seriously, I do. It's an easy drive, but I haven't made it in 3 years. Don't ask me why, I just never have.
Yesterday, with Terry and Lucivar, I did. We wandered the sugar-sand beaches looking for shells (Terry is a woman obsessed!), and every little while I would get tired of that (read: a crick in my neck) and make my way to the water's edge. I stood barefoot in the surf, feeling the cool, salty water caress my toes, and looked out over the endless horizon. The waves dug small holes in the sand around my feet, creating arch supports for me as the sun warmed (read: burned) my shoulders.
In those moments, there with earth beneath my feet and air blowing mischeviously around me, ancient water lapping at my ankles and the fiery sun caressing my skin, there with people I love around me, there I felt my heart fill until I wanted to simply scream out how incredibly blessed I am.

Last night, at the bar, the cigar smoke got too heavy (one of our friends is a pretty serious cigar smoker- his humidor is worth more than my car, and its contents worth more than most anything I own!) with he, his beautiful wife, and Lucivar all smoking, so I wandered outside (okay, staggered light-headedly... did I mention I'm a might allergic to smoke? One of the reasons I rarely go to bars) into the courtyard which was blissfully empty. I leaned against the railing, staring down into the algae-covered landscape pond, and wheezing a little as I tried to clear my head of the smoky cobwebs caused by the lack of oxygen. Jack and Lucivar came out to check on me, and there for a few moments, I stood there between them, surrounded by their love and concern, the love of my friends inside still glowing like a warm haven just a few feet away.

Today, we'll go horseback riding, where I am more comfortable than I am on my two feet. I'll probably ride bareback, doing little levades and caprioles on whichever horse needs work the most. Most of these won't be consensual on my part, more a constant, low-level 'discussion' of what direction we're going and at what speed. I'll ride between two of my favorite people, probably giving a running riding lesson even as I ignore half of my own advice in the argument with my mount.
And I'll grin ear to ear, because the Universe really, really loves me.

Dreaming

Last night, at the end of a long, complicated dream, the plot of which involved me being the middle or possibly oldest daughter of a large family, my mother nearly died.
In the dream, I sprinted across the blacktop in my bare feet, the long skirts and petticoats tangling around my legs until I cursed them. My mother- actually my adopted mom is who she truly resembled- was sitting in the front seat of a car, obviously recovering from some kind of petit mal seizure or similar event (I will not discuss the juxtaposition of my wearing petticoats while my mother was in a car. It was a dream. Get over it, I have)
I threw myself down next to her in the panic reaction I never allow myself in real life, bawling into her chest that she can't go away, that I love her.
Her voice was strained but her words were soothing, I will never lose her.
I woke up with sobs heavy in my chest.

This is where I live

Most everyone int he pervy community knows that Alabama is the last state in the US to ban the same of sex toys.
In 1998, Alabama enacted a statute that forbade the distribution, possession for distribution, or offer to distribute devices "designed or marketed as useful primarily for the stimulation of the human genital organs[.]"
This law was challenged in 1999, but was upheld by judges worried about "public morality."

Alabama law also still prosecutes sodomy, and yes, cunnilingus is included under it.
The first reported sodomy case (with a human) was Woods v. State, in 1914. This case had to decide if fellatio constituted a violation of the law. The Alabama Court of Appeals decided unanimously that it was. Lifting verbatim from the Illinois Honselman decision (q.v.), the Court decided that fellatio was a crime against nature, without giving any analysis for its conclusion.

In the next reported sodomy case, Brown v. State, from 1945, the Alabama Supreme Court dealt with the issue of cunnilingus and the crime against nature statute. In an opinion notable for its lack of analysis, the Court decided that cunnilingus was just as much a crime against nature as fellatio.

And, my personal favorite,
In 1935, trying to expand the existing therapeutic sterilization law, Alabama attempted to go the rest of the country one better with a bill to include

"those suffering from perversions, constitutional psychopathic personalities or marked departures from normal mentality[.]"

This group included any inmate of a penal institution or insane asylum whose "physical, mental or moral condition" would be improved and who was a

"sexual pervert, Sadist, homosexualist, Masochist, Sodomist, or any other grave form of sexual perversion [sic]."

The sterilization law was struck down as unconstitutional, BUT:
In 1951, Alabama joined the chorus of states singing the praises of psychopathic offender laws by enacting its own statute in which anyone convicted of a sex offense could be referred for a psychiatric examination if believed to be a criminal sexual psychopathic person. If so found, the individual could be committed to an institution until "fully and permanently" recovered from the psychopathy. If recovered and discharged, the prisoner was to be placed on probation "for such reasonable time as the circumstances may justify."
In 1961, Alabama revised its psychopathic offender law to eliminate the need for a criminal conviction to trigger the operation of the law. One merely had to be "charged with" a sexual offense in order to have proceedings instituted.
(This was deemed unconstitutional in 1973.)

Alabama passed a comprehensive criminal code revision in 1977.
The sodomy law was changed to "sexual misconduct," which outlawed "deviate sexual conduct."
The definition of "deviate sexual conduct" was

any act of sexual gratification between persons not married to each other, involving the sex organs of one person and the mouth or anus of another.

Consent was no defense,and the penalty was set at up to one year in jail. In addition, a "public lewdness" provision was enacted to prohibit "any lewd act in a public place" which the offender "knows is likely to be observed by others who would be affronted or alarmed." Thus, simple acts like kissing or hand holding could get a Gay man or Lesbian into trouble.

All of this comes from The History of Sodomy Laws in the US, and references are there.

Yeah. And I live here.
Although in Alabama's defense, although I can't find a date of revocation, the sodomy laws are no longer on the books- I've checked. Only one which protects minors (ages 12-16) from sodomy by an older person (over the age of 16) is still present. This is most likely due to the Lawrence v. Texas case which ruled unconstitutional all state sodomy laws.

Erotica: A Woman’s View

Hot Red Apple.com is currently accepting submissions for an upcoming coffee-table book, titled “Erotica: A Woman’s View”. This project will consist of erotic fantasies written by women, and exquisite photographs taken by Gary depicting those fantasies. Are you a woman? Do you like to write about your erotic fantasies? Have you always dreamed of getting published? Here is your chance!

What Will I Get In Return?
If your work is chosen for inclusion, you will receive the following:
1 copy of the coffee table-book “Erotica: A Woman’s View”
1 (one) 11x14 museum-quality giclee print of the image that accompanies your story, signed by Gary and ready for framing
Online publication of your work in our “Erotica: A Woman’s View” gallery.

What we will accept:
Erotic stories, written by women, in prose or poetic form.
Original work that has not been previously published.

What we will not accept:
Plagiarized work, or work that has been previously published (yes, we check).
Work that contains references to bestiality or minors under the age of consent.

How to submit your work:
Manuscripts to be no longer than 1500 words, and must be double-spaced, with 1” margins on all sides. There is no minimum word count.
Your work must be submitted as a Microsoft Word document.
Include a page that indicates your real name, the name (if different) that you would like us to publish your work under, and your contact information*.
Verification that you are female and over 18 ( please attach a clear photo of you holding your photo ID next to your face to your email ).
Email your manuscript to admin@hotredapple.com.

*All contact information will be kept strictly confidential. We promise you will not find yourself signed up for spam or junk-mail because of us…
Hot Red Apple.com retains the first publishing rights to all submissions. Submission does not guarantee inclusion in our publication. It is agreed that all submissions may be edited for grammar, length and content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I want to do this, but I'm running short on ideas. Someone give me one to write about... inspire me!

Morning Song

Another day has almost come and gone
Cant imagine what else could wrong
Sometimes Id like to hide away somewhere and lock the door
A single battle lost but not the war

(cause)Tomorrows another day
And Im thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain

Its almost like the hard times circle round
A couple drops and they all start coming down
Yeah, I might feel defeated,
I might hang my head
I might be barely breathing - but Im not dead
Tomorrows another day
And Im thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain

Im not gonna let it get me down
Im not gonna cry
And Im not gonna lose any sleep tonight

-Jo Dee Messina "Bring on the Rain"


I woke up this morning feeling a bit down, and very overwhelmed.
But I'm stubborn, and this was the first song to come on my media player this morning, which made me smile a little. It's a melancholy song, but it suits my moods quite well, acknowledging my mood without giving in to it.

So I made Thai Tea Blend (thank you, Terry, for introducing us to it- we're both hooked on it), and huevos rancheros, then actually cleaned up the kitchen a bit, and managed to get Jack's last transcript request faxed off before class.

Then, in a burst of Universal kindness, I checked with Lucivar about whether he and Terry are soming down this weekend and they are!
See Bella grinning like an idiot in the middle of Religions class. Vatican Council policies don't stand a chance.

Oh yeah, and I found crockpot jam/jelly recipes and another box of bread mix. Fucking awesome! I know what we'll be having for breakfast this weekend!

Self-Made Man: One Woman's Year Disguised as a Man

Do you remember my post a couple of weeks ago, in which I went wandering the University library and randomly grabbed books that looked interesting?

One of them was "Self-Made Man". It's inspired me to start a new section of my blog: Books Everyone Should Read.

"Self-Made Man", by Nora Vincent, is about the 18 months that she spent in drag, living, working, eating, reading, and playing as a man. The book opens with her decision to "go guy" for a year, and examine traditional gender roles, and the social construction of masculinity. She begins by joining a bowling league, where she learns not only how to bowl, but important lessons about how men relate to one another and themselves. Later, she goes on to date as "Ned", sharing with the reader her experiences of rejection as a man and how it was both similar and different from her experiences as lesbian woman. "Ned" also works as a travelling salesman, exploring the money/masculinity/sex tie- "Holy Sheep!" From here, Ned went on to spend several months in a monastery, contemplating vows and homophobia, and culminated Ned's journey in a men's retreat.

Nora Vincent, as Ned, gives a highly educational but extremely accessible look into how men's views of themselves and the world around them are constructed by not only the larger culture, but by themselves and other men. I recommend "Self-Made Man," highly for men with an introspective bent, women who want to better understand the men in their lives, and... ah, hell, I think everyone should read this. Seriously.

Reviews:

A thoughtful, entertaining piece of first-person investigative journalism . . . Self-Made Man transcends its premise altogether. . . . So rich and so audacious . . . [I was] hooked from Page 1. -- David Kamp, The New York Times Book Review

Eye-opening . . . Self-Made Man will make many women think twice about coveting male ‘privilege’ and make any man feel grateful that his gender is better understood. -- The Washington Post

Vincent’s account of how she ‘became’ a man is undeniably fascinating." -- Los Angeles Times Book World

[Vincent] can be as perspicuous and exact as Joan Didion or Gloria Steinem at nailing a hitherto disregarded truth about the sexes in a single elegant and witty phrase. . . . This is a brave and often fascinating book, with Vincent . . . offering us perspectives that are entirely fresh and new. -- The Times,London

Help, please? x-posted from LJ

So that house we looked at on Thursday? The one that looked so awesome, with the 3 bedrooms, the little patio, and the built-in dungeon?

Well... we went back to look at it again on Saturday, with Lucivar. It's got thousands of dollars worth of moisture and termite damage, and a sagging but new roof. The realtor seemed honestly unaware of this, and claims the owner was, too. Bullshit. You can't possibly put a new roof on a house and not notice that it sags and has massive moisture damage just beneath. Bullshit.

So here's what Jack and I are thinking. It's unlikely we can afford to come up again before it's basically time to move. Our last exam is December 9th, and we'll be moving basically right afterwards.
So.
We're thinking that what may make the most sense is to find someone we can stay with for 2 weeks to one month while we make a concentrated effort at house-hunting.

Obviously, we would pay to rent the space where we're staying, and do our share of any housework.
It has to be dog and cat friendly, since Puppy is nearly 60lbs and despite being very well-behaved, 60lbs is a good bit of room for a dog to take up.

Your thoughts?

To-Do List

Today's "Hi, Bitch, I hope you enjoyed being gone because you have a lot of shit to make up for!" To-Do List

• Gather up everything that needs to be paid and figure out how to do so
• Pick up package from post office
• Pick up paycheck(s?) from work
• Grocery shop
• Do lots and lots of laundry
• Clean up house
• Arrange my next Red Cross classes
• Seriously fucking study for the three tests I missed
• Primer-spray roof-top
• Get copy of insurance card and fax to avoid ticket
• Arrange Jack's transcripts
• Make appts for pets' rabies shots
• Go to J & A's for Jack's library books

Doesn't have to be done today:

• Go and renew my tag- can't wait until in Georgia, will be too long before returning
• Renew bike tag in P'cola, and get Jack's birth cert

Learning

This week has been... eventful.
I'm writing this from the car, while Jack drives. I had planned to wait, but the words are swimming through my mind like brightly colored fish, and I know that if I don't set them down they'll turn elusive, like little silver minnows in a stream.
I feel sad tonight, as we are driving south on I-65. I don't want to return home, but I know that it's time and past. It's been time and past, and I've shirked my responsibilities long enough.
I learned a lot about myself this week, though, and some of it makes me sad as well.
I learned that Honda parts aren't as ubiquitous as one would think, especially when they're for a car they made for 3 years, more than 15 years ago.
I learned how tight the turning radius of my car is not, and how useful it is to have a mechanic as an old flame.
I was reminded that attractive packaging doesn't always mean sound strength, and to never make snap judgments when blinded by greed.
I learned that I have more limits than even I realized.
I learned that I have less control over my own heart than I thought, and that sometimes my emotions can still surprise me.
I learned that I have even more amazing people in my life than I thought- and that is quite impressive.
I learned that I have a mild fear of heights, but that I'm okay as long as I don't look down.
I learned that I am better at saying 'no' than I have ever been before.
I learned that I am more androgynous in my own head than I realized, and that I am not entirely happy with being a female.
I learned that I have some resentment toward the men in my life for the male privelege they never notice.
I learned that while I am comfortable with being publicly sexy, and even to an extent sexual, I am not comfortable with being intimate in public.
I learned that I have a great deal of compassion for the male burdens women never notice.
I learned that I find gay bois really, really fucking hot.
I learned that I am more selfish than I realized, and that that can make me hate myself for short periods of time.
I learned that I am incredibly uncomfortable with feeling like a burden to others.
I learned that I am less my father's daughter than I realized, because I am incredibly uncomfortable with skeeving off my responsibilities, no matter how short the time or legitimate the reasons.
I learned that I am terrified of the commitment of owning a house.
I learned that Jack and I are both stronger than I realized, and more fragile.
I learned that Garmins are epic-fail at getting around Atlanta.
I learned that I am not glad to be back in my hometown, and in fact resent the necessity of returning.

ETA after arriving back in town and watching "True Blood" with some friends:
I learned that while I won't miss much about my hometown, I will very much miss my friends here.

It's a drizzly, rainy day in Small Town, GA, where I am right now.
The sky is grey and bleak, and it's just cold enough for there to be no pleasure whatsoever in the weather.

Im supposed to be working right now.
Actually, I'm supposed to be in Alabama, packing up to leave work.

Instead, I'm curled up on Terry and Lucivar's couch with a mug of chai that Jack made for me and a soft blanket, blogging and looking up movie times to take our gracious hosts out tonight.

Random vignettes from the weekend- leatherworking by Q and the Mistresses' Tea

Sunday, the very last day of DomCon, was the Mistress's Tea. I had considered dressing up a bit, but, well, you know me.
I decided at the last minute that I needed to get my leather pants and boots worked on so I wore them with a tank top and asked Lucivar and Terry to show me where the lovely Q was doing leather.
Then we wandered for a while.
And I found a black leather corset for $75.
Yes. It was supposed to feature red on black flames, but they mistakenly sent her black on black. I loved it just as it is, and I've been wanting a black leather corset to go with my black leather pants and skirt.
Yes, it's cliche. I like it anyway. Fuck off.
So I bought it, and then I found Q. And decided that "Hey, if I'm getting the rest of it worked on, I should get this, too!
So in the middle of the hall, with Lucivar's truly reluctant assistance (that boy's life just sucks. almost as much as mine), I stripped (did I mentioned I don't wear a bra with those tanks?) and wriggled into the corset. It was a pretty good show, apparently, as it got several stares, and Lucivar had fun lacing me in while I sat in a chair and Q worked on my boots. Really, let me tell you how awful my life is.
Getting my boots polished by a gorgeous boi while being laced into my new, massively discounted corset by one of my favorite bio-boys.
Then, I got to stand up while she did my pants. Really. My life sucks. Beautiful boi running her fingers all over my pants, being careful to rub saddle soap into every-single-inch.
Then she handed me my knife so as not to get saddle soap on it.
While I was using Lucivar for balance.
Well, one would be foolish to pass up such opportunities.
So I held it to his throat and watched him make pretty noises for me, throat bobbing and eyes going all wide and grass-green. I ran the tip along his jawline and he whimpered a little. Pressed the serrated edge into his adam's apple and watched him struggle not to swallow. Smiled darkly when he leaned into the blade just a little, showing him those dark places in me that sing to his.

And then it was time for the Tea, so we agreed that I'd come back to be finished afterwards.

Terry and I took places in the middle of the room, and I looked around for my darling Katzelein, who had attended the morning tea service class and was therefore acting as a server in the Tea. He was, as usual, making himself busy ensuring that everything was as perfect as he knew how to make it. I was, and am, so proud of him, I know how naturally shy he is so this was a huge step for him and he did a wonderful job.
Our table was served by an older gentleman, whose shaking hands clinked the pot against our cups, but his nervousness was actually quite adorable. I 'played mum', passing around the small plates of cakes to everyone, and we all chatted.
It was open only to dominant women, and it was really a pleasure to talk freely with other women about the unique challenges and pleasures we experience. I can't remember most peoples' names, and I apologize for that, but if any of the ladies of our table read this, simply know that I cherish that time we spent together.
Meanwhile, my Kat was making his way through the room with a sharpie and a large paddle, requesting that we all sign it as a souvenier, for Mistress Musette (who taught the tea service class and put on the tea), I believe. He was respectful but not retiring, and poured as gracefully as ever- I am so very proud of him.

I truly owe a great thanks to Mistress Musette and her girl blue, who taught a wonderful class on tea service, and then did an amazing job of running the Tea. She is a true Belle, and impressed me very deeply. I look forward to having tea with her at some point in the near future.

Eventually, the tea ended, and I returned to the hands of the lovely Q, who slathered my pants once more with leather conditioner (oh gee, darn!) and then started on my corset. I believe I will have some pictures later of her working on me, which with her permission I'll try and post here :) It's quite a sight- my tiny, redhaired self standing on a chair while the lovely black boi runs her hands all over my corset :-D

I got one last kiss from her before she left, then went in to watch Jack's interrogation.

Random vignettes from the weekend- suspended by Utah Rox

Utah Rox taught the Objectification class I took. By the end of the class, we had a human light switch (my adorable Kat), table, computer stand, couch, and ottoman.

I'm little. Like, 107lbs little.
I got to sit on the couch, and put my feet up on the ottoman. I developed a pretty quick crush on the instructor, but didn't worry too much about it because I knew I had my hands rather full of boys already.
Until the next day, during Andrew's bloodplay class. Sangre made, um, a bit of a mess. As in, she was completely covered in her own blood, rubbing it into her skin and dipping her fingers in it. She's a sick little bitch, and I like her a lot :)
Suffice to say, however, that this posed some problems getting her back up to her room because she was technically a biohazard.
So we literally carried her through the hotel lobby wrapped in plastic sheeting to opaqueness (poor nillas in that lobby!!!) and stuffed her in the elevator along with everyone else carrying anything else that was a biohazard.It was a rather amusing adventure, and while Sangre showered, Andrew, Jack, Rox, and I chatted.
I don't remember the conversation. It ended up being discussed that Jack and I might be bleeding that night. Since I hadn't yet gotten my bawling in, I was pleased with this plan.

Yes, I'm a slut. It's fun. Deal with it.

That night, however, when I ran into Rox, he said that he was looking for someone to suspend. I'm not terribly into suspension, so when he commented that I was the perfect size for it (subtle, Rox. You'd already asked my weight, remember? :-p), I said I had only done it once and it was a little painful for me. He agreed that Shibari suspension could be that way, but that wasn't what he intended.

See Bella's curiousity aroused. I inquired. He answered.

I started grinning. We negotiated with Jack and he stayed nearby to watch and keep a eye on me.

So Rox started setting up, and I stripped and stood on a chair. It's such a good thing I have no issues with nudity, because it's amazing how many people stop *in a BDSM club with play going on* to stare at one naked chick. Can someone explain this to me? Sure, I'm cute, but I was hardly the only attractive female there who could be stared at.Whatever, it's just amusing in retrospect.

Then he wrapped me in green pastic wrap of some kind, until it must have looked like I was wearing a plastic tube-dress.

And then he removed the chair.

I had a spurt of panic when the chest took the weight of my body and I was actually hanging by *plastic wrap*. The little part of my brain that thinks everything I do is stupid was gibbering wildly, screaming, "It's fucking plastic wrap! You're going to fall and break your neck and OHMYFUCKINGGOD!"

The rest of me was just grinning stupidly and absolutely thrilled with the entire Universe.
By the time he had my feet up as well, I was just drifting in pleasure and that beautiful mental escape that bottoming brings me.I was pretty helpless up there. It was someone else's job to watch out for me, and everyone else. There was nothing I could do for anyone except exactly what I was doing- nothing- and there is an amazing freedom in that.

He checked on me every so often, grinning hugely himself, and the only complaint I had was that the tight binding left my breasts sore. Maybe there's a way to wrap under them and leave them free? What a fun way to torture someone's breasts, actually... *goes off into evil thoughts*

Eventually, they brought me down and I almost whined. Until Rox directed Jack beneath me so that I literally slowly dropped down onto him and he caught me, wrapping his arms around me.

I didn't even bother to get dressed after that, just wrapped a sarong around me, because there was nothing else I could do that night that would come even close to mtaching that.

And yes, I have such a serious crush on Rox now :)

This pics are courtesy and property of Utah Rox- thanks!

Full Moon

Last night, at Terry and Lucivar's, I spent the Full Moon in their hot tub.
Terry was at a meeting, so it was Jack, Lucivar, and I in the hot tub.

I sat opposite the boys, and just to prove to me how incredibly wonderful my life is, and the men in it are, they each took a foot and started rubbing.

Ok, they may have had different motivation, but that's how I took it.

I sat buoyed in hot water (salt, so it didn't even reek of chlorine!), my head cradled by the back of the tub, staring at the incandescent moon glowing like silver sun through the pine trees, while two beautiful men rubbed my feet.

Really, my life is absolutely fucking amazing. And I mean really fucking amazing.

Later, Terry joined us, and we all sat around in the hot water and chatted for a while.

Random vignettes from the weekend- getting the shit beaten out of me

Andrew and I chatted in the vendor's area.
He taught the bloodplay class, and Jack and I helped clean up after and get his girl up to their room and cleaned up.
We chatted a bit about playing then, but not too much came of it at the time. That was Saturday, and I played with Rox Saturday night.

This was Sunday. He asked me about Jack's and my dynamic, and asked how one went about negotiating playing with, say, me. I started dancing inside.
I know, I know, I usually Top. But this weekend was stressful as hell for me, and I've been needing a good release for at least a month.
How Jack and I usually do it, I explained, was that I did the general negotiations then all three of us fine-tuned it. We both grinned.

But Jack had just finished being interrogated and we were both blood sugar-crashing so I promised I'd try and catch up with him later, then ran out.

That night, I'd almost given up on having a chance to talk to him as he'd walked by quickly several time, and Jack and I were about to go back to Kat's to sleep.
Then Andrew came walking out with his girl Sangre, so I went to give him a hug goodbye since I assumed he wasn't feeling like playing.
His first words were, "So do I get to hurt you or what?"
I started grinning like an idiot. Or at least, I felt like grinning like an idiot. I have no idea what my actual expression was.

Because you see, I don't cry. I'm kind of ridiculously stoic about shit most of the time. I can't just cry because I need to- like, you know, I have for the past month- I have to have some kind of excuse. Like, well, getting the shit beaten out of me.

We negotiated some with Jack. I wanted to bawl my eyes out, and I wanted to make sure that was okay. It was. He wanted to do some punching and pressure points and wanted to make sure that was okay. It was. I wanted Jack there, which was a requirement. That was okay, too.
We were all okay, and life was good, so we headed to their hotel room (we'd already checked out). He smacked Sangre around for a minute to warm up a bit, and I stripped.

Then he grabbed me, threw me on the bed, and worked on pinning me.
And I do mean worked. I'm little, and I'm slippery when I'm sweating. And I was rapidly sweating, because despite my original assumption that I'd be able to 'behave' for him, I was fighting. Fight-or-flight kicked in, and I don't run away from someone trying to hurt me. I hurt them back.
Of course, that hadn't been negotiated and I had enough of a brain to know that I didn't want to piss him off. I could see the control he was exercising as he hurt me, and I didn't feel like tempting him to lose control at all. I really, really didn't.
But when he had me wrapped up small and was reaching for the various pressure points on my body there was no way I could not twist away, no way that as he pinned my foot down to keep me from kicking him I could manage not to knock his hand off of my chest. His face was a study in intensity and sadistic delight, and I could feel the sobs growing heavier in my chest as this motherfucker dug into what felt like every sensitive point on my body. He asked me what dirty words I liked, and it nearly knocked me back into normal thought, the question seemed so strange. I didn't know how to answer.
Then he dug into another spot and I started yelping, "Fuck fuck fuck that hurts!" It wasn't long before he had me, um, exercising my vocabulary, forcing me to breathe and expel some of the toxins, rather than holding my breath (and my pain and anger and every-fucking-thing else) like I usually do. (You know, I only just realized why he did that as I was writing this... LOL!)
He'd pin my legs and one hand, then dig into my chest. "OW Goddammit OW!" and I'd use my free hand to punch his hand away from my chest. He'd pin it down, and punch my ass. "Sonuvabitch!" and I'd kick again.
He smacked my face, and I grunted for him in pain and pleasure.
He dug into my hip and I yelped and tried to kick him.
He pinned me on my stomach and I made noises of desperation mixed with happiness.
He flipped me over and pinched deeply into my pec, just above my breast (he actually did an amazing job of never touching any 'naughty bits' despite all of that) and I screamed. Or I think I did. I felt like screaming. I punched his wrist, forcing him off my slippery, sweaty skin.
He knelt on my hands and did it again. I cussed and writhed and got out from under his hand.
He got me back down and did it again.

And I broke, sobbing. "There she goes," he said, and it was surprsingly gentle. It felt like permission, and I took it. I cried. I screamed, silently apparently, back arching up off the bed, with Andrew on one side of me pressed close with his hand in my own clenched fingers, and Jack holding my head lovingly.
I shook, hard, with silent sobs and I felt that hard knot of pain in my chest slowly loosen, dissolve in the wash of my long-overdue tears.
They held me the entire time.

My pec is still sore as hell, but I have complete range of movement with it and there's not a mark on me.
And every once in a while, I'll reach over and press into the muscle bruise there and smile.

Thank you, Andrew. Very, very much.

Random vignettes from the weekend- Jack, Lucivar, and I

Let it be said that Jack and I had never coTopped before this weekend. We'd talked about it, and made happy sounds at the idea, but we'd never coTopped before.
Until Friday.

We finally got everyone up into the room, and we were all hanging out. I don't remember where Terry was. It was Jack, Lucivar, and I in the hotel room.
Lucivar was showing Jack some of their toys, their canes. Jack grabbed one, whipped it around, then popped Lucivar with it. Lucivar, shameless little slut that he is, promptly started wiggling his ass for more. I suggested that perhaps they'd both get a better effect without Lucivar's pants. Approximately 1.5 seconds later, Lucivar was naked. Shocking, I know.
I watched for a bit, then remembered that I hadn't yet shown Lucivar my evil stick. I forgot it on my last trip somehow.
That's when I got involved- hey, I can't resist a beautiful, begging boy.
We turned him over on his back, and I straddled his chest, my ass almost in his face, and Jack spread his thighs wide.

Have you ever seen an evil stick? It's a little piece of very stiff wire, maybe 16 or 18 gauge, with a flat little oval of pretty acrylic on the end. I'll have to take a picture of it an put it up eventually. It's very stiff, so when you bend it, and pop that little acrylic end on someone's inner thighs, they make lovely, yummy noises. They also try to buck you off, but hey, I've got strong thighs.

We dumped out my toybag after a little while of that, Jack mostly using various canes, me using my favorite hairbrushes and metal nails, both of us using riding crops, hands, and more or less whatever we felt like.
There's nothing organized about our play. We tend to just dump out the toybag and grab whatever looks interesting.

Eventually, we had to cuff him and attach his wrists to the headboard. Did you know that the DomConAtlanta hotel has wrought iron headboards on the beds that are bolted, quite securely, into the walls? We do, now. Lucivar does, now.

His face was so cute, the way he twisted and writhed, and his eyes got huge and deeper green.

We would hurt him for a while, then stop to kiss one another and grin, then we'd go back to hurting him, then make out a little more on top of the helpless, hurting little boy. I think the noises he made while we were making out were nearly as good as the one she made while we were hurting him.
I officially love playing with Jack, I felt so delightfully close to him as we worked together to hurt Lucivar as much as possible. Hey, every couple needs to have hobbies they can do together!

Eventually, we had to let him go so that he could shower and shave. He kept making these adorable false starts that ended with his head back in my lap and my fingers tangled in his hair (I never said the false starts weren't partly my fault) and him making more pretyt noises for me.

He's such a little slut.
It's really adorable.

And you know what?
Jack said I can fuck his pretty little ass :-D

Quickie

DomCon was fucking amazing.
Seriously.

Vignettes to blog:

• Jack and I co-hurting Lucivar
• The Mistresses' Tea
• Being suspended in saran wrap by the very yummy Utah Rox, one of the instructors (I'm now 2 for 2 being suspended by my instructors at kink conventions :)
• Getting my tits to toes leather cleaned and polished by the wonderful Q
• Jack's terrifying interrogation at the hands of Sir Dale, which definitely went past my comfort level
• Having the shit beaten out of me by another of the instructors, the wonderful Andrew Love and getting a nice catharctic case of bawling my eyes out (my breasts are still sore as I write this, asshole! :-D)
• Fisting his girl, Sangre, for the first time

You guys know how I am, so be sure to bug me if I don't start posting vignettes within the next 24 hours!
Meanwhile, I need to get Jack and I moving and back on the road home...

Rambling thoughts on responsibility and poly

Disclaimer: No, there's not a damn thing wrong. I'm having an absolutely amazing time at DomCon, including meeting the lovely Bunny (Lucivar's work-girlfriend), and the room arrangements are working out better than I could ever have hoped for. Jack and I had an absolutely wonderful time co-Topping Lucivar, and Kat is his usual wonderful self- seriously, I'm having a wonderful time, I'm just being hormonal so deal with it. It's my blog and I can whine if I want to.

I'm so tired. Goddess help me, I'm so fucking tired. I'm tired of all of it. But mostly, I'm tired of being needed, of being the responsible one. I'm sick of being the one who gets th ebills paid, who reserves the hotel room. I'm tired of being the one who makes the lists and ensures the pets get fed.

I'm so tired of being the one people need.

I need, just for a little while, to be with someone who doesn't need me. For whom there's nothing going on but the touch of warm skin. Someone who I can trust to take care of me- someone I can be safe needing, without them needing me back.
Actually, it's not that. It just that I've been the one in charge, the one responsible for too long. I just want to run away for a little while, to hide against somoene stronger than me. I need to not be the strong one. Problem is, I don't know many people who fit that bill.

I need, just for a little while, someone to be stronger than me because I need them to let me be weak. To let me give the responsibility to them. Just for a little while. I'll take it back, I promise.

But Kali's skirt, I'm so fucking tired.

Please, can I just hide against you for a little while? Just relax, just pretend for a little while that I don't have any responsibilities?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you knew that you would die today
Saw the face of God and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low you cannnot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?

This song feels really poignant for me right now, for some reason. Yesterday, I talked to Wolf for a long time about poly.
Specifically, about the fact that we'll never be together again because I am poly and he is possessive. Those are simply facts of life, like saying that he is male and I am female.

He kept going on and on about how it was a choice I had made to live this way, and it was hard to explain to him that I do not choose to be poly anymore than I choose to be bi. I could choose to never act on it, but I would still naturally be poly, and it would no more feel right or fulfilling to me than a straight marriage feels to a gay man. Sure, it's a choice, insofar as acting the only way that you can and still be happy is a choice. So this song is especially poignant right now, as I struggle with some guilt for not being what Wolf wants me to be. I can't be. Not and be happy. I love him, but eventually, I would come to resent him and be angry and we would lose not only our relationship but the friendship that is so precious to me.

So I think about this song, "Would you change?"
No, actually.
"If you knew that you would die today, saw the face of God and love, would you change?"
No. No, I really wouldn't.
Because I love who I am and what I do. Because I love the people in my life, even when I want to strangle them for the very fact that they are in my life.
I love my boys, all of them. I love my life, when a night in the quiet room reading a book is more novel than a night at a fetish club during a major BDSM convention.

"If you knew that love would break your heart, if you're down so low you cannot fall, would you change?"
I wouldn't change because I have been there. Love has broken my heart- loving Wolf, actually- and you know what? I healed. Sure, there are scars, but scars are marks of valor. They're signs you've lived your life.
I've been there. I've been down so low I could not fall. I have had times when I did not know where my next meal would come from, times I gave very serious thought to suicide and even worked out the best way to do it and spare my loved ones as much pain as possible.
But I healed. I healed, and I built this life I love.
I wouldn't change, because not only do I love my life, but I feel like I'm living the best life that I can. I tell my boys, all of them, damn near every day how much I love them. I try hard to make damned sure that my loved ones know how much they mean to me, how important they are to me.
I work hard and I play hard. I volunteer with the Red Cross, I recycle, I'm active in my UU church and do more than most, quite frankly, to make my world a better place.
And most importantly to me, I work hard to make the people in my life's lives better for my having been in it.

Sure, there are things I could do better. I'm lazy, and I'm self-absorbed. I'm selfish, and I take things for granted. I am the last person on Earth who will say that I'm perfect- because I'm not. Nowhere fucking near it.

But I'm not half bad, and I think I'm doing pretty damn close to the best that I can.

A letter

Dear Universe,

Thank you so incredibly, happily, giddily much for the superly amazing, massively yummy, and utterly darling men in my life. I really do know and understand and appreciate how wonderfully lucky that I am.

Thank you again,

Bella

Geek status confirmed!

I just accidentally picked up 4 books from the library, 3 of which are on the construction of gender in American society, masculinity in particular.
This while wandering the stacks picking up random books without real thought.

I am such a geek. Seriously.

Yes, I'm sending you to another blog

Seriously fucking yummy:
Thanks

Why I love my partner

Quote regarding abortion and reproductive rights:
"I just don't think it's right that 60 year old men (the Supreme Court) are making decisions about what women can do with their bodies."
-Jack

Paradox

Inspired by my relationship with Kat, and a recent conversation with Unspeakable Axe, I've been thinking a lot about submissive males and the challenges they face.
It's hard to find a dominant woman to date, especially if you want a surface-normal life.
And there are a myriad of reasons for that, or at least that I can see. I'm no sociologist (oh wait, yes I am...), but there's always more than one reason.

I feel bad for Axe, and more specifically, for my Kat. I am not what he is looking for long-term, and I know that. He is monogamous, and I am not and never can be. When I try to be, it, um... turns out badly. I am rather significantly younger than he, and have very different priorities right now: I am focused on exploring and growing and learning, while he is ready to settle down. He wants children, and I have a good 7-10 years before I'm ready for that. He is purely submissive, and I am a switch with a strong need to submit as well as to dominate.
So I will never be the woman he spends his life with- I'm simply not wired that way.
But that doesn't make me love him any less, nor want him to be happy any less.
Although let's just be clear here: when he finds a committed relationship, I'm going to bawl my eyes out. I'll be thrilled for him, but I'll also really, really miss my kitten.

Meanwhile, though, he struggles, like so many submissive males.

Firstly, because there just aren't all that many amDommes out there. At least, that's the popular belief. I don't know that I really agree with that. I think there are a lot of dominant women out there, actually, but they don't know it for two primary reasons.
Reason 1: Women are taught not to be "bossy" or "bitchy" or "aggressive". We're taught that more aggressively than any male can understand. We're taught to be quiet, and self-sacrificing, and gentle. We're taught that to take control over our sexuality makes us sluts.
Basically, we're taught that we're all supposed to be submissives, and breaking that mold to attempt otherwise is fucking hard. The first time I raised my hand to a boy, despite his utter willingness, I had a strong urge to burst into tears and apologize.
Reason 2: The community portrays FemDommes as kinda scary, and kinda gross, and frankly nothing I'd want to be associated with. Seriously. I think Bitchy Jones said it best: porn is based on male fantasies (and mostly the extreme ones), proDommes base on porn (since they're marketing to male fantasies, that's their job), and amDommes base on proDommes because there are a dearth of amDomme mentors in the community.

Between the two of those- cultural training not to be dominant, and very few good role models to show us otherwise, it's no wonder so few ostensibly vanilla women never realize their own
dominant leanings.

And, of course, there's the popular culture's portrayal of submissive men. Our culture values alpha males. Dominant men. Look on the cover of any romance novel, are any of those men the ones kneeling? Nope. And that's what teaches most women the "rules" or romance. Shitty, huh? Well, it's still the case.
Submission isn't viewed by most women in the dominant culture as the white knight offering his fealty to the woman he loves. It's viewed as the SNL skit of the fat 50 year old in a badly-fitting maid's outfit giggling in falsetto, "Please spank me, Mistress!"
Gross, huh? Yeah, that's what she's thinking.
That's not insurmountable, btw, but it really is worth noting.

There are other reasons submissive men struggle, though. It was recently mentioned to me that, "I haven't even met a domme who I was attracted to who wasn't already dating a wealthy guy. The attractive ones don't stay single long."
That statement makes me sad. First off, because it depends on one's perception of attraction. I know some women who look like models. I also know how much time, money, and effort they spend on looking like that. Yes, most of them have sugar daddies, because it's almost the only way to afford a look like that.
I know some women who don't look like models. Personally, I think they're beautiful, but my standards of attractiveness are wider than most mens'. Some of them have a few more pounds than maybe is ideal, some of them have smaller breasts than one might wish, or simply don't have those perfectly symetrical features that mathematicians have shown are found the most beautiful. But they're amazing fucking women, they're beautiful inside and out, and they're excellent Dommes.
Secondly, that level of bitterness is a red flag to me in someone I'm considering dating. Maybe it's understandable- the person who said it to me had been struggling to find a domme for 8 years- but it's still an unattractive red flag.

And there are a few other, small issues mostly, that I have with a number of male subs out there who are searching. These don't apply to my Kat (JSYK), and they may not apply to you. They're just things I've noticed and take issue with.
- This hearkens back to the last paragraph but why do so many men who don't bother with even basic personal hygiene, much less going to some effort to be attractive themselves, and yet want to date only supermodels. I have an ex who is a perfect example of this. Seldom shaved, didn't ever work out, or watch what he ate, never went to any kind of effort with his own appearance... but only was interested in really, really beautiful women.

- Where are these men looking for partners? Seriously. Internet dating will only take you so far. Fucking GO SOMEWHERE. This applies to vanilla men, too! But specifically for male subs, why aren't they going to local BDSM events? Why aren't they networking? Why aren't they going out to paces and chatting up women?

- Seriously... if you want to impress a woman, a domme in particular, learn some useful skills. Not only are they useful, but it tells us that you're a self-starter, that you're capable of doing things without someone looking over your shoulder and making you. Suggestions for skills: massage (your local community college probably has classes every semester or so, and there are books on it), simple cooking (you don't need to be a chef), how to give a good pedicure (bonus points if you can actually paint toenails, because I personally am hopeless), reflexology for hand/footrubs (seriously, look it up on the internet), how to brew good coffee and tea (most women drink one or the other, and they can be a very sensual experience).

- Do NOT bring up kink the first date with an ostensibly vanilla woman. Seriously. I don't care about full disclosure, wait til they swallow the bait to set the hook. And yes, I used that analogy on purpose. We just covered how icky FemDomme

I still feel bad for male subs seeking partners. I really do. I see some amazing men who struggle to find someone who can love and accept them. I see beautiful men who deserve someone who will give them with the same love and devotion that they offer. I wish I could go into the culture, and fix it.
But I can't. So I do the best I can, by loving the men I have, and being a friend where I can to the ones I don't.

I'm officially a real sex blogger

I just got offered the chance to review items from For Your Nymphomation in exchange for a rather steep discount.

Wow. I'm kinda giddy. Does this mean I'm a real sex blogger now? *giggles wildly*

I SO want their toycase. Not only for myself, but I have a friend in mind for whom one would make an awesome gift.

Once I review them, I'll post a discount code for 10% for anyone reading the review :)

Dance

The moon is bright tonight, and it makes me want to dance. All of the dance clubs, with their neon siren calls, they don't understand this. They don't understand the call of the moon, the way that her light sings to my blood and makes it surge in responsive desire.
I have this image of a dance floor, in the middle of a meadow, the light from the stars turning the pale wood almsot glowingly white. There, there I will dance. There I will dip, and turn, and twirl, and laugh with the joy of movement. There my feet will light but fleetingly on the moon-washed wood.

It's not sexual, although the energy can be turned to sex. It's not blood, although the energy can be turned to blood. It's a primitive wildness, a surging need that thrums in my very bones. I want to run the moonlit path into oblivion, dance beneath crying stars and gather their light on my skin.

I want to stretch him out beneath me and rake my nails over his skin. I want to watch the blood well black beneath the silver moonlight. I want to leave him there bleeding while I dance my ecstasy beneath the crystal stars.

I want to lean down and press my lips to his and share the power welling in my veins. I want to give this ecstasy to him through my fingertips, my lips, through my touch on his skin, and the pain I will give him.

I want to hurt him, and use that pain to share my pleasure, my power, my ecstasy.
I want to dance with him in the silvery moonlight, beneath the crystal starlight, his pain and our pleasure mingling and rising higher and higher into whimpering, sighing ecstasy.

Amusement

My second-youngest first cousin (yes, I have a clan) just started college.

She's lesbian, in my uber-right-winger family, and my house was where she brought her girlfriend for a safe place to have sex. This worked out nicely, since the rule was that for every hour of making out, they spent a half-hour at some point in the same week cleaning.
My house was quite clean while they dated ;-)

She just called me from school, and told me that she's going to spend the weekend with her crush, and that said crush needed to talk to me and get my seal of approval, but will definitely get it because we're both mythology nerds.
And yes, she supplied the run-on sentence.

Is it wrong that I'm thoroughly amused?

Starlight

From one of my dearest friends, whose birthday is today. Thank you.

"Starlight"

The Wailin' Jennys

I have come back to you broken

take me home

And my body bears this trouble

take me home

Take me back to my beginning

Before the hell of night set in

And I came to this border

take me home

I have toured the endless starlight

take me home

I have shattered under midnight

take me home

There are no vultures in this clearing

Except the ones who brought me here

And I'll no longer feed them

take me home

Kingdom come, their will was done

And now the earth is far awayfrom any kind of heaven

Hallowed be these frozen fields

And every single one of us

still left in want of mercy

Take us home

Now the bells stand still and hollow

take me home

And no one has come to mourn me

take me home

Find me where I close my eyes

Beneath this sky of powerlines

And let me see us clearly

take me home

Kingdom come, their will was done

And now the earth is far away

from any kind of heaven

Hallowed be these frozen fields

And every single one of us

Still left in want of mercy

This reminds me of someone. It's not coming out clearly yet who that is. But it does. Perhaps it's me.

A thank you

A small thank-you to Lucivar, for the lovely bit of erotica he sent to me yesterday.

This is my feminist rant

Ok, look. I don't usually go all femi-nazi, but damn.
Let's be clear: I'm a feminist. Of the women-are-equal-which-means-equal-rights-and-responsibilities-and-yes-that-goes-for-everyone-regardless-of-race-creed-orientation-et-fucking-cetera school of thought

But seriously. I really, really, really thought we were farther along than this.
Really, I did.

My car is dead. She needs a new battery and I just haven't gotten around to it because it's pretty weather and I have a motorcycle.
So I went out today, to the doctor's, and to the coffeeshop to work on my paper. I sat outside, because it was pretty, and I could keep an eye on my bike parked in the front lot.

Out come a young woman and her adorable little girl, and the drink some fruity concoction that was probably disgustingy healthy together, and they play "I Spy". It was really cute.
The first thing that the little girl spies is black.
Go up and click the link, if you haven't already.
The black thing she spied was my bike.
I smiled, listening shamelessly. Little girl was about 4? 5? (I suck at kid ages, since I don't have any), and turned happily to her mother. "I want a motorcycle when I get big!"
I grinned, I couldn't help it. How absolutely awesome.

Then I heard mom's response.
"Girls don't ride motorcycles, baby."

What? Huh? Seriously? Like, really?
I couldn't stay still. I just couldn't. I turned around and smiled and pretended I hadn't heard mom.
"I'm glad you like the motorcycle, sweetie, that's my motorcycle."

Yes, Virginia, girls really can have whatever-in-bloody-hell they want.

Playing with Jack

Last night, after the abundance of Toppy play and talking and thinking and writing that I've been doing, I started craving some balance. Jack commented at dinner with Olga that he wishes I were more of a masochist because he'd love to hurt me.
I commented that while I'm still not much of a masochist, I was definitely in the mood to be hurt. He perked right up :)

So last night, after we got home, he grabbed my hair to ensure that I was in the right mindset, then had me undress him, then reciprocated down to my thin tank top and panties. He had me wait for him on the bed, then went simply rubbed and petted me for a while, getting me used to his hands again (I can have strange issues with being touched sexually sometimes, especially post all the weird stuff recently), then dumped out the toybag, put my collar on me, and had me suck his cock while he took various things to me. Flogger, small cane, hairbrush, etc. It went a little past the pain I enjoy, but that just puts it into the realm of pain I enjoy dealing with for his sake. At some point he removed the rest of my clothing... things get kinda fuzzy after the first few blows :)

So yeah. Yummy. Finally, he pulled me up against him, curling my head into his shoulder and I just melted there for a while.
It wasn't the longest scene I've ever done. It wasn't the most amazing scene I've ever done, or the mst painful.

But it was a beautifully intimate reintroduction to playing with him, which isn't something we've done in far too long.

I slept in my collar last night. The slight jingling kept waking me up, but it was so worth it.

I woke up with a smile this morning.