Monthly Archives: February 2014

Hopes and daydreams

He’s on FetLife right now as I’m typing this. In my imagination he’s there in his bedroom looking. Looking at my profile. Clicking through my pictures til he finds one of what we’ve done together. And it turns him on. He clicks through to a few more til he finds another one of me. And it makes him hard. Thinking of what we have already done. Thinking of what we might do next time we meet. In my head, he’s torn. He wonders if I would allow him to touch or deny him. He wonders if maybe I wouldn’t let him, because he knows denial is a kink of mine. In my head it makes him drip to think of me telling him he isn’t allowed as he looks at my pics. And he begs til I touch it myself and stroke it til he is almost there. Not quite. So close… and I stop. In my mind while he is looking at a computer screen and hard and wondering what I might do, he is so turned on he does touch. I haven’t denied him that. Not yet. But I might. Any time. I might. And right now, as I type this and he is on FetLife… I hope he is looking and touching. I hope. Sometimes I hope for the strangest things…


I’m not an amusement park ride

This post brought to you by all the men and women over the years who have treated me as if I’m some kind of amusement park ride. I get comments on my pictures. Some are polite. Some are appreciative. Some are not. I expect a certain amount of HNG comments at this point. It’s the internet, after all. And if I put something up… Sure it would be great if we could all treat each other with basic respect. But we don’t.

However, comments like “I’m next!” or “Me too, Mistress!” or “Where is the list for that?” are really REALLY not likely to actually get you what you are asking for. Partially because they aren’t really questions. They are demands. And they completely disregard my personal autonomy. It’s as if I get no say in what I do or don’t get to do. Like their desire is more important than anything I may or may not want. And that really doesn’t work for me. In fact, it’s the least likely thing you could possibly say to inspire me to play with you or do anything with you. Because being a demanding, inconsiderate twat isn’t sexy or enticing. Want my attention? Start by treating me like a real person. And even that is not a guarantee I’m going to be interested in anything more than friendship.

If I’m not interested? Deal with it. I’m not something you can buy a ticket and ride.

This is my life: first whipping

He’s been with me all day long. He has been so patient and so good. He was suspended for almost an hour. Hanging there. Letting me know if something was too tight or needed to be adjusted. After that we collapsed on the sofa for a while and listened to some music. Just enjoying the music and each other’s company. After that, we got some dinner and went to a party. He was good there too. He waited quietly and patiently while I talked to friends I hadn’t seen in way too long. He brought what I’d told him to bring and dressed up for me in sexy stockings and lacy panties. He was so very good.

I tied him up. But I left his back free. Hands bound and rope from thigh to toe holding up his stockings. He looked so content. It was my fault he hadn’t gotten to try the whip last week. I know he had wanted to try it quite a bit.

“Do you want to try the whip?”

Quietly, “I think so.”

I interpreted that as an affirmative. He’s still shy around me. I picked it up and walked around in front of him just to make sure I was interpreting him right. He smiled. I walked around behind him.

I started fairly lightly, just licking his skin with it. He jumped a little. But not much. I gave him a few more licks. He jumped a bit more as I struck him harder. I started to see a few red stripes on him. I walked around in front of him to see how he was doing and he smiled at me again. I touched his stripes and he started to quiver. I stepped around behind him again and he was very still. The perfect target.

I struck him again harder. He started shaking again. But he was still standing. I gave him a few more stripes and watched his whole body trembling. He jumped as I struck him. And shook. I think I might have heard a whimper. But he was still. Waiting for the next strike. I cracked the whip on him. It made him tremble harder and jump. Again. Again. He was trembling so hard that if he hadn’t been tied up, he might have sunk to the ground. I touched his back. Warm and soft to the touch. I walked around in front of him again and he was still smiling. He smiled as I held him and untied him.

My 3ft spanset round sling brings all the boys to the yard…

I was reading an article recently that touched on something I have been thinking about lately. Me. Because I’m vain and self-centered like that. But seriously, I have been considering the fact that I have rarely ever had much of an issue finding partners when I want them. Now I’m not the next big supermodel, the kind of woman that men fall over each other to get across the room to speak with… though in my younger days, one man did hold up traffic on a major road in order to slow down to talk to me while I was walking my dog. At any rate, my point is that I’m generally never the most beautiful woman in the room unless I’m the only woman in the room. Yes, I’m attractive. I’d even say I’m above average in the attractiveness department. But Gisele Bundchen, I’m not. From the article:

I once met a woman who was unhealthy and overweight and with a straight face stated that she would only consider dating a man if he had six-pack abs (unsurprisingly, she was still single).

So why is it that I generally don’t have problems finding partners? I’m not terribly witty. I’m an introvert. I’m not social. I’m fat. And now I’m old and married as well. I also have a very handsome husband, an equally handsome potential second submissive, and now a handsome play partner. I also have 2 other offers on the table from handsome men that I’m not interested in despite their being lovely men. So how the hell did that happen?

One of the other thing this particular author supposes is that people are only interested in what you have to offer them. Now I don’t think that is true in the extremes. But I think there’s something to it. When I was younger, I was already good at intimacy. I have always been pretty good at emotional leaps. I am fearless when it comes to putting my heart on the line. I think that attracts people. Because I don’t think it’s something everyone can do. Also I have large hooters… but I really think that’s secondary!

Now? Well my 3ft spanset round sling brings all the boys to the yard. And by that, I mean I’m a really good Sadist. I have a large set of skills. And I’m confident in my ability to hurt a willing victim without actually damaging him. I bring a lot to the table for the submissive masochist. And I am perfectly comfortable in the “standard Dominatrix gear.” In fact, I prefer it. So while I still won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, chances are good I’m going to have a good amount of overlapping interests with almost any submissive masochist. And I’m fearless about my kinks. I pursue them with a burning passion.

I think people see that (at least within the kink world) and it is sexy. Confidence is sexy. Competence is sexy. Passion is sexy.



I am so upset right now. I don’t screw up that often, but when I do it’s usually big. I can’t find my wedding ring. Or any of my other jewelry. It all seems to be gone. The whole jewelry … Continue reading

The state of the union

I’ve been tired and cranky lately despite having a lot of fun as well. I think that the fun has made me miss the times when I can’t have fun. Or that I can’t have fun with the people I’d like to be having the fun with. I’m very grateful to my friends. I don’t have a line of friends around the block. I have a few friends that I enjoy spending time with. I treasure them. (In one case, I treasure him so much as a friend that though I can tell he would love to bottom to me, I won’t even consider risking the friendship for some sadistic fun.) My friends have been great about trying to keep me busy and my spirits up. But they are no substitute for the men I want to be spending physical time with.

I think I’m reaching my limit on doing without the physicality I crave and need. Dealing with the lack of physical presence of the raven was a lot more palatable when I had the husband around. But now that he is a visitor instead of living here, I am not getting what I need as often as I need it. People I know are a terrible fit for me are starting to look more palatable. That’s not a good thing. Luckily, I’m still at a point where I recognize it’s not a good thing and is a result of my needs not being met. But I can conceive a time that line will blur if this continues.

Also. I’m completely over the whole “Alpha” thing. I don’t care if it’s alpha dog or alpha male or alpha bitch or alpha slave. I’m over it.