Friday, March 27, 2009

Painful Insomnia


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.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

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.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

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 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

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

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 He has a new collection! Very sensual as usual.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Train Ride

Very cool, just happened to find this photo at

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.