My Misfit Fantasy

I've been thinking about greengirl's post from the island of misfit girls.
I loved this piece because so much in it truly struck home with me. Which means, of course, that I read into it based on my own experiences.

So, to me, her post simply addressed the sense of wistfulness that can occasionally grip us. Yes, we can all be insecure at times. But there have also been times when my honest reactions have been, I believe, unfairly labeled "insecurities." It's entirely possible to accept who and what you are and yet still wish for a certain experience to happen at least once. This doesn't mean you want to change anything, just that you'd like to satisfy a curiosity about an unknown.

In that spirit then, I present:

A Misfit Girl's Fantasy Day

I would get out of bed as one of those women whose hair is only gently rumpled. I think it might be nice to see the same, recognizable reflection each and every morning.

On the other hand, I do enjoy starting off the day with a good giggle...


My morning would be filled with energetic bustling as I rapidly and efficiently knocked through the items on my to-do list.
I would be a paragon of accomplishment.

But there is much to be said for the beauty of a quiet morning, observed while sipping coffee on the porch.


I would spend the afternoon as a short little woman.
I'd learn what it feels like to have that gallant, puffed-up, and protective look that men exude around tiny little things aimed in my direction.
Additionally, I would enjoy not having to entertain concerns about whether I might accidentally smother a man in bed.

Yet I appreciate the fact that my height makes me harder to patronize or intimidate. My über-smart, ultra-petite friend has had men pat her on the head.
I would have to hurt someone... and not by smothering, can I just add.


I'd go to dinner as a svelte knock-out, confident that heads would turn.
Men would want me, women would hate me, clothes would fit me.

But I loathe being judged superficially and who wants to be hated?
The novelty would last about five minutes.


I'd retire to bed, happy in the knowledge that I was someone's heart.

Alone is better than being with the wrong person.
You may trust me on this...


Sporadic wistfulness aside, I prefer my reality.

*************************************
“Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you..” -Emerson
*************************************

No Detail Too Small...

I told BG I'd bought a strapless bra. He had a hard time believing that I could find one that didn't need "a little help."
"Well, I think this one might work..."
Leaving him sufficiently intrigued that I was told to be wearing it on his next visit.

Much lifting, pulling, stretching, tweaking, inverting, and sustained jiggling ensued. That puppy definitely had it's engineering properties put through the paces! His original intention had been to bind my breasts with the bra on - but he decided that wasn't feasible, so the rope went on the wrists, instead. (See Jz Melt...)
I had to keep the bra on as I went on about my assigned task, however.

So there I am, bobbing away between his legs as he's leaning forward, whacking the beejeezus out of my butt, when I hear the thoughtful murmur, "You know, I think that bra IS going to work for you..."

If my nose hadn't been running sufficiently to endanger his trousers, I think I would have snorted, right there and then.

Doms, I tell ya...

All Ponder, No Answer

As the end of the grace period with BG looms nearer and nearer, I have, naturally, begun to Think. I'm really trying not to put the cart before the horse but it's inevitable that I start to wonder how this is going to play out.

There are many, many possible ways this could go. I will not even attempt to take you along on the rollercoaster of my emotions as I consider most of the permutations. (There's just not enough Dramamine for all of us.)

But I will share one of the questions that I'm facing, namely, "If I chose to move on, what will I try to move on TO?"
Another D/s relationship? Vanilla? Just wait and see what comes along? That's how I ended up in this one, after all. Despite the fact that I knew I was interested in BDSM, I didn't go seeking out a Dom. I figured if it was meant to happen, it would. And, lo! Meet BG...

What I'm finding, however, is that in many ways, your first Dom is a lot like your first love. There's a magic there. You find it hard to believe that you could ever feel the same way with anyone else. You want to shake your head with the vehemence of an infatuated 15-year old and declare that there will NEVER be anyone like him, EVER!

But on the other hand, I'm, like, old. ;-p
Nyah, ok, not yet.
But I AM miles and miles away from fifteen.

I've had a number of beaux, a few of whom lasted 5 or more years.
I've been in love 2.5 times. (And once with the idea of what I thought I'd found, put that where you will…)
The point is, I know that no matter what I might feel right now, another bus always comes around the corner. We may or may not choose to get on, but public transit continues. Private and commercial, as well. Be it via bus, car, taxi, scooter, or shank's mare, you can continue to move ahead.

So I hesitate to say that if it doesn't work with BG, I will hang up my spreader bar. But I can and will state that, right now, I simply cannot imagine sharing with anyone else the sort of comfortable, intuitive understanding and trust that he and I have. That is just not something that grows on trees.

But could I really go back to vanilla?
I may be old-fashioned enough to want love and caring with my hot sex but I know from experience that love and caring are not sufficient without the hot sex, either. And hot means kink (of the D/s variety) to this girl. Although, to quote a friend, "It doesn't have to be all kink, all the time", there does have to be a willingness to play, even if we don't always avail ourselves of the option.

*sighs*
It will all be MUCH easier if this just works out...

tick, tock, tick, tock...

A Crabby Bitch

"Cancer is a mysterious sign, the one most filled with contradictions. Ruled by the moon, Cancerian moods fluctuate like the tides. They want security and comfort, yet seek new adventures. They are very helpful to others yet sometimes can be cranky and indifferent. They are both highly insecure and arrogantly confident that they are right. They will stand up for what they believe in but conflict of any kind causes them great distress.

Cancerians have a driving, forceful personality that is often hidden beneath a calm, cool exterior. They are very strong people who, more than any other sign, make their moves in life based on their emotions. Highly sensitive, emotional, kind and caring, these traits are hidden behind the crab's shell of indifference and aloofness, which will only get harder the more you try to penetrate it.

Moonchildren have a strong capacity for love and kindness and are guided by their intuitive ability. They have excellent memories, are very observant, and can read people amazingly well. They have to overcome their shyness and insecurity but once they do, their strong intuition, sensitivity, powers of observation, and intelligence will ensure great success."

"Cancers usually dress according to their mood, so their style is forever changing, and can be completely different from one day to the next. Charmingly deceptive, this sign likes to wear luxurious lingerie beneath indifferent outerwear. Style matters less than that their clothing feels soft and comfortable. Sensitive Cancers wear clothes that are feminine and pretty - and very huggable."


So, apparently, there's a reason I'm confused…
Not to mention, erratically dressed.

What She Knew

I tried to write that letter to my 20-year old self, but I couldn't, because that girl already knew the most important things I could tell her.
Nor would I want to alter her path. It's been too good a ride. Even the lousy things, and there are a LOT of those in life, were worthwhile.
You see, I firmly believe you can learn and grow from every experience, no matter how rotten.

You may think I'm smug, saying I already knew the important things at age 20. But I learned them from my mom's death when I was twelve:
    - You can live through anything, despite how it seems at the time.
    - Life is too short to let regrets get a foothold.

The first is really invaluable knowledge, the second a challenge that requires both effort and active participation. Paired together, they neutralize a lot of fear. So, armed with this knowledge at a relatively early age, I learned to listen for my own drummer. With the very fortunate result that, for someone at my stage of life, I have remarkably few regrets.

I will not lie to you and say there aren't roads I would have liked to explore. There are plenty. But they are roads I never happened upon, as opposed to roads I deliberately chose not to drive. Those, at least to my mind, are not the same thing. To me a regret is over an option you actively did or did not pursue. And I just don't regret much.

I don't kid myself that this fortunate state is all my doing. A lot of it is nothing but sheer dumb luck. But some of it is the result of a deliberate strategy. While I wouldn't say my method is for everyone, what works for me is going with my gut.

This can be tough, because often what your gut tells you is right will fly in the face of sense. You need to cultivate courage, conviction and a whole lot of determination. Family and friends will try to sway you. You will second-guess yourself. Frequently, your head will mutter, "What are you, stupid or something??"  (Most likely in a voice that sounds like your dad.) Or your heart will insist that the solution lies in action of the immediate, wild, and extravagant nature.

Your gut, however, knows what is right.

Right is not always what you want. It is not a guarantee that things will work out. Right is rarely the option that gets you immediate gratification. Rather, it's usually the one that requires patience and the willingness to give up something to get something back. But right is the thing that pays you back with a sense of confidence and serenity that you have done your best. Right negates regret.

And sometimes, right is even life-altering. Like when someone says, "Hey! You like to sub!" and your entire reality rearranges itself into something more achingly fulfilling than you'd ever thought you'd achieve.

It's worth listening to that lowly organ, I tell ya.

Vocabulary and the DIY Fail

The other night, my instructions included the words, "I want you to bind your own breasts JUST LIKE I did them the last time. I want them to be hard and swollen when I walk through the door."

Now, I've never tried any self-bondage before - and that last time? He used a new technique - which he applied while I was somewhat occupé. No Clue how he achieved that result.
So, I tried. I swear I really tried. But it was a pretty pathetic attempt.
(In fact, I'm not entirely certain but I think I saw his lips twitch when he came into the room.)

"I don't think I did a very good job."
"No. No, you didn't."

*vvvrrrrrrrp! fwap, fwap, fwap!*
    YIKES! 
*vvvrrrrrrrp! fwap, fwap, fwap!*
    YEOWCH!

"THAT is how I want them done."
"Yes, sir."

It got me thinking, tho'. (You knew that was coming, didn't you?)

A big reason for the binding fail was that I just plain could not make myself pull that rope any tighter. I know other people can do this. I've seen the pictures. But not Weenie Girl. No, no.
I know other people are capable of inflicting pain on themselves during masturbation. For me? Well, let's just say it's counter-productive.
Pain is only enjoyable when it comes from my Dom.

Every definition I can find of a masochist or pain slut carries the implication that this is a person who enjoys pain in the abstract.
But what about those of us who generally dislike pain, except in the very specific instance of it being inflicted for the express purpose of sexual pleasure by one specific person? Do we still count? Or are we pushed to the fringes of masochism the same way we situational submissives are viewed as players by the more hard-core among us?

I'm not trying to deny that I can be either masochist or pain slut.
The arousal BG creates is too strong for me to kid myself that I don't enjoy pain in those circumstances.
But once again, I find myself wishing for a more precise word...

Priori Incarnation

I have decided that BG was, in some previous life, a dentist.

He arranges me in an awkward and vulnerable position.
Widening my poor TMJ'd jaws to a point just short of locking, he then stuffs himself into the deepest reaches of my throat, hums in satisfaction, cups my head close ... and begins to ask questions!

Sometimes they are Yes / No type questions, so I can simply bob my head - thereby both providing an answer and further heightening his pleasure. But sometimes, they're proper questions. Questions that he requires an answer to. (All the while saying, "Don't stop, now!")

He's actually rather skilled at decrypting my gurgles and sputters, but I can promise you that I am even less coherent with a rigid cock in my mouth than I am with some big ol' hairy, sterilized-latex-flavored hand. The process, however, is basically the same.

Except that he never tells me to spit... ;-)

Notes From Someone Else's Desk...

I wasn't snooping.
It was taped right there by the computer:

"sub plan -
bottom drawer"

Do you think it was meant for me?!?