Deprivation

Image found at http://www.emtr.com.br/english/DEPRESSION.jpg

In my current state, I have barely begun sleeping without fitfull dreams, nightmares, constant fighting.


If I eat, it is one meal and hardly finished unless I push hard. Nothing tastes good, nothing smells right, everything turns my stomach and I turn from it. I am left feeling weaker than usual but somehow still managing, a sensation of constant swimming in my head, and deep anger that despite my best efforts to change this I can't get it to change.


This time of stress has seemed to greatly increase my sex drive (as if I really needed that). I crave it constantly, can't get it off my mind, crave Him and text Him to make sure He comes home faster so I can get more. Orgasms are immensely better, sensations so much stronger, but my head won't stop swimming.


I'm in an awkward state of depression. Not outwardly depressed enough so that those who barely know me would think I am, yet depressed enough so that those who do know me are afraid for me. I don't care for their pity, I don't want it. All I want is my child and for him to be able to stay by my side until the time I release him to go out into the world. That's the way we planned it, that's the way it should be. Enraged, I will have it no other way.

Needful Things

For a long time now, I've been wondering what "my thing" could be. The one or two things that I could specialize in and really get off to, my own craft of the trade. I finally found what that was through my gracious mentor and her husband when they introduced me to needle play. I had actually forgotten that we were supposed to be doing it when I went to her house Wednesday night.

Of course, the sub was a sexy boi I've had the privilege of spanking, flogging, caning and now poking. Beautiful D tits, soft skin, curvy, with wide hips, and loves to be naked. What more can anyone ask for??? The needle and her skin played my favorite game - futile attempts of resistance followed by a luscious dive through her like a hot knife through butter. The sensations ilicited short, quick breaths as I watched her chest rise and fall rapidly; a hearbeat so loud I could hear it pounding in my ears. She gripped the edges of the table with her nails dug into the padding, toes curled. By the tenth needle, a thin layer of sweat glossed her delicious body.

One of the needles went through the inner folds of her vagina just below her clitoris. Deciding we didn't like that one, we pulled it out and wiped with antiseptic which gave me a new realization. Her response to that burning pain excited my sadistic side immensely. She began rocking back and forth on the table so much I pulled her legs into me and held her so she wouldn't injure herself by falling off the table. I otherwise offered no sympathy as the tears poured from her eyes. I glared at her intently until her eyes refocused on mine and I waited for the word from her lips to stop it all. She began to calm and repositioned herself to lay still, but she never said it. She pouted, but said nothing. I kissed her lips to reward her for her strength, feeling the warmth of her face, moisture on my lips, inhaling the intoxicating mixture of sweat and tears from her skin. I then prepared to move on.

I enjoy spanking and flogging, I enjoy binding, I enjoy consensual nonconsent, however... . What really gets my blood flowing is single tails, a person kneeling at my feet, and now piercing. I'm really excited to have found what my craft entails and will now be working diligently to perfect it to the best of my abilities. I will next begin to work on permanent piercings while continuing to find out if there is anything else I enjoy, but this is a great start!

Anima Sola

Render: Pulled back by Rolfw

"He came back again last night and tore me like paper. He opened me like a flower of pain, and it felt good. He sank into me and set me on fire, like he always does. Made me burn from the inside out." - Gothika.

There is a large part of me that would love to be locked in a prison, visited by a larger than life demon that hurts me and fucks the life out of me (almost to the point of oblivion) as my reward for his pain. To burn for his pleasure, unsure if I can or if I'll die first, claws on the door without knowing if I'm trying to scratch it open or express the intensity of my passion. Hanging by my hair from his massive hand as he carves who I belong to on my chest, choking me before giving me the pleasure I now burn for, slammed against the wall to feel the gravity of his weight... I'd take all of him, then kneel at his feet.

Rope Shoot

Thanks to Jake (rigger) and HCoyote (photographer) for the wonderful chance to shoot.

It was quick and fun. Perhaps I'll begin to feel a little more relaxed about having my picture taken. I have a lot of personal baggage and will scrutinize until I am invisible to myself, so taking pictures is a tough barrier for me to overcome.

I DO NOT see myself as others see me and I know this (body image disturbance the docs call it). Mr. V has been working to help me get over this for years and His love and support have helped. I have struggled for years to overcome the damage sustained when black features weren't popular and were frowned upon. My lips, nose, skin... as a child, being asked if I had a tail as some child's mother told her blacks had tails like the devil. Seems silly now, but damaging when the same comments are repeated from the earliest age of comprehension through high school.

Surprising me is that my life in kink has also helped to break through a few cement walls. Hopefully I can get through some more with the love and support of the awesome people I've met within the community. I have never been so embraced and felt so accepted in my life, and I appreciate every last one of them.

First Encounter

Threesome by Miguel Tio

My first encounter with kink came rather unexpectedly and took weeks to process exactly what happened for everyone involved. The situation just evolved when I went over to my close friend's apartment.

His cousin was staying over and we all ended up hanging out the whole day, talking and laughing. The day rolled into night and Snake asked me if I was going to stay over. This was our usual conversation after hanging out, and the translation for this is, "Do you wanna fuck?" I'd known him for 4+ years at this point, so hell yeah I'm staying over.

We went back to his place, ate and drank more. We set up a bed on the floor for his cousin. He was viewed as being a bit of a third wheel, but he was Snake's cousin and I felt that I had very little say in the matter. Snake and I settled into a cuddle on the couch. We talked for a little while longer, started kissing and his cousin turned out the lights the moment Snake's hand went into my shorts.

Snake was magical with his hands, tongue and everything else. He was a deliciously sensual and skilled lover. He had the ability to make me cum non-stop for a minimum of 30 minutes straight. Screaming orgasms that caused my legs to tremble uncontrollably, a puddle beneath me, and being scratched by my own nails dug into my skin. He was so good, my pussy was wet just from the sight of him. He was smokin' hot, sexy and gorgeous also. 6 pack, broad shoulders, very athletic, extremely high endurance.

Anyway, I ended up on that bed made for his cousin after riding Snake on the couch, then doggie on the edge of couch, being eaten on the edge of it and various other positions. Finally on the bed, Snake was holding my legs on his shoulders just about to make me cum when his cousin tapped on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. Snake pulled out and moved up to my chest, placing his penis between my breasts and began stroking. Suddenly, I felt a warm mouth on my clit and realized that his cousin was eating my pussy, and rather well. I was attempting to hold out on cumming clitorally, but my body gave in before my mind and I came everywhere. He made a remark about me shooting on his face to Snake, but Snake was all about his business and serious about the whole situation.

The casual titty fuck position Snake initially took changed while my mind was trying to process what he was doing, then I realized that I was pinned down. I struggled against Snake trying to move him, I was confused as this was not something he had normally done and a tiny voice in the back of my head made me suspicious of a man I trusted with my life. His cousin began penetrating me and I began to fight more. He was so huge, he was a man that I would've normally turned down in any other situation because I just couldn't accomodate him. Every half inch he entered increased the fear that I would tear. He entered slowly, I could tell he was trying to be gentle but I was still cursing and fighting. I was mad at Snake for not warning me, or stopping this and for holding me down.

After finally entering me most of the way, he began a smooth, extremely rhythmic motion. I still felt like he was inside my uterus, but the pleasure component began to take over. Once my yelling began to settle into intense moaning, Snake lifted off of me and let his cousin take over. He threw me into so many positions, fucking me as well as he ate me. I came in missionary, I came facing him standing, I came side by side, I lost track of how long and how many positions I came in but I began to finally lose my steam. I got tired, I was panting and unsure if I could take anymore. He asked me if I was ready for him to cum, the first time I heard him speak directly to me all day. His voice was sexy and deep, that quality of bass that makes a woman's nipples hard. I told him yes and he nodded to Snake, who returned to his former position.

Again the brief confusion over what is going on as Snake restrained me but his grip was much firmer than he had ever held me before. He remained completely emotionally stoic. He didn't sway one inch to my pleas of what he was doing and why, but it seems that he knew what was to happen already. His cousin's slow and gentle movements were for my benefit so I could cum. For him to cum, he had to pound me using the entire length of his dick, not half as he had been doing.

He began fucking me harder than I've been fucked by men half his size. He was "roughly" 13+ inches long and 3 1/2 inches wide. Snake's response to my screaming was to gag me with my own panties. I began fighting with everything I could but was no match for Snake's strength. The pain was overwhelming but exquisite. Tears began flowing which finally illicited a response from Snake, he leaned forward to kiss the tears, shush me, and was talking dirty to me (which he knew turned me on tremendously) while I was still pinned down. My legs tiring of unsuccessfully trying to fight off his cousin, he still continued his onslaught without mercy. The inner part of my thighs sore, I knew they'd be bruised the next day.

Screaming through a gag, crying and finally my legs began trembling again from this extreme orgasm that began creeping in slowly. The contractions in my pussy seemed to motivate him to be rougher as he put his hands under my ass, angling me so he could go deeper. My hips stopped fighting and I began riding his cock, calling his name and begging him to keep fucking me. This is another rarity, as I don't beg or call anyone's name but I was not in control on this one. Gag in mouth, it was hard to understand me anyway so my dignity remains intact for the most part. I soon exploded in a way I'd never done before or since this night, cumming at the same time as his cousin.

He pulled out and the three of us laid quietly with me in the middle for a while. I began the long process of trying to understand how I could've came this way through so much pain. The craving to repeat this scene was extremely deep, my head spun and my stomach cramped with needing to have it. This started the rough play, hair pulling, spankings, total control, rape scenes, biting and bondage for me. Snake was taken back by his role as well, that he enjoyed having so much control over me, his first experience in Top space. His cousin said he was just happy he finally got to put the entire cock in for a change.

Kinky Drawers

I was so nervous for my first time being a live model for these artists. I have never done anything like that before. For some strange reason, I suddenly feared my own body and what others would think of it. Knowing that artists have such a keen eye, I thought they would frown at any imperfections they noticed. Yet they were great. Very kind, inviting, and did the best they could to put me at ease and make me feel welcomed. I always say that I am not a model by any sense of the word; I just thought it'd be fun to give it a try.

Mr. V. was there to provide comfort and was my safety blanket. One of the artists had noticed right away that the moment I felt unsafe I went to go sit on his lap. I initially hadn't noticed that I had done this, but with his nod of affirmation, I had to realize that this is a pattern that I have. I do feel safer in his arms and know that he would never let anything hurt me.

The first pose was rather benign and casual. Incredibly, I soon realized that even the most relaxing pose can get pretty tough to hold when you have to remain completely still for 30 minutes. Pressure points build up and there is a constant need to balance meditative thought to stay in position while ignoring the position. My yoga practice helped and this experience has helped to inspire me to continue to practice.

The artists are like me in that they were so critical of their own work. More critical than I in that I saw the beauty of their talents and abilities. To me, it is magical to be able to take life and recreate it using a blank canvas and pencils. There exists a form of spirituality within that plane that I think many take for granted, no matter what the level of skill may be.

The second pose was a lot more demanding, a birthing pose. Lying face down on the floor with my knees spread apart, stomach between thighs, toes touching, arms outstretched, head tucked and remaining for about 30 minutes. I began to have my own spiritual experience. Floating between one consciousness and another, concentrating on the movement of air into my nose, filling my lungs and circulating throughout my body. I did my best to transfer tension, pressure and pain to alternating sides until I finally couldn't take the sensation in my lower legs any longer. The tingling sensation of my knees remaining bent for so long had passed and a stage began where there was an unusual sense of pain. It did not feel specific to my legs, yet existed as a roaring ache flowing upward until my tolerance reached its peak and I stretched upward to revive my body.

My Daddy was right there to help me get to standing and upon realizing I couldn't move my feet to walk, he picked me up in one smooth motion and set me on his lap. My feet turned pink and the pins and needles sensation in them was overwhelming. Of course, the Lady of the house seized the opportunity to rub my feet in that condition and I expected no less. I was thrilled to have Her do it (what a damn masochist).

I enjoyed the entire experience and thank everyone who let me be a part of it. Daddy and I are talking about returning to the next one and bringing another youngster with us next time. He is a talented young man, another artist, and he is kinky as well. This might be an awesome idea, as I do need a boy to play with and it's someone my Troll already likes.

Dragon's Tail

Dragon Prince by Boris Vallejo
http://vallejo.ural.net/1984/

Usually, I play in the dark slowly stepping toward the edge without any idea of where it may be. Feeling around blindfolded until I think I feel it then bounce around somewhere near it to see how far I can push it. Not so with my first experience with a dragon's tail.

He said he would give a couple of warm up taps so I can get a feel for what it's like. The first one was a delay, an almost "what was that?" The second swing was the one that brought the hell. By the third swing, my nails were dug in, my back was arched, a moan escaped and I was immediately at the edge and knew it. It was like someone took the blinders off and I could see very clearly where my edge was and there was no bouncing around this one.

It was raw, gritty, dirty and inescapable. A tear was brought to my eye as I stretched my ass as far as I could get it for another. The pain shot through me like a nuclear fire, yet settled in the waters of my pussy and the moans that sang out. Unforgiving, it made my nipples harder with each strike. Unconsoling, my body began winding up into a pre-orgasmic state. In front of an audience, no one else existed except the dragon's tail and I, tottering and almost falling over my edge together.

I loved it and feared it simultaneously. I wanted more with a drive I've rarely felt before, yet wasn't sure of how much more I could take. The yeses and nos that argued back and forth in my mind, the stinging pain that fought against my orgasm, the tears that cooled the heat - no wonder I loved it and can't wait to do it again. Only next time, a more private setting and a little foreplay for a change.

Dick

We’ve been together for so many years and sometimes, it’s hard for you to understand why I don’t always want to fuck. It has nothing to do with a lack of attraction, you are the most beautiful and perfect man occupying my world. Being the King of my home, your reign is exquisite in my life and I cherish being your Queen, your princess, your concubine, your muse and your consultant.

The problem, my love, is that you keep presenting me with the same old dick day after day. I could never admit to you that I need some different dick as you’d take it the wrong way. I don’t need another man in my life to complicate what we currently have but I do need for you to be that different dick. Don’t keep bringing me the same meal served on the same plate with every meal daily for 6 years. Even the drinks are the same. I want you to switch it up and change your presentation to inspire me. Make the effort to be all those different dicks that I fantasize about.

Be my thug dick whose only mission is to beat it up; make it rough, fast and dirty. My intellectual dick that has studied a multitude of spiritual theories, incantations, spells and karmic positions to bend my mind and body in ways I never thought possible. My rocker dick that plays like I’m a groupie struggling to get backstage where my efforts will be greatly rewarded. My illegal alien dick that doesn’t speak one fuckin' word of English, but can hit it in several different languages (French, Slavik, Greek...). My convict dick that just got out of prison after a 20 year stretch. My priest dick who lets me know all the ways that I sin and how to get on my knees to repent. My cop dick, specialist in take downs, holds, and restraints for when I resist arrest. My strict school teacher dick who sits me on his lap when I’m good, spanks me with a wooden ruler when I’m bad. My home invasion dick that climbs through my window with a ski mask, brandishing a knife and insisting I pose and play with my pussy for him before taking me.

You know what kind of woman I am so it’s confusing to you that I’m not automatically down, but it’s because I’m waiting for you to tape up properly and put on your boxing gloves. Get serious about it. I shouldn’t be the one to have to tell you what you know already - you need to jack off first even before attempting to go some rounds with me. You need to be able to go until I’m begging for you to stop, until I think I just can’t take anymore, until I’m pulling out my own hair exhausted with tears of joy. Without dropping your first load, there’s no way that you’re going to be able to hold out with the squeezing, my body writhing and the vibrating moans when I’m underneath you.

Do I want to have to tell you all these things all the time? No. Do I expect you to do these things automatically? YES, I do. I expect for it to be as automatic as when I put on those 6 inch sandals with the black straps. As automatic as the time I wore that sexy, paper thin, all black outfit that drove you nuts to see the contrast with the bright, hot pink lace panties after you pulled up that skirt. As automatic as when I flip my hair arching my back, squat with my ass poked out and legs spread apart up on that platform to talk to you. As automatic as us going to a strip club and I pull a side bar with the manager of the club to surprise you with my own performance on that pole, just for you. Yeah, I expect it to be automatic since your dick is always automatically hard from my automatic actions.

So, now you will see that I love and cherish you. We are still in the honeymoon stage in my heart every time I see your face but don’t let that fuck your mind up. I still demand all from you, the best of you, everything you’ve got to give and then a little more because I deserve it, I crave it, I lust for it. I will have it no other way than presented at the absolute top of your game or else you won’t get no pussy. None at all while your dick is rock hard wondering how you can get me to bend over like that again and spread it open so you can catch another glimpse.

Restoration Accomplished

Photo taken at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, NYC
Photo of Lord Ganesh taken at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art (my favorite and most beloved of all the Hindu deities)

Photo taken at Coney Island beach (from what I heard they want to tear it all down and build casinos)

My recent trip to New York was an awesome experience. Truthfully, I'm ready to go back and was sad to leave. The trip offered a mixture of redemption and revival, while also offering a flashy display of the city's improvements.

The subways have greatly improved. When I left, gangs were robbing people on the trains, panhandlers were soliciting at every stop on every car, there was even a time when a girl was riding on the subway car dead for hours before anyone noticed. Addicts nodding off as I attempted to explain away the reason for their condition to my sons, mad as hell that I was put in that situation for them.

Now the subways are relatively clean, even if the stations need a little more work. The police no longer seem to shy away from "certain areas," and everyone is just chilled. No acting an ass, yelling, jumping and screaming. I was greatly impressed.

Times Square has reformed since I left. At the time that I left, Giuliani was just starting to clean up this site. Peep shows dominated with that one hot Dominican chick that was always trying to get me to come by and pick her up after work. XXX movie theatres that would make the hairs stand on the back of my neck as the soles of my shoes stuck to the floor like velcro. Fake shops that pretended to sell anything other than what they were really selling, the tourists that would be pick-pocketed as soon as they looked up at the buildings into the sky, the working girls that I frequently would conversate with on my late night walks. Gone, gone, gone and gone.

Many areas, Times Square included, are now very tourist friendly. While I commend the city on its clean up effort. I cursed when I saw that the Village is no longer the Village! I thought for sure this would be one place that I could remember and feel like I've returned to old times. Nope! The Village has been commercialized as well and lost its infamous individuality that drew me to it growing up. The teen who left Brooklyn to live on the streets with pink spiked hair, jet black funeral ready clothing, spiked collars and nails filed to sharp points. Saying that I was a NYC Village kid sporting my happy faced back pack would hold no meaning now for anyone who didn't experience that era.

Going back home has helped me to realize the many reasons I sought the sanctity of the end of the beach reaching into the ocean, quieter and alternative cultures, what makes me "eccentric" to my friends who had a hard time understanding my needs. There are so many people, people every turn, every corner, they take up so much space that the distance between one person and another is less than a breath. So many people together changes their nature without them realizing. The constant auras, constant secrets whispered to me about them, constant assault and onslaught of people.

There are too many options, too many people to see and to talk to, too many to experience that many lose sight of the ones they have close to them. I know that friendships are strong, but there is too much distraction to realize what character of woman stands before you. So much distraction that the disrespectful head turns to stare with the wife and kids standing next to him or her. Thousands of greetings per day that it takes a lot more to stand out, lots of disrespectful comments that make a woman shut down and ignore everyone to mentally isolate herself away from the rest of the world.

On the other side of the coin, my trip seemed to be inspired by the Ancestors to bring me closer to them. I floated in and out of museums, cathedrals, churches, mosques, temples.... The only place I didn't go is a particular temple in Queens but I'm sure we are all okay with that. I received messages, love, strength, enlightenment, encouragement in five times the volume I was able to receive with meditation alone at home. I really believe it was T/their way of pulling me away to be alone and tucked into T/their arms to help me through a time in my life of struggling to regain my footing.

For many years after my divorce, I lost so much that I constantly prayed for God to restore me. A restoration of who, what, where and how I was before I ever met my ex-husband who brought me immense pain and suffering. That same prayer was my constant prayer. I closed my eyes tightly in earnest that it should be granted but I forgot to open my third eye to realize that I had been not only restored, but exceedingly blessed. The last step was for me to restore myself to my own ways before him. This last portion was for me to accomplish.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to go and am anxiously awaiting my next return date. I have to return and eventually, will move back near the city I've always loved but now I cherish as well. I'm grateful for the new friends I made on this trip and grateful for their generosity and patience in caring for this spoiled little Daddy's girl. Right now, I'm just grateful for the new perspective I have on my life and renewed visions for my future. Next trip, Buddhist and Hindu temples, Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and getting lost within some of my favorite cultures. Perhaps I'll eventually return to the temple in Queens just to see how things have been, but I'll wait for my permission before returning.

OMG the food!!! What was i thinking by leaving!

Beginning to get tired of people and crowds in general. While enjoying my vacation, ill really enjoy home and walking w/o unsolicited comments and attention.

Notes

The Time Hotel. So much attention 2 detail its almost creepy. Like they are stalking me. Enter room, looks one way. Step out 4 15 min and come back my sheets are pulled back ready 4 me and my coat has been hung up.

Great day! Disappointed that he didnt call though.

Notes

Although difficult to blog from a cell phone, i just have to say that this trip has so far been both incredible and eye opening for me. Coney Island was refreshing. Just being able to drift through Brighton Beach has worked miracles for my spirit. I now realize how spoiled i have become since leaving. I now have a deeper appreciation for my Daddy. He has made me rotten. I forgot what it is to walk! I miss my car already. So much fun and my grief dissolved. It is surreal to be here. Im already planning my next trip back. Im praying tomorrow is just as good as today has been if not better.

YES! Im in New York!

Painful Insomnia

Image:
http://www.veteranstoday.com/topic13.html

Tonight, I laid my head down to sleep and brought myself back to a time I hadn't forgotten. I just hadn't thought of it in a long while. I closed my eyes to darkness and found that there was a bright, searing light that caught my attention. As I opened my eyes all I could see was sand, I could feel the intense heat, the sun that saturated me to the core of my being.

They said we were in Kuwait, but I had access and knew better. No matter where we were exactly, I'd always thought that the sand would be clean and pretty. I never knew before then that the sand actually contains quite a bit of debris. Remains of lizards, sometimes dogs and other things I couldn't and didn't want to identify. The sand stretched so far that at a certain point it looked more like an ocean, the dunes like waves. It seemed as if there was no way that home could ever exist within the same time as this, as there was nothing but sand and us.

I remember using the bathroom and looking up into the open sky. The barracks we were staying in had been bombed a few months before we arrived and the roof had been blown away. Large bullet holes that pierced the concrete walls, chunks of wall missing, all remnants of a previous battle gone to hell. One in which we didn't come out so victorious from what I heard.

The barricades seemed at first to be protection from the enemy outside. The constantine wire that snagged and tore my hands through my gloves, the blood that dropped onto the sand so that a part of me was embedded within the country. I helped to put up almost a quarter mile of it myself that day. Eventually, the barricades seemed as if they grew taller, thicker, more jagged. They no longer kept them out, they locked me in and I couldn't escape them.

115 degrees in the shade some days made the idea of a "cold drink" an almost figurative term. Yet I remain in full battle rattle - kevlar, pistol belt, mask, DCU's, boots, M16 that only left my side long enough to pick up my favorite 50 and 60 caliber weapons. I lay in the sun, dug in, so still that real life looked like a picture. All the sounds of the alarms and sirens fall away as each breath is counted and timed. The butt of my weapon feeling like concrete in my left shoulder so I can get this just right. I blink, see my target and witness time stand still as my breath ceases, the squeeze so gentle I shouldn't have noticed except for the jolt in my shoulder. Target down.

Freeze when the flares light the sky, not a sound, don't move a muscle... it's an adult game of hide and go seek. You have to hear the music to survive, there's a rhythm to battle that only the trained ear can understand. A symphony of machines, grenades, bombs, rifles and any other instruments that are being played. Tracer rounds add sight to sound, the sound vibrates and shakes through the body straight to the soul. Yet I can't hear a thing but the symphony playing.

Calmer nights, the sunsets are the most beautiful I'd ever seen on this world. Calmer nights, loneliness sets in and reminds me of everyone I left at home, the way my bed felt, who all occupied it with me, the laughter of my kids, their faces, a daughter who didn't know who I was. I deployed when she was 6 months old, and by that time, she was over a year and I know she couldn't remember.

He stood there at the gate with some package, speaking Arabic. I stood watch at the main gate with my trusty friend. Using my barely passable Arabic, I told him to "Halt!" He took another step toward me almost into the gate, probably to test me. In one smooth, swift motion I locked, loaded and aimed. His eyes met mine through my sights and there began our first moments of clarity.

All the political bullshit, legal jargon, flexing and show of force crap between our governments, the true meaning of the game became clear to both of us in that very instant. I didn't care who he was, nor did he care who I was. There was no government figure that I saw, no right or wrong reason to fight. I, simply, HAD TO make it back home alive. I had a daughter who didn't know who I was.

Rope top For Tonight

Image: Naughty but I'm not sure who the image was taken by but it's used for myspace freeware.

I don't have much time to capture this experience tonight, but all I can say is DAMN!!! My first night learning to be a Rope top and I loved the whole feel of everything. The Rope passing my hands, the sound of it sawing across itself to make that loop or knot, hmmmm... just ecstasy tilted on its side for me. I didn't think the Rope could mesmerize me and possess me the way it did. I had to be cautious and pull back a little so I didn't get so taken over that I forget myself and the situation but it was a great feeling. I think my/our Sir started something here.

The Rope bottom gave quite a bit of inspiration, acting as a muse his body enticed me to want to do all sorts of things to him. He was so flexible and so willing, delicious to the eye, and sweet to the tooth. I didn't bite him yet, but anyone could tell something sweet by looks and smell alone. I believe he is the perfect person for me to start out with as he loves Rope the same way I do, and he's a switch. Which is something that is appealing more and more to me as I fantasize about the devilment that could be had. Yet, again, my self restraint interfered but I'm okay with that as I prefer to take things very slowly. I'm really a 346 year old woman that's reliving her third life, ya know.

On the last note, thanks for the bite baby girl. I love your switchability too and it's a complete turn on. She made my nipples so hard with that bite, goosebumps covered my body, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, whew! I love my life.

Nemain Ravenwood

When talking about FemDom in the industry of pinup and fetish rendered art, one has to think about the hottest chick in the scene... Nemain Ravenwood.

This blog is dedicated to all the inspiration she's provided me through her awesome creations.
I can only post some of her artwork here as it is an extensive collection. To see more about this very talented artist and fetishist, please visit her site at http://www.nemainravenwood.com/. You WILL enjoy your visit.

Did I forget to mention that she is smokin' hot?!

Marquis # 38 featuring Nemain Ravenwood

Dangerous by Nemain

Lilith by Nemain
Latexxa IV by Nemain

Untitled by Nemain (may I suggest Steampunk Mistress?)

Casey by Nemain

Dark Femme by Nemain

All stood still by Nemain

Dedication to Luis Royo

Sodoms Princess by Luis Royo

2000 Questions by Luis Royo

Dreams by Luis Royo

Luis Royo 417

Luis Royo (born in 1954 in Olalla, Spain) is a Spanish artist, known for his darkly sensual paintings of women and mechanical life forms. He has also recently started doing sculptures of some of his earlier art. He was born in Olalla, a small town near Teruel, Spain. He has produced many paintings for his own books/exhibitions, and has also produced art for various other media: videogames, CD album covers, comic book covers, and Tarot cards. He is most famous for his work doing illustrations of Julie Strain for the animated movie Heavy Metal.

Official website http://www.luisroyo.com/ He has a new collection! Very sensual as usual.

Bio from http://cat.00server.com/rich_text_2.html

Artwork found on http://www.aumania.it/fa_royo8.html

Train Ride

Very cool, just happened to find this photo at http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_22/1127523913Q81x79.jpg

This has been one of the roughest weekends I've had in a long time due to my hormones. They're so out of whack that I was literally hopping, dancing and anxious. This hot ass dyke was fucking with me all weekend, calling me everytime she stepped into the facility. Damn it! I love androgyny. toy was wearing this work shirt that showed off every ripple and muscle in his back to include that deep canyon down the middle. he has one of those backs that make me visualize holding onto it with nails dug in, feeling that dizzying long stroke that seems like it will never end until suddenly it hits that back wall just right to force that uncontrollable moan to spill out, that tingle that shoots from my pussy to my nipples and the goosebumps that cover my body when that happens. With overwhelming lust, it brings back to my memory a train ride I took when I was about 19 or so.

I met him somewhere while on a walk. I can't remember where that was as he was so sexy I lost all train of thought when I first saw him. We talked on the phone for a good while, we even went for long walks together and spent many days that lasted into nights just talking and talking while we covered miles of the city of Brooklyn. It seemed we never ran out of anything to talk about, from politics to current events to African Americans in history to society as a whole, religions. His mind was awesome and it was such a turn on to be able to hold a conversation with an intelligent, sexy man.

Well, one night around midnight, we had reached a point in our walk that we decided to take the train. Back then, I think it was the number 2 train and since they've changed the train lines since I've lived there I'm unsure what it would be now. Just for sake of argument, let's say that it sooo doesn't matter. We got into the very first car and stood at the door right next to the conductor's booth so we could look out the window and chat. Standing side by side but facing each other, we began our chat as usual and jumped around various topics as we liked to do. We always managed to tie up the different topics by the end. While talking about something or another, I was staring at his curls, the different shades of color in his hair, his eyelashes, his lips, his dimples, his chin, his neck, he said something... my response was a confused look and it was obvious that I had gotten lost. Emburriskinn! I must've turned all shades of red as I turned to face the window to look out as we had reached a section that was above ground just in time. Watching the city and lights, a mixed feeling of security melted with my fear of heights to produce an unusual emotion that I tried hard to suppress.

We continued our talk, but this time I stared at his reflection in the glass of the window and remember remarking to myself how beautiful this creature was. He watched me as well through the reflection and when I lost track of our conversation the second time, he said nothing. He stepped closer and gently stroked the side of my face, drawing his finger down my neck to my lower back sending chills shooting throughout my body. Not having met any resistance to his touch, I guess he felt at liberty to take it a little further. He grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. With my body pressed against him I could feel his hard cock on my back, letting me know that he felt the same. Kissing my neck, his hands began exploring my body with one on my breast, the other went up my skirt. The poor gentleman that was sitting nearby enjoying our conversations, quietly nodding at certain parts, suddenly jumped up and moved further away. I'm sure he had a sense that this was more of an uncontrolled passion than just simple make out time.

His hand made it's way under my panties rather easily where it found a swollen and ready clit. With my pussy already wet he pushed his fingers deep inside until I let out a soft moan, then stroked my clit as if there was no one else in the world. I went to move away from him as the train pulled into the platform but he held me tighter whispering in my ear that he didn't care. He bent me forward so that he could continue to play with my pussy from the back, in and out, in and out, in and out. My knees got weak and I was suddenly greatful that he was holding me so tightly because I could no longer stand on my own. The orgasm came uncontrollably as I put my hands up on the window and struggled to keep my moaning restrained, as if no one would notice otherwise.

The train continued onward, lumbering and swaying, squeaking, squeeling. The conductor presented from the door and I'll never forget his face. The conductor was a tall, broad man with a round belly and thick beard, dark skinned and frustrated. This beautiful man that was so artfully playing me leaned to his right and said something that I couldn't hear. It gets kinda hard to hear things when one is on the fourth or fifth orgasm and trying to work through the embarrassment of being made to cum in public with people watching while cumming again, ya know. The conductor said something like "hurry it up then" and slammed the door shut. I felt my skirt being raised up over my ass and my panties pulled to the side. I saw him get closer in the reflection of the glass as the head of his penis felt hot against my skin, presenting for penetration. I thought to myself, "Oh god, I can't believe this is happening" as I begged for him to provide some sense of mercy but lacked the strength and self restraint to stop him.

He penetrated me fully with a long stroke and wide girth that forced a more than audible moan from my lips. He had both breasts in his hands and had my torso and face pressed against the window as my ass arched back to take whatever he wanted to do to me. He fucked me mercilessly through tunnels and dark and light and swaying. At one point, he had a firm grip on my ass and the other hand over my mouth to limit the cries. By this time, the subway car had cleared out and no one was on the car but him and I. Others chose different cars to board, I'm sure, once they figured out what was happening in car number 1. He continued his onslaught with my body being pressed rhythmically against the window, tits out and on the glass with my shirt rolled up, cum dripping down my legs. I felt his cock suddenly grow just a little longer and a little wider as he began to cum.

The strokes deeper, harder, faster, he started pulling my hair to hold me still to take all of him. The last stroke pressed me completely against the door with his body snugly against mine, my pussy contracting around him as he pulsated within me, my final orgasm coordinated with his. Out of breath, he withdrew and we adjusted ourselves and flopped onto the seats next to us. We sat there for a while and said nothing for a few stops until we finally decided to get off the train. It was like reaching the end of the internet... surprising, satisfying and eventful.

Bound by Love

Artwork: Ointment and Moon Bath by Luis Royo

Sometimes, a little time with a loving friend can cure a world full of ills. I'm feeling a little better, more active mentally, and physically relieved right now after a day full of rest. This weekend was horrifying at work. I was running a hospital, not a nursing home and it was a nightmare. Times like those encourage me to continue my studies away from the medical field that is slowing sucking the life out of me. I'll be glad for a change.

Anyway, not many can understand the great peace that results from just lying with someone without saying a word. People often spoil wonderful moments by opening their mouths like a motion picture when all that's needed is a great still. Skin to skin and quiet bonds people together, reassures most insecurities, calms the spirit, quiets the raging and reverses prior offenses. It provides a way for souls to make love and is priceless to me. I can now stand on my own feet again.

Her quiet company isn't a distraction for me, which I don't need. It is a prerequisite for deep and pensive meditation that provides me the answers to the things that puzzle me. I find relief and comfort in her arms. I appreciate her for that and all she does for me. That's the reason I call her my sister.

Quick Break

Wonder Woman by Roberto Campus found on http://www.robertocampus.com/wp-content/uploads/post_photoshop-tutorial-wonder-woman-step-6-finished.jpg

I had to take a quick break just to say...

She makes me feel like Wonder Woman!

Urges

Image: http://www.pisne.cz/tapety/sexy_man33.jpg

My emotions, moods and desires are fluctuating so fast lately it's hard to maintain my balance.

There was an interesting boy I met a few weeks back. Upon meeting him, he caused me to switch to Top mode instantly and my self actualized goal to remain in bottom mode went flying out the window. I gave an evil grin while shaking his hand, caused by the demonic thoughts racing through my mind of all the things I could do with a delicious little puppy like this one. I've been trying to think of his name, not his real name but the name I decide to call him and I think I'm getting closer to an idea. I just have to see him one more time to confirm it.

He must have had a little peek into what I was thinking because I watched his body language shift into a more submissive posture and he began to have difficulty completing his sentence, almost like a stutter but more like a brain fart. Fine with Me as I don't need him to think anyway, just follow the sound of My voice. his shoulders rounded, his back hunched forward, head lowered and he had difficulty looking Me in the eyes. Yum. submission, and the beast within Me almost lept out to ravage him.

Of course, I would never even think to Domme anyone that didn't give verbally consented interest in My doing so but this puppy was like clay in My hands and My protocol may have to be slightly adjusted. Nothing would make My pussy wetter than to command him to kneel before Me as I taunt him gently, perhaps a stool, My own personal chair, I wonder how his skin would feel under My heel, at what point could I get him to squeal. I envision biting his chin firmly to ensure that I can watch his eyes while I torture his family jewels, keeping his face millimeters from Mine. I'd love to watch his skin dance and his body writhe beneath a crisp whip, the sound that gorgeous ass would make, the shades of red it could become, the welts that may rise. If he was a good boy, I'd let him eat My pussy until I came all over his face, then I'd lock away My toys in a chastity belt and place him at the foot of My bed to sleep until morning curled up on his own little bed with his collar chained to the bed. I may allow him to come, then again, I may not. Whew! I may have to go get him cause he is making me crazy lately.

But that is always the first thought of attraction isn't it? For vanilla people, the thought is "I sure would love to ride that pony." For kinky folk, the thought is "I sure would love to ride that pony," but we mean it differently. Short term thoughts are I'd love to rule him deliciously, but long term is he is beautiful, his aura is a brilliant whitish blue, his vibe was making Mine hum, and he was so sweet. he seemed to be very interested but unsure of how to approach me, though he didn't do a bad job in my opinion. The reality is that, I would love him, cherish him, adore him, take care of his heart and mind and body and spirit. I'd give him a pedestal as long as it wasn't higher than Mine, of course. he is beauty embodied, and I was definitely feelin his swagger, lol. he was meant for me to rule, the gods formed him and handed him to Me, but the timing could never be worse and so I turned from him and walked away. Some of the deepest restraint I've exercised in a long time.

Okay, now my mind is back and I'm glad to finally get that off my chest.

Rope Dance

Ropework: Austin Jake; picture: Houston Jake; me in the middle

Oh, my! Writer's block. I'm getting so frustrated right now, I don't know what to do. Perhaps half the problem is my extreme urge to have a mind bending, soul ripping, gut wrenching, lip biting, back scratching, tear filled fuck session with a 9 inch stud to make me sing in 10 different languages and chant in 5 others. Going to the store and seeing two of the hottest 6 foot +, bald headed, solidly corn fed, beef cake men has warped my mind to where I can't even think. I'm not eevn srue if I can tihnk stgariht rhigt now! One black, one mexican american. Hell! I don't discriminate, I'm like the UN, I'm trying to unite all the nations that are skilled at eating pussy and servicing me. (Isn't that their latest mission?)

Anyway, I was trying to write my blog on an awesome Rope top that I re-met at the WhatKnot. Oh, his strict bondage had my heart skipping beats and my body pre-orgasmic from the moment he bound me in that hobble style manner. The compression of the Rope around my chest, hips, ass, thighs. For as bad as I wanted to spread my legs to accept more pleasure, this added immensely to his binding them closed. Then he had me kneel and applied a gag made of jute and bound my head so my body was forced in a hyperflexed position. How delicious this felt I can't even explain in human words. If anyone were to ask, I'd have to explain in gentle sighs, moans and groans. At one point, he got eye to eye with me and gave this sweetly impish smile that made my heart skip merrily through fields of Bermuda grasses naked with the sun warming my entire body. Oddly enough, the smile also reminded me that he was in control of not just my body, but my mind and my reaction in his hands.

The untying was just as sensuous as the tying, with the lengths of Rope gliding across my skin slow enough for me to feel each fiber rolled into it. We maintained some form of physical touch for closeness which helped to reassure me, which I'm unsure of why I needed the reassurance but I did anyway. Touching his hand, leaning my body against his chest, sitting across his lap to then lift my hips to assist in Its removal and to draw my body closer at the same time. It was a divine dance that ended abruptly when I realized (or remembered) that we were in a room full of people. Don't get me wrong, not everyone was looking, but for some strange reason I became embarrassed. It felt as if we had just made love in front of a large group of people and whether they were paying attention or not, I became embarrassed. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist about certain things, and it was a feeling I haven't had in all my times of playing in front of others so this is unusual for me.

Either way, I had an awesome afternoon and evening. I may have to see about an encore.

Mr. Vanilla

Image: http://www.art-magazin.de/kunst/3674/tilt

My Mr. Vanilla not only states he is vanilla, but vehemently denies any desire for kink in any form. This is making our relationship a difficult and taxing one where we are at a continual state of one foot in and one foot out the door. Shit almost hit the fan tonight and I almost packed his belongings. I find myself torn between very many worlds with him and am tiring despite the fact that he truly loves me like no other has - ever.

Let's start with the laundry list of denied kinks: #1 for him is dollification of me, his style is 1950's household (ha! just try it, I wish he would), breath play, choking, rape play with some power exchange (and he is intense), arm binding, light spanking, face slapping, receiving pain in certain places (yeah, most vanilla guys like for you to bite their erect cock and leave teeth marks, right), and he actually likes when I force him to submit and kneel at My feet (cause I ain't takin but so much shit). He also has an interest in a Master/slave dynamic. We both agreed that perhaps to avoid WWIII, that someone outside of us should be the slave as we are both way too dominant.

What attracted me to him in the first place, and I wasn't really thinking about kink 5 1/2 years ago, was his mental and physical strength. He would not submit, would not fold or buckle when we first started dating and I found him to be a worthy adversary. That's when the sparring began, and we have loved locking horns every day since then. The posturing, me calling him a "bitch," squaring off with him, the mental chess, then... the climax when his dominance asserts significantly enough to force mine into submission. Oh, how wonderful. He grabs me, spins me around, slaps me on the ass hard enough to spark goosebumps, then pulls me to him tightly to restrict my movement or to get me to obey. Or he'll throw me onto the bed, pull my hair and shove his cock into my throat before shoving it in my pussy. I doubt my interest would be there without this climax and I probably would've moved on a long time ago.

On the other end of the spectrum, he has a very traditional upbringing and background that weighs heavily on his mind. So he is vehemently not kinky at all. He will not learn Rope, he will not restrain me, collar and lead me, chain me, cage me, spank me to the level that I need it, inflict pain, inflict pleasure, or learn much of anything about BDSM. Most of the time, unless I provoke enough out of him, our sex is very vanilla. He is learning some of the little terminology, and frequently asks questions about the M/s culture. However, his face has a look of disgust when talking about kink, as well as my bisexuality that he fantasizes about none the less, and my polyamory (except when I speak of other women). Very typical of Roman Catholics, I guess, but it's creating a rift. Okay, more like a canyon.

Although I love him he is not the One and I know this. I just have to be patient. I will cross all bridges when closer to approaching them. My biggest bridge tonight will be when we go out after he gets off work tonight. It's time for some coffee, some talking, and an honest look at what we are and where we are. A true to life "comin' to Jesus" meeting. I'm tiring of his judgemental statements and looks. His "you're the freak, not me" attitude. He enjoys the sexual benefits of me being the "freak" yet hates what actually makes me one while I hate him for not being the One for me.

Toy'ed

Picture: Angelina Jolie
Originally written 2 months ago...
I hopped on the highway trying to rush home, I've got a lot to do today and have to go back to work this morning so I hit 35 hard trying to fly. When I enter the highway, there is a pick up in front of me in the right lane and an 18 wheeler the next lane over to my left. He sped up so that he blocked me in the right lane by closing the distance from his front bumper and the pick up's rear, then adjusted his speed so he could watch me through the windows in the door of the cab almost side by side. Since he went through such great effort, of course, my exhibitionist self decided to give him a little show. Nothing overtly sexual, but subtle eroticism never hurt anyone... angling my body to psychologically give the impression of an offering, tilting my head so he can have a look at my neck, gently stroking my hair as he seemed to want to, ensuring some cleavage was visible from his angle. He watched intently and seemed to enjoy our moment of intimacy. After a few minutes, he rewarded me by honking twice and slowing his speed to release me from the rolling road block.

There are those wonderful times that I love being a toy, even just a few seconds can feel like hours. Even the time that an acquaintance blocked my path for a few moments, backing me up and cornering me. He used the threat of proximity to move my body at the angles he desired, to smell my scent, and once the level of squirm he desired presented he released me. An extreme turn on, my panties were wet after that episode and all the other ones he had me endure over a period of a few months. Each time I saw him was a different test, building the sexual tension until it hung in the air between us. One older friend of mine suggested that I "just fuck him already and get it over with" since we were heating up everyone in the area that witnessed our play on occasion. Eventually, it exploded into my first time being truly controlled during sex. Sometimes the tease is better than the final act which is interesting, but what makes it all addictive is when the final act superpasses the tease.

For this image, there is no need to give credit. I found this one surfing the web. A photographer took this picture @ 1998-1999. I hadn't signed a release for this photo yet there it is on a website! These are the joys of dealing with an unscrupulous photographer, yet I claim it none the less. I accept the immortality of images and the possible consequences thereof.

The Taoist Sexual Yogi Revolution

Image from Black Snake Moan (Christina Ricci)

While I don't have much time to blog right now, my experience last night was unimaginable. My Top allowed another to play me whose energy is electrified and intensely sexual, to say the very least. The kind of raw, deviant, deliciously kinky, sadistic bondage that initially sparked my darkest desires since puberty. The same craving and energy as the dynamic created in Black Snake Moan between Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson. I can only remain in this pre-orgasmic state until he plays me again and I can't wait. I can still feel the Ropes running all over my body, my clit still engorged, my nipples still hard, the fine hairs on my body still at attention, my pussy still wet.



On the flip side of the coin, I loved gently spanking my sweet one last night afterwards. What a delicious ass, I just loved the way it felt between my teeth, under my hands, under my nails. I wanted to cane and flog her but was partially tired out from my bondage session. she was kneeling, laying her torso onto the lap of my Top/her Master. I chose to sit on her back after I had deliberated the angle and positioning I desired to give her just a little sample spanking.



Hmm, well I better go get something to eat and get a workout on. I'm planning a trip to NY in April and need to be in fairly good shape, if not in top shape. My Top, by Hisself, makes me feel like I've been hit by a freight train (yum) so I know a NY style play club will require more stamina. Besides that, classes restarted today and I better get busy. Business ethics, principles of finance, skin lit like fire and a deep need to be penetrated while still dizzy from his energy. I guess I should've known what I was getting into when this man stated he is a devotee of "Taoist sexual yoga." Duh! LOL.

Train of Denial Departing Without Me

(Picture by Dave Naz)

The Rope has Its own energy and life force that entrances me, but I'm learning that He is the prism that transforms that energy into a varying array of movements and emotions which is what I'm actually craving even more than Rope alone lately. This is why I begin to fall apart after not seeing Him for 3 or more weeks. I hate to admit that He has placed me in yet another vulnerable state but He has. How slow I am to not recognize how He has adjusted His implementation of Jute to withdraw from me the mental and emotional state He desires since we first started playing.

He is a Master with using Rope in erotic torture as the Jute unforgivingly sliced into the delicate folds of my vagina; partially suspended by one point to balance on one leg while leaning back due to another point. There was no midway point, no adjustment that provided any comfort or escape from my distress. His eyes were lit and alive from our scene as He watched how the Rope tangled me and then disappeared to cause the pain He knew I needed, how my breaths became short and rapid as I fought the urge to complain or whimper so He wouldn't think I was in real trouble and take me down, how sweat from the pain began to bead at the small of my back and applied a thin layer of moisture to gloss my body, how my juices mingled with the Jute to realign the heavens and make all things right again.

He began to take me down but applied one last good pull to my torturous pelvic harness, His eyes piercing me and I could tell He already knew the expression I was going to give Him and His satisfaction when I complied. For my reward, He held me there a little longer and pressed His body against mine in a wonderful embrace.

At one point I ended up face down, suspended at the chest with my ass suspended higher than my head into the air. The pressure this put on my chest and arms was incredible, and I felt equally as vulnerable with my entire bottom ready for whatever He decided. Of course His decision was a delicious combination of pain and pleasure causing me to explode into a ball of lust. My cum fell, rolling to the front of my pubis where it lept to its peril and united with the floor. I've never had pain applied to my g-spot before, but I miss the sensation already.

I don't remember at what point the Rope was loosened to fall beside me onto the floor, but I cradled It as Its tail gently slid across my face behind my ear and weaved Itself through my hair to hold me. He began spanking me, which I could barely tolerate and seemed a little unusual until He restarted to warm me up as it had been so long. Yum... I was spanked, whipped, flogged, caned, crop dusted, striped, fried and sauteed! Orgasm after orgasm with my back uncontrollably arching, my ass begging and pleading to meet the next strike, the thud of His glorious leather flogger, the deliciously sharp sting of His whip. It was like riding the Orgasm Carousel and I loved every moment, not wanting to get off.

Ahh, and there it is. I am going to finally step off the Train of Denial and admit it to myself. I don't know if it only works with Him or not, but I love to take the pain He inflicts with its sweet medley of pleasure and "oh, what the fuck was that?!" Last night, tears were brought to my eyes for the first time (damn, I hate feeling like a virgin) but I loved the flood of new hormones and sensations and Rope and oh yes, the pussy spanking that made me talk. I'm very vocal with moaning and even screaming, but talking is not something that I do easily yet that did it. Yep, I admit it....