It tears through you like wildfire,
ravenous and untamed,
or brushes your skin like cobwebs,
setting nerves on edge.
You ache from it,
yearn for exquisite sensation,
the scourge of heat to calm you
and soothe the unrelenting itch.
You want him.
Hands hard and cruel and soothing.
Cock firm and deep and thrusting.
Breath harsh and ragged in your ear.
You crave use.
Merciless, rough, taunting, unending use.
Use that burns and torments and delights,
that leaves you whimpering mindlessly
like nothing you ever dreamed of before.
You want to roar to the heavens,
to quiver, moan, and scream ...
to feel nothing but your body,
to be nothing but your body.
You just ... need.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Power of Parameters
Once again, posts I've read have bounced around inside my head, richocheting off each other until they fused into a totally random (and largely pointless) thought.
It's a theory about switching. (Sort of. I think.)
More accurately, a theory about switching as it might apply to me. (Kind of. I think.)
Starting point-
I believe, as Sir J noted the other day, that you are something or you're not. On the other hand, I'm also a firm believer that you should never say never - about anything.
Generally, because that's a pretty sure way of ensuring that that very thing will happen almost immediately. ;-) But also because I believe that different parameters can effect your reality. Not so much in that they would alter an existing fact but rather, that the change in factors could create a second reality entirely.
First bounce-
As an example, I, like gg, now say that I am submissive. For years, I was caught up in an image of what I thought I was and wanted, yet I was vaguely restless, dissatisfied. I longed for a man who could "handle me" but didn't really know what I meant by that. Finally, the lightbulb moment occurred. It took a while to shift my mental parameters but once I did, I accepted what I am. And that's when things fell into place. Knowing what I wanted, I was then able to find it. Now I have a man who can (and does) handle me and I see just how beautifully it suits me. I adore being BG's slut. It still surprises me how totally fulfilling I find it to give all that control over to him. "Submissive" is my newly-discovered reality.
But ... (this particular bounce courtesy of bad, bad girl)-
I also think if I were wired to desire women as well, I'd be drawn to dominating them. This is, of course, pure speculation, as I don't seem to have that particular trigger. But reading her accounts of their attempted triad and where that has led her got me thinking. I already knew from experience that I don't want to be the one in charge. And I know that I have no interest in having a female dominant. But in extending that consideration, I realized that it's possible that in a different reality, I could be potentially be one. (And yes, that made me blink rapidly a few times.)
Now, in truth, I'm not even sure if you could call that "switching," as the reality seems dependent on gender, a distinction that is absolute. To me, it actually seems more like apples and oranges. Which is why this may not really be a theory about switching but just a random observation about a possible me.
But it does point to the power of parameters.
Yes, much of our nature is immutable. But sometimes, if you change one or two aspects of an environment, you may well experience an evolution that you didn't expect.
Life is, after all, full of curve balls.
It's a theory about switching. (Sort of. I think.)
More accurately, a theory about switching as it might apply to me. (Kind of. I think.)
Starting point-
I believe, as Sir J noted the other day, that you are something or you're not. On the other hand, I'm also a firm believer that you should never say never - about anything.
Generally, because that's a pretty sure way of ensuring that that very thing will happen almost immediately. ;-) But also because I believe that different parameters can effect your reality. Not so much in that they would alter an existing fact but rather, that the change in factors could create a second reality entirely.
First bounce-
As an example, I, like gg, now say that I am submissive. For years, I was caught up in an image of what I thought I was and wanted, yet I was vaguely restless, dissatisfied. I longed for a man who could "handle me" but didn't really know what I meant by that. Finally, the lightbulb moment occurred. It took a while to shift my mental parameters but once I did, I accepted what I am. And that's when things fell into place. Knowing what I wanted, I was then able to find it. Now I have a man who can (and does) handle me and I see just how beautifully it suits me. I adore being BG's slut. It still surprises me how totally fulfilling I find it to give all that control over to him. "Submissive" is my newly-discovered reality.
But ... (this particular bounce courtesy of bad, bad girl)-
I also think if I were wired to desire women as well, I'd be drawn to dominating them. This is, of course, pure speculation, as I don't seem to have that particular trigger. But reading her accounts of their attempted triad and where that has led her got me thinking. I already knew from experience that I don't want to be the one in charge. And I know that I have no interest in having a female dominant. But in extending that consideration, I realized that it's possible that in a different reality, I could be potentially be one. (And yes, that made me blink rapidly a few times.)
Now, in truth, I'm not even sure if you could call that "switching," as the reality seems dependent on gender, a distinction that is absolute. To me, it actually seems more like apples and oranges. Which is why this may not really be a theory about switching but just a random observation about a possible me.
But it does point to the power of parameters.
Yes, much of our nature is immutable. But sometimes, if you change one or two aspects of an environment, you may well experience an evolution that you didn't expect.
Life is, after all, full of curve balls.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Sic Transit Gloria Fashion
Recently, both gg and I received offers to help beta test a site for discussion, tips and questions about fashion. The woman who contacted us loves the "design and content" of our blogs, mentioning them by name to each of us, and thinks our input on their new site would be super!
(Perhaps this happened to some of you out there, as well?)
It was a tremendous compliment, naturally, which was duly appreciated. Wonderful though it is to be recognized for our sense of style, however, we were a little unsure as to how she discovered who we were and how to contact us.
Finally, it occurred to us --
she must have spotted us at the recent Paris Fashion Week.
We just can't figure out how she learned our names ...
How about the rest of you?
Do you think she found YOU through Fashion Week as well?
Have you any pictures to share of yourself mingling with the beautiful people?
Strutting the catwalk?
Nibbing canapes with the rich and famous?
Please do not take it to heart if you have not heard from this woman. Gg and I have worked long and hard to achieve the precise level of minimalism and insouciance that our blogs exhibit in their design. It may seem that no thought whatsoever has gone into our presentation but really, precise and complicated mathematical formulae form the basis for such deliberate nonchalance. -- Do not try this at home!
(Perhaps this happened to some of you out there, as well?)
It was a tremendous compliment, naturally, which was duly appreciated. Wonderful though it is to be recognized for our sense of style, however, we were a little unsure as to how she discovered who we were and how to contact us.
Finally, it occurred to us --
she must have spotted us at the recent Paris Fashion Week.
We just can't figure out how she learned our names ...
Do you think she found YOU through Fashion Week as well?
Have you any pictures to share of yourself mingling with the beautiful people?
Strutting the catwalk?
Nibbing canapes with the rich and famous?
Please do not take it to heart if you have not heard from this woman. Gg and I have worked long and hard to achieve the precise level of minimalism and insouciance that our blogs exhibit in their design. It may seem that no thought whatsoever has gone into our presentation but really, precise and complicated mathematical formulae form the basis for such deliberate nonchalance. -- Do not try this at home!
Monday, May 31, 2010
Vanity, Thy Name...
Armed with camera and tape measure, I have been sent forth on a mission, in search of suitable rafters from which to hang things. Namely, me.
I'll be honest, my first thought on seeing the words "suspension fuck" was "oooooh!" Things got quite squirmy and I swear the temperature rose in the room. I floated to bed in a dreamy reverie of future fun.
Then sat bolt upright as a few harsh realities cut through my dreams.
Were they about pain? No.
Were they about danger? No.
Were they about the likelihood of supreme personal embarrassment? Yes.
I love that it doesn't cross his mind that it could be a challenge to hoist the lush tangle of curves that is my body up into the air. And he's very mathematically and quantitatively inclined, so I have no doubt that he has already accurately assesed a lot of statistics about me that I would prefer to keep shoved under the rug. So, the numeric revelation isn't even the primary discomfort.
It's the sheer ungainliness of it all.
I love to go watch Cirque du Soleil. I sit in the dark and pretend that the lithe, sylphlike figure spinning and twisting gracefully through the air is ME.
Reality is about as far from that fantasy as you can possibly get.
I am a klutz and a dweeb. I simply cannot imagine myself achieving this with even a modicum of grace.
Rather, I visualize the scene looking more along the lines of a Dead Horse Ceremony. A whole lot of inelegant and uncontrolled bobbling.
Except without the chanteys.
It's simply not the image I want to sear into the retinas of my lover.
BUT - it will be what it will be.
I'll just have to grit my teeth and channel my inner aerial artist, I guess.
Or change my name to Bobble Girl ...
(Did I mention these always end with the "horse" being cut from the line, to plummet to a watery grave?)
*gulp*
I'll be honest, my first thought on seeing the words "suspension fuck" was "oooooh!" Things got quite squirmy and I swear the temperature rose in the room. I floated to bed in a dreamy reverie of future fun.
Then sat bolt upright as a few harsh realities cut through my dreams.
Were they about pain? No.
Were they about danger? No.
Were they about the likelihood of supreme personal embarrassment? Yes.
I love that it doesn't cross his mind that it could be a challenge to hoist the lush tangle of curves that is my body up into the air. And he's very mathematically and quantitatively inclined, so I have no doubt that he has already accurately assesed a lot of statistics about me that I would prefer to keep shoved under the rug. So, the numeric revelation isn't even the primary discomfort.
It's the sheer ungainliness of it all.
I love to go watch Cirque du Soleil. I sit in the dark and pretend that the lithe, sylphlike figure spinning and twisting gracefully through the air is ME.
Reality is about as far from that fantasy as you can possibly get.
I am a klutz and a dweeb. I simply cannot imagine myself achieving this with even a modicum of grace.
Rather, I visualize the scene looking more along the lines of a Dead Horse Ceremony. A whole lot of inelegant and uncontrolled bobbling.
Except without the chanteys.
BUT - it will be what it will be.
I'll just have to grit my teeth and channel my inner aerial artist, I guess.
Or change my name to Bobble Girl ...
(Did I mention these always end with the "horse" being cut from the line, to plummet to a watery grave?)
*gulp*
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Other Side of the Coin
One of the things that I've always had a little trouble understanding is the workings of trust within a power exchange. Not that it exists. I well know that there is a huge degree of trust exchanged. It's just that I've always found it easier to see how trust comes from the sub. I'm pretty much putting my life in his hands, after all. It's grasping how, exactly, my Dom is trusting me that trips me up. Other than in not calling the cops on him, what on earth does he have to trust me for? (Yeah, OK, that's kind of a big one, I grant you. But still...)
Subs entrust our very being to the control of someone else.
Giving over that kind of trust, however, puts you in a position of vulnerability. Which is why it's so hard to visualize the process in reverse.
The sub knows she is vulnerable.
Hard not to spot that when you're naked and bound.
But the Dom? Vulnerable?? How can that be?
They are the Dom. Resistance is futile, and all that.
Yes, I'm teasing. Of course they share the vulnerabilities of all humans. But I'm talking specifically within the dynamic and that has confuzzled me.
When you stop looking at the forest, however, and concentrate on a few trees, things start falling into place. Break your dynamic down into component parts and it's easier to see the subtle counter-balances.
Let's take safe words as a example.
BG and I use them. I was told at the beginning that "yellow" and "red" will slow or halt the proceedings as needed. I believed him and even yelped out a "yellow!" during each of our first two scenes. He responded as promised, validating my trust in him.
Hmmm. Again- trust on side of sub.
As I thought about it, however, I began to recognize some of the ways in which he was trusting me and how that reciprocity of trust strengthens us into something far more complex than I'd ever anticipated.
He is, in fact, trusting me to respect his good faith and to not abuse it.
He is trusting me not to let him harm me.
He is trusting me not to test him. He wants to dominate me, not damage me, so the words are there for my protection and comfort. But I'd sure as shootin' better not go saying yellow every time my nose itches, unless I'm prepared for some major changes to our dynamic.
He is trusting that I will surrender my control, not force him to impose his on me. We would both hate that, as neither of us equates micro-managment with dominance. So, if he couldn't trust me not to put him in that position, I don't think we'd last more than five minutes.
The good news is that he can trust me for that and he does. In fact, I haven't actually used a safe word since those two in the beginning. I haven't needed to. With trust and time, he can now read what my body is saying before my mind can dredge up the words. But we keep them, as a safety net for both of us.
I'm sure there are plenty of other ways in which a Dom extends trust to his or her sub. This is simply the only one I've spent much time thinking about so far.
I'd love to hear more, if you'd care to share. :-)
Subs entrust our very being to the control of someone else.
Giving over that kind of trust, however, puts you in a position of vulnerability. Which is why it's so hard to visualize the process in reverse.
The sub knows she is vulnerable.
Hard not to spot that when you're naked and bound.
But the Dom? Vulnerable?? How can that be?
They are the Dom. Resistance is futile, and all that.
Yes, I'm teasing. Of course they share the vulnerabilities of all humans. But I'm talking specifically within the dynamic and that has confuzzled me.
When you stop looking at the forest, however, and concentrate on a few trees, things start falling into place. Break your dynamic down into component parts and it's easier to see the subtle counter-balances.
Let's take safe words as a example.
BG and I use them. I was told at the beginning that "yellow" and "red" will slow or halt the proceedings as needed. I believed him and even yelped out a "yellow!" during each of our first two scenes. He responded as promised, validating my trust in him.
Hmmm. Again- trust on side of sub.
As I thought about it, however, I began to recognize some of the ways in which he was trusting me and how that reciprocity of trust strengthens us into something far more complex than I'd ever anticipated.
He is, in fact, trusting me to respect his good faith and to not abuse it.
He is trusting me not to let him harm me.
He is trusting me not to test him. He wants to dominate me, not damage me, so the words are there for my protection and comfort. But I'd sure as shootin' better not go saying yellow every time my nose itches, unless I'm prepared for some major changes to our dynamic.
He is trusting that I will surrender my control, not force him to impose his on me. We would both hate that, as neither of us equates micro-managment with dominance. So, if he couldn't trust me not to put him in that position, I don't think we'd last more than five minutes.
The good news is that he can trust me for that and he does. In fact, I haven't actually used a safe word since those two in the beginning. I haven't needed to. With trust and time, he can now read what my body is saying before my mind can dredge up the words. But we keep them, as a safety net for both of us.
I'm sure there are plenty of other ways in which a Dom extends trust to his or her sub. This is simply the only one I've spent much time thinking about so far.
I'd love to hear more, if you'd care to share. :-)
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Under the Wire
What's Towel Day, you ask?
Well, Towel Day is an annual tribute to the late author Douglas Adams, author of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. On that day, fans around the universe proudly carry a towel in his honor.
(Read The Guide!)
After all, anyone who can think up the character of Wowbagger, the Infinitely Prolonged (an alien who accidentally became immortal and decided to pass eternity by insulting everyone in the universe - in alphabetical order,) deserves to have a towel worn in his memory, at least once a year.
And as a towel-wearing fan, I am deeply sorrowful that I cannot be in Portland, OR tonight, attending the Thirsty Lions Vogon Poetry Slam. (7:30 pm, for those who might still make it!)
They've even made it easy for us to participate:
"Not sure you are capable of writing torturous, horrible poetry? Not to worry! Click on the related link for an easy Vogon Poetry Generator. Rather than penning something butt-clenchingly awful on your own, you can rely on the marvels of modern technology--and a few fill-in boxes--to write it for you. Just print out the poem the website generates for you and bring it along to our Poetry Slam. And bring your towel!".
Well, I can't make it to the west coast in an hour and a half.
But I can (and did) fill in some blank fields.
See, see the lovely sky
Marvel at its big puce depths.
Tell me, friend do you
Wonder why the sloth ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you think of the breath of a thousand and one camels?
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your sniggleblitz facial growth
That looks like
A Orange Dry.
What's more, it knows
Your fallacious potting shed
Smells of leprechaun.
Everything under the big lovely sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm slugs.
I think that strikes the right note...
Should anyone care to stand up and read this for me, please send photos.
Oh, AND... if anybody has a soundclip for the Pellerator (Starship Titanic game) saying, "It's all very confusing, I know", please, I beg of you, shoot it to me?
Confused? Just google.
It's a five-volume trilogy, after all. Too long to recap here. ;-)
Monday, May 24, 2010
Or Maybe Not
I've said all along that one of the things I like best about BG is that he is truly a Thinking Man.
I'm on my knees in the bedroom, toys laid out on the bureau.
He hands me the beaded nipple clips. "Here. Put these on -- but I want the beads at the top."
OK, he's done that before, for easier pulling.
But why repeat yourself when you can come up with a different devious means of torturing your sub?
Yes, he pulled. Right up over his cock.
And left it there.
Can you spell, *YEOW!!!*?
Now, it's true that I'm tall.
But that fact just increases the distance between my mouth and my chest. A chest that is decidedly not "pert".
That little 18 inches of chain is just NOT workin' for me!
HE, however, is entirely happy.
Chuckling even.
While exhorting me to greater exertion on the bobbing front.
With a big, stinkin' grin on his face.
Wretch.
Did I say I like a thinking man?
"Rewind! Rewind!"
;-)
I'm on my knees in the bedroom, toys laid out on the bureau.
He hands me the beaded nipple clips. "Here. Put these on -- but I want the beads at the top."
OK, he's done that before, for easier pulling.
But why repeat yourself when you can come up with a different devious means of torturing your sub?
Yes, he pulled. Right up over his cock.
And left it there.
Can you spell, *YEOW!!!*?
Now, it's true that I'm tall.
But that fact just increases the distance between my mouth and my chest. A chest that is decidedly not "pert".
That little 18 inches of chain is just NOT workin' for me!
HE, however, is entirely happy.
Chuckling even.
While exhorting me to greater exertion on the bobbing front.
With a big, stinkin' grin on his face.
Wretch.
Did I say I like a thinking man?
"Rewind! Rewind!"
;-)
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