What Say You?

Thinking about updating my online dating profile. These points would all have been really useful to have included up previously. Shall I put them in now, do you think?:

If I've never met you before, I'm not hopping into a boat and going a mile offshore with you. My refusal does not warrant a week-long siege of cyber-abuse about how I'm disrespecting you. That you don't get this validates my decision.

Yes. I have breasts. I don't find that unusual enough to require comment. Neither should you.

Your recent adult circumcision is not an ideal topic of conversation.

It is entirely possible to use LOL too much. If it's in every sentence, I'm probably not LWY.

The mere fact that you're 22 will not get you into my 50-year old pants. I like the mind fuck. That requires a mind...

If you cannot write an email without mentioning your goats, you might want to find yourself another correspondent.

You may not find me attractive. But I'd prefer you not harangue me for having the nerve to think you might, OK?

If you refer to me as your girlfriend on our first date, I will run. Fast and far. Just sayin'.

If there's any possibility you will abruptly end a conversation when you find my foot is the wrong size for your fetish, please don't even start one.

Sorry. I'm spank-me girl, not put-on-a-dildo-and-do-you girl. And can I just mention that's really NOT a good suggestion for the fourth-ever chat?

No, I don't want to see a picture of your penis. But don't worry. Even if it's hideous, I'll deal - if I like you enough.

(Too harsh?)  
/*tongue firmly in cheek*/

There. It's out of my system. Now maybe I can write a real one...
Thanks, guys!

Passively, But With Feeling

I've been thinking about something Sir J wrote in his post on Listening and Learning recently.
"Submission lies passively in wait for dominance often screaming for release, at times lost seeking comfort and fulfillment. Offered as a precious gift, submission recognizes dominance..."

That "lies passively in wait" really struck a nerve. That's definitely me.
Several of my past beaux would urge me to tell them what I want, what turns me on. I know that to most of the world, this marks them as considerate lovers. However, it always just made me want to stomp my little foot.
I don't WANT to tell you!
What I *want* is for you to figure it out. I want you to have an innate sense of what I might like. I want you to lead. I want you to venture and assess. I want to play, not think.
I do NOT want to play frickin' Twenty Questions about it!

This is not, however, a helpful answer. Now, I could give the man a suggestion. But experience has shown that this is not really a solution. Because the suggestion either has a shelf life of 4.7 seconds, or it becomes a sort of holy writ, never to be deviated from again. Ever. When I suggest that, "that was then, this is now," pouting and whining ensue. Pouting and whining cause disdain. Women of a submissive nature REALLY don't want to feel disdain for the man they're with, can I just mention?

So, I say nothing.

Do I know this isn't fair? Yes.
Do I care? No.
Has this ever been an issue with a dominant? No.

So, Yes. Even when you don't know what to call it, "submission recognizes dominance..."
And once you know what to call it, there's no looking back.

A Soapbox Moment

Sorry to go off, all, but this one's dear to my heart...

I learned from my Word A Day email yesterday that September 26 - October 3 is Banned Books Week, a "national celebration of the freedom to read."

(WAD referenced a superb letter written last year by a Chicago librarian in response to a patron's challenge of "Uncle Bobby's Wedding". Take a peek if you've never seen it. It's extremely well articulated.)

I'll try not to rant because you'll never stop me if I start. I'll just say calmly that censorship is anathema to me. I have enough trouble with anyone telling me what to do, even if they're entitled to. Having someone else tell me what I can read? - Unacceptable. Having them tell me what I can buy? - Yeah, right. Having them tell me what I can think? - I'm going in swinging.

Individual discretion should be the answer. Adults can decide for themselves what to read. Parents may decide for their children only. That should be it. No deciding for other people. A great many of us here talk about adult activities that would cause Anthony Comstock to faint dead away. But we play fair. Nearly all of us have some sort of caveat on our pages warning the underage or easily offended to move on. We do not subvert, we do not indoctrinate, we do not wish to offend. We just think out loud. If you do not like the subject matter, just stop reading! You have free will. Use it.

Do I think there are inappropriate materials out there? Heck, yes. Would I demand anyone pull them off the shelf just because I object? Not until I'm willing to let someone else make that kind of choice for me. Which will be when Hell freezes over.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go compile a reading list for next week to show my support. (Did you know it could include The American Heritage Dictionary? Banned twice for defining "objectionable words"! - Give me strength...)

Any of your favorite books in the list?

Ooo! Men in Leather!

OK, so it was an Ocktober Fest promotion and the leather consisted of lederhosen.

An unattached sub has to take her jollies where she can get them...
;-)

Journal Musings 9

A Moment's Pause

Tonight I started looking at dom blogs.
I was doing OK until I hit one that kinda unnerved me. There were a bunch of pictures posted and I have to admit, a couple of them were pretty uncomfortable to look at. They probably weren't even all that hard core, comparatively speaking, but they bothered me.

Enough that I had to think about it for a bit. Am I just weenie-girl, playing at submission, only to get scared off when the going gets tough?
It took some mulling and a little time but I finally arrived at my conclusions.

First off, I'm not just playing at this. It's a real interest, tho' one I'm still learning. I thought long and hard before deciding to give submission a shot. I did my research, asked my questions and, I think, shed some of the more unrealistic expectations before I ever stuck a toe in the water.

Plus, (a very important point) BG has never scared me. I'm on my toes, never sure what he's up to, but I'm not scared. I'm getting creeped out by these pictures but those are strangers (in icky basements) - I'm in this with a guy I trust.
I may not know how far I can take it, because I don't know all of what lies ahead. What I do know is that if I hit a limit, I can say stop, and he will. (At least for a while. *grin*) So, I'm not even going to try to figure it out ahead of time. I'll just go with the flow and cross each bridge when we get there. Not before.

Granted, the thought of disappointing him does bother me. But I'm not going to anticipate a failure that may not happen. A D/s relationship is no different than any other in that they all have their own dynamics. We'll work ours out by ourselves.

later-
I was glad I'd had a chance to think this through already. BG just sent me a link to a site that gave me the same reaction. Then he asked what I thought. Thankfully, I was now prepared to say something other than just sputtering and stuttering, "Euw! Tongue?! What? Unpleasant man! Nasty cinder-block!"

******************************************
Scholarly_Professor: It is funny to note that this being a sub and allowing yourself to be "abused" is actually clearly boosting your confidence
Jz: I just pulled my turtleneck over my face in embarrassment
Scholarly_Professor: how high did you pull the turtleneck?
Jz: up over my glasses
Scholarly_Professor: crazy woman
******************************************

A Few Things I Need To Let Go Of...

Wondering why people think reality TV is a good idea.
The human mind is unfathomable.

Worrying that no one's ever going to touch me again.
True or not, it's not conducive to a positive attitude.

Believing that this time, I won't over-cook the steak.
Step away from the grill...

Waiting for sumo to become more popular than football.
It's just not gonna happen.

Thinking things are all my fault.
I really don't have that kind of pull.

Trying to keep my boobs from typing.
They just want to be heard...

Persuading my skinny little friend to stop calling food "sinful".
She probably wouldn't like my definition of "play" either.

Dreaming that I will someday be Mike Rowe's love slave.
Mmmnnn, Nah, I'll leave that in. Everyone needs a dream! ;-D

How about you?

Dolly On The Shelf

A Revisionist Tale
(with thanks to Vesta for saying I could take her phrase and run with it.)

Once upon a time, long, long ago in a city far, far away, a girl met a boy and learned how to play. Indoors, outdoors, in pools and in pubs, my oh my, those two did play! Wherever they were, that's where they'd play, with whatever they had, whatever game they could invent. They teased and pushed and laughed until they were so full of joy, they thought they'd float across the sky.

Needless to say, this did not last.
The boy had to leave, the girl had to stay.
Their hearts hurt like never before. (Because they were so much bigger with all that joy in them?)

After a while, the girl met another boy. They laughed but he didn't play much. Once when he was on the phone, she remembered a game she'd really loved. It was called, "Keep talking and don't let them guess what's happening, and no, I'm not going to stop, you just pay attention to what you're doing." (really!) She tried to show her new boy this game. He really didn't find it fun at all. She tried to show him how she could even be a dolly. She really didn't like the look on his face when he said no. Were her games that awful?

Maybe she was just too old to play anymore. So, she packed her games and toys into a box and taped it shut and put it in a dark, dark basement. And forgot it was there.

Other boys came along - and they all liked to laugh. But nobody wanted games. Or toys. OK, they'd do other stuff. It would be all right.

But it wasn't all right. Eventually, the girl realized she'd turned into a stranger in her own life. Where had that joyful person gone? She'd gotten off track but she didn't know where. So she tried to retrace her steps. Wasn't there some stuff in the basement from back when she was happy? She'd take a look.

She dug around for a long time. At first, all she did was stir up a lot of dust. That just gave her watery eyes and a headache. But then, wait! What was that? A box, damp and water-stained, with curling yellow tape. But inside were treasures! She laughed just looking at them and her heart plumped back up as she remembered that joy. She pulled out her games and toys, one by one, stroking them as she relived their use. And, look! There, in the very bottom... It was the dolly she used to play! She was so excited, she even twirled. Right there, in the basement!

She decided she didn't want any more boys who didn't like to play. So she waited until, finally, she found one. He liked to play. A lot. Different games but still... And he LOVED playing with dolly! It was his favorite toy. He'd drape her over footboards, dangle her from door frames, even pinch her with things just so he could kiss them better... She was very happy. Joyful, even.

Except that then he had to go, too.
He said he'd be back but after a while she didn't believe him anymore. People who are coming back don't take so long. She figured she'd better pick up the toys she had left out.

She went through her house, gathering things from each room. She packed all her toys into the very pretty toy box she'd bought and started to put it in the closet. Except...

She stopped and pulled the dolly back out of the box. Gently, she placed dolly on the shelf. Even if dolly wasn't being used, she was not going to forget about her again. Dolly deserved to see the light of day.
And maybe, if she was lucky...

In Which I Put On My Big Girl Panties

I've been nervous about posting this but decided to get over it.
Just a little story for a Friday night...

A Rainy Night at the Bookstore

It was a slow night at the bookstore. She looked out the rain-spangled window and shivered at the empty, chilly sidewalks. "Guess it's just you and me tonight, boy" she said to the fat cat that watched her lazily from an armchair. "No one with a lick of sense is going to come out in this. What I need is a project to keep me busy." Scooping up an armful of books to be shelved, she headed to the back of the store. Might as well work on that messy science section.

Minutes later, she was bending over the piles of books on the floor, when she heard a quiet, "Excuse me." She straightened up and saw a tall, handsome man with water glistening in his dark hair. "Oh. Sorry about that. I didn't hear you come in." He smiled at her. "Don't be sorry. I was enjoying the view." Her face heated. "But since you're up now, the sign said sciences were back here?"
She looked at him and smiled. "You, sir, have come to the right place. Physical's this side, mathematical is the other, over there." He moved into her aisle. Crouching back down, she asked, "Any particular work?" An upward glance found his eyes exploring her cleavage.
"Well, I'm not sure. Let's see what you've got."
A surge of arousal ran through her at his tone. Impishly, she gathered a few books and held them close so her breasts pressed upwards. She stood and slowly slid the books away from under her bosom until they were offered out to him. "Have a look. Maybe you'll see something you like." Lips twitching, he gravely replied, "That is entirely possible." He took the books to a low armchair and settled in.

Returning to the front for more books, she whispered, "Whaddya think, little one?" to the cat. "A good project?" The cat blinked lazily and flicked his tail. "Yeah, I think so, too."

She stopped at the armchair to see if there were any books she could take away. He handed her a couple and she went back to work. They shared the space in silence for a time, the faint drum of rain interrupted only by the rustle of turning pages. She sneaked a few looks over at his chair but he seemed engrossed in the books. She sighed inwardly. Oh, well.
The armchair creaked as he rose and moved into the next aisle. "I've left the ones I don't want on the seat of the chair." he said. She moved to the chair, leaning over the back to gather the books. Straightening up, she heard a murmur right behind her. "Mmmm, no. I don't think I'm done looking yet." Two hands gently but firmly slid up her sides to her shoulders and pressed her back down. The arousal that had begun to recede came roaring back. Bent at the waist, she let the books drop back onto the seat again. "Good girl. Now, put your hands on the arms." Heart racing, she did as he said. "Very good. Now stay like that."

His hands dragged back down to her hips and swiped lightly down her thighs, pulling her skirt up with their return motion. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and really turned on as she presented her bottom to this man. It was wonderful. Her back arched.
"Oh, that's good. I think you like this, don't you?" The question was punctuated with another slide of his hands, this one between her thighs, just brushing against her drenched crotch. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.
"You haven't answered me. Do you like this?"
"Yes" she whispered.

The next slide of his hands went beneath her panties and carried them down her legs. "Step out." Light-headed with excitement, she did. Without a word, he nudged her legs further apart. "Stay still," he warned. Walking in front of the chair, he examined her. Flushed and breathing hard, she met his gaze. "Very nice. But I need to see more of those tits you teased me with." He balanced one knee on the seat of the chair and cupped her breasts. Her breath caught on a moan. He scooped his hands into the low neckline of her top, deftly unsnapped the front fastening of her bra, and pulled her breasts out over the neckline. "There. Now I can see what I'm doing." He squeezed and plumped and pinched her nipples until a look of satisfaction came across his face. "That's a nice shade of pink." She was trembling with need by now and could do nothing but look at him with slightly glazed eyes.

Standing, he said, "You know I'm going to fuck you now, right?" She nodded. "No, I want you to answer me. You do know I'm going to fuck you now?" "Yes."
"You want to be fucked, don't you?" "Yes."
He drew down the zip of his pants and let his erection pop free. "So that you know, this is what's going to be ramming into you soon. You think you'll like it?"
She looked at the beautiful engorged cock bobbing just inches from her mouth. "Oh, God, yes!" She tried to capture it between her lips but she couldn't reach. "Uh, uh," he warned with a quick slap to the side of her rump. "I said to keep still."
"But I want to suck it!" she moaned, eyes never leaving the strong flesh.
"Well," he considered, "I could let you suck it but then I'd have to punish you for moving."
"I don't care," she moaned, "just let me!"
He moved closer to the side of the chair and she shifted her weight on her arms so she could lean across until she felt the velvety head brush her lips. With a happy sigh, she drew him in.

He felt like heaven in her mouth, strong and hard and full. She relaxed her throat and tightened her tongue and began to fuck him, her whole body rocking with each stroke. A hand grabbed her hair and guided her as her mouth slid over him. Several sweet minutes passed, then she felt him pull out past her lips. She moaned a protest but he stepped away. "No, I'm not going to come in your mouth. I'm going to fuck your pussy until you scream. Now, get back in position and then don't move."

More turned on that she would have believed possible, she aligned herself over the chair again. "Such a sweet ass," he crooned behind her, "I'm going to make it match your tits." With that, she felt a stinging slap on her right cheek. She cried out, even as a matching slap landed on the left. "I told you I would have to punish you if you moved."
"I know," she gasped. "You just startled me." "Good, because I'm not done yet." He began a rhythmic barrage of slaps that set her bottom on fire. "Oh, yeah, you're going a nice shade of pink. I think I can stop now." "No!" she gasped, "Don't!"
He chuckled. "So, the naughty girl likes her punishment?" "God, yes! Please! More!"
"Well, it is punishment but since you earned it for a good reason, I'll do as you ask this once." Two final slaps, harder and more forceful, landed on each cheek.

"Now I'm going to fuck you." His hands squeezed her burning ass, sending waves of pain-tinged heat deep into her flesh. She wailed as, with one forceful thrust, he penetrated her swollen, wet folds. Withdrawing, he slammed into her again and again, taking her hard and fast. She dropped her head and cried out softly with each thrust. Her elbows ached from the force she was absorbing but all she cared about was the feel of him, filling her, stretching her, fucking her. She couldn't get enough.

His hands reached beneath her to grasp her breasts. With a rough squeeze, he used them to lift her up. "Look out front." Gasping, she raised her eyes. There was a man outside the window, looking straight at the two of them. "See how he's watching us? Show him how much you love this." He pinched her nipples and said, "Let him see how much you love getting fucked by me." Too aroused for embarrassment, her eyes locked with those of the watching man. She was mindless, uncaring of anything except the next slam of hard cock into her hungry pussy. They stared as fingers pinched and pulled on her nipples. They stared as the pace of the fuck increased. She heard the squelching of wet flesh and the slap of another spank and she smiled into those watching eyes. "C'mon, baby. Come now!" she heard from behind her. At the final sharp slap, her head dropped back as she tumbled over and over again into a wild, keening orgasm.

With a kiss to her shoulder, her lover released her breasts. Slowly, he slipped wetly from her body. She slumped over the armchair, breathing hard. Quiet footsteps sounded in front of her. Weakly, she raised her head. With a nod to the man behind her, the man from the window smiled. "Physical sciences?" A tired grin flashed across her face as she said, "My new favorite subject. Gimme a minute and I'll see what we can find for you..."


©Jz
-please do not steal my words-

Journal Musings 8

House full o' company keeping me offline for a few days. Just popping this up for now and then back to hostessing. Cya soon! -Jz

Blueberry BOB

I've been requested to desensitize the back of my throat. (ahem) BG suggested fingers but I always scratch my throat with my nails, so I decided to try BOB.
BG also wants me to start easing BOB into the nether regions. But I think I'll start with fingers. (How very contrary!) But BOB first thing sounds a little ambitious to me, given how hard I remember this being the last time it was attempted.

It feels a bit pragmatic to be doing these exercises. And frankly, giving head to a bright blue vibrator just seems absurd. But the desired result doesn't. I want for him to see me take him down my throat to the hilt and I want (God, yes!) his cock buried in my ass.

True, I might rather wait until he can help me. But that doesn't sit right - I don't see submission as passive thing but rather as an active handing over control. It's not, "I'll sit here like a lump and take whatever," there's reciprocity of effort, albeit of different sorts.

So here I sit, gagging on 7 inches of translucent blue plastic.
And wincing in anticipation...

******************************************
SP: I think I am going to patent a dildo with an mp3 player in it...
Jz: well, THAT made me laugh really hard!
******************************************

Which Comes First...?

You often hear people say they love the intimacy created by D/s. I've read it, Diety mentioned it in a comment last week, and I know BG says it's the thing he likes best about having a sub.
I would not argue that he and I have an deep intimacy between us, despite our sporadic and infrequent contacts, but it has occurred to the n00b to wonder if this is the chicken or the egg.

Are we intimate in our submission or are we submissive in our intimacy? (I'll just speak from my side of the table but take it as given that the same question holds for dominants.)

I remember the first evening I spent with SP. There may have been some sizzle in the air but we weren't acting on anything. Instead, we were just having a great time, getting to know each other. I particularly remember the feeling of looking at him across the Othello board and thinking, "I think I can actually be myself with this guy!" For the first time in my life, I felt like I'd finally coming home.

It was that feeling of closeness that let me open myself up and give myself over to him. (The very next day, I blush to say.) There were no spankings or ropes but it was a pretty complete submission. Just come to by a different angle and called by a different name back then.

It was a similar experience with BG. Being older and more battle-scarred, we pussy-footed around for longer and we're both taking one step backward for every two we go forward. But still, that sense of a bond was there well before the bindings began.

So I'm batting a thousand in favor of "submissive in intimacy" for Jz.

I suppose the answer to my question could also depend on how you view intimacy. Is it an actual closeness with that person, or a combination of trust and willingness to go no-holds-barred?
I'm sure it works differently for us all. But still... Not every sub wants every dom and vice-versa. Sure, mostly that has to do with the complex combination of attraction, chemistry, and respect. But couldn't intimacy be part of that mix, too?
If you don't feel there's potential for intimacy, would you still go forward with a new partner? Or would you proceed in the hopes that your interaction would bring the intimacy?