Out With The Old

There have been moments of great wonderfulness in this year.

I kinda wish I weren't ending it in the Slough of Despond but that's life, right?

So I wish you all the very best in 2014.

And in case you were wondering…

(Found on Post Secret, so I can't credit the creator -- but it was too good to pass up!)

Happy New Year, all.

Merry Christmas!

I've had a pretty grim week -- with not much to celebrate in sight…

But I'm Ready Now!!

I wish you all tons of love and laughter and whatever makes you smile.

For me, at the moment, that's giggling children and some rockin' holiday banjo. :-)

Walk in joy...

J.

"The Poem of The Air..."

"This is the poem of the air,

      Slowly in silent syllables recorded;..."

"Snowflakes" - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I love snow.

I loathe driving in it and I wish it came with a shovel-free option...

but other than that, I truly love snow.

Snow is happiness.

It's pink cheeks, damp mittens, stomping feet, and hot cocoa.

Snow is transformative.

Loud becomes hushed, rough becomes smooth, grey day becomes a sparkling wonderland and the night, a haven of gently glowing possibility.

Snow is magic.

Even when my heart has forgotten, snow whispers to my soul, "I'm still here…"

And at least for a while, I believe.

Fitspo, D/s style

I've been kneeling here for quite a while now -- but it's time to get up.

As always, my courteous dom offers to assist my stiff self in rising to my feet.

But my hands are bound…

Undaunted, he simply vises a breast in each hand and begins hauling upward…

Perhaps a gym membership might not go amiss after all…

Next...!

I was poking around, looking at some of the holiday gift suggestions that kaya wrote about.

These extreme nipple weights caught my eye...

(these)

I'm pretty sure BG would really like them…

But I doubt I'll be buying...

because my knees hurt just looking at these suckers.

(*whack! whack!*)

Women of a certain age and endowment already give gravity a gracious plenty to work with, thank you very much. No need to fuel the fire.

Let's look at that paddle thingy, instead...

Differing Opinions

I sent this to BG as one of this week's photos:

It came in last in the ratings.

Now, the other two were of wax play and predicament bondage -- which also managed to include nipple clamps and an up-close and personal crotch shot of the woman receiving anal (not to mention some very hot seamed stockings,) -- and we haven't seen each other for longer than usual, so I know he's not feeling particularly "subtle" right now.

So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that this rather atmospheric shot wasn't his top pick.

But I don't think I can agree that it's the least compelling of the bunch, either.

Not when you look closely.

Because what I see here is that moment when he's pulled you in while leaning down to growl a command.

When he's close enough that your skin is tingling and your tummy fluttering…

When every fiber of your being is melting in response to his dominance…

When your breath quickens and your heart stops -- and your libido just plain rolls over and splays shamelessly on it's back like a puppy needing a tummy rub.

I think that moment is about as hot as they come -- even without seamed stockings.

(maybe I'm just seeing it from the wrong side of the slash?)

I did NOT see this one coming...

Thank you, Rori and thank you nilla, my nominator.

And to those of you who dropped in looking for sex, only to find nothing but cookies...

Sorry!

You're gonna have to scroll. :-)

Or better yet, go visit Between My Sheets for the complete list of 2013 winners.

Some of my favorites are listed there! 

An Open Letter to Sint Nikolaas

Dearest Sinterklaas,

We had a lovely cookie exchange to celebrate your day.

Lots of participation and oodles of truly impressive recipes.

Unhappily, however, there were no stroopwafels.

I reeeally like stroopwafels...

It feels like ages since I've had any...

(Did I mention I've been veery good this year?)

Your casually whistling friend,

Jz

**********************************************

And as for the rest of you...

It was another thoroughly enjoyable Extravaganza day.

Thank you all So Much for getting together to play along.

Sharing the fun with you is what makes it all worthwhile.   :-D

Same time next year?  :-)

Last Call for Cookies!

Just a reminder that this Thursday, Dec. 5th, is the Fourth Annual Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza -- and Tuesday is the deadline for getting your name on the participant list.

If you want to play along and haven't already signed up, please email me with your name and the URL of your blog.

Otherwise, happy baking!
(and happy browsing :-D)

Let the Holidays Begin!

When I was a kid, you always dressed up for holiday meals.

That doesn't seem to happen as much any more and I find I miss it.

So this year, I'm making up for lost time!  

Enjoy the day, everyone.

:-D

Boundaries

(This is kind of a rant, but it's been stuck in my craw for a while, so let me just get it out and then we'll move on, OK?)

A while back, I posted about declining a date with BG because I had a previous engagement with a friend to see the new Star Trek movie. I only meant it as a light little piece, so I was kind of surprised by some of the reactions I got off-post, where I took a fair bit of teasing about my priorities.

Most of it was in fun, I know that. But there were also liminal undertones of "The Shock Of The Better Sub" -- and that part bothered me.

Because for one thing, were you to check page 37 of Jz's Handbook of Life, you would discover that, in my world, you do NOT blow someone off simply because a better offer is received, no matter who issued it. My mama would rise from her grave to bitch-slap me if I did that, and when I staggered back onto my feet, I'd have to bitch-slap myself -- because that is just not acceptable behavior.

Even disregarding the question of common courtesy, however, these comments got under my skin because they touched on a trope within D/s that I actually quite object to -- that the good submissive never says, "No" -- context be damned. 

That's just not how I (nor, thankfully, BG) see(s) it. 

To my mind, a power exchange is between dominant and submissive only.

Certainly, whatever two people agree to do between themselves is no one else's business -- but the key words there are "between themselves."

I may cede to my dominant all sorts of control over me but that control does not extend to any and all independent entities I interact with -- those maintain their right to autonomy.

So while I may be willing to change my pre-existing plans, if they involve someone else, the plans stay as is. My friends didn't sign up to be controlled by BG and I'm not going to play fast and loose with them as though they had.

Now certainly, we're just talking about a movie date here, so my rant undoubtedly seems excessive. But the underlying principle touches on an issue I have seen crop up often enough to concern me -- where subs stretch a "no limits" policy until it becomes virtually "no boundaries" --  and suddenly anything they've ever seen, read, or touched becomes eligible to be laid at their dominant's feet.

"Here, have my mother's credit card number!"

"Of course I'll give you the combination to the safe where I work!"

"Well, my friend didn't expect you to assault her, Sir, but that's OK, you are Master, after all." (I only wish this one were hyperbole…)

(OK, mostly exaggerations -- but the underlying message is the same as in statements I've actually read out there... and that message makes me crazy.)

Those are not your things.

The fact that you have access to them does not make them your things.

And things that are not yours are, by extension, not yours to share with anyone else.

Please stick to the stuff that is actually yours.

(thank you, I'm done now)

In Which I Rethink My Stance on Accurate Speech

"…and you are such a good slut, giving pleasure to your Dom, worshipping his cock and letting him torture your tits… Well, I should say 'tit' -- I'm only mangling one at the moment..."

*mwheeEEpf!*

"There -- Now the use of the plural is correct..."

A Choppy, Pointless, and Highly Parenthetical Ramble

My relationships seem to vacillate between men who appreciate my independence and men who need more "live in my pocket" than I can offer.

I'm not very good at being smothered so I can completely understand why I tend toward the ones who like my independence.

But…

I still want to be needed.

Needed, appreciated, desired, cherished...

in my own ruggedly independent (and occasionally submissive) way.

This is not an easy balance to achieve with the AOI. (Appreciators of Independence) Largely, because they usually appreciate it in me because they want it for themselves. 

So it boils down to a juggling act. 

From my side, I need to convey that I just want to feel included and remembered, that it doesn't mean I've totally changed my tune, or that I'm trying to lay a guilt trip on him.

From his side, he has to overcome his kneejerk reaction that what I'm asking would mean losing our independence, that my needs don't mean I've been misrepresenting or wearing a false face.

It's not an impossible task, but it doesn't happen overnight, either. 

Kaya wrote a post recently that talks about how there's a lot of work that goes into reaching the point where your relationship becomes one that people envy.

Now, I'm not by any means claiming that mine is a relationship to envy (well, okay, the "what we have between us" part is kind of enviable - but the rest of it would NOT work for most people) (as my friends continually remind me) (in supportive fashion)

but (to finish that sentence up there ^ that I left hanging wide open) my relationship is dear to me - so it warrants the work. (In fact, I'm pretty sure that any relationship worth it's salt is one that people have worked on.)

Where it gets tricky is in discovering how to keep the work productive. You have to be vigilant about allowing for the perceptions and desires of the other person, while expressing yourself honestly, and remaining willing to recognize and accept compromise.

This can be an absolute bugger of a dance, can I just mention?

Because really, it's much, MUCH easier for any of us (I don't like to think it's just me, anyhow) to simply pay lip service to the other person. Or to frame their words based on past experience (generally unsuccessful) with someone else (or even this same person) and end up not hearing what they're saying. 

Clarity, consistency, neutrality, and openness can be a nearly-impossible combination at times.

BG & I are both fairly decent at most of those, tho' not always all at once. However, the thing that has helped us the most is patience. We've both been willing to work down until we found a bedrock of faith in each other. 

I suppose it boils down to trust -- but it feels a bit wider in scope than that. I'm not just trusting him, I'm trusting in him -- and in him-trusting-in-me. And I'm acting in a manner that (hopefully!) shows that his trust is not misplaced.

Most of the time I think we're doing well.

Progress is slow but steady, with each learning and accomodating.

But I won't lie, there are times I wonder if I'm just plain kidding myself.

Out of Curiosity

Does this seem just wrong to anyone besides me?

The "Hello Kitty" Pocket Rocket

Aural Fixation

My voice always husks up when I have a cold, as I do now.

And when I'm in this condition, it's not uncommon for me to receive a comment, as I did today, that I should really consider work in the phone sex field, cuz my voice is HAWT! (Personally, I think I sound like Johnny Cash, but whatever.)

The point is that the comment highlighted something I've been considering this week, about all the different sensual components that go into finding someone attractive, and how the input of a single sense can convey so much disparate information. 

Not to mention how individually we all prioritize our senses...

I've long known that I'm not particularly visual but it took a while before I realized just how driven I am by sound.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise… I dislike most sports because I find the clamor of the masses to be unpleasantly discordant. I can only stay in big art museums for so long before I am wincing with headache brought on by the nearly imperceptible whine of lighting and electronics bouncing off of marble.

But those sounds frame my reactions to things, not people.

The other day, however, I was listening to a podcast that was a round table of dominants and I realized that, despite liking most of what was said, I absolutely could not see myself submitting to any of these people. I wasn't sure why initially, so I sat down and picked it apart -- and realized the problem was what I heard about them in their voices.

It wasn't just the speech acoustics, altho' modulation of tone was certainly lacking for the most part. But I also kept tripping over elocution, articulation, and for the love of god, people, grammar. (OK, that last one falls more under the purview of "Jz as Persnickety Bitch" … but still, the fact remains. One more "where's that at?" and I just may issue The Scream That Is Heard Around the World…) 

Now, before you quibble, No. None of those details have any bearing whatsoever on whether someone is a good person or not, a good dominant or not. 

In general.

But -- attention to these details DOES say something about the values of the person presenting them -- and those values are indicative of traits that I personally find attractive. It's an extension of individual taste, like heavy or thin for the visual, stinky or fragrant for those driven by their noses -- it's simply what I like.

So in specific, to me, how you speak is a good predictor of how well we'll mesh. 

(Seriously… can you imagine how black and blue I'd be if I was with a dominant who only spoke in sentences I felt compelled to correct?!?)

Reason #892 I am thankful for my deep-voiced, non-mumbling, complete-sentenced, grammatically-correct, magic-handed (but that's another post) Dom.

I can just relax and enjoy his hawt without any distractions.  :-)

One Gauntlet Down...

Are you good at trying to become better at something you know you don't do very well?

I'm not - never have been.

I'm not sure where it comes from. 

But wherever... boy, does my inner brat NOT like being pushed to improve!

(Surely my standards of adequacy should be sufficient for anyone!)

It's one of the biggest challenges of my personality, because that kind of pressure makes all the traits I struggle with -- impatience, arrogance, immaturity, petulance, temper -- fall into a ditch together where, rather than cooperate to get the heck out, they just snort and turn their backs on each other.

While the ditch fills with water…

In my defense, I try.

I don't like this facet of my personality, so I really do attempt (when cornered) to rise above myself, to be gracious and good humored, and to genuinely expend energy working toward improvement. Those efforts generally only cover the surface, however. Inside, I'm usually still having a temper tantrum, thrashing and snarling out every colorful phrase I know. (And I know a lot of phrases!)

So, right or wrong, it's not an issue I like to force too often.

Well, BG threw down a gauntlet the other night.

In actuality, the terms were so win-win for us both that it hardly seemed worth making it a challenge. But he did… because it addresses something he'd like to see me do better. 

(do you sense where this is going?)

Then he quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Do you accept?"

Now, I have said in the past that I love a challenge. 

I believe I've also claimed to see my submission as being active, not passive.

Apparently I am a big fat liar.

Because that challenge, touching as it did on a point of weakness, went right up my nose, under my skin -- and BAM! 

There I was, tossed right back into the ditch.

Oh, and… embarrassment decided to hop in as well, just to further churn up the mud. 

It was touch and go for a moment whether I'd scream, bite something, or just run away.

But when he nudged me and prompted, "Well??", I realized the ditch may have met it's match. Because much though I dreaded agitating the inner troll, disappointing BG was even less attractive a prospect…

"I'll try, sir. But I will probably need some help."

"That's fine..."

******

I can't claim I aced it.

I won't say I wasn't squirming inside.

But with his help, I squeaked out a "pass" --

which in this instance, felt like a rather large "win" ...

I think I'll take it.

Start Your Ovens...!

Because on Thursday, Dec. 5, 2013 the Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza returns ... and we hope you'll join us for the fun. :-)

The rules are simple: 

Just post a recipe for a holiday goodie on Thursday, December 5, 2013. (We don't limit our holiday eating to just cookies...)

Anyone is welcome to join in  -- but --

    There's One Condition:

If you want your blog to show up in the official list of participant links, you MUST contact me (Jz) by Tuesday, Dec. 3rd, with both your name and the URL of your blog. 

(If you're not sure what I'm talking about, Years One thru Three can be found here.)

Hope to see you all baking!

The Keys to the Castle

(or at least to the montage...)

My "fed up with everything" phase seems to be ebbing, thank the lord.

I think that going 3 days with no heat just froze the spark of human warmth right out of me and I've had a hard time getting back up to temperature. (It was really, really cold in my house, can I just say?)

But I'm back to caring that I can't write, and I anticipate a breakthrough on the actual act itself any moment now!

In the meantime, I've had three requests for an answer key to the meaning behind the frames -- and who am I to deny those brave enough to comment on that particular post? (Altho' as I said to someone, you should consider yourselves lucky. My quirky and potentially disturbing montages are still WAY better than if I vented via poetic offering!  ;-p )

Here we go:

1- Sand Guy

This one I think is fairly self-explanatory. 

(Doesn't everyone feel like this when they're in an "I don't like life much right now" phase?)

2- Tim Curry

Halloween = Rocky Horror Picture Show = Young Jz's (im)pure lust for Frank'n'Furter = The First Clue That She Might Be A Bit Bent

3- apples

pure wistful imagining. 

I'd love to look like that, stockings, heels, and all.

4- old sheet music illustration

Mom and I, sitting at the dusty old piano down in the basement, going through stacks and stacks of old sheet music, with her plunking the keys and us both giving it our vaudeville best.

5- Egg Lady

Somewhere, there's a picture of me at about 3, sitting on top of a wall in front of Storybook Land, next to a big cut-out Humpty Dumpty, with the most astonishing amount of leg dangling out from beneath my little smocked dress. (I know how long my legs are and even *I'm* startled by this picture.)

I look like a caricature of the character next to me and the image has always stuck.

This picture is the grown up variation.  :-)

6- So This is Love

Again…

Love, rope… What's to explain?  ;-p

7- Linus

My Life's Philosophy.

(as seen on my closet door since age ~10.)

8- pup in glasses

You can wear glasses, look all pointy-headed, and still be cute, dammit!

9- Mac, book, library

Uh, hello, people….

This is me, remember?

10- lamp post

This is actually the most meaningful one in the bunch.

It was taken (tho' not by me) on the single-most intensely perfect, magical night of my life.

Right where I was, right about the same time… and all I have to do is look at it to go back and feel the magic all over again.

Montage

I can't write right now...

and I can't even care that I can't write right now.

Would you settle for this?

(it actually does say things...) ;-p

Elephant Handling

Back in August, nilla and I went off on a side track, discussing the elephant in the room behind one of my posts. She made the observation that naming the elephant is like saying "Rumplestilskin" … that by breaking the silence, you make things visible, fracture your cage, neutralize it's power.

You may still have an elephant on your hands but at least now you can start dealing with it, maybe shrink it down to purely ornamental size… 

And I got thinking...

I haven't ignored my elephant but I've dealt with it quietly, by myself. Cuz that's just how I roll. But despite that working perfectly well for me, I realize that there's a positive plague of pachyderms out there -- and maybe a show of solidarity would not go amiss.

So, here goes...

A long time ago, I had a date that left me bruised -- and decidedly NOT from consensual behavior. Legally, clinically, and emotionally, it was date rape. 

I know a lot of people don't believe that this is something that is real. They figure if you went out with a guy in the first place, you carry some degree of complicity in your fate. Or if the sexual violation is oral, as mine was, it's somehow not valid, it can't really have been that traumatic… "So you had a bad date -- get over it!" 

There is, of course, a kernel of truth in that. You do have to get over it, because life has to go on. To the surprise of no one but those who've never actually experienced assault, however, it's just not that simple.

Yes, I was young and stupid, but only because I was trusting. I had no external factors impairing my judgement -- even in hindsight, my only mistake was to believe that a guy would accept that "no" means "no" - especially if I was yelling it into his ear.

But he was bigger than me, he was stronger than me, and he had no compunction about slamming me into the furniture to get his own way.  He used violence to coerce a participation that I most certainly did not consent to.

Which left me sickened, shocked, trembling, horrified, violated … and completely pissed off -- at myself. Because whether that's reasonable or not, the fact remains that I'd experienced an epic failure at taking care of myself -- and that makes a person feel like an inept fool.

Plus, the real kicker is that misery doesn't even turn out to be the hard part.

No, it's afterwards that the real challenge begins, when you start trying to figure how to get past it all… How do you ensure, as you move forward, that you both learn your lesson and keep the experience from rotting your innards?

I knew for myself that I didn't want to stop trusting people but I sure as shootin' had no intention of ever letting myself be that kind of stupid again, either. 

So I had to find a balance between vulnerability and caution. 

I had to develop the skills of internal listening, examining, evaluating - while not completely losing sight of spontaneity.

I had to respect the healing process of my psyche, yet keep poking at it, to make sure it was actually healing and not just closing off and letting itself atrophy.

That's all difficult, draining stuff -- and seemed for a very long time like it was WAY more work than it was worth. (Would it really be that bad to just wave at the world from inside an impermeable bubble?)

But tempting tho' BubbleLand sometimes sounded, it was not really what I wanted. That kind of existence would be all wrong for me, on almost every imaginable level. So I took it in stages and persevered… heck, I persevere still. 

Because, as I wrote to nilla, one thing I find completely maddening is that even after 30-odd years, this one jerk will still occasionally rise from the dead and blight my sexual enjoyment. I've worked long and hard to take that control back and for the most part, I've succeeded. That he's still not completely banished is frustrating, irritating, and really MUCH more attention than he ever deserved in the first place. (Brief return to that "being pissed off at myself" place…)

So no, elephants aren't exactly like Rumpelstilskin - they require lots more time and patience to tame than just a one-time shout out.

But it's a start. It is certainly a start...

(and don't worry - comments not expected on this one. just getting it out there)

Adjectives

I am always the wanton, cock-sucking slut.

That's a constant -- but all other adjectives are subject to change, depending on his mood.

Now, none of his choices are ever hurtful. He's not a man given to humiliation or belittling. He might tease me to embarrassment now and again but even then, he's careful with his words. So, rather than asking me if I feel "exposed", he'll use the word "vulnerable"… 

A subtle distinction but it makes a huge difference to my response. 

Yet, despite all his care, there are times when the differences between the male and female mindset muddy the waters anyhow. Because he will occasionally choose a word that is simply a neutral descriptor to him -- but that I really don't enjoy having applied to my person. The fact that I cannot deny truth of these words does not make them any more palatable. (I'm pragmatic but I'm not THAT pragmatic…!)

Unfortunately tho', the fact that they are true renders me incapable of protesting their use. 

At least, not to him. 

I will, however, share with you, my bloggy friends, that I greatly prefer "abundant' to "broad"… and I really don't like the word "pendulous".

Even if SP does assure me that "there is great sexiness in the word"…?

I'm just not feeling the love.

I'd Like One in Every Color, Please

Srsly...

Scene in Senses

The shock of his outdoor-cold hands as they slide beneath my robe.

The growl in his voice when he says, "You are in SUCH hot water..."

The sharp twinge of rope tightening into my wrist as he adjusts my position.

The gentleness of his hand stroking the flesh he is about to lick with the belt  

and the way that stroking intensifies the heat.

The shocking slap when leather hits flesh.

The sting of candle smoke in my nose.

The trembling, aching tension in my muscles as I fight for balance.

The sweet relief of clips undone.

The warmth of his skin against mine.

The slickery slide of sweat and lube.

The boneless exhaustion of a well-used body.

The floating feeling of bliss.

The Monogamous Onion

I was listening to yet another old Erotic Awakening podcast, one where Dan and Dawn's Question of the Day was whether anyone can be poly, and how you could tell…

During the discussion, Dawn made the comment that she thinks people tend to be hardwired one way or the other, that some are wired to be monogamous and some are wired poly, but that we all have an insulating layer of societal expectations that can make it difficult to see what we really are…

I was kind of drowsing as I listened but my eyelids snapped wide open on that one - and my brain immediately added, "plus, the lifestyle tends to impose yet another layer on top of that…"

Because when you enter this heady world, it's easy to feel that there are community pressures to throw off the constraints of vanilla life. Monogamy is just one more societal conceit created to produce cookie cutter members, so why should we accept it? 

Who ever heard of a monogamous slut? 

It can land a person in an maddening quagmire, all those multiple layers of tropes.

But truthfully, altho' I have long considered a kinky nature to be just the result of wiring, I'd never thought about monogamy or polyamory as a wiring issue. That had always struck me as more of a morality-based decision. Does it sound too ridiculous for me to admit that even the suggestion that it's not something we can alter was an incredible relief?

Not because it means I don't have to change but more because it means my struggles aren't against a flaw - they're against a valid, real thing. And that difference in perspective actually changes a great deal. Because now the argument shifts from, "Why can't I make myself accept this? Why can I not change?" to "OK, it's just not gonna move. How do I punt around it?" (Not to mention, "Do I want to punt around it?")

I've spoken ad nauseam in the past about my great internal conflict over not being able to cheerfully assure BG that a ménage would be just splendid. I want to do and be what he wants, after all. But any form of sharing or being shared is something that I have NOT been able to get a handle on, and I have found that frustrating.  

It seemed I was battling a combination of societal construct and my own insecurities and getting nowhere. And since I know societal constructs aren't that important to me, then that must mean my insecurities go a lot deeper than I want to accept. (Which, btw, may still be true. However…) 

My lack of progress makes a lot more sense if I consider that maybe what I was actually doing was trying to peel away one construct so I could lay on another construct, when in fact, the truth lies in a layer even deeper, within something that is actually an integral part of me -- something that just IS, so it's OK to accept it and go from there.

And that makes me feel like SO much less of a hypocrite, it's positively emancipating.

Because I know I don't judge people who can multi-task their sexual fidelity -- so my inability to budge my own feelings on the matter was starting to make me feel like someone who could talk the talk but not walk the walk. 

Or a big fat chicken...

And neither hypocrite nor chicken is an adjective to make a person proud.