Sad Realization

I've discovered something else that triggers vertigo:

  TMJ problems.

Know one thing that triggers TMJ problems?

  (hint: BG would dump me without this…)

That's right.

The Blowjob.

I am seriously disgruntled by my vestibular system right now...

The Persistence of Vision

This is another one of those posts where I started off writing about one thing and the words took control and went in a completely different direction than the one I'd intended. So I'm giving them their head and just running with it.

But I apologize in advance - there's been a lot of boob talk around here lately and I'm sure you're all getting sick of it. Just bear with me on this post and I promise to rein it in from here on out. At least for a while. (And with the stipulation that "so he tied my boobs" does NOT count as "over-doing the boob thing", ok?)

But it all started when I read SirShy's observation that subs seem to dislike being made to get naked… which got me thinking. 

I'm not sure you can limit that statement to just subs. 

I've always been uncomfortable naked -- even before the Great Submissive Awakening.

I accept that it's an inevitable condition of sex, much less submission, but it does not follow that this makes it a condition I relish, none the less.

It's usually assumed that we resist being naked for our doms because nakedness makes us vulnerable -- but I think you need to dig a little deeper than that and ask what it is about this state that triggers the vulnerability?

Obviously, the answer varies from person to person but speaking for myself, I don't think it's the exposure of the pink bits, per se. Sure, those are things we've been brought up to view as private -- although frankly, I've never really understood what all the hoopla is about but, you know, we want to play nice, so if you feel the need to look at this, knock yourself out.

Nor do I feel disadvantaged by the disparity in amounts of clothing. It's something that triggers little submissive tingles, to be sure, but that's not vulnerability. 

No, for me, the vulnerability is in exposing my breasts.

That is the part that starts the flutters in the tummy and the "I'm looking anywhere except at your face because I really don't want to see your expression" eyeball dance.

Don't like it, don't wanna… but I gotta. 

This is just something I've had to learn to handle. 

And like many things you fake, it gets easier with practice.

(But I still don't like it, did I mention?)

I've often thought that if I were a taut kind of gal, I wouldn't balk so much at nudity. But I haven't been one of those since boobage set in at age twelve -- and I'm here to tell you, even if the rest of you is well-toned (which I did experience once upon a time,) you still don't *feel* trim when you've got these things floppin' away between your face and any of the rest of your body that's in visual range… (You know that expression about "can't get out of my own way" - and how it means you're aggravated and tetchy? Well, my boobs make that expression quite literally true, so imagine my mindset 50% of the time… Now unfetter those puppies… and watch the exponential growth in irkedness!) 

My breasts annoy and frustrate me -- they are a sore point -- so I have a really hard time imagining anyone else seeing them in a different light. Surely everyone must view them with the same distaste! I just cannot seem to get myself past that -- despite repeated demonstrations of opinions to the contrary -- so that's the reaction I brace for, every time.

(I've told you, I have a particularly intransigent brain...)

Personally, I pin my hopes on the possibility that one of these days when BG slaps them, they'll just go flying off my body and I'll be shed of them once and for all. 

Now, I strongly suspect that's sheer wishful thinking… 

But a girl can dream!!!

parenthetical aside

I'm not entirely certain what it means when a person and her two friends post the exact same picture of the three of them and other two immediately start issuing disclaimers about some of the boobs in the picture… 

("Nope! Not mine! Not this girl! Uh-uh, no way!")

I sorta think I should think about that -- until I think maybe I probably shouldn't.

just sayin'...

The Meet 'n' Grin

I had kind of a hard time figuring out what to title this post.

I'd thought about "In Which I Crash a Party", but nilla and sofia had actually invited me to join them, even if I did feel a bit like I was barging in on part of their "Wild & Wonderful Subs" Weekend.

Meet 'n' Squeal was another possibility… but there was no squealing, praise the lord. 

There was, however, grinning. 

Lots of it. All 'round.

And thus is a title born…

It was really a lovely, lovely time meeting the two of them. (Altho' I suspect there may have been a moment there when they wondered what they were getting into, exactly?, when I suggested we meet for dinner at the mall… But we had an excellent meal in a relaxing atmosphere, overlooking a superb view, so I think the question mark has been removed from next to my name… *crosses fingers*)

I certainly know that any reservations I may have had melted away almost immediately. There was absolutely no awkwardness or discomfort or even gawky shyness on my part (always a potential danger when meeting new folk.) Instead, conversation flowed smoothly the whole time, with much laughter and liveliness, right up to the point where they kicked us out of the restaurant 3 1/2 hours later...

Sofia is calm and lovely, with a voice pitched low to soothe. She was quick with thoughtful comments and gracious enough not to roll her eyes while nilla and I gabbled on about our gardens. She also excels at maintaining a perfectly neutral demeanor while oh-so-innocently taking you out completely with a description of how you get the cream filling inside a cupcake.

Nilla is a bustling bundle of charm, with a big smile and ready quip at all times. She will giggle until there are tears in her eyes one minute and then amaze you with some fresh insight into the submissive mindset the next. She'll even show you this tentacle picture that she appears to carry with her at all times… ;-p 

I had an absolutely wonderful evening, even if I did feel like the tall weed in a flower garden. ;-)

We mostly talked about our lives and relationships but we didn't forget Blogland.

In fact, we even took a picture for you, our readers…

Behold the Wild & Wonderful Subs - Plus One.

:-D

(I wanna do this again some time!)

Words Heard Through a Haze

"I haven't really been rough with these at all, have I?

And if you keep being so focused on my cock, I'll be kind and I won't get rough.

But lose that focus, and I WILL make these hurt...

Oh. Except you're a pain slut… you like it when I hurt them, don't you?

It gets you hotter. And hotter. And wetter. And wetter…

Plus, you're a good submissive bitch. You know your Dom loves to hurt your tits. You know that's one of his favorite things to do, that it makes him very happy to mangle these fistfuls of flesh, and you love to make him happy…

You have quite a conundrum facing you, haven't you, little slut?"

In Which I Drop My Teeth

He's not the man to date if you require lots of ego-stroking -- compliments are pretty thin on the ground around him. 

"Do you like the outfit?"

"I'm not complaining…"

"Aren't you glad we met?"

"I'm not complaining…"

"How do you like the meal?"

"I'm not complaining…"

Yep, you kind of need nerves of steel to be with this man. (Which I only succeed at about 75% of the time but that's a post for another time.) This isn't a condition that suits everyone, I know, but since I distrust facile compliments, I'm OK with it. I figure it just means that I can really trust what he does say, and I go from there.

That does not mean, however, that I am immune to a kind word. I like praise as much as the next gal -- I've just learned not to expect any -- outside of scening. (There, he's complimentary.)

The other day, however, I was sharing a purely vanilla task that I had accomplished, complete with weights, measures, and pictures.

"wow. just wow."

"hey, does this mean I've finally done something that surprises/impresses you?!?!?"

"finally?  no, you do it regularly."

…

… …

"OK, who are you and how did you hijack my dom's email address?"

Four days later and I still suspect I've been punked...

Why I Love My Friends #34

One of my dearest friends from high school sent me a link to a very heart-warming, doggie, "awwwww" kind of youtube -- and included the note, "Don't worry. No humans were hugged in the making of this film." 

How to Stay Friends With Someone For 38 years… Know Your Audience 

;-p

The Irrelevant Pussy

It's an odd thing, at the age of 50-something, to realize that this vaunted sexual organ you possess, your secret weapon, the means by which you can control your life, your destiny, and particularly your man!, is actually of limited interest to He Who Fucks You Regularly.

Not that ye olde vajayjay is a be-all and end-all for me, either. I have insisted for years that the heat of sex lies upward, in the mind -- but I still found it surprising to actually find a man who didn't assume it would require much vaginal pounding on his part in order to satisfy me. 

In fact, I was a bit taken aback to realize how completely irrelevant my pussy actually is to him. As far as orifices go, it is by far the least of the Holy Trinity.

He'd dump me without my mouth...

He'll stab anyone else who gets in my ass...

Time spent in my pussy, however, is more like intermission, a change of pace between the opening act and the grand finale. Nice, but more of a supplement to the actual program…

Do not mistake this for a complaint, however. I am decidedly not lacking in orgasms, and holy shit, does this man have that mind-fuck thing down! He leaves me drained, sated, and smiling after each and every scene, so his priorities seem perfectly A-OK to me. :-D

It's just sort of, I don't know, disconcerting, after years of talking to the talk, to run across someone who actually walks the walk - and takes you walkin' with him. 

It's a bit like getting all psyched up for a righteous argument, only to have the other person express your point of view before you open your mouth. 

Somewhat deflating, even while being exactly what you want…

Idle Ponder #73

I found a podcast called "Read it and Weep" ("A good podcast about bad literature") and took it for a test drive by listening to their discussion of "Fifty Shades of Grey". (No, this post won't be taking a stance on any of the "it's great/it's dreck" arguments about the book. You like it or you don't, end of story. I'm going somewhere else here…) 

Now, the hosts are young urbanites with sharp tongues and, since the subject is "bad literature", you know the podcast is going to be largely a forum for snarky, arrogant humor. But still, I was curious to hear what they might say.

And even more interested by what they did say.

Because while the BDSM theme of the book was indeed the focus of much of the scathing diatribe, I also caught the faintest whiff of bewilderment, and that I found pretty intriguing. These cool kids clearly don't "get" BDSM, so the sheer popularity of the book seems to have shaken their arrogance a bit, making the snark ever-so-slightly defensive.

And I have to admit, the thought made me grin.

Because for years, we've been the ones fretting over being different, being out of step, confused by our wanting the things we want and liking the things we like. We don't feel aberrant, yet that is a definition of our preferences - and coming to terms with that can be quite a struggle. -- So I found it kind of amusing to see the tables turned simply by the sheer popularity of one kinky book. 

It's almost as though the people who had considered themselves squarely among "The In Crowd" are now looking at the huge party across the street and can't decide whether to call the cops or feel indignant that they weren't invited…

In Which I'm Not Certain I Come Out Ahead

SP: oh boy, things are always way more complicated with you than they need to be

Jz: or I'm just an idiot

SP: No. Anxious caring subbie ho pussy, maybe, but NEVER an idiot…

Real

I love this picture.

I don't know if these two are actually dom and sub or simply two people modeling for the shoot -- and I don't care. It's a wonderful picture and I love that they published it.

Because this is the human side of BDSM, something you don't always get to see here in Blogland.

I mean, I'm as fond of pretty pictures as the next gal…

But I also get really tired of all the posturing and tropes that so often appear in those pictures. "Inhumanly graceful submissive in attitude of serene acceptance"… "Nubile sub with pert boobs, runny mascara, and pleading eyes"… "Impossibly chiseled man wielding flogger"… "Bitchin' Domme in ridiculous shoes"… You know the stuff I mean. Fantasy stereotypes that have almost nothing in common with what actually goes on for most of us in our lives.

Sure, BG's the one in control, the guy tying the knots and dispensing the bruises. But that control is not gained through fear, intimidation, stern faces, or general bad-assedness. 

Nor does my submission miraculously make me nubile, graceful, or serene.

Rather, this is a relationship. There's give and take on both sides, there's caring, there's respect, there are real people here, doing real people type things.

Like laughing together, even at the darndest moments.

I want to see more pictures like this.

Attention, Botanists & Gardeners!

Help Needed, Please.
The mystery flower is beginning to bloom.
Does anyone recognize this plant?

click thru for closeup

I have one in white, a couple in darker pink, and this.
Currently, it's about 6 inches high but I believe everything I bought was predicted to be at least a foot tall, if not higher, so don't let the size fool you! (sage advice for so many things, really...)

Additionally, another mystery arose, something I have never ever seen before:

again, click thru for closeup

It's plunk in the middle of an area I just cleared of crocuses and daffs. Years and years they've been there but this thing's new for 2013. It cropped up unexpectedly, like my own personal alien invasion.
It formed an eerie circular spray of these insipidly pale, bean-sproutish stems (most of which have already been whisked away but these were stragglers,) which are about 3 inches long with brown pods and pinkish brown seeds.

I have No Clue.
But I'm a bit concerned that I may be propagating triffids in my back garden...

Any input, words of advice, and other useful commentary gratefully received.
Further details available upon request.
Triffid-expert reassurance particularly welcome.

Thank you!! :-D

Tasked

He's decided that it's about time to introduce me to a crop or a cane.

"I'm not saying no, but that kind of scares me."

(I don't know much about crops but I have heard that canes can hurt like a sumbitch. Or, in the words of SP, "A cane is very hurtful... but it makes such lovely lines...") 

BG explained that crops are really more noise than anything else, probably even less painful than The Belt, but that canes do have to be used with care, so as not to break the skin.

"So I can vote for a crop?" I pipe up hopefully.

"Tell you what…" 

I now have a mission -- to find a tack shop and select the crop that most appeals to me. 

*sigh*

Despite my usual eagerness to try new toys, this task is not really talking to me.
In and of itself, it's not that big a deal, I recognize this. My biggest discomfort stems from the shopping expedition portion of the program. I'll be a fish out of water in a tack shop (my experience with horses is limited to listening to them clop past my house of an evening) and I just don't think I'm going to carry off the whole casual élan thing very well. (Have I mentioned that I still blush, even at my advanced age?) The jig will be up in no time flat.

But that I can handle, if in slightly flustered fashion.

It's the whole path this starts us down that totally unnerves me. Because while I may be a bit, um, apprehensive about the crop, it doesn't actively spook me -- the cane does. I have a much harder time processing the less diffuse types of pain and I'm … oh, hell, I'm just scared. That it will be more than I can handle, that I will disappoint him, that it will somehow be the thing that ruins all the rest...

(Can you see my feet dragging in the metaphorical dust?)

Mind you, I'm fully aware that I'm completely letting my imagination run away with me. We haven't even gotten the crop yet and I'm fretting over what comes after that? And I know I shouldn't. His precise words were, "When I think you are ready, I'll surprise you with a cane." So if he doesn't think I'm ready, it will never put in an appearance. If he does think I'm ready, then I have to seriously consider the fact that maybe I actually am.

So, I'm being silly and I know it.

That doesn't seem to stop the inner whimpers, tho'…

Snippet

I'm reduced to shrieking around the cock in my mouth.

"Focus! It's just one finger…"

"One sneaky and very talented finger!"

"Well, yes…"