once more please, Master

2011-09-24T22:44:00.000-05:00

SO. It's uh...

it's been a while

Stuff's been... well, busy would be an understatement. Heinous, perhaps. So at the beginning of August, Ghost enlisted with the military, with a ship date of 3 weeks later. Not a whole lot of time to prepare for him to leave. For those of you who haven't been here before, I tend to lose most of my mobility in winter (the time when he'll be gone). This year my body's indicating mid-October, hopefully loosening up enough to go see him graduate in early November. He *might* come home for part of Christmas break. Otherwise... I probably won't be seeing him until February :< Even then there's no guarantee, they might just send him straight to his next duty station and leave me to move everything up to him ~_~ which, it being February... I won't exactly be capable of doing.

I have a doctor's appointment at the beginning of October. I'm going to try and get diagnosed while he's away. If I'm successful, the military has a program they can put me on that will ensure that we'll never be very far from eachother or a military base that has the care I'll need.

So for the past month and a half I've been doing all the stuff he does: the cooking, the errands, the cleaning I can't usually do, all with varying (and increasing) levels of excruciating pain. The upside is this will at least make it easier to get diagnosed -_- I've been working less as the weather gets colder, mostly because I can't. Since I stopped smoking pot in July, I've definitely been feeling the effects of the weather earlier than I usually do. Last year the pain was worse than it had been the previous year, with me almost completely unable to move by February, even with a gram a day, so I'm not sure how long I'll be able to do much of anything mid-November.

I know I don't make a huge deal out of my birthday, mostly because it doesn't really matter, but it saddens me that he won't be around for mine this year. Probably because he also wasn't around for our anniversary, either.

Sadfox

Messages from the Universe

2011-07-22T10:28:00.002-05:00

Last night I had a dream, that FORTUNATELY, shied away from the recent trope of 'hey, let's panic in my dreams!' I wouldn't say my sleep was restful, as I only got maybe 5 hours, but that's more than I've had in a while. I've been on edge for a little over 8 months straight, which has been wearing on me, both mentally and physically.

The dream I had last night, while it was largely dissimilar from every other dream (that wasn't a message), was very clear in its meanings, clear enough that I didn't need to be awake to decipher it.

I won't type the whole thing out, because it probably won't make sense to many of you, though it was quite clear to me. But the message itself...

I have always, ALWAYS, been able to do things that others can't, and/or won't. I have often been derided for them, and this was most blatant in highschool. While I've always gotten shit for what I do and don't do, those people, in the Grand Scheme, are few. There have been hundreds, literally thousands of haters over my lifetime so far, and as I get older, they begin to either convert or be overwhelmed by the people that love me. I've always had people that have alternately been my friends, then hated me, then came back with their tail between their legs, then snapped at me and ran away. In some, the cycle repeats forever. In others, when they come back? They realize they were wrong all along.

The people who hate me or hold things against me either do so for fun, for their own ego, or something else I cannot fathom. I will spend my whole life wondering why and never having answers. Many of these people will have power over me, and use that to their advantage. I have to find my own way to overcome them.

But my compassion for other people and for both the mysteries of life and their answers means that I will always find true allies, and I will always be able to see things and people as they are, despite the masks they wear. This is both a gift, and a curse, because so, so so many people have bared teeth at me or fled upon realizing I can See them, not as they present themselves, but as they Are.

But when I find people who love me, who know where I belong... It's so blatantly obvious where I'm supposed to be.

NOW WHY COULDN'T I HAVE GOTTEN THIS MESSAGE YEARS AGO, UNIVERSE?!

Key points of my dreams:

I found a bag of runes near a pile of slave's clothing. There were multiple sets of runes on various materials (orange stone, bone, porcelain, dark wood) in a Crown Royal bag*. I withdrew a few runes, Isa and Ehwaz. Every time I drew a rune from the bag, it was one of these two. I got frustrated and thought that all of the ones in the bag were these two, but I dumped them out only to find that the sets were complete.
A snobby, bitchy upperclassman-type girl decided she wanted a rivalry or something with me. I mostly ignored her, but she insulted me every chance she had, every time she saw me. When I finally retaliated, she made it known she was in a position of power over me.
I was in her class despite the school being organized by skill level, not by age or actual education level.
Mollena told me when the aforementioned girl insulted me and I tossed one back 'you don't want to piss her off, it will get you nowhere' I told her that even if it was detrimental to what I was trying to accomplish, I wouldn't let her treat me that way.
When I retaliated, the whole rest of the class besides Snob-face and two of her friends stood up for me. I looked at their faces and saw my loved ones and my best friends.
I left the school in the TARDIS, only to come out in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest.
I was never alone in my dream. Ghost was forced by the sunrise to vanish and go home, and I would have to travel through the river to see him again**
While I was being led through the Amazon River, the natives adored how I helped them despite not speaking their language. As usual, I 'understood' but could not truly understand.
They were showing me the way to the village, and I stopped along the way to help them with what needed doing. I took the fish off their lines for them and baited them, despite the danger (most of the fish were piranha)
When we arrived at our destination, they showed me where the path continued. 'This is the Valley of the Moon***, only those deserving are allowed here. Your home is further up the mountain, with the Jaguars****. We'll go at night, they've been expecting you. Here, stay in the hut built by Edison in the meanwhile. You are in good company' With so many references to aspects of myself, I knew immediately that I was meant to come there

*my first set of runes were on plain, unglazed porcelain given to me by my mother in a Crown Royal bag
**There is a festival dedicated to the separation of two lovers. I've linked to my favorite graphic representation
***I share the name of a moon goddess, so lonely that upon finding a man she loved, she put him in an eternal sleep in a cave to wait for her until she could visit him.
****Genetic testing has shown me to be strongly Columbian

The wisdom of friends: Snippets from their lives that help me learn about mine

2011-07-18T20:22:00.000-05:00

So, most of you have probably noticed I have friends from all sorts of walks of life. And I learn from them. Below are some recent snippets of their lives that have helped me delve myself. These friends have taught me a lot, and with many of them I had the added, amazing advantage of being able to read years and years of their lives before we ever actually met, and some of them have done the same for me. As a result, I have the wonderful benefit of having people who, while they may not understand me completely, have understood me more completely than the people who thought they knew me best. With most of the people I grew up with, I was always berated for my ideas, and my opinions, and how they thought I thought I knew everything. I've never claimed to, which is why I read forums, blogs, social networks, all pertaining to things that have NOTHING in common with me, because you really can't understand someone else until you walk in their shoes, holding their hands as a ghost of their future, feeling their pain when they stumble, and weeping with joy when you not only realize that the world isn't against YOU, it's against EVERYONE who lives in it, but also when you realize that in the grand scheme of things, not only does our happiness and suffering not matter to the world, but that things can turn out okay anyway.

People always told me I had yet to find out how things 'really worked', and it's through these loving friends and the peace and struggles they've had, that I can rest secure in the knowledge that while I don't know everything, I was right all along. But you don't have to know anything to be right, you just are

------

(Background: kaya's' kid Jes dropped out of school a few years ago. Afterward, she got pregnant, kept the baby, and has continued to be a general irresponsible teenager in spite of her new responsibilities)

I told y’all I wish I didn’t have to worry but I do. Jes doesn’t make the right choices. What am I supposed to do? Hope for the best? I watch the news, dude. Hope doesn’t save a kid- action does. She knows she’s welcome to live here, she just doesn’t want to have live within our boundaries and expectations. She really ties my hands sometimes.

And then she wonders why Babygirl is starting to exhibit signs of ‘issues’. She’s clingy (people tend to randomly disappear out of her life, with no warning (to her). Her daddy, who lived with her and mommy for 5 months suddenly disappeared and she hasn’t seen him since. Me and Pampah, who she lived with since birth, randomly disappear and reappear. Mommy disappears for days at a time. Her great-beebaw and pampah who she also lived with for 5 months suddenly disappeared.) Of course she’s clingy. She never knows when, or if, she’s going to see anyone again!

She doesn’t sleep through the night anymore, waking up crying out and going on frantic searches to find a familiar face and to “hold my hand!” before she’ll go back to sleep. She has nightmares (I think, judging on how she fusses and whimpers in her sleep throughout the night). Of course, she’s sleeping in a different house, different bed, stranger’s houses and strange beds, on an all-too frequent basis, as Jes sees no problem with dragging Babygirl off with her to spend the night with this friend or that friend, people who Baby has never even seen before.

Her toys get left here and there, or she’s forced to share with kids she’s never met and she never gets the toy back. Not that I think she shouldn’t learn to share- it’s not that. But kids needs a sense of ownership, too. I hate it when Jes takes off with one of the toys because I will likely never see it again (that goes double for clothes, shoes, coats, cups, etc.) I don’t let her take anything from here that I bought anymore. The one constant that Babygirl has is her stuff here, she knows exactly where it is, what it is, and that it will always be here, in one piece or all together.

She is such a smart, polite, amazing little girl. I don’t want to see that ruined. M’s about ready to call a lawyer, as am I. He told me just yesterday that he’d gladly sacrifice another 18 years if it means Babygirl is safe, happy and healthy.

---

Response to the above: Please kaya don’t hesitate to take control of your baby granddaughter. I speak from experience I to thought “Mom” would grow up, get smart,and be a parent. My grandbaby is with the angels now and I blame myself for not doing what I kept telling everyone I was going to do if it didn’t improve. I was too late don’t be

Please

quick version Mom was off always staying wth friends and I watch the little one well 1 weekend I took off for some me time with hubby and she left Toby age 9 months with some “friends” so she could party and no-one knows if he cried to much or what so they put him in a nearby empty apt and left him. He choked and died. and the worst is while the “babysitter” did some time Mom went on her merry way because she was not to blame and now has another child I’ve never seen.

-----

CK: when I'm trying to be nice or joke around a bit because I'm bored they don't seem to want to interact with me very much. It's not like I'm cold or anything. I try to be nice and friendly. But if it's not about work then they don't really want to talk to me unless I'm the only one in the vicinity. It's not just my job though. It's happened most of my life as far as other girls are concerned. I sometimes wonder if that's why I became such a tom boy and why I'm more comfortable hanging out with guys.

----

From Kendra Holliday

Can something as traumatic as rape ever be chalked up as a simple misunderstanding? How come so many “rapists” appear baffled at the suggestion that they have done something terribly wrong?

...

After our talk, I wandered off the stage in a daze, where people hugged me and a line was forming.

They all wanted to share their story.

I listened to as many as I could. It was heart wrenching to confirm how many people have been raped multiple times in their life, from childhood on. According to RAINN, 44% of sexual assault and rape victims are under the age 18.

-----

(Excerpt from Le Petit Prince, via Mollena)

“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”

....

The next day the little prince came back.

“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you… One must observe the proper rites…”

“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.

“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all.”

50 Kinds of Kink: Biting

2011-06-29T13:48:00.001-05:00

She never took charge. That's why his jaw dropped when she gave him a devilish look, eyes smouldering as she headed straight up the stairs, pausing at the top and cocking her head. He stumbled a bit as he ran after her, slipping along the way.

He arrived in the door to see her lying on the fainting couch, a filmy dark fabric draped in a way that accentuated each curve. It had the slightest sheerness to it, he noted, glancing at her barely-visible nipple. Her wicked smile beckoned him, and he sauntered over, kneeling at her side.

He moved to catch her lips in his, but she turned her head, so that her lips were at his ear. "Make me cum using only your mouth" she whispered, catching him off-guard. He smirked at how brazen she was, caressing the back of her head with his hand. Suddenly her hair was clenched in his fist, and he pulled back sharply, exposing her throat.

"If that's how you're going to be.... I'll have to show you who's truly in charge, won't I?"

Her hands reached up to pull his hands free of her hair, only to be ensnared by the very strands she had intended to rescue. He took a moment, finding a short length of rope with which to secure her that way.

He stood back to admire his handiwork, obviously pleased. His hand clasped the edge of the cloth that covered her, and he pulled it off, slowly. It rolled off of her skin, a silky whisper against her nipple, he noticed. He thought it was rather pretty.

His love lay stark against the bright blue fabric, still with that naughty smile and unusual self-assuredness. He simply couldn't resist, and kissed her all over, starting at her rosy, pouty lips and moving slowly, so painfully slowly it hurt, down the length of her body.

She squirmed when the lightest touch of his lips grazed across her nipple, when his breath hit the curve of her breast... She was flushed as he made his way back up her collarbone, up the arch of her neck, and placed the lightest of them all beneath her ear where the lobe met her face. A sharp inhale told him he was winning, and he grinned madly.

His mouth descended towards her ear a second time, taking the lobe gently between his teeth. Midway through her appreciative groan, he bit down, forcing free a yelp. Now his beast had been freed, and it was hungry. His lips touched her collar bone again, teeth sinking in roughly at her throat. Nervous, she stopped breathing, looking at him with wide eyes while her pulse pattered frightenedly in his mouth. He let go, smirking before he continued his assault. A trail of red blossomed up where he touched, first kiss-biting the curve of each tit, wrapping around them in a sensuous pain that ended with a sharp nip at the tip of her nipple. The whole time she squirmed, unable to do anything with her hands tied up in her hair.

He trailed down further, sharp bites lining her torso to her bellybutton, and further. When he got between her legs, he almost lost himself, seeing her glisten in front of him. He buried his face in her, turning his predatory eyes up at her as he nuzzled the crook of the joint where hip and leg meet.

Then suddenly he was biting again, all around her thighs, beneath them, close to that spot, no that one spot he shouldn't--! Her back arched as she came without warning, semicircular marks patterning the inside of her legs and thighs, her clit in his mouth between his teeth where he bit ever-so-gently.

She panted as he rose, an indeterminate expression across her face.

"Now, who's in charge love?"

ffffff

2011-06-22T09:54:00.000-05:00

>_>

I know the new 50 Kinds of Kink post was supposed to go up yesterday, but frankly, I've not really felt like writing the past week or so. Lots of...interesting stress has popped up. Some of it ought to be nullifying other stresses, but the human body doesn't work like that. So instead, I'll sit and stare at prompts.txt, and glare at it for a while, maybe flesh in some more details, or flesh out the prompts so I fucking HAVE SOMETHING TO GO ON (the real challenge of this is working with prompts; I hate them, I've always been terrible at writing when they're involved and goddammit they are so vague, I hate vague, I hate it so much)

I've been doing a lot of amusing, interesting video and show requests, but apparently the current layout at Lady.Spookfox is too complicated for a large portion of my prospective customers. >_> So I'm tidying up to make it look more professional, and HOPEFULLY more clear. Which also means more pages.

SO, the current page structure idea goes like this:

Home
|
Rules > Will do/won't do > Etiquette(ffffffff)> Payment process > Payment options (including elaborations on vouchers because apparently something that's basically a gift card is too fucking complicated when men are hard and a giant sign declaring "NO REFUNDS YOU JACKASS")
|
Services offered > Pricing
|
Contact/Find me online
|
Links/banners etc

can you guys think of anything else that needs to be added?

50 Kinds of Kink: Spanking

2011-06-15T13:43:00.000-05:00

~I'm not the one in trouble~, she sang merrily in her head as she skipped out of the room with the bucket. The Mistress of the house, also head slave, had been provoking the Master quite a bit lately, and he'd finally had enough of it. He'd sent her lady-in-waiting out to fetch cold water, and it made her completely giddy. In the whole time she'd served them, she'd never seen the Mistress punished and was ecstatic for such a rare treat!

It took her a few minutes to let the bucket fill well enough, and she was sweating from the pump by that time. While the house was modernized, the lady insisted on having a natural cistern to keep water cool, and now it would backfire! What a great day!

She lugged the bucket back into the room, to see the Mistress bent over and tied to a sawhorse. Upon hearing her maid's return, she growled in warning, only to be silenced with a swat on the backside from her mate.

In his other hand he held a simple leather paddle, two pieces of leather bound together only at the edge that met the steel handle. He bid the maid to place the bucket at the head of the sawhorse, and dramatically dropped the paddle in the water in front of his wife's glowering face.

He stared her down until he was satisfied that it had gathered enough water, and unflinchingly plunged his hand into the water, coming up with the cold, soaked paddle.

He paced around her slowly, a circle forming in the droplets from the instrument, and suddenly he struck. The weight of the leather was multiplied by the water and she yelped, turning her head to snarl at him. He quickly moved to her side, fisting his left hand in her hair and shoving her head back down.

"No."

He held her there by here hair, making multiple strokes on her ass, his speed only hampered by its unusual weight. Water splattered its cold trail along her body with each stroke, washing over her in what felt like waves at impact. Her flesh rippled in retaliation, mimicking the waves in the bucket. Each stroke left a large red welt, and strong as she was, it took only a dozen strokes before she had relaxed into the sawhorse, sobbing in submission.

"Never again sir, I promise!"

50 Kinds of Kink: Crossdressing

2011-06-09T14:33:00.002-05:00

He glowered at the stack of clothes in his hands. She loved taking him shopping. His frame was slender for a guy, which MUST have been why she enjoyed doing this. He grumbled as he held up a shirt, her giggles from outside the door tickling his ears.

She never shopped for things in his size; Always hers. She loved it, picking out clothes she'd love to wear and forcing him to try them on. Worst of all, she bought almost everything.

He tugged his own shirt over his head, his masculine form in the mirror seemingly mocking him. He pulled the girl's shirt over his head with some effort, sighing in relief when his head popped through. He jammed the arms in the holes, wincing at the warning creak of the fabric stretching as far as it could.

He looked in the mirror, his face flushed almost to matching the pink of the shirt, decorated as a sports jersey with the number 04. He didn't even know what that meant, or if it was a random number. Not like it mattered anyway, he guessed.

He dropped his pants, and sighed in shame at the reminder of the silk panties he was wearing. "Right..." He forgot every time, the reminder making him flush at how comfortable they were, comfortable enough that he consistently forgot about them.

The last thing he had to put on was a stupid short plaid skirt. It would have been nice if -she'd- tried it on instead, but that wasn't very likely to happen. With a sigh, he resigned himself to stepping into it, chanting all the while in his head 'almost done, just this and you can go and no one will know' as his personal mantra.

The skirt fit over his hips okay, but there was difficulty in zipping it up. He gave it a harsh tug and yelped, causing an explosion of laughter from the girl outside. The muttering grew slightly harsher as he examined the zipper, paling at what he saw:

Not only had it snagged, but it had snagged in the hair on his ass. He -definitely- needed help.

Fuck.

50 Kinds of Kink: Rituals

2011-06-03T12:01:00.000-05:00

In her sleep she gave a quiet moan, rolling over to press her back against him. No more awake, his body responded, adjusting so that his arms held her close against his chest. His cock stirred, waking him up with it.

His eyes cracked, to see the top of her head, silky hair mussed by the pillow he'd given her last night. She gave another little squirm in her sleep, pressing her hips back against him for more contact.

His cock was the first one to notice how wet she was, its length just barely brushing against her opening as he cuddled into her warmth. Another moan, another little writhe, and the wetness coated the head of his cock. He carefully maneuvered, slipping his arm over her to just barely tease her entrance. He pulled his finger away after judging it wet enough, pressing the digit against his lips, basking in her smell and taste. He almost wanted to lap it up, but no, later.

Despite his longing, his hips pulled away from hers, giving him just enough room to wipe the juices on her less-frequently used hole, coaxing his finger in gently with her own lubrication. The next moan that came was definitely more awake, though she said nothing. She only arched her back, accentuating the swell of her hips as she offered her pert ass, more eager than she would ever otherwise admit.

He took her offering with pure glee, wrapping his hands around her hips and tugging her onto him. He pulled slowly until she was pressed fully against her, basking in the feeling of her tightness against him. A hand wrapped around to tease its fingers against her soaked cunt. She always reacted like this, every morning. In a practiced motion he put his fingers in his mouth, looking her straight in the eyes. Her blush went down to her chest, spreading further when he pressed his mouth to hers, giving her a taste of herself.

Once his lip touched hers he began pumping, hips rocking forward at the same time as he pulled her back to slam himself into her ass, whimpers of enjoyment coming from her at each stroke. It never took him long in the mornings, not with what her submission did to him. It drove him mad, and he restrained himself from biting, just for today. But oh, to feel her come around him.... He emptied a flood into her ass, rolling so that he was on top of her while still pinning her with his body. From the nightstand he drew a glass plug, the circumference the same as that of the head buried so deeply in his wife. He withdrew himself, biting his lip at the new sensitivity, and ever-so-carefully nestled the plug between her cheeks.

"Good girl," he told her, kissing the back of her head.

"Good morning, Master."

Hecate

2011-05-25T10:35:00.001-05:00

I don't get to domme people[mostly boys/men] very often anymore. Especially living in such a small town. It's a shame, I miss it a lot. Having things bought for me because I told them to, being given money whenever I demanded it, people to bite and scratch and deny as I pleased....

I haven't heard about other dommes who have a style like mine. The majority of them treat a boy with disdain and cruelty at every point of contact. Me? I am cold to you, with the occasional streak of cruelty that mostly shows up in anger or frustration. Sometimes it blossoms into an unlikely Zen of Violence that will leave us both panting. Praise is given objectively. It doesn't matter whether you completed it most of the way, you have failed. Yes, now, give me the money I demanded. I will unflinchingly pull it from your flesh if you fight me. You know I do not tolerate disobedience, that is why you're nothing but a shadow. Give me your blood as amends, I want to taste your pain.

I think of most people as tools. Not in the derogatory way, but in an objective way. People are tools, a screwdriver is a tool, a crowbar is a tool... Like that. Some people have little use. Some are suited only for service, some are only suited for back-of-the-house work. Some people can only do physical labor, and some people can only do numbers. And just as factually, some people are only good for making other people happy. I mean, hells, as a priestess, I get used as a tool by most of the people I've seen in the past year. Advice, an objective ear, a cook, an organizer, and one hell of a delegatrix.

In return, it's your job to be my tool. I will use you as you're needed, and maybe for things you never expected. And by the time I'm done with you, you'll be ready to crumble.

Seattle will never see me coming...

2011-05-22T06:12:00.001-05:00

Time and I have always had a... strange relationship. I've had friends in different timezones since I was 12 or 13, so I'm pretty good with them now. Britain's usually 6 hours ahead of me, my friends on the West Coast 2 behind. My friends in Canada ahead 1, and Japan 14-15 hours ahead.

But...I don't *feel* time like a lot of people do. An hour and a day can feel the same, and waking up in the morning is just a continuation of the previous day with a newly-risen sun. It flows around me, barely touching me, while I see it caress those I know well. I get to see my distant friends change, grow, and many are starting families. It sort of freaks me out, because I'm still the same. It's strange to see people who've literally fought for what they believe in crumble beneath the weight of the choices they've made, or, worse, to see them give up on things entirely. I have a friend who, while we were in school, complaining that her boyfriend wanted a handfasting, and she thought that was too much commitment. Next time I'm in contact with her, she has a child by the same person, something she was vehemently against just a couple of years before. I have friends with military husbands on overseas assignments. I have friends who ARE military husbands on overseas assignments.

Meanwhile, to me, the past is as close as something that happened five minutes ago, I just can't remember it. Pretty much everything I feel feels the same as it always has. Things that hurt still hurt, and will always hurt, and won't fade. Neither will the good, though it may become eclipsed. It makes many things a struggle, especially in darker times.

But for me... even though things around me have changed, I haven't. If I have to, I'll be the last uncompromising person out there, because someone has to be.

2011-05-09T09:59:00.000-05:00

It's a really rainy day today. I woke up with a sky the color of pale wet turquoise, and no sun. I'm okay with that, since morning sun just aggravates my allergies. Worse even than a noontime sun, but I digress. I got to hear thunder in my shower, since there's an open attic space next to it. It was so tranquil that I stopped paying attention to the water, but I managed to get out before it got too cold. I've never showered during a thunderstorm, not when I could hear it anyway. It's nice. It makes me even more excited for Seattle, because the rain and I get along just as well as the night and I do. It's nice to have surroundings you agree with, and that agree with you. <3 On that note, I'm doing that Thing I Like To Do, planning, in this case. Master and I have both wanted to live in Seattle for years. It's perfect for us both, and even though I've never been there, the more I read about it, and other people's experiences, the more it feels like home. The most walkable city in this country with some of the highest standards of living for a completely reasonable price... Full of friends I haven't seen in years and sexy kinky people I've never met... It feels like.... acceptance. I want to say I can't wait, but something about knowing exactly what will happen makes the trudging easier. I don't want to wait, but I don't have another choice, so I will wait patiently.

I was combing through my RSS reader this morning (oh god how I miss the Mac) and stumbled upon one of those silly little quizzes that the lovely Miss Madiera had done. I don't even remember the last time I did one of these, though I used to do them all the time when I was younger. I've become more adverse to sharing about myself, so I thought I'd step myself out of my comfort zone.

For those unaware, seme (seh-meh) is the equivalent to the dominant partner, while uke (ooh-keh) is the submissive.

30+ = Super Uke
21-30 = Uke
20 = Seme-uke (Seke)
10-19 = Seme
10- = Super Seme

[X] You like to be content in everything.
[X] When a person confesses their love to you and you don’t like them, you start feeling very tense and/or you don’t know what to say.
[X] You enjoy listening to smooth and relaxing music.
[--] You are quite hyperactive.
[ ] If you don’t like something, you start crying and you don’t care if you start talking too loud.
[X] You love candies or any type of caramel.
[X] You like making others blush.
[ ] You sleep with a doll/teddy bear/pilow in your hand.
[ ] You’re usually shy with the opposite gender.
[X] You like romantic-funny anime.
[?] Between L or Light cosplay, you prefer L. (I don't wanna cosplay either of these characters....)
[ ] You have listened to “an café”.
[ ] You like listening to it.
[ ] You have one or two songs on your computer of “an café”.
[X] You are innocent and/or a little clumsy.
[X] You smile at kitties.
[X] You usually say “kawaii”.
[X] You like plushies. ( Animu ones. )
[ ] Between light blue and blue, you prefer light blue.
[X] You hate Paris Hilton because she is ~~an idiot~~ a complete bint
[ ] You have been lost in a shopping centre/parking/cinema.
[ ] You have called the mistaken number twice or more.
[ ] You cried with Pocahontas’ ending.
[X] You have used a very feminine dress or shirt.
[X] You call your pets cute names. (Tai is all sorts of derivations, like Koneko-kun [elder kitten, respectful], Yama-san [Mr. Mountain], Yama-neko [Mountain cat], etc)
[1/2] You believe that yaoi is the best.
[ ] You’re easy to trick/convince.
[X] Some men scare you.
[ ] You have seen Pucca and you like it.
[ ] You have pink/red clothes and they are decorated with flowers. (No I do not. Period. Fullstop. The end.)
[ ] Sometimes you start looking at the clouds and you get lost in space.
[ ] You’ve said “kyao” or something like that before.
[X] When a person of the same gender gets angry with you, you’re at the defensive. (Bitches be crazy)
[X] You like j-pop. (I wanna be your gentleman~)
[X] You have cried for more than one movie/TV series. (NO ONE TELL MASTER)
[ ] You watched Gravitation and you felt like Shuichi or you watched Strawberry Panic and you felt like Nagisa.
[ ] You smile for no reason.
[ ] You usually are very positive.
[ ] When there’s a rainbow, you run out to see it.
[ ] You usually don’t understand what your parents say. (what does this even mean)

Score: 18 1/2

I haz a dominant. This was a lot....gayer of a quiz than expected.

2011-05-05T09:53:00.000-05:00

Soooo.... you guys are probably wondering what happened to me, huh? >_> I've just always had this apprehension about writing about my self as opposed to anything else, and given that my state of being is generally "pain pain pain with a side of financial stress" it sort of seems like a waste of internetspace. I'm trying to make myself be better about it, at least.... I don't know if it is working yet.

So Master has a steadyish job again (finally) and it's warming up enough that my body can finally function regularly. I hate when he doesn't have a job, the stress from ME, the crippled, sociophobic pet who doesn't even like being called a person, being the person who has to support us both, just exacerbates all of my physical problems especially in winter. bah humbug.

SO, for those of you who don't know, I've been working pretty diligently on Lady.Spookfox, which is basically my camming hub. It brings all my media together: camsites (so many now ;_;), photos, video clips, pervy things I am selling, etc. All these things have their own place, of course, but I like being able to bring them all together.

I was supposed to be on adultwork right now, but my computer's being a little weird so I'm running checks to make sure it's fine. It's probably not a real issue, but Spybot S&D is currently up to around 800 THOUSAND (aaaaaaa) things to watch out for, so this scan is taking forever.

I started on AdultWork last week, and while I'm still new to it, I'm finding I like this place better than others I've worked. MFC is just way too high energy. I've tried lotion shows, strip shows, self-shibari shows, caramel, oil, showers, tip for boobs, tip for tits, playing with my cat,being hyper and super happy and active, and maaaaaaaaaan. Just not worth it. I have no idea how the girls at the top GOT there in the first place, aside from what's technically breaking the rules. I don't really care what they do, but given that I am determined to do the things that others won't, my integrity's sort of biting me on the ass there. I don't even know what my camscore is, but the last few times I've gone on I've made approximately 25c. lol? So I think it may not be too much longer until I call it a loss and put up banners that link to my site so people can see where else I am. ... Not that I shouldn't do that anyway, I guess. Maybe I'd be doing that if this virus check wasn't eating my whole CPU.

As far as the writing thing goes, I'm nowhere near done. a wonderful mystery does have a definite end, but it won't be for a while. To get myself in the habit of dirty writing again, I've got a long long long list of fetish prompts that I found as part of a contest on LiveJournal. ...I don't remember how I actually got to it (fanfiction?), but it's a contest where basically you have 50 fetishes you need to write for a particular pairing of a particular fandom, and you get to choose who. I'm pretty interested in seeing the results, but I partly decided to do it because I feel I need to stretch my writing boundaries. And don't worry, this won't be another of those things that has a definite number of things I'm supposed to do and I sort of peter off.... No, I'm not even going to start posting them until I have at least six done, and I'm choosing them randomly. My OCD won't let me post them up out of order, so that should do it :D

rain dance

2011-04-22T18:00:00.001-05:00

I could never have expected it when she told me.

Somehow, in all of her travels, it was almost inconceivable that she had yet to encounter something so.... fundamental! One could almost comprehend, given that her childhood had largely taken place in a desert. But.... to never have seen rain?

I slid open the glass door, stepping out into the warm air, heavy with moisture. I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of nature, the whiff of ozone.

"Nothing beats a summer storm..." I mused to myself as I padded back into the kitchen on bare feet, my primal analysis of the weather complete. Rain had always energized me, both physically and creatively. I was equally as likely to jog as attempt to catch the elusive bolts of lightning on film, or rarely, canvas.

"Hmm?" She sat at the table in her silk pajamas, a bright shade of blue that reminded me of magic. The messiness of her hair had been disguised as a messy bun, a pair of hairsticks she always had on her person holding it in place

"You know, the sharp bolts of lightning, the rolling blankets of thunder, the rain...." My eyebrows rose when she shrugged.

"I have yet to see the rain." My jaw dropped, and my mind struggled to comprehend a lifetime in the absence of rain. No relaxing Sundays drinking tea and reading, listening to the rain fall on the roof. No running outside in puddles, no mud, no lazy days spent beneath the blankets because your plans were called on account of rain.

I mumbled at her, wandering into a different room to do some thinking.

It turned out to be one of those storms where the sun shines despite the rain. I tested the warmth, and then I took her down to the courtyard. I told her she wasn’t allowed clothes, she’d just get wet anyway. I wanted to see the scattered light play on her dusky skin, to watch her frolic in the puddles. I want to see the chopsticks fall from her hair as it becomes soaked with too much water for them to bear its weight. To see the sun’s jealous glow as it kisses her skin, unable to touch her as the rain and I can.

She obediently stripped off the silks, and I watched closely as the fabric moved over her body as it traveled over skin to pool on the floor. She took up her pink umbrella as I took up the chair from the reading corner just inside. I liked to watch the rain and nature, so when I had this house built, I had it surrounding a large courtyard with large windows to enjoy the view. Today, the view would be all the more beautiful.

She stepped out tentatively at first, feeling the rain beneath her feet. At the first encounter of mud, her eyes lit up, and she lost all abandon. She laughed as she frolicked, encouraged by the warmth of the rain to toss away her umbrella. Somehow, she remained dry and upon realizing this, ran, somehow between the raindrops or in a place it wasn’t raining. She turned her smile to me before hopping up on a table, as warm and untouched by silver threads of life as she had been inside. She held her hand out, and laughed in surprise as she caught a drop of water. Just like that, the spell was broken, and no longer was she of another world, but this one, and she was soaked.

Lessons I've learned as a god-child

2011-03-25T18:21:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the death of one is the same as the death of many
This world is not for me, or for anyone here.
Humans don't like to consider 'after'
My problems, grand as they may be, are nothing. The world won't stop even when it feels it should
The earth is spinning faster than we can keep up, maybe even on purpose
I can't cry for myself, but I involuntarily cry for everyone else.
Being a god-child sucks
The people best suited for the jobs are never the ones who want it

2011-03-24T12:24:00.000-05:00

SO. Been superbusy lately. like D:

I hate being this busy. As some of you know, Master and I got ~~married~~ signed our ownership papers last week. Most of the week up until that was preparing for family visits, because my dad, his dad, two of his siblings, and his best friend came up.

Preparations consisted mostly of cleaning and butchering chickens. See, my dad apparently decided that since there are NO restaurants I can eat at nearby (save for a single Mongolian grill the next town over and a couple of fast food restaurants.... no.....?) that we got to prepare a wedding feast! Of chicken wings and beer. Yaaaaaaaaay.

So we bought three chickens and had a friend bring over one that was just hanging out in our freezer, and I cut off all the best bits (sorry veg[an/etarian]s) to make boneless wings. The pre-prep mostly took care of things, fortunately. We did most of the work on Monday, and my dad flew in Tuesday (and boy were his ...-shot in the face-)

So the actual wedding was on Wednesday. I use this term REALLY loosely, because it was a courtroom thing. Master had his suit, I got a dress after three weeks of deliberation and made a relatively hasty decision, and it was all okay. His dad decided to go slacks shopping at the last minute, though (??????) so the party ended up getting started late. Then he arrived, we said some stuff, ta-da~~~ marriage.

Then it was back to the house so we could finish making that food. And maaaaaaan, let me tell you, my dad gets WHINY when he's hungry.

"oh darling daughter, your dear old dad is hungr"

"sooooooooooooooooo hungr"

"staaaaaarrrrrrrrvvvveeeeeeeessssss"

HE GOT HIS IN THE SECOND BATCH, JUST FOR BEING A SNARK

Because I totally don't tolerate guilt trips from anyone :|

But we got everyone's favorite sauce from Buffalo Wild Wings, so everyone had what they loved, accompanied by ranch and good blue cheese dressing (I am a sucker for choices, especially made out of other animals)

BUT, I didn't butcher the fourth chicken when I did the other three, and that was my mistake. I had enough of everything for EVERYONE, save for myself. So I had to maul a whole chicken before I got to eat. :| When I sat down, GhostDad decided to take the opportunity to tell us how much shit we'd stepped in by not having a big wedding, blah-blah, ecetera, we should have cut him off at that point, really. (Again, don't tolerate guilt trips)

And YES, I KNOW most of Master's family would have rather we had a big wedding. But I'm not going to rely on wedding gifts to pay for an extravagant affair, and I have a hard enough time justifying it when it would be 95% Master's family.

See, I only have about 5 relatives I talk to. Only four, tops, would have been welcome. Master, on the other hand, has about 50 that I've met. There's a whooooole other large portion of family that he has that would want to come. And given that my dad is the type of traditional where the bride's father pays for the wedding..... no. Just, no. I'm not even physically capable of standing for an entire 'real' wedding ceremony, let alone for a reception or rehearsal. I guess Master decided we're having multiple receptions for his family since they live in multiple states, but I'm soooo not looking forward to it.

Other than the wedding itself, we went down to Chicago for that weekend, because Master wanted to see his mom because she couldn't make it.
....
okay
See, I had been told we would probably stay until Monday. Beh. Didn't really want to, but I could. We started planning to leave around 5 at night, because we'd have waited MOST of the day for her. Then, Sunday, we get word that she's actually not coming back until around 8 on Monday. Long story short, we stayed an extra day, because in the House Of Ghosts it is apparently illegal to leave on time, and then stuff started piling up, including me being pissed about our AS OF YET unconsummated marriage (because, come on. I don't want to go for a week without NORMALLY) and then we came home and I went on an alcoholic binge.

Fun stuff.

I've also been working on my camsite (almost theeeeeeeeeere), and have now linked it up with the rest of those links beneath the header. SO. You guys can buy vids and stuff :D I need to make more clips so I can open a clips4sale account, though, but 420 vids will probably remain independent

suddenly

2011-02-25T13:40:00.000-06:00

Sometimes we laid together at night, looking up at the clear, unending calm of the desert sky. Her fingers intertwined with mine as she told me about her travels. One day when she was a teenager, she had been called, tugged by some unknown drive to leave. She left the reservation on horseback, sending the wise beast home once she had reached the borders. That's how she left the Land of Ancestors, as she called it.

"How did you make enough money to survive?" I asked her one night beneath the stars.

She just gave a sort of little shrug. "I don't know. The things I've needed have always just sort of... fallen into my lap. I guess I get by on the kindness of strangers, though it's been too consistent for it just to be coincidence. I've never wanted for anything, never been hungry or thirsty."

I marveled at that. I knew that she didn't 'technically' have a home, but she wasn't exactly what you imagined when you thought 'homeless'. She seemed to be more at home in the world than anyone else, as though the whole world had been meant just for her to explore. It was amazing that a woman with no formal education could be so free in this day and age. I bet even the birds envied her. I know I did.

I didn't know what had brought her to me. I didn't know what kept her so happy and alive when many people in this world struggle from day-to-day. I didn't know why she was here, or why I was here, and I didn't know a damn thing.

Suddenly, I felt at peace.

2011-02-16T12:06:00.000-06:00

Master and I have a new bedframe! W(h)e got a really good tax refund this year, so he decided that we'd finally buy ourselves a frame for our mattress. We got a really nice dark walnut one, a Japanese style platform bed that uses tatami as a boxspring. It's a beautiful piece of furniture, requiring only five pieces of metal for assembly. It's VERY precisely made, and it interlocks together with practically no real effort. But it's all natural, no toxins, nothing, a completely zen bed. We each got a foot hurt once, but other than that is was very fun to put together. I liked sprawling on the tatami before we put the mattress on. But having that extra option for our bed is pretty awesome. It means if I want to do oilplay or something I can, since the tatami's much firmer than the mattress while not being painful (I can sit on my knees on it!). It'll also be fun for photoshoots o3o

So this camming thing is fun, but pretty hard work. I've mostly been working on iFriends until I make my quota (or until it slows down too much) and then hop over to MFC, where I perform as Lady_Spookfox. I like the social aspect of MFC, but it's way harder to get privates on there, which is how I make most of my money. I don't do a lot of things in free chat like a lot of girls do, I don't play with myself, strip on demand, or do penetration in free, but no one seems to realize I'm completely uninhibited in private (lol?). Biggest problem is, different sites are good at different times. And sometimes I'll go all night without making anything, but in the last hour I'll make my full quota. I'm glad I'm making money, but I don't like having to fret that I might not be. Speaking of which, Valentine's day I made chocolate in my lingerie! Not only did it not come out like chocolate, but no one watched, even though I've been letting people know since the start of February. -grump-

I'm working on setting up Spookfox.net better. In a few days there'll actually be an age filter up, and a mainpage that acts as a hub. I also need to set something up for camming, maybe another blogspot blog, since I can let you guys sort by tags, which'll make it a lot easier for accessing my pricing stuff/available videos (none yet, though!)

Also Master and I are getting married next month. -sips tea- Thus far, with the few people we've told, it is nearing the edge of clusterfuck. I suppose it will arrive there eventually, despite our laissez-faire efforts.

-doomed-

2011-01-29T12:56:00.000-06:00

That arrogant jerk. So what if he can make me cum? When your pet mate is multi-orgasmic, it's not exactly a difficult feat.

It barely takes his breath on the back of my neck, of course it won't be a challenge.

He won't tame me. He can't. The only thing that can tame me is my cunt, but he holds a lot of power over her. The way his strong hands stroke against me... It's not fair how readily she'll surrender me to him. Just because I submit doesn't mean I'm submissive.

I'm wild

like rain

I cannot be contained.

But just for you... I'll step into the cage and let you lock it. I'll let you pretend you can possess me.

It's a fun game, ne?

Living

2011-01-28T01:17:00.001-06:00

When I was young, in response to the common sense lessons I doled out to the adults, I was often told that things didn't work the way we wanted them to, and that I didn't know that because I hadn't really lived yet.

They were correct. I've spent a little more than a third of my life as a pet sex slave, been sheltered by secret owner and family alike, and yet... in living a relatively sheltered life, I manage to be more free than any of the people I remember from school. I'm misfortunate(rather than unfortunate), but obstinate, with an apparently astounding drive to survive.

Many people would call me lucky; I have an apartment that's nice and just two shortcomings from being perfect, a wonderful, sexy mate who can make me blush and scream in pleasure at the same time, two intelligent cats that get along, a few very close friends who make up my family, and most recently, a job I love that sets me free from many of the difficulties of modern life. I won't need to worry about commuting, or taking time off, even on a moment's notice. It encourages my body's transformation into what I wish she would be, and for me to take better care of myself.

I get to live out my dream of professional pervert, and my income is dependent on what I want it to be.

Things aren't perfect, but they're good.

2011-01-25T12:00:00.002-06:00

“The Meaning We Put Into Words: And I’m sorry if I haven’t written to you in a while. It’s just that life gets in the way of living. It’s just that my fingers were stuck together. It’s just that all the paper in the world caught fire.You’ll forgive me if I haven’t written in a while. It’s just that all the envelopes made love to dragonflies and now, we cannot bring them down. It’s just that time stopped ticking. It’s just that all the ink ran clear.My apologies if I haven’t written in a while. It’s just that words ran out of letters (these are the last in the bag). It’s just that language isn’t perfect. It’s just, me.”

- I Wrote This For You

Subhuman

2011-01-20T16:48:00.000-06:00

I used to have a friend, with whom I would talk about the strange natures of people, especially men. We'd laugh, and be exasperated, and throw our hands up with the neverending question of "Why would they DO that!?" and the answer would always be the same.

"Because they're people"

That same phrase later got me in trouble with that friend, who asserted that I thought myself above everyone else, something better than human, another priest(ess) who had succumbed to the 'holier than thou' train of thinking.

I was... surprised to say the least. In my view, I had done nothing to assert myself higher than anyone else. In fact, I barely made eye contact with anyone, even her. To me, the phrase gave me something to aspire to. One day, I might even be a Person, and capable of mistakes that make others shake their heads and others laugh. Instead, I am Not a Person, and strive, strive to find the endearing qualities in myself, and the parts of my Self that are Me, and separate them from the parts that Were Me and the parts That Were Others. To me, being subhuman meant hiding as many of my flaws as I could, because People were able to make mistakes, and I could never be so haughty to think myself as good as anyone else. Being Less than a Person always meant that my mistakes were unforgivable, are unforgivable, and that anything, ANYTHING, I do wrong will be held against me forever, beliefs reinforced by my parents, my peers, their parents, and the school system. Other people can make mistakes, and have them be forgotten. Other people make mistakes and are teased about it. Some take it well, some don't.

I cannot yet be a person, so I cannot make mistakes.

chocolate covered mystery

2010-12-31T20:17:00.001-06:00

Her name meant 'Chasing Butterflies', though pretty much everything that Nova meant, meant her.

She had been adopted by a Hopi couple, after being found wandering on the reservation as a small child. As a consequence, she never knew what flavor of Asian she was, though she was enamoured with the Ainu. For her, they were the perfect culture, a blend of Asia and indigenous peoples, many of whose designs resembled those found in Hopi culture. She felt their existence was a good analogy for hers, and like everything she said, I was inclined to agree.

Our first date was unlike any I've ever had. We took horses (hers) to the clifftop at twilight, so she could show me what she saw. She was more at ease over the land than the horses in the growing dark, their hesitant mutterings easily assuaged by the sound of her voice as she led us up the cliff. It was nearly flat at the top, and very grassy, so upon our dismount the horses were let free to graze. She gave me a large piece of chocolate and told me to eat it, so I did, making faces at the fibrous texture and her laughter.

"Tell me when you feel weird," she said.

I did.

She pushed me onto my back and stared down at me.. The candy outlined every curve of her breasts, every nerve, but when I reached up, my hands were knocked back down. "Not yet"

She undressed me so slowly it felt like ages, and then in the blink of an eye, was naked herself. "Close your eyes." I couldn't dare not listen to her, and I felt something wrap around my head. A blindfold. She straddled me again, her hands reaching down to take mine, and put them on her body.

I touched her, feeling the curves of her breasts and the flare of her hips. In my mind's eye I could see the hard muscle beneath the layer of softness, and felt my mouth part in an 'o'. And then suddenly I was inside her, more glorious muscles massaging me, milking me, wringing me dry. The pleasure was timeless, a limbo of meaning, and I came with a cry. At that exact moment, she pulled off the blindfold, the blinding light of orgasm paling in comparison to the effusive light of the stars as they exploded into existence from the dark. I don't know how long I laid there. I was trapped in the endless velvet of the night sky, of watching the stars and planets rotate so very slowly, yet perceptably. I could feel the earth breathing beneath me, its molten heart beating as it caused tiny pulses on the surface. I felt her heartbeat as she panted, and the horse's nickering. And I suddenly understood everything.

home, yessssssss (also important announcement at the bottom!)

2010-12-30T16:22:00.001-06:00

And then I had like 800 feeds to go through. Bah. I didn't take my computer with me over our holiday trip, so my internet time was severely crippled. Like me! I poked around on fetlife on Master's phone a little, though, so I wasn't as bored as I could have been, despite forgetting to grab my book (-siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh- how did that even HAPPEN).

I've been growing increasingly interested in vac beds lately. I love compression and encasement, and you can do BOTH at the same time, and even make it all artistic, and you can make weird positions and be suspended in them and eeeeee. So now I'm going crazy because in my RSS stream I have like 20 photos from Kink Engineering because they're having a sale ON VACBEDS that makes them 10% off, and I STILL can't afford one.

Master lost his job like the week before Christmas. He was fired because he had too many strikes against him from his first car, that unreliable shitheap. So he just had one (easily fixable) problem with the new car we just got (from his grandma for early Christmas!), and boom, out the door. Fortunately (FOR ONNNNCEEEE) the timing didn't completely blow chunks. In fact, it was almost ideal.

See, since working and school was so hard to do at the same time, he was going to drop the job and just take classes. (Turns out his mom wants him to do the opposite though. meh.) He was probably going to quit before the semester started (which is how this worked out), and now that we have a note of unemployment to make in our taxes, it'll be better taxwise?. So whatever, he's not working right now and has SO much free time (yaaaaaay role reversal), and he should totally make me a vac bed. Or help me make it. He's more techy, I just like to assemble things. I think it would be a fun project for us, especially given that now we have plenty of time until I work to do things.

RELATED: Master's preparing for his on-cam debut! I'll be doing shows for a couple of hours beforehand, (probably with him watching!) and towards the end of the night he'll fuck me senseless and he'll gladly be taking your suggestions! It'll happen this Saturday, January 1st, and I'll be camming from 8pm CST to start, and the big bang (hee) will probably happen around 11 or 12. Hope to see you there!

The State of the Moon-ion

2010-12-20T14:18:00.000-06:00

Firstoff, I hate December. It's the least productive month with the most panic and scrambling and rush. wtf. And it means everyone has to travel (I barely even have my own family, this isn't fair) to see people, and oh god I hate being forced into doing things. No one in my family has really ever been successful in getting me to do things I don't want, except traveling because %&*@#&*(%@!!!! So I am not a traveler-by-force. I hate being penned in by dates. D<

So recently, our household has undergone a huge flip. Master was fired due to excessive car trouble (laaame) a week ago, just as I was starting work. You can see me naked, btw. Just click ----> here <----, and you can see me do aaaaaaanything on this list that isn't a specific no. Ask about things that aren't on the list that aren't a no! I'll talk to you for a while for free, but I'm pay-for-play.

Master is also signing up, because there's been expressed interest in him doing things to me. So far I am enjoying it! It's a lot of fun, as I'm a natural flirt, and guys seem to like how super-shy yet unabashed I am. I haven't had any problems with anyone yet, and those that come in seem to want to stay for a while, so... I must be doing something right.

Re: My schooling. I had to drop out. -_- my mom and stepdad didn't fill out their taxes on time this year (almost last year o_O), so I didn't get ANY financial aid. Not even a LOAN. I had a little more than a month to go (with a break, even,) but since I'm empathic, I get superpanicky around finals just because everyone else is, and I've always been a terrible student and a good learner, but around big groups of people I get.... muddled. And between the panicking about finances, my inability to get a loan, trying to figure out what I could even DO for next semester, as I can't get a physical job, what with my handicap and all, I was doomed to fail. -_- shame, since i liked all these classes. (Geology, Japanese, GLBT studies).

Matters weren't really helped by the State, because they waited about 10 weeks to send out my ID, after telling me it would be six. APPARENTLY, because my birthday was a month after they were supposed to send it out, they just put my new age class on it (whoo, like that's why I wanted it) and held onto it until my birthday had passed. Had it not been for that, I would have been working over THREE months ago, and probably wouldn'tve had to quit school. Feh.

In unrelated news, my nipples are healed! Sort of tender, but that's my own fault -clumsy-

Surprise Goddess

2010-12-18T21:53:00.000-06:00

She was a wonderful mystery.

I met her on a beach, still wet from a plunge in the ocean.

Yes, plunge. I'd been taking a photo of the rise, the smooth side of the cliff crossing over part of the sun. It was a beautiful sight I'd stumbled on a few days ago, the sun emerging from the ocean as though timid, teasing the sky with hints of red and orange only to burst out and blind the world with its rays in a spectacle that overpowered the border between water and air. It was reminiscent of an ancient myth, and I'd sworn to keep a momento of it for myself.

I settled myself at the apex of a fragmented rock, maybe even one that had come from the cliff. I positioned my tripod just so, setting a timer to take photographs at a rate of 40 frames per second for 30 seconds before and after my almanac said sunrise would be. This would give me smooth animation of it, so I couldn't miss it.

As I looked through the lens while settling myself in, I noticed a dark figure at the top of the cliff, making weird motions. I zoomed in cautiously, not wanting to lose my shot entirely. Once I could see the shape a little better, I could tell it was a woman. No, she was more than feminine. She was divine, with ample curves in all the right places, waist-length hair, and an athletic physique that prevented me from worrying what she was doing up there, my confidence more than bolstered once I realized she was doing stretches.

As the clouds began to swell with color, I stayed entranced, following her with the lens. The time was nearing, and I zoomed out, forgetting about my shot. I watched with awe as just before dawn, she made a graceful dive down, down into the ocean. She stayed under for a moment, and when she surfaced, it was glorious.

She emerged exactly as the dawn broke, water fanning in all directions as she tossed her hair back, catching the sun to glitter, her entire being glowing gold in the light of the rising sun as it dyed the seas and sky in rich reds and purples as a testament to her greatness. I remained crouched, stunned.

I had to meet her

I had to know her

Because she had just changed everything.

I looked at the photos that had been taken. I had been too stunned to remember, or even hear, the timer taking its shots. For a moment I worried that it hadn't taken them, after all, I hadn't seen the shutter. But my investment in such a high-end device paid off; I had captured not only her glorious rise from the ocean, but the entire graceful descent, as well.

Oh, how delighted I was when I discovered that such strange and beautiful, nay, divine! things happened around her all the time!

I was completely dumbfounded by the time I got to her, allowing her time to swim back to the shore near the cliff. Everything was a blur as I stumbled in her direction, and I was suddenly swept up in the whirl-wind that I would later learn was named 'Nova'.

The Kunoichi

2010-12-13T13:02:00.000-06:00

I always knew my body would betray me.

Even in my youth, when we practiced the mating rituals, I had been sensitive. It aided in finding me a mate, all right, the strongest male with the most skilled hands, and later, I learned, body.

This mission had already kept me four weeks from my mate when I was captured. As is the way of things, when I was stripped of the form-fitting uniform, my captors wanted to see how capable I was. After two weeks, I stood no chance.

The first caress of my breast made my entire body stiffen, something that didn't go unnoticed. I flushed as they laughed, the leader twisting my nipple to make me squirm, four weeks of need bubbling immediately to the surface.

"Ha! This little cunt enjoys it!"

I reddened further, embarrassed by my own responsiveness. Their leader wasn't a complete idiot, however, and instead of simply tossing me to his lackeys or keeping me for himself, he thought of something brilliant.

They were going to use my own body against me, making me squirm in unrequited need until I broke down, telling them all I had learned and everything about where I was from, all in hopes of a solid fuck.

He had a length of rope brought to him, and with the aid of six men, bent me at the waist, putting my arms in a box-tie behind my knees. Then my feet were lashed to a short pole, leaving me on my chest with my ass in the air and no way out.

A cold hand stroked my cunt, making me jump and yelp fruitlessly. The hand came up to my face, smearing my juices on my face. I blushed, embarrassed at my predicament and the fact that I had gotten wet over it.

Something hard pressed against my slit, and I squirmed at the cold smoothness of the stone. It was soon withdrawn, however, only to enter my ass and comfortably come to rest. I was suddenly hoisted by my waist, and carried off to a different room.

Here, I was set upon a somewhat padded surface, arranged with all the precision of a new piece of furniture. I scowled into the face near mine, furious willing him to let me go. No such thing happened. Instead, he closed the door, leaving me in the dark.

I was woken up by the sound of footsteps near the door, only to be blinded when it opened.

The plug was abruptly out of my ass, startling me. While blinded, he had managed to sneak behind me. Perhaps I have become lax. That would explain the capture anyway.

A warmer smoothness than the last pressed against my cunt, making me shiver involuntarily. Only the head entered, and I found myself biting my lip to control myself. No further length came, only the very tip rubbing at my entrance until I wanted to scream.

The warmth pulled away.

And then the head of that cock entered my ass, painlessly, thanks to the plug. I heard him spit, and suddenly felt his knuckles against my cunt, around my ass, and my eyes widened as he began to stroke himself.

They came slowly at first, the vibration from his movements agonizingly slow against my ass, my cunt practically begging for his fingers as they brushed up against it. The strokes became harder, faster, until his hand was pounding against me, making my breath come in ragged pants. I couldn't help but moan when he slapped me, my ass tightening around him reflexively.

He toyed with me, digging his nails into sensitive spots to feel my reaction, urging him closer to the finish. I felt him twitch as he came inside me, filling me with his seed before his cock, and I groaned at the feeling, at the teasing, at the need, and longed for my mate.

His rapidly relaxing cock slid out of me, only to be replaced with the plug. He came around to my face, and patted my cheek.

"Hope you enjoy your stay here, wench. I sure will"

A little story

2010-12-11T16:37:00.003-06:00

Well, as an acknowledgment I haven't written in forever, but here's a small piece I wrote recently, enjoy.

The little bell gave a single jingle. Several seconds after the reverberations had finally left it’s small frame it gave out another. Then the hand that dwarfed the small thing set it down with nary a sound more and returned to it’s given limb’s namesake rest. He waited. She wouldn’t make him for too long, she dared not. But still he waited. He could afford to for all the world, but he wouldn’t let her have that luxury. No, to dash was her duty and her purpose if it so pleased him.

Small feet came pattering and a small corner of his lips upturned. He always bore a grin, and that set her off so very often. He liked that. So she came to a stop in front of him, small mouth parted with bated breaths, and posture straight for any attention. She fidgeted a little as she stood. She could wait now as he did, so he ignored her, letting her wait without an inkling of acknowledgement. He had started a new page in his book during his wait, and it would be finished before something new was begun.

He took his time, but when he looked up he unleashed the full devilish smile he had upon her. Nipples tightened and breath quickened as an immediate response, but she otherwise froze. His hands pushed down and so he rose from his seat, towering above the prey he started to circle. He didn’t reach out, but instead let his fingers barely brush against certain spots of bare skin. It wasn’t a touch so much as the barest contact to make her aware of each even more.

But after several circles and judging her satisfactorily, he stopped behind her, one hand reaching under and cupping between legs, feeling the barest moistness. As the hand cupped, the lips brushed one ear and let out the whisper, “Mine.” That was all it said and sufficient enough to bring a little gasp from those silent lips.

It did indeed please him, but he was feeling petty, so the hand let go of its’ prize and instead came ringing across both ass-cheeks with a sound thud. Now that brought a cry that he’d allow.

With that he started to circle again, his right hand coming down against her bare skin both soft and hard. Again and again it happened until she was panting, a small glistening between her legs giving sharp contrast to the reddish hue of much of her skin.

Now he chose to grab the iron collar about her neck, wrenching her down and letting her rest her arms against the seat of his chair. His hand did momentarily too, until it pulled upwards with a paddle between his hands. What goes up must come down, and with the full force of his swing so did the paddle against her rear.

WARNING: Randomness and ADD ahe

2010-12-09T13:07:00.001-06:00

I'm having some srs focus issues lately. I can think of a million and one topics I want to write about (breeding fantasies, my dad's reaction to finding out I was ordained two years after the fact, I want to write some fiction but oh god my attention span is so short, my schooling issues, etc), but can't manage to make myself focus on any of them for more than 20 minutes or so.

----

Since I can't go to school, I'm going crazy with all this spare time. I've been reading BUTTLOADZ of fanfiction. BUTTLOADZ. It's primarily InuYasha fanfiction. -hangs head in shame- But there's SO much good fanfiction out there! In fact, I got introduced to fanfiction by the legendary Turnabout is Fair Play[PG13 version]. It came out when I was 13, I think, and, unfinished due to health issues by the Author who totally promises to finish it someday, it's at 64 chapters, two of which aren't up at FF.net because at some point in the past they became total dicks about adult fanfiction, even though they used to have an entire SECTION for it, thus wiping out thousands and thousands of amazing fanfiction totally and without backup. o_O Told you I was having focus issues (sorry!)

ANYWAY, part of why I love this series is because there's such an overwhelming d/s element in the main characters. And the show has a huge spectrum of moments. It has a romance that crosses between Modern (c 1998) Japan with Sengoku Jidai (14-1600's). There's plenty of romance, dominance fights, feisty women, myths, betrayal, violence, comedy:

Tragically romantic deaths:

See?

The character interaction alone makes me lust for more media containing them! (Acceptable substitute: Ranma 1/2)

(Sorry, I lost my point for a while. I got stuck watching IY AMVs >_> -more shame-)

Anyway, there's a lot of moments in that fanfiction that are superhot.

Transformation from human to demon and in between
Mutual subjugation
General possessiveness omg
Wardrobe control
When his mate won't stop running off, InuYasha puts a spell on her that won't let her run any further than the range of his aura. He leashes her with a spell
She has a tattoo of his name, with ink made with his blood. He's literally inside her.

The tattoo has a spell that not only binds her to him, but allows him to subjugate her whenever he wishes (or says the wrong thing on accident)
He shows it off to her suitors to assert his claim(!)
There is no way to break the spell. She belongs to him for his entire supernatural lifespan

" “I thought you said I needed a bath.” He wrapped his arms around her and fitted her against him, stroking his hand through her hair, “I lied. You smell like me… I like it.” "
Inuyasha leaned down, sinking his fangs into her throat and making her suck in a sharp gasp. The vibration of the violent snarling made her tense, eyes wide at the sudden rush of blood and the lurch in her heartbeat. Her chest expanded as she held her breath, everything about him screaming at her to submit to him as the dominant and her hands fisted tight over his thighs while a faint whine escaped her in reflex.

Satisfied at the sound, he slowly released the hold, swiping his tongue up the column of her throat to soothe the seeping bites. He slid forward, scraping his fangs over her cheek, then up to nip her nose before dropping his head and biting down, hard and brief on her shoulder, “You’re in for a hard lesson if you try pushing right now, bitch. I’m not feeling especially forgiving. Understood?” '
' "While it is rather flattering to know that you think so highly of my skills, koi, I don't have control of the moon just yet."'

oh god do I really have to go on? Because my attention span just sort of....

---

Thanksgiving was mostly enjoyable!

Master made his mom PROMISE to be nice, so she did, and she was, and we had a peaceable time at his parents' house, and nothing went wrong (aside from Master telling me not to bring a meat thermometer when we were going to a vegetarian's house). In faaaact, Master's maternal grandmother gave us a new(condition) car! Superexcitement. This one even has all its windows! (The last one was missing the driver's side window.) This car is most decidedly not a deathtrap!

Although, I do frequently worry about his family's reaction to me. His mom always complains that I'm negative, which I'm wondering if she thinks that way because I use a lot of self-deprecating humor? (Past a certain point of misfortune, it's just hilariously stupid, but I can see that not all people might see that the same way) Also, practically everybody I've ever met has gotten enjoyment at my expense, so I just sort of....default to it. Also it makes people think you're humble (in moderation??)! Which I sort of am... (I think I am, but I've been everywhere between here and hell, and know that overall I'm worth less than the algae that converts CO₂ into our species NOT dying a terrible death... But Master says I'm prideful. I unno what that's about). And also, after we got the car, people kept asking if I was excited. I really really was, but I worry that I'm too out of practice (emotionally) to show expressions on my face. What with expressions being a (useless) weakness growing up.

But his family so outclasses me T_T. They're all rich, and well-educated, and are CEO's and mathematicians and spacecraft engineers and artists and.... I come from a line of soldiers, slaves, and farmers. My genealogy isn't even well-documented. Last time I asked my dad about our ancestry, he was all "uuuuh. LA-area?". Which means that even if I could track some information down, if they'd lived in the area long enough, there wouldn't be records about where they were before, and I've no way to track them down. And my abuela (86?) doesn't even have a rudimentary education. Honestly, if not for my abuelo (American-born and legally white), I don't know how she would have gotten by. Worst math skills. I know I could do some through my mom's side, but I'm more genetically similar to my dad, so it's more important that I know his, given that I have the same (and moaaaar) physical differences from my mom (except for being male).

Also, his paternal grandfather is not doing well. He's got Parkinsons, and only seemed to be able to remember Master's name half the time, at best. It's depressing, and I don't just mean watching him.

He's unhappy. He knows he has fond memories and people he loves, but who elude him. For him it's like waking up from a dream, memories of it fading as you try and shoo the grogginess away. Being around the combination of Master, GhostDad, Ghost the Elder, and his mate was....miserable. Everyone's doing a good job of putting up a happy face, and while they generally ARE pretty happy, there was an undercurrent of regret and nostalgia (although once the baby books came out, it was pretty much a rapid, with giant stones of pain and hope and the comfort from knowing that in the end there is a kind and loving god and this is just another trial we have to pass to get into His good graces, and after this it's only Paradise) the entire time. I was honestly relieved that we left early, because while I was happy to help tend to Ghost the Elder, and help him, and converse with him, and make him laugh (and he called me a troublemaker! Hrump.), it was....very wearing. I had a minor breakdown when we were there, because it wormed through my defenses, because I was stupid and unprepared for it. I like to think I reigned it all in, but given the differences in perception, for all I know they think I just completely lost it.

---

I've been working on a few side projects! Now there's four other subdomains other than this one, and the links are all at the top of the page beneath the .... blog title thingy.

lust is exactly what it sounds like. It is a wankblog. There is domination and submission and gifs of fucking and collars and hands fisted in hair and biting and scratching, and EVERYTHING that ought to be included in the day.

love is also what it sounds like. It's stuff that makes me feel a way that can only be depicted in photographs, not words.

inspire leads you to divine design, a collection of allllllllll sorts of neat and interesting and unusual things, ranging from packaging to clothing to household appliances.

and

wisdom will lead you to PsyloSight, a collection of things you ought to know/meditate on/will make you think

----

sorry guys, but that's the limit of my patience for now! I'll make sure to start posting at least weekly again! also I am active on twitter and fetlife, so if you have something you want me to talk about in specific (PROMPTS FOR ADULTS), that's a good way to let me know

ja~

2010-12-03T10:43:00.000-06:00

He makes me whimper.

That's the only thing that's important.

He's arrogant, crude, difficult, and has no attention span. Until he lands his eyes on me. Then all that matters is the sounds he draws from me. Language escapes me, and I can communicate only in gasps and whimpers. I'm not a submissive person, but when he possesses me, he does it fully. He has the capability to reduce me to a begging puddle, injecting me not only with his cock, but with the drug that is him.

He calls me insatiable, when I wantonly nuzzle his lap, whimpering in a plead for attention. He grins when the whimpers are of pain that hurts too much for me to want to allow it but I'll take it anyway because it comes from him. When the whimpers turn to moans and back again, only to fade into a pillow, he knows he has won, because he has stolen words from me.

And that is all that matters.

2010-11-17T15:03:00.000-06:00

His fist connected with my jaw, sending my head to the side. I ducked beneath the strike that followed, whirling about to crack him solidly in the shin with my foot. The stream of curses that erupted made me laugh, his pain fueling me. Before I found someone to submit to, this is what I did. Picking fights with men, to see if any could get the better of me. Like the ROTC Commander, those that could got exactly what they deserved. I don't have a submissive spirit; I want to dominate everyone that can't control me. It wasn't always about strength. It was more often about speed than ruthlessness. Most people were afraid to hurt me, but they didn't realize that you'll never win if you're not eyeing the kill.

But not him. He caught me off-guard with an outstretched hand while I laughed, grabbing my throat and shoving me back into the wall. But that only made me mad. His reach was further than mine, and I had grown up fighting opponents with near-equal reach. How his torso remained just out of reach of my sharp swipes infuriated me, and I bit at the arm holding my neck. He gave a squeeze, and with his free arm grabbed my wrists. He knows how that makes me mad, that he can subdue me so easily. How all it takes for him is the chance to grab me, and how none of my tactics to seek my release work. The hand with my wrists moved them over my head, holding them against the wall behind me. Once he was satisfied with how he'd moved me, he let go of my throat, freeing me to add a growl to my glower.

It made him laugh, how I was trapped there, furious and predatory, and he stepped closer. He towered over me like that, gloating at the difference in our heights before he lowered his head and nipped at my throat, effectively cutting off my growl. The bite hardened until I gave an involuntary whimper, more of pain than of submission. He seemed aware of its reason, and lifted me up higher using my wrists, so that I was no longer touching the ground.

He took a step forward, an entire saunter in that small bit of space. His body pressed against mine, and he used his newly-freed hand to put my legs around his waist. He tugged at the sarong, worn more as a tunic than as a skirt, and smirked when it fell away, leaving me bare. I snapped my teeth at him, and I saw the smolder of his anger in his eyes when he glared at me. His jeans came down with a tug, and in an instant he was pressing himself against me, rubbing his length against my clit. He laughed at the sharp inhale of air he brought forth, only to stifle us both as he kissed me fiercely upon the lips.

I hadn't been planning on cooperation, but all thoughts of rebellion flew away at that kiss. He gave a possessive growl, and I melted, pulling free to place the lightest of nips on his collarbone.

I'll be good

His teeth sank hard into my shoulder, making me finally whimper in submission.

Damn right, wench

I was rewarded with more thrusting and biting, whimpering as he held me back by my hair to prevent me from biting him at all. Another hungry kiss crashed against my mouth, and I whimpered as he drew out my tongue, using his teeth to hold the barbell that interrupted smooth flesh. This is for me

He released my tongue, nuzzling further down as he found my nipples, nipping at each one so that I could feel the barbell between the teeth. These are mine.

With a single stroke, I found him inside me, a primal claim on all that was his. You're mine, he says, not with words but with grunts and thrusts that feel as though he's trying to mount me to the wall. I can only whimper in agreement, each stroke putting me further back into my place. Each orgasm a root taking hold. I come screaming, repeatedly, and he thrusts harder, trying to wring as many from me as he can. To remind me why I belong to him.

It feels like days later when he finally pulls out of me, and through the haze I barely register the cock shoved in my mouth, the cum pumped into it. I can only swallow, and curl up at his feet when he's finished, exhausted.

I'll be good.

2010-11-10T10:32:00.000-06:00

It's hard to be sexy when there's stress about. For me, the entirety of November and December is nothing short of hell. I haven't written specifically about this before, but it's hard to avoid. For you non-USAmericans, USAmerica has come up with the idea to push our Thanksgiving to a month before Christmas, give or take. We expect our families to come from wherever it is they may be, to visit with the entirety of their family over four days in November, and then come back and do it all over again a month later. So in November and December, the whole country is financially crippled. Before Thanksgiving is when many people do their shopping, but most wait until 'Black Friday'. That's the day after Thanksgiving, when you're supposed to get up to go shopping at 4am to get good deals on a limited number of things, that you WILL have to fight other people for.

It IS dangerous. You have to have a SAFETY PLAN. For shopping! People have died in the line of duty, and not even soldiers. The entire country goes apeshit, with people fighting over stuffed animals, starting riots that cause stores to shut down, and it's so bad, that the city of Dartmouth, Maine has had to pass an ordinance to keep people in line.

And this isn't even the only problem many people will deal with. For millions of Americans, dealing with family in this high a capacity is simply too much. I, unfortunately, am one of them.

Master's mom.... well, I don't specifically know what her problem is with me. He thinks it's that she thinks I manipulate him (I've worn a collar since the day I met her, so I don't understand that), and I just think she flat-out hates me. See, being an empath, I get a pretty decent idea of what people feel. For most people, I just shove it aside and block it out. But for Master's mom.... she is an intense person. There is no just blocking her out. She has stormed out of our house, leaving an emotional wake that made me physically ill and vomiting uncontrollably, and she has an aura of control, self-entitlement, and contempt that rings her entire being.

She's excluded me from family things, insulted me and my relationship with Master, and made me cry at least THRICE for each day we've been there. She's held us hostage, insisted that we find our own way to pay for the things that she doesn't give us a choice about doing, and last year, when she had Christmas dinner catered, there was only a single thing I could eat, because she ordered a vegetarian extravaganza. She's ignored and even mocked my food allergies and dietary requirements, because "I'm just not trying hard enough." Last year, she treated me so poorly I swore to never stay in her house again.

This year, we made arrangements so that we wouldn't have to. We'll be staying with Keegan's aunt, in her vaguely Escherian house. It's huge. I get lost EVERY time I go there. There are SO MANY STAIRS. But they're nice to me. They empathise with me, having grown up with her and her.... personality.

However, she has a problem with this. Not just with us staying with them over her, but that the rest of her family likes me. They'll take me aside and joke with me, reminding me not to let her get to me, or rescuing me if need be.

She called last night, mad that we had opted to stay with her family instead of her. Master's been composing a long talk with her that's necessary, and while it could potentially fix things, I'm afraid it will make them worse. Part of this talk will probably contain the information that when we marry(or married, as the case may be), both of our names will be changed. He will change his last name to his father's, removing the hyphenation, as will I. Maybe some good will come of this; Perhaps she will see her mistakes and opt to fix them. Or, perhaps, she will become angry with us and try to absolve all blame from herself. But no one's fooled; You can't punch someone in the face and pretend that your bleeding knuckles are coincidental.

Do you guys have judgemental inlaws? How do you deal with it?

The Cat Goddess

2010-10-25T17:21:00.000-05:00

I have been serving my gods a long time. Well, not long in their history, but long for this life-cycle's anyway. I don't think I've written too much about what I am pressed to do, because a good portion of the time, I don't know what I'm being forced to do. All too often, the hands of my gods is a sort of nudge, feeling almost like a whim that you cannot deny. For the most part, they are amicable; There are no war-gods here.

The first god I was aware of was Bast. While I loved to study ancient societies, one summer, Egypt was what called to me. I was confused, because I had never had a draw to it. But at night, I began to have feverish dreams of lazing about, of watching scribes teach younger boys to write in clay with sticks, a language more pictures than letters. Texas was hot, but even in my dreams the sun bore down on me, incense of catnip and honey filling my senses. I was aware of her hunger, her instincts, and soon they began to leak out into my waking life. For a lifetime I had spoken to cats and had them speak back, but what was happening to me was nothing beyond amazing; My reflexes grew quickly enough to outpace my awareness of them, and I would often find myself holding something that had been thrown or tossed at me, having barely registered that it had been thrown.

Despite the pain, I often took to the trees. I loved to be in them, climbing sinuously around branches at a height that often left my younger friends crying, afraid something bad would happen. I only fell once, and no one was more surprised than I at how quickly I fell, and how much faster I reacted.

Suddenly I was on my toes on the ground, standing with a digitigrade stance that would never completely leave me. As I looked up to where I fell, I could remember how I moved, how my weaker left hand had reached to grab a branch just right, how my right foot hooked under the branch below me with the left foot above, so that in a controlled face-first fall, I could arch my back around to let my right arm grab the same, and fall the last five inches to the ground.

Later that summer, my dad and I went to the museum. This in itself wasn't unusual; I loved to learn, and my dad loved to let me. But this time, inside the familiar doors was the carefully (though not carefully enough) bleached smell of death. A mummy had come to Houston, though that wasn't what drew me.

The carved onyx face of a cat looked back at me from glass, gilded necklace and eyes ignoring the twelve thousand years that had passed between its birth and mine. The statue I first saw was small, not much bigger than the mummified cat that had been near it. But that didn't do anything to lessen its hold on me, and I begged for the purchase of a similar one in the gift shop. It was one of my many reasonable requests, and so my father deigned to grant it. But the green and black and gold statue was important, somehow, and having it helped me feel at peace. I no longer have the statue bought then, unfortunately. It fell to the hands of bullies equally willing to punish a foreign god as a weirdo. Bast has not left my life since then, but she still holds a great amount of sway; She is by far the best at calling out my fox.

To be continued...

KEYS.

2010-10-13T07:41:00.000-05:00

I have always had a thing about keys. Primarily, losing them. Or thinking I lost them. These days, between an hour to a half hour before I have to go, I'll start looking for my key. First around my spot, then the nearby tables and floor, our room, and then the kitchen. Usually I find it right on that little shelf next to the door. The logical place. The place where, if I was coming or going, that would be where I put my key.

I'm generally a pretty logical person.

But for some reason, my key isn't there until I look everywhere else, occasionally working myself up into a panic; Even if I leave the door unlocked, my roommate will leave after, and he will lock it. And not be back for oh god I don't even know how long. Sometimes it's two hours, sometimes it's all daaay. So I'd be exhausted, emotionally and foodily drained, dehydrated, and sunsick before he came home. So I've got good motivation to keep track of it.

I just wish I didn't get completely neurotic for two hours before I leave (or sometimes even, the night before)

o3o

2010-10-11T07:30:00.000-05:00

I know I know! I'm still writing smut, I promise! I've got a few blog posts that need some.... polishing. Going to school and having to clean up after two men (there is a FULL bottle of beer on the coffee table from last night!!) doesn't leave a whole lot of.... useable time. It leaves me frustratingly busy, but it's all in all a good thing, seeing as we have so much shit piling up we don't know what to do with. And all you can really do with shit is use it as fuel, so it's powering a full cleaning of the house and a happier submersion into slavery (I will tell you guys about that soon!). It is also pretty hard to write porn in little snippets, because when I return to it later, I just want to scrap the whole thing. In the meantime, here is a thing I stole from Ashley Starr!

What was your first Halloween costume?

=.= I was a pink bunny. In a full-body suit. ~_~

What costume did you hate?

=.= I was a pink bunny. In a full-body suit. ~_~

What are you going to be this year?

Master and I are going as Team Rocket!

What was your most expensive costume?

Once, when I was a vampire, I wore the dress I also wore to the Naval Ball.

What was your favorite costume?

I never really had a good enough one to have a favorite. >>

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating?

uuuh. I wasn't allowed after 12, and the inherent lameness of everyone else involved just sort of shooed me away. I used to mostly go do magic and scare the shit out of people (because no one expects a corpse lying in the bushes)

M&Ms or Skittles?

Skittles :3

Berry or Tropical Flavored candies?

THIS IS NOT A DECISION IT IS TORTURE

White, Milk, or Dark Chocolate?

Milk or dark, white chocolate contains no cocoa and therefore isn't really chocolate.

Sour or Sweet?

oh god why can't I have both

Chewy or Crunchy?

Crunchy, mostly.

Cloddhoppers or Whoppers?

What is a cloddhopper? I am pretty sure that is an insult. And Whoppers are chalky. (sorry, Master D:)

Chocolate-covered: Raisins or Peanuts?

Chocolate covered raisins fo' sho.

Starburst or Gobstoppers?

I'll take the Starburst if you take all the banana and orange ones.

Bubble gum or lollipops?

Tootsie Roll Pops. o3o Crunchy and licky with juuuust enough give.

NERDS or Pop Rocks?

.....Pop rocks. Stop shouting your biases at me.

What was the first horror movie you saw?

Pet Semetary. 'nuff said.

What was the last horror movie you saw?

eeeeeh. Probably SawV, but that's really more of a psychothriller.

Zombies or Aliens?

The supernatural range between!

Ghosts or Vampires?

I live with a ghost, but I am a vampire. Hm.

What is the goriest movie you have seen?

I don't even know

Who is scarier: The Ring girl or The Exorcist girl?

The Ring girl made me shudder. The Exorcist girl made me nauseous.

Who is Scarier: The Saw clown or the Chucky doll?

The Saw clown, by virtue of its laughter.

What did you like better: Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of The Dark?

Goosebumps, but probably only because I wasn't allowed television for the LONGEST time.

What do you prefer: Resident Evil or Silent Hill?

Resident Evil!

What was the scariest video game you have played?

Half-Life. I hate games that startle D:

What are you doing for Halloween this year?

Up in the cities there's a Halloween play party that we've really been wanting to go to. But it likely won't happen. So I dunno what we would do instead.

What is your biggest pet peeve about trick-or-treaters?

That there are kids showing up on my doorstep!

Do you like going to the fun theme haunted houses that are designed to try to scare the pants off of you?

I actually used to help run one of these! In ROTC, every year we went to the town's firehouse where they set up a huge haunted house. The last time I did it, they overpowered whatever it was that was making the fog so all the volunteers almost died, because we were in it for like three hours before anyone noticed, because the guests all went through relatively quickly. I guess no one said anything until the walls were completely obscured.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to Someone I Wish Would Forgive Me

2010-10-05T18:19:00.000-05:00

Dear self

Calm the fuck down. None of this is your fault, and there's nothing you could have done about it. I know, that so much has happened that we had ZERO control over, and that it sometimes seems absurd how much of it wasn't your fault. I know sometimes it feels like shoving off the blame, but sometimes there really ISN'T any blame on your shoulders. Just because your family kept telling you that you were just projecting, doesn't mean that they weren't doing the same.

It's okay to like the pain

It's okay to give in

Someday, I hope I don't have to fight with myself about what I do and don't love. Someday, I hope to be able to proudly admit the things I enjoy, even love, to myself without the shadow of abuse hanging over my head. I want to be able to enjoy things that scare me because I know I'll enjoy them.

I'm sorry I can't do that yet, but you'll get there sooner than you expect. After all, you've made pretty good progress for five years.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to Someone Deceased

2010-10-05T18:10:00.000-05:00

Seth,

I wish I knew what happened to you. I'm pretty sure the Puppetmaster had something to do with it, because of how he used to tease me about your disappearance. I hope he didn't make you suffer. And I especially hope you didn't learn firsthand what I had to endure.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to Someone I Don't Talk To Enough

2010-10-05T18:08:00.001-05:00

Hi, Gods.

I'm sorry.

I've been a terrible priestess lately. I've not offered alms, or even prayer for a while, except when I really need it. I mean, one of you is The Way Things Are and Will Be, so sometimes it feels kind of absurd to pray to you, 天之御中主神. But I am learning your language for you, learning to speak sideways when I've always felt to be speaking backwards. I've not been doing much spiritually, but I've been learning for you, all I can, because that is part of my job, right?

Bast, I am especially sorry to you. I have few of my knives, anymore, and haven't gotten a new one in years, nor have I offered you anything shiny or sweet. I shall honor you as I shall when I can, goddess, with honey and mint, and feathers and bells, and all the dark, shiny stones you love.

Diana, I know I honor you for the flesh I eat every day, but I feel it isn't enough. I don't hunt, but I do know how to do all the tasks that accompany it. Someday I hope to do you proud, even if I'm not as independent as you are.

Thank you for giving me all that you have, Gods, especially those that are my patrons. I am trying to do better, and that you've all forgiven me my follies means a lot. <3

2010-10-05T14:22:00.000-05:00

so yaaaaaay, my kitty came back a few days ago! Immediately it was declared that he's to wear his collar at all times, instead of just when we LET him out. He escaped outside today anyway so bah.

I am in the process of getting what I need together to start camming! I need a job, and it's really the only one I can do right now where I can take my illnesses, schooling, and M/s into account, and I(we?) can make a fair amount of money doing it. We've been talking about me doing it for a few months now, but Life kept interfering, which is a shame with what I could have made by now.

So if any of you want to see me on a particular camsite, now's the time to speak up!

Eden Day!

2010-10-02T16:27:00.000-05:00

Shameless plugging ahead, continue at your own risk
So about a billion years ago, I came across some blog that had a sex toy review. I am pretty sure I arrived there via Fleshbot, but I couldn't say for sure. Either way, the concept lit up in my brain as 'huh. Wouldn't that be a neat exchange?' and it turns out it is. A while ago, I signed up for EdenFantasys, because while I've heard a lot of bad about them, I've also heard a lot of good. I was interested in exploring the good (with free tote bag? neat!) to see what's kept a huge gathering of followers.

Lately, I've been enjoying their EdenPoints program. I know it's a small companion to the rest of the site, but it makes me squee a little bit when I search for something I like and get rewarded for it. It reminds me a little of the website where I met Master, albeit a much more fun (and adult!) one. Every 1000 points equals roughly $10 US that you receive in the form of a gift card. Being a lusty college student, I'm always looking for good deals, and I know that when it comes to sex toys, you should try all you can!

._.

2010-09-30T13:22:00.000-05:00

I know I've been pretty quiet lately. Sorry

But last Thursday, my kitty went missing. The big one, the hunter. I'm not worried about him having gotten hit by a car. But the only reason he doesn't come home is if he's stuck. We haven't found him, which means that someone else probably did. And it also means that they're keeping him inside for now, and haven't called Animal Control or the Humane Society. I'm terrified I won't get him back (everyone loves him), and I've been frantically putting out ads and covering the area in flyers, like crazy, so at least within the week, there will be no way that whoever has him doesn't know we're looking for him.

Needless to say, I haven't really been myself for the past week. And all this worry has been making me feel very unsexy, though very masochistic.

I'll be back when I can. Sorry to keep you guys waiting

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to someone I wish I could meet

2010-09-23T17:38:00.000-05:00

So.

Erm.
(I don't know how to do this ._.')

Hi Mollena!

I think you're pretty neat!
Actually, I think you're everything I'd love to have in a friend, and I think we'd get along pretty awesomely!

So, uh, first chance I have, you can expect an introduction!

(I am trying very hard not to nerd, I am sorry!)

2010-09-20T05:31:00.000-05:00

trust me to overprepare for things. I looked at the sticky note on my Mac, doublechecking to see that all the tools I needed were at my side. I'd planned for the better part of the day, writing down and crossing off things that sounded like fun. For the first step, I washed down a painkiller with Coke, and refilled my slave mug with water before downing it and refilling. The Coke was to ensure it kicked in quickly, and the water to make sure I didn't dehydrate.

Next I changed my collars, removing the grey ring of steel to replace with my favorite collar of black and green leather. I sighed at the whisper of lambskin on my neck, fastening the thick buckle. Before I could do anything else, though, I needed to dress. A long sheath in various hues of blues slipped over my hips, and silk covered my torso, loose enough to free my breasts if I chose. Next, it was time for the corset. It had been cheap, but even so was well worth the money. It was a simple off-the-rack underbust, but the measurements had fit mine exactly. The cloth of the corset hissed upon meeting the silk, but it quieted once I had it settled over me. I sighed into the framework of steel, feeling the support as the painkiller began to kick in. I had become quickly adept at lacing myself, settling into the process like a long-loved habit. As I gradually tightened it from the ends, I could feel it press against me, a complimentary restraint. As I tugged the waist smaller, the thinner waist strengthened me, rather than constrained me. A quick bow at the back allowed me to hold it in place until the next tightening.

In the meanwhile, I had yet to eat and medicate, two tasks that many would have done before lacing. The thin shaft of glass glittered as I lifted it to my lips, inhaling as deeply as I could. I caught a full breath of smoke, and tightened the corset as I exhaled swirling grey wisps into the sunlight.

The snack was not light. It could probably have been considered more of a meal, egg noodles with hamburger meat and cheese. But I would need the protein, both for the painkiller and the exercise, and I knew I was going to forget if I put it off.

I grabbed my cuffs, a custom job in blue and green to match my collar. One went on each wrist, and I tugged my hair into a tight ponytail. At this point, there were just a few minutes left until he got out of class. I cleared off the bed, and masturbated in anticipation. As I clipped the cuffs to my collar, I lay back on the bed, cunt still exposed. I had just a few minutes to register that the painkiller was about to knock me out, and suddenly, I was out.

Genderbent (part 1)

2010-09-15T05:26:00.000-05:00

I've always had a lot of difficulty with being a girl. I was a 'tomboy' from a very early age, and spent equally as much time catching frogs as painting my nails. The former was a question of fun, but the latter was entirely based on my personal aesthetics. I was almost solely a shorts type of dude, given the constricting and uncomfortable nature of much of girls' clothing. Later on, I was almost forced into pants-wearing by my injuries; Those who have been teased about themselves find it much easier to deal with some physical discomfort in exchange for less mocking.

I think I made it to around 12 when it occurred to me that there was no reason to wear girls' clothing. It was ill-fitting, awkward, and boys didn't have to have their asscrack showing when they bent over (Though unfortunately, that seems to have changed. I hate it, especially given its origins*). So over the period of a summer, I replaced most of my clothes with boy's clothes. Shorts were replaced with military-style cargo pants and some different jeans, though I had a lot of difficulty finding my size. My pink-tinged sneakers (AUGH) were replaced by men's combat boots, which I did manage to find in my size (5US in Men's). By all mannerisms and temperaments, at the age of 13 I could pass as a boy save for my long hair. I loved it, and had been growing it out for most of my life, but ever since Andrea Yates, a local with a vaguely similar appearance to me (round glasses, long dark hair, that faraway look commonplace to people with depression...), I was teased mercilessly even for that. I held off on cutting it, though, until I went to highschool.

When I began ROTC, I saw quickly that something would have to be done about my hair. Military dress states that She-bodied people must put their hair up, in a bun or other, nonintrusive updo over which a cover can be fit. My hair, just down to my mid-back, made it clear that that would not happen. The length was too heavy to do it without visible support, so cutting it was an easy decision.

Overnight, I lost a couple feet of hair, and gained some new reactions. By now, the lesbian rumors were in full swing, and it was made clear that my harassment would continue**. It took everyone a few days to realize my hair was NOT, in fact, in a ponytail, it was gone completely.

In ROTC, I was not treated like a girl. That was before I had lost my strength, and amongst soldiers, strength is respected. My only limitation at the time was running, so otherwise I could keep up with the men, and made good comrades of some of them. Being one of only two girls in our platoon helped; most students in our school thought ROTC was too....'hardcore' for them. I was finally acknowledged as a boy, and suddenly all sorts of people were mistaking me as male! I mean, the insults and such coming at me were mostly gendered, but my school was full of ignorant fucks. They might have made fun of me, but I didn't see any of them with a harem of besotted shadows.

(TBC)

*prison rapees

**for several years, it had been an established pact amongst my peers, that if I was hot by the time we got to highschool, they'd let me be. I was, in fact, not left alone, but they had ceased breaking bones by then.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to an Internet friend

2010-09-09T05:06:00.000-05:00

Dear Whole Internet,

As a whole, you're pretty fucked up. But you've introduced me to some amazing people. Between goatse and lemonparty, there's a whole world I used never to know about. But after almost 13 solid years on the internet (!?), you've got some sites I love most. I don't have many internet friends, and I've recently lost the one most important to me. But above all, the Internet has been my friend that whole time, and while it may have annoyed me for my self, it has also allowed me to explore it.

Blogger, you're one of these. Thank you for giving me and a million other people a place to vent, to speak when the words can't be spoken aloud.

Twitter, you too. You're teaching me to be able to talk to myself again, and I never thought I'd be so grateful for it. It's nice to be able to talk to yourself and have other people chime in, without it meaning I'm crazy. I've met some pretty awesome people through Twitter, and there are at least ten million more awesome people left to discover.

Archive.org. Fuck yes. So many of the places I used to visit went down, but who backed them up? Archive.org. Thanks for also hosting the oldasfuck versions of Iridescent Dreams.

LibraryThing, I cannot express in words how grateful I am to you. Thanks to you, it's really easy to keep track of books I have, books I want, and books I've lost. You're an AMAZING tool for a book nerd like me, and I hope you stay around for a very long while.

FETLIFE. You are probably the only site here I visit frequently. And I visit you waaaay more often than Facebook*. You've let me connect with thousands of people, all over the world, with similar interests, and done the same for countless other pervs with no one to talk to.

I feel I owe you a debt, Internet. You've helped me fight off my demons and improve myself, even when I was barely capable of doing so. I've got at least ten solid years of information from you, and you keep growing every day. While my current intake of information is around 4GB daily, I know it's nothing compared to what you could do. Thank you Internet, you've saved my life more than once.

Much love,
HouseWench

*In fact, sometimes when I am trying to go to facebook, I will inadvertently go to FL!

2010-09-07T09:35:00.001-05:00

Growing up in the South, many of the movies I watched in my youth depicted American slavery, wealthy white men and women in control of their (not particularly) subservient black slaves. I don't remember any of these movies that I watched, having been busy being enthralled by images of sulky black women serving their masters, unhappy but nonetheless obedient. It didn't help that I couldn'tve been older than five, and any other details surely would have slipped my mind at that age. The times when the slaves looked happy entranced me even more, watching a slender woman with skin as dark as my hair curtsey politely as she brought her master a pitcher of cold, southern tea. As appealing as these clips were to me, I never failed to notice the vast difference in skin color, and though I was too young to understand it, I wondered why paler people were never depicted in chains.

The first time I asked how much slaves cost, I got the strangest, most blank look in response. "Honey, slavery's been illegal since the 1860's." I was appalled. "Why," I asked, confused that we would give up such things as beautiful people kept by our side to do our bidding, to fetch us things that needed fetching, to act as human pets. I was even more appalled by the knowledge that, in America, it was almost exclusively Black People (everyone in The South says such things in capital letters, you see) who had been slaves, and they had been treated terribly. It angered me that people would hold other people captive and abuse them and each of their descendants in the name of so vague a cause as Racism and Fear. By then, I'd already developed my idea of 'proper' slavery.

It turns out, that it is more or less the same as what my Aztecatl ancestors did. Slavery was personal, revolving around an individual. While you may have been a slave, your children weren't. YOU were the slave, and they were as free as you had once been. You could even have possessions, including other slaves! On the death of the owner, superior slaves were freed and those that were inferior to them were passed as inheritance.

But it had nothing to do with race. If you were a prisoner of war or a criminal, you might be given to those who were wronged, if you were not killed outright. (A serial killer's life in exchange for a year of good crops? FUCK YEAH.) A murderer might be given to the widow of the man he killed, a rapist given to the woman he had raped. You could also be sold into slavery, by your self! You would be able to spend what you had earned from your sale before you entered your service, and you could also win your freedom.

As I grew up, I was disappointed to learn that this is not the way of things anymore. But, oh, how this country could have been improved with Aztecatl slavery! Can you imagine the various ways in which we could humiliate our criminals? With our modern technologies, even violent criminals could be kept in line! Can't you just see a score of murderers working to fix our streets? Or rapists being forced into being personal shoppers and maids for the women they harmed?

I guess racial memory leaves in the oddest bits...

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to a past love

2010-08-30T07:23:00.000-05:00

Hey Luke.

I've missed you a lot. We used to hang out all the time, and remember how I used to buy Warhammer 40k pieces for you from Britain, because you didn't have a credit card? That was pretty fun. I liked ordering tiny figurines that I had no idea about, and receiving a package full of painstakingly painted warriors. Always Dark Eldar. I STILL don't know what that means, even though Master's brother is into it, too.

Speaking of war, I'm surprised at how we turned out. We thought for sure that I would be the soldier, though looking back on it, I'm not really sure what else you would have done. I remember how you teased me every Thursday about my Navy uniform, because despite the fact that I was always fighting, you didn't expect me to want to be a soldier. I was disappointed when my legs started going downhill, because I knew I would never be able to. The fact that our country is fighting a war that I don't believe in helped lessen the sting, at least. Fortunately, with the emergence of war video games, I can live vicariously and pretend, at least for a little bit, that I'm doing something I love. You'd be proud to watch me play.

You know, now that I think about it, I never really even thought we had a future. At best I had hoped for friends with benefits, but these days I know my lack of genuine expectations means things won't happen. I wasn't surprised by the distance you kept me at, and I was even okay with it. The important thing was that I had a friend who didn't see me as a girl. You treated me like a boy, and I loved it. Girls aren't praised for their speed, for their combat ability. For the most part, I wasn't praised for anything. But you congratulated me when I took a fence with one hand. Every effort I put forth, you saw. You were the first person to make me realize my racial memory, and the first to make me realize that it was okay that I wasn't a girl, even though I had a girl body.

Thanks for everything. I am glad we are still friends, even if we can't be as close as we were.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to a Stranger

2010-08-30T07:15:00.000-05:00

Hi stranger?

How are you? I'm pretty good. I'm sorry, but I'm not very good at small talk. You think I would be, since I don't like talking about myself. No reason why, it just feels awkward. I hope life is treating you well. I hope you have someone that laughs at your stupid jokes, and someone who'll listen. I hope you wake up in the morning and realize beyond all the telephone poles and the buildings, that it's really pretty outside. Enjoy the sunlight, even though it makes you sweat. I hope that cake you're eating is tasty. Nothing is worse than a cake that tastes like ashes.

(I told you I was bad at small talk.)

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to my Dreams

2010-08-27T22:36:00.001-05:00

-----

I had no dreams.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to my Siblings

2010-08-27T22:32:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry. I'm sorry you guys are stuck there. I'm sorry that you're both brilliant and talented, but only one parent can see that. I'm sorry they don't know how to deal with you, J. One of the reasons I've always suggested they give you up for adoption would be because then there would be a better chance of someone who could help you like you need. You're petty, and a jerk, but I know that's not all you. I think you would have been better off with a better dad. I know I would have. Because they refused to admit someone else could do a better job, you're going to be messed up for life. You're 15, and have no idea how to function around people. You can't control your emotions, because you never had anyone that could teach you. I've always wondered what your fate would be.

You're easily smart and well-read enough to learn to control yourself some, but you never have. Unfortunately, I'll never feel comfortable giving you help. You treated me no better than Mom did in the beginning, and part of that was your own fault. After I moved back in, I was the favorite. Instantly. Instead of doing everything you could to piss them off, you should have imitated my actions. (except the running away part, but I can't officially condone that, especially what with your lack of survival skills)

Please don't be like your dad. You have a temper worse than his, and I know you have trouble accepting no. I hope you can find a woman who can teach you how to live. I hope you don't kill her or terrorize her like you have been doing to the rest of the people who had to live with you.

S, you can pass for normal, and that's more than the rest of us can say. You'll have no problem doing whatever it is you want, but you're limited by the people around you. You're the one that has the highest likelihood of going to college, even though J's smarter. You have better grades than I did at your age, and I'm glad you escaped relatively unscathed by the emotional problems the rest of us have. If you prove to be struggling under them like I was, I'll be glad to help you. You've done a good job of keeping yourself vigilant and away, and I'll help you get out if/when I can.

Lady Goodwyfe

2010-08-24T22:02:00.001-05:00

So a waaaaaaaay back at the beginning of ~~November~~ last November (fuck, have I really been working on this post for a year?), on Jezebel there was this post on what it means to be a good wife. Now, Master and I aren't married yet, but I've seen many marriages and seen the many things that makes them fail, or hold them together. I don't want us to end up hating each other over those simple little tiny things. So I made my own list, and posted it, and the general consensus was that it was either (a) creepy (what?), or (b) something to strive for. And while it's not quite either of those things, it is a list of things that everyone should meditate on every now and then.

Laugh with him - This is important. He's gonna tell some really crappy jokes from time to time, and so are you. But you know what? A bunch of them will be inappropriately hilarious. Instead of getting offended all of the time, (and yes, there are times when it's okay to be offended) if it's funny, LAUGH AT IT.

Have awesome sex - I realize this isn't a possibility for everyone. And no, having awesome sex isn't a REQUIREMENT. BUT, no one can refute that a healthy sex life makes most couples happier. And even if it's not awesome, enjoy how close it makes the two of you, the intimacy! I'm not saying that you have to HAVE to have sex. I'm not saying you're a terrible wife if you're not. I say this, because this was one of the complaints, though frankly, I wouldn't want a mate I wouldn't want to...erm...mate.

Rejoice in his touch - THIS ONE. It got a LOT of hate. Because apparently there are many women in marriages that don't want to be touched by their husband. I get that, but, honestly? Your marriage isn't a happy one most likely, and I can't help fix an already unhappy marriage. But this is up here, partly because it must be HELL being with someone you used to love, who you can't stand touching you. There's no comfort in a hug from your mate, a kiss on the back of the neck as they walk past you, no surprise hugs. I couldn't stand a relationship where I wasn't touched, just as I couldn't stand a relationship where no one is touching me. It's comfort. It's human nature. We need it, we need that specific type of closeness, many of us. And the other scenario is that you just don't like being touched period. In which case, I understand that, but come on. You're still seeking out hugs from time to time.

Keep the flaws he loves - They'll make him smile, and make you all the more endearing to him, unless they are habits that make you angry.

Lose habits you hate - Being mad at yourself all the time is not good. If you're just going to be annoyed that you had that cigarette, why have it? I mean besides the cravings. So you're going to go through withdrawal. Shut up and deal with it, for him. How many times has he shut up and put up with you when you didn't deserve it? The same thing goes for laziness, and....erm...You guys think of some other habits.

Love him - Because you should. Don't force yourself into a marriage just for money. At least fall in love with the guy. He deserves it as much as you do, and no one likes to be used. Conversely, don't turn on him for the things he cannot control. You love him because he is himself, not because he has control of the entire universe (unless he does, in which case could I borrow him for a few years?).

Be loyal - Like I said, we're going for a good marriage here. Ideally, you should stick to your bloody arrangement. Got a triad? Cool, good luck, and I am not being sarcastic. One of you sees a pro-domme, and the other sees a prostitute? Whatever they are, it doesn't matter. Not sticking to this is one of the fastest way to lose your mate's trust. If something's not working, talk about it. Rework your arrangement. DON'T stay miserable.

Stay smart - The opposite of this used to be common advice, actually. I always hated it. The old vintage magazines say at best you should keep yourself educated about world affairs to provide interesting conversation, but feh. I spend more than 10 hours a day sharpening various aspects of my mind, learning about anywhere from 10-500 topics a day. While this amount of information consumption isn't necessary (is it even healthy?) for most people, the fact remains that I can have a lengthy, enjoyable conversation with most anyone with regards to a topic I find interesting. And sometimes Master's surprised with what I know, which makes me proud, and I hope it makes him feel the same way. And -knowing- that you know these things? A nice boost in self-esteem when you can't think of anything else.

Love his flaws - I do not mean ignore alcoholism, tolerate abuse, or anything of that ilk. I mean that there are going to be some things that he does that will NEVER change. You might as well figure out what these are early and figure out your workaround. Him and dishes together make me go apeshit. But feh. I just (occasionally) clean up a few of his. I'm not going to do all of them unless he tells me to, but I don't mind easing his burden some, and it makes me happy to do so. And some of those flaws will be endearing. Like him locking himself out three times in one day because he can't remember his keys. Hilarious, right?

Love his voice - Part of this is, believe it or not, biological. If you're biologically compatible, you should love his. If it's a deep voice, you should love it even more when you're ovulating. A voice you love will be more likely to persuade you AND turn you on. Science aside, do you reaallly want to wake up to someone whose voice grates against your soul?

Know how to make sure things get done - Something that isn't emphasized enough in kids while they're growing up is that if they don't do something, no one else will. See that dish in the sink that's been there for a week? Know how you've been reminding him and it hasn't happened? Suck it up and do the fucking dish. Because he's already thought about it several times and made the conscious decision not to do so. And so have you. You have walked past that dish at least twenty times without doing it. Is that really worth the sense of entitlement?

Be gross sometimes - It makes boys giggle. Laughter is good. Some of my favorite moments with friends have been with a container of eggdrop soup, a beer, and belches that sounded as though they came from a dragon.

Don't lie - :|

Praise! - Everyone needs this. Girls need it tonnes, and I am sure boys need it just as much. I am genuinely elated when he does something without asking, especially if it makes my life easier. He doesn't skimp on the praise when I deserve it, and neither does he.

impaled

2010-08-24T18:27:00.001-05:00

8.14.10

I was nervous. After all, I was allowed to be, right? That it was so quiet, despite how many people were in the building, didn't entirely help. The man who came to the desk was bald and pierced, though seemed meeker than most people who modify themselves the same way.

"So you're here to get your nipples pierced... Will you be getting barbells or rings?" he boomed, in a voice that made me wonder if he was going to launch into an informative speech about the history of shoving sharp objects through the sensitive bits of one's flesh. Barbells, I answer, my own voice sounding foreign in its certainty. I don't feel that certain. I sign the waiver with a flourish, probably one of the last documents I will sign with this name.

He reached beneath the counter and took out a tray, flipping a selection of jewelry up partway from the display to make it stand out. I was instructed to choose from those standing up, and picked the curved barbells, a small glass gem reflecting shinily in the ball on each side. They were small, a size beneath that of my tongue ring. He takes them out, and places them on a waiver, sending a younger-looking boy back with them to the woman who will pierce me.

We're directed to sit in the unreasonably comfortable yet firm couches, and the piercer shows up in what could not have even been five minutes. The three of us pass what appears to be a small family, and pass behind a screen at the back.

Off comes my shirt, and the freshly autoclaved jewelry lies on a tray. Beside it lay only two implements, a pair of forceps, and a sharp needle. I wince at it, never having managed to be quite comfortable around needles. It's one thing to be getting shots or anesthesia, but this is voluntary, and much much bigger! (-whimper-) A marker puts a purple dot on each side of each nipple, and once I'm satisfied with the placement, we are almost done. A sanitizing swab makes a thorough sweep of my nipple, hardening it in the process.

Forceps clamp my right nipple, and as they tighten, I'm painfully aware of each sharp tooth pressing into my skin. It hurts, but not as much as the abrupt pain of the monster-sized needle pressing into my captive skin. There's a brief moment of respite as it reaches the canal, but soon I can feel it impaling the other half of the nipple. My breaths come in slow, deep hisses that catch as she slides the barbell in in place of the needle, though the fumbling she does while trying to screw on the end is worse, far worse than that of the piercing. What feels like an hour takes only a few seconds, and soon she is at the other side, while I stare at the new adornment.

The process is repeated, and while no less painful, the endorphins have kicked in. It's a rougher pain than before, managing to wrest a strangled cry from my otherwise silent mouth. Even with my eyes closed, I can see what she's doing through my body, feeling the light graze of the threads of the headless barbell (when will everyone switch to external threading?) as it replaces the cold/hot smoothness of the needle. Screwing the ball on goes much more smoothly, only the slightest tug to my now-sore flesh.

I open my eyes to find everything is how I left it, except my reflection. Two sparkling glass gems wink at me from each nipple, a bright and shining reminder of what I am for and where I belong. I pull my shirt on gingerly over my breasts, mindful of the wounds. Master's hand catches mine and pulls me back toward the front of the building, where I nod in a daze at the woman who prattles out care instructions as money is pressed into her hand. I listen, but I won't need them. My gods, my Master, and my body wanted these.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to my Mother

2010-08-18T14:54:00.000-05:00

first off mom, let me say

I don't know if I will ever forgive you. Out of all of the abortions NOT to have, you chose the wrong one.

I understand that at one point you loved my dad. But the way you've been treating him ever since you stopped? That's low. It's fucking despicable. But you neglected to tell me that YOU lied to him, too. Frankly, I wouldn't want to spend a whole lot of time around a girl (NOT A WOMAN, a GIRL) who lied to me about her age, got pregnant, refused to take HER PART in being responsible, treated my kid like a pet, and talked shit about me all the while.

It was NEVER that he didn't want to see me or be a father to me. It's that he couldn't bear to see you 'mother' me! It drove him crazy to have a woman he loved be so out of reach, treating the permanent connection between them like a decoration. But you weren't willing to let him have me, to raise me. You thought he wouldn't be a good father.

And that's just what happened up until I was THREE!

That story that you think is so funny, about how when you brought D home, I always used to run crying from him because he terrified me, just shows what kind of naïve and selfish of a person you really were. You still think it's funny, even though you can't have possibly forgotten what it was like when I lived with you. It's STILL that way, except instead of screaming at and demeaning and constantly hitting and emotionally and intellectually abusing ME, it's now your son. The son you wanted. The son he begged you for. What kind of a mother would do that? What mother from a previous life of abuse would wish that on her child? Didn't you run from your father? Didn't you hate him too? I know what your dad did was worse, but what you let D do is no less damagin.

I left when I was EIGHT, mom. I moved out. Because I couldn't stand you, and my brother, and I certainly couldn't stand D. Leaving then was one of the best decisions I ever made. That day, when I came home from a sleepover with a friend, after you KIDNAPPED ME and forced me to live with you, I knew nothing had changed.

I came in the door, and what was waiting for me? Him! His yelling! You sat there and let him tell me how fucking ungrateful I was, when I said I'd be 'back in the morning' and returned at 12:10PM, and how much of a fucking liar I was and how I was never on time and never would be. You let him tell me I was irresponsible and immature and how I hadn't cleaned my cat's litter box all week, when the reality was that I cleaned it every day when I got home from school, every night before bed, and every morning when I got up again. I even vaccuumed EACH DAY after school, because I know how he's so fucking allergic to cats (and I am too, but my allergies never really meant a damn thing to you guys; you two kept smoking away like a bloody train, and didn't even consider going outside to poison yourselves) and have the ears and nose of a goddamn bloodhound with a hatred of noise and intrusion. Before that day, the haze of cigarette smoke that covered everything made it seem like an unpleasant dream or a bad memory.

But that day the smoke thickened, and I saw that despite how much I wanted it to be a dream, how much it felt like a nightmare, it was real. And I knew I had no choice but to leave, because I was going to die within the year if I stayed there. But once I had the choice to go, you two wouldn't let me. You begged me to stay an extra month, during which we were going to do so many family things together! In which I would have a going-away party, where my AMAZING accomplishment of graduating early on a near-whim would be recognized! The 'I-got-a-4.0-while-studying-and-supporting-my-family-and-you-can't-get-an-A-on-a-single-goddamn-paper' monster would finally be slain!

But no. Even that last month was the same. There was no party. No celebration. You guys talked about how proud you were of me, which was fine! Until you continued 'our baby's all grown up'. 'I'm so proud to have raised you'. Et fucking cetera.

No mom.

You don't get to take credit for that.

What I am was ENGINEERED.

By the gods, myself, and other people. I am a product of being beaten into being harder than diamond, and what I wished other people were like. I'm a puppet of the gods that has been steered into situations that teach me, above all else, to never become that. I'm what everyone else couldn't handle being. And that really doesn't have a damn thing to do with you.

2010-08-12T22:40:00.000-05:00

I had gotten off relatively easy. I had already decided not to make trouble for the day, so I was bound relatively comfortably, a single shackle connecting me to a bedpost. He had allowed me to be dressed, so a simple tunic covered me, protecting me from the slight bite of the winter air.

"Akane." He only had to say the one word, and the lithe woman reading in a chair stood, wriggling out of her uniform. She knelt to pick it up, shaking it in the air before she began to fold it.

An abrupt smack knocked the skirt from her hands, but she didn't look shocked. A second blow came to the face, but she gave no indication that it had happened. Instead, she approached him, clad in a set of astonishingly girly (no, not feminine, girly) baby-pink lingerie. He grabbed for the center of the bra, ripping it off of her chest with a loud snap that caught me off guard. Her reflexes were tuned sharply, and he chuckled as she resisted the impulse to cover herself.

Her breasts were beautiful, large but with the perkiness you would expect from a sixteen-year old (not that she was much older than that), and the nipple of each skewered with a large ring that sparkled like fresh snow. He never missed an opportunity to free them; After all, they were proof that she belonged to him of her own choice, and he loved that a woman so strong as she wanted to put herself beneath him.

He kissed each gently before he scraped his teeth over them, making her sigh as her knees buckled. He grabbed a long length of rope; hojojutsu was his specialty. He paced around her for a moment. His motions were sleek and predatory, and then an elbow went into the back of her knees. As she fell, he caught her at the sternum, hands moving in a blur to bind her knees together. He began to let her into a controlled fall, coiling strategically around her hands so that each wrist was tied to its opposite elbow. He pressed her against the floor, making minor adjustments here and there.

She sat on her knees, leaning forward and putting her weight also on her arms. He straightened out her back, laying a tapered candle on the surface to test how level she was. A couple of nudges had him satisfied, and he stood over her to admire his handiwork. While not completely immobilized, she was stuck how he wished her, and that seemed to be good enough.

He knelt to her level, before he ripped the pink lace off of her ass. His tongue swept the sweat off of the roundness of her ass before he sank his teeth into the tender flesh. A stifled squeal escaped her mouth. His hands moved to part her ass cheeks, examining the dark rosy pucker. He licked a finger, scraping the back of his nail against the hole before entering her with that finger. The groan that came forth was unhindered, but grew disappointed as he withdrew it.

He lifted the taper, licking the end to insert it into her ass. She squirmed as the roundness of the base filled her, and he pressed it in a few inches more. The flick of the lighter ignited the wick in an abrupt sparkle, sending the wax at the tip into a slow spiral to the bottom.

"Kitten." I jumped as he addressed me, leaping to my feet.

"Bring me my box of stationary."

I had no choice but to obey, skittering fearfully towards the nightstand where he kept it. I returned quickly, offering it to him in my chained hand. It was snatched from my hand without him even looking at me, opening the laquered box to remove an expensive-looking pen, and a pad of paper. He set the paper onto Akane's back as he began lecturing her on whatever it was she had done to earn this punishment.

"Now, Akane, tell me how sorry you are."

A flood of words spewed forth, formal apologies that almost sounded practiced. As the wax dripped down the taper, she grew more flustered. The polite speech she had started with began to falter, the heat from her ass interrupting her midway through her 'de gozara's and her 'desu ka's. He wrote what she spoke, occasionally twisting the candle to give him better light. Each time he did so, she paused, only to receive a hard smack on the ass that caused her to flinch and spill more wax across her skin.

Her apology felt like it went on for days, and with each flinch, she disrupted his writing. This only made him start over, tossing page after page aside in a crumpled heap of his growing frustration. After a while he simply became angry, throwing his writing set aside before yanking the still-burning candle from her ass. He poured the fresh wax across her backside, causing whimpers as it dripped onto her ass, down her laced cunt, along her thighs. Her cries only made him hard, and with one swift motion, he yanked down his signature pants (a forest-green silk hakama) and thrust himself into her ass. The cries became screams, and tears streamed down her cheeks at the harsh treatment. He was the kind to take eternity to finish, and as he drew close, her muscles tensed and writhed in the ropes. His pumps grew harder, until suddenly, he withdrew with a groan, shoving his cock into her sobbing mouth. His hand fisted in her beautiful black hair, making her whimper around his dick as he fucked her mouth with no less mercy than he had her ass.

He came down her throat with a roar, slapping her face even as he pulsed within her. His breath came in ragged pants, barely letting him do anything more than cut her free from the rope. He collapsed back against the bed as she came toward me with a key, a stunning vision of freedom and slavery.

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to my Crush

2010-08-11T12:45:00.000-05:00

Thank you for being famous, so I can look at you. (That is pretty much all I can say without it being babble)

[Jung Ji-hoon (Rain/Bi)]

30 Days of Truth - A Letter to my BestFriend

2010-08-09T10:59:00.000-05:00

Hay Ghost

I know you've been my Master for what sometimes feels like forever, but I am writing to you as my friend, because you're still the best one I've had. I'm so glad you've stuck with me so long, because you've seen how few have. I've had quite a few friends, though most of them were Shadows. But I never needed that from you. From the very beginning, I knew there was....something different that would occur between us, but I never expected it to end up this way. But looking back, I know that there's no other way it could have ended.

You were the first person to believe me, or at least say you did. By the time I came out and said something to you, I'd already been rejected as false by most of the people I'd met. It took a lot of courage to say anything to you, and I've never regretted it. I will admit, that I've suspected that you didn't believe me, but I don't know if it was truth, or if what everyone else had been saying all that time was just echoing in my head.

I'll admit, that sometimes you were kind of a douchey friend. Leaving your phone with your friends so they could entertain me while you ditched us both to go grab something wasn't the thing that bothered me most, but the fact that your friends told me what they thought of me (which wasn't very pleasant, frankly) made me wonder if you didn't feel the same as them. I know you loved me, but you seemed so...flighty at first, taking me for granted. I think that was the only time I regretted that we moved past friendship.

But since then, it has been better than I've ever expected. We do fight a fair amount, but it's almost always over mundane things, and while I may be perpetually irritated that you weren't properly taught to pick up after yourself, I'm okay with that.

Many couples who've been together this long have already started drifting apart, but whenever I feel I need time away from you, you always drag me back with a hug, because even if I think I need to be alone, you know me well enough not to let me.

I love you, Ghost. I'll never let us stop being friends.

community

2010-08-06T09:34:00.001-05:00

As many of you know, I'm not active in my local scene. Why? Well, for one, there isn't one, which I guess would make it kind of difficult. For another, my social anxieties tend to flare up around too many people.

But the biggest reason, is that I do not feel I will be accepted. Ageism is prevalent in the community, and it's no secret. That's the reason there are groups like TNG, Minnesota Kinky Youth (MIN-KY), and Under 35. But it isn't the ageism itself I am worried about.

I am worried about not being believed.

I am pretty secure in my sexuality. I have a good idea of what gets me off, and an even better idea of things I'd like to do. I've already had a lot done to me, so that divide's pretty clear (don't spit on me, don't pee on me, I will shove that diaper down your throat if you try to make me soil it, etc) vs (spank me, tie me, hurt me, make me feel fulfilled.) Seems like a pretty straight crease in the paper, eh? My RabbitHole profile divides fetishes up neatly into boxes, of which there is a longer 'Yes' box than 'no', which pretty much ends at watersports, gaping, and vore.

But I know people hate other people who are comfortable with themselves, especially in matters of sexuality. I've heard a few times, that I am 'too young' to know what I want, what I like. That I have yet to struggle up the hill of age, facing partners that didn't like what I could become, confusion, and probably self-harm. I know Master's mom has wrinkled her nose at my collar, despite her prevalence in the scene. I heard a derogatory remark (though I heard the tone more than what she said, as we were drinking and also I was distracted by something), and then something about 'you treat her too well! You treat her like a pet, and there's no reason to'. Master seemed to ruffle some at this, grabbing me by my collar's ring (which is when I began to pay attention again), and saying "what do you think this means?"
She gave him sort of a flat look that implied he was dumb (which began to ruffle me up enough to sober some) and said, very clearly "that doesn't mean anything."

what?

"..that doesn't mean anything"

EXCUSE ME?

Who the fuck are you to come into my home and tell me my relationship, my needs, and my upbringing are all invalid?

The worst part, is that she knows some of my history. She knows I was treated like the slime on other people's boots before most of my peers could read. She knows that I am broken and damaged, through no fault of my own, and was forged this way. She knows I suffered to learn obedience, and that while I may sometimes be physically useless, I will do ALL I CAN to make him happy. And she just said it didn't mean anything.

If someone with an idea of what I've suffered can say such a thing, what could someone who didn't? I know the words of uneducated children can be mocking and cruel and eviscerating, but what about the people who've had hundreds of thousands of dollars of education? Bullying sucks at any age, at any level of literacy, but being older means sharper words. More accurate words. I've been on the receiving end enough to know that they will throw them into you without a care, and that even those trained to deal with such a thing are more than happy to help dish it out. In Master's mom's case? Yeah, it's widely acknowledged that she's a bully. She has a reputation for being mean and difficult, and hurting other people because they interfere with her fun.

If there is one person, there are many.

I have faced accusations of lying about my past, even from people that knew me for years, including family. What kind of a person would lie about these things?! But with a large majority of people, if it is incredible, it is truly in-credible, that is the end of it. That person will never be believed, and will always be mocked. And with such a terrible truth, there are going to be a lot of people who don't want to believe it.

Because of what happened to me, I'm left in the dark when other people talk about their childhood. When some of my friends were riding shoppingcarts down hills, I was probably being hit for being disobedient. When some of my friends were playing hide-and-seek, I was hiding to avoid him. While some of you were going about your workweek, crying about breakups and laughing with friends over lunch, I was crying because a sister slave died.

Died.

Dead.

I was there, that almost happened to me, and it could have, and for all I know would have, except the person I loved without trust (except I trusted him to kill me one day) abandoned me because all my hard work, everything I strove for, everything I did to make him happy was meaningless

completely meaningless

and in some ways, that was kind of an epiphany for me. Even the people that made me, parents, grandparents, and Puppetmaster alike, they made me and did not want me.

Could you live with someone telling you that everything would be worthless? That the future you fought so desperately to protect would never happen? That's how it feels, every time someone gives me a look of disbelief after I find the courage to confide in them. As it is, it really only gets brought up when The Rape Jokes Really Need To Stop Before I Burst Into Tears And Hide And Everyone Finds Out THAT Way.

I read the blogs of several people who are active in the community, and it sort of leaves this longing. That idea of 'there is a place where people like me can go', except the problem is that I don't know if anyone there is like me. Being raised in slavery is fodder for porn novels where the heroine/fuckee is a nymph of unsurpassable beauty and sexual prowess, not for real life where the reality would only create a damaged person with a constant need to fuck but the weight of undeserved pleasure. People are skeptical of the existence of Leather Houses, and I know some of those exist. But I get to hear about events and places where people can spank in public, fuck in public, watch a woman get suspended and lit on fire, dehumanize their mates and turn them into furniture.

And all I can think is

'I need to go to there'

because outside of those places, where will I find what I need? I have a lot of difficulty with assimilation as it is and can't really hide my subservient nature (and it has been noticed ABOUT TOWN APPARENTLY) around those whom it should be hidden. After all, I was raised this way. I never thought sex itself was bad, I never thought any of the acts I did were disgusting. Some were degrading, yes, but that wasn't a bad thing. For me, there are no taboos, especially when it comes to your own body. Just because I don't want to do something (scaaaaaat) doesn't necessarily make it taboo, it makes it A Thing Of Which I Am Not Fond (And Probably Have An OCD Thing About [scaaaaaat] ).

Sometimes I fear this world is truly not for me

2010-08-02T22:27:00.000-05:00

He had an errand to run (again). I had already begun my work, laying the first layer of plastic wrap over my head, cutting short at the nose, when he left. By the time he had returned, I had finished laying several layers of duct tape over the original plastic and corrected several minor errors. The painkiller had long since kicked in, so I lay almost-asleep on the bed, the top half of my head covered. He put a pair of earplugs in my hand, so I put them in, while the mysterious rustling sounds he made faded out along with my vision. A roundness pressed against my lips, and startled, I opened them. He buckled the gag behind my head, feeling the base of the halfhood and deciding he found it satisfactory. His hands guided me, pulling me up to hold a position he found satisfactory. I felt cuffs wrap around my wrists, and waited for the ones on my ankles.

They never came. Instead my hands were linked together, in front of me. After pushing me over like this, he decided something, and moved them behind my back. Suddenly there was a warmth on my breast, and lips worked viciously at my nipple. It vanished as I began to melt into it, and he manipulated me enough to strip off my clothes. I was pressed onto my back again, and the hardness of his head pushed mine aside enough to bite at that always-tender flesh of my neck. I whimpered behind the gag, and for a brief moment, he left me alone.

At the edge of the world, I heard a familiar jingle. I protested and flailed beneath him (when did he sit on me?), but it was too late. The leather pulled snug about my neck, and I gave a happy sigh I hadn't realized I'd been holding as he managed to catch me. I was not only impressed that he found the collar, but that he had used the knowledge he had to catch me successfully; No small feat when the prey enjoys dancing just out of reach of your teeth as she laughs.

Suddenly he was inside me, and I could feel the groan coming from both of us. My hips were quickly hoisted, slamming against his with all the fury of a hurricane, each thrust putting me deeper into my submission.

At one point, we stopped for a break. He gave me water, and allowed me to take off my hood and earplugs. Once those requirements were satisfied, I was on my knees, being pulled back against him by my leash (what? when did that happen?). His hands sought my breasts, and his teeth my neck. He kept the same fervor as before, a fire hot enough to mold another person by. With every touch and stroke, I cried into him, until he pulled my head back by the hair to keep me from hiding his face as I came. My latest orgasm managed to pull one from him as well, letting my cunt throb even as his cock filled my mouth with seed

2010-08-02T09:13:00.000-05:00

Those of you that added me on PSN: :333333

Yesterday sucked rocks. We went to an estate sale, which is something I've always enjoyed doing. I mean, with the empathy, it can get to be a bit much, all the people around you excited at this and that that they found. But I love picking up the metal objects a person's used over their life, infused with their intent and their feelings. There was a beautiful silver comb, brush, and mirror set which was a little out of our immediate price range (just the barest touch told me it was real, though), echoing with all the emotions of a woman who is excited for the evening. A pair of beautiful purple gloves laid next to it, and though I am not really the kind of person that shade of purple (a lavender-periwinkle colour), I tried them on, and they fit! They were beautiful gloves that fit perfectly and were clearly well-made (confirmed by the tag), and I wish well to whomever ends up buying them. Most of the women we saw there, actually, I've seen around town before, and no one else in town seems to have the same size hands as me. We also found a lovely Haviland tea set, which we intend on going back to see if it's there today. I got a cheese server, a cast iron mezzaluna, a sewing machine, and an ancient milk bottle. It might seem an odd mix of things, but all of them were needed (well, the milk bottle is needed for organization, anyway).

But of course, the first time in forever that Master trusted me to leave the house with him, I came across one of those...instances? (I am not a particularly weak person, there are just several specific, but frequently occurring instances that can overwhelm me.)

We left the basement, and came right out into the sunlight. I started to feel a little dizzy at the temperature change, but I hoped it wasn't anything. When it started to strengthen, though, I pushed the glass things in my hands at Master and asked for my drink, because I needed to go sit down. I recall taking one step, and then the cooooonstant feel of falling. I had been walking towards the pole of a tent with the intention of using it to hold myself up, but I guess I didn't make it there. Instead, I fell forward, hitting my neck, collarbone, and jaw on it, and then I guess crumpled.

How these instances usually go (with regards to a temperature change over 15º, anyway) is I lose control of my body. My eyes are open, but I cannot see. I can hear, but not discern, and there is no pain. I heard people talking about it as I fell, probably asking if I was okay. I came back into myself (because it really feels more like an absence of the self than falling unconscious), I was sitting in a fold-up chair, holding my drink in my hand. Master was standing very closely to me, and I was laying my head against him, a fan blowing at me, and asking him to help me. He asked if I wanted to look for anything else, and frankly, I was embarrassed enough to just want to get the hell out of there. I told him as much (if the tea set is here tomorrow, it can be picked up then). An elder lady had collapsed as well before we arrived at the sale, and so people were paying pretty close attention to me in case they had to call the ambulance again.

So he went off and paid for our things, while I settled back into myself enough to be aware of my surroundings (CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS. Do you have any idea how unnerving it is to be walking amongst a dingy basement and suddenly YOU ARE OUTSIDE SURROUNDED BY CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS from the last half-decade and some of them were DAY OF THE DEAD THINGS O-o' I haven't seen Dia de los Muertos stuff since I moved up here). Worse than the decorations though, was when the pain started coming back. I think that's really what makes me feel so disconnected when it happens, is the lack of pain. No one had told me what happened yet, so I just sort of felt along my neck (of all days to have asked to not wear my collar in public! -harrump- As thick and well-lined as it is, it would have at least saved me a neck bruise.), and suddenly I noticed : my kneeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I don't know when I hit it, but aaaaaauuuuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhh. epix ow.

SO.

That is the most exciting non-sexual thing I have done in a while.

I promise I am still a writer of sex! Honto! I am just waayyy too embarrassed right now to write about it. -_-' gomen.

2010-07-30T11:20:00.000-05:00

Oh man, I know I need to post, but I have been having a lot of quality time with the people I need, and I'm waaay overdue for getting it.

IN THE MEANWHILE, if any of you are on PSN, add me as House-Fox! I am a competent soldier, and I've been playing Red Dead Redemption LIKE CRAZY (because that is one of the only ways I can get quality time with one of them!) so if you see me online, I'd love to co-op with/hunt you :D

We wear black so the blood doesn't show.

2010-07-11T11:38:00.000-05:00

I laughed, a rare event during this time. I could see the haze that coated my eyes, and I took off my signature glasses, a pair from Gucci with prescription lenses made of black glass. With the haze on my vision, I didn't need them to shield me from the sunlight that streamed in from the wall-sized window next to us.

I was held in place by a larger man, an ex. He had been the first person besides Puppetmaster capable of controlling my actions, though it was size alone that allowed him to do it. In this case, I was simply allowing him to, my subordinates gathered around us in a circle. They had been lured by my cruelty, and all of them had scars on their neck that were uniquely from me, two sets of canines a deformity that no one else in the area carried. I loved to scrape the longer set along the flesh of their neck, where the tendon shows through the thin skin, before biting down at the delicious junction of neck and shoulder. We all shared blood and loyalty, making us as vicious as a vampire's camarilla with the loyalty of a wolf pack. Somehow I had managed to find nearly every person in the area that loved the consumption of blood, and with my mental talents, gathering them around me had been the easiest task in the world.

As much as I liked to bite and bleed people, I liked to be bitten and bled in return. That was why Donovan, my ex, was there. I was stronger than many of the people near me, and I'd proven before that even in the throes of ecstacy brought on by pain, I am still dangerous.

His right arm took both of my arms, pulling them back and sliding under them in a way that no flailing would let them escape. I paused and shifted, seeing if there was a way out. Satisfied that there wasn't, I bared my two sets of pointed teeth at my friends, a challenge. Donovan's other hand grabbed my chin, pulling my head back so that all I could see was the top of some heads and the ceiling. The first movement made by someone else was a ginger stroking of my neck, trailing over the layers of chains and leather, one of the sluttiest statements that can be made amongst vampires. It's an invitation, a dare, a way to say "I dare you to find the skin beneath".

The first chain came off pretty quickly, dragged down so that the warmth trailed over what cleavage was exposed, and I hissed, eyes giving a deep pulse of need. Suddenly hands were on my shoulders, drawing me closer even as Donovan held me still, and the heated breath crawled over my neck. My chin was let go, and I looked down to see my company leader before me, bloodlust clouding his eyes over too. He stroked over the thick, spiked latigo leather that acted as armor against those who would gladly tear my neck out with no qualms. He was handsome, hair dark as mine, and muscle toned from the military training we had both received in the past years. Jay smiled wickedly at me, and I responded with a smoldering gaze and baring my teeth at him. His hand moved impossibly quickly, grabbing my boy-short hair by the scalp, tugging my hair back. Before I could gasp, I felt pressure on my neck, and then teeth, sharp and blissful, sending me into a type of orgasm reserved for those that I allowed to do this to me. It erupted within me, and his hand covered my mouth as he sank himself deeper within me. I felt a sudden drop from my neck, and the warmth of leather and coldness of metal pressed against my breasts. Neither man let me move, holding me until Jay had had his fill of my blood, letting my scalp go abruptly. I panted in my bliss, looking down at what had fallen onto my chest. Jay picked it up as I recognized it, and he laughed. "Looks like that armor of yours is no match for me," he breathed in my ear, balling the broken choker up and placing it in my still-caught hands.

Then the rest fell on me, men and women both who would gladly share both my body and my blood, though only one was available. Teeth sliced into me on each side, and I had a fleeting moment of fear, as though they were piranha and I stupid enough to be eaten. I felt Donovan's shift in position before his jaws clamped down at the junction of skull and neck behind my ear, and Jay's screams barely succeeded in muffling me. All I could feel was pleasure, my body on fire with the pain and the smell of my own blood. As each person gradually pulled away, I could feel my own thirst beginning to rise, and I looked around through the fog, spying a boy a year younger than me who was dressed in gothic clothing. We called him Demon, though it was really more of a joke, given that he was fully subservient to me. I called him over, and he lit up, flouncing (what kind of shadow flounces. That must be remedied) over to me, pulling the neckline of his shirt to the side to show me the scars I've left, and that gave me a wicked grin. I pulled him close, feeling the insolent hardness that must've come from watching this orgy of blood. I gently licked the skin that showed, biting in the middle of the shiver that arose from him. A sound that could be described only as a purr came from him as I bit deep enough to bleed, and Donovan's grip around me relaxed, letting me alone with my shadow as I took what he offered me.

I panted as I let him go, feeling more alive than I felt I ever had before (though, given I did this each day, I was clearly mistaken), plopping to the industrial carpet. The bleeding of my own neck had already stopped, and I looked first at the collar in my hand, and then to the man who had broken it.

"So does this mean you'll show subordinance in formation?" he drawled, an eyebrow raised. I smirked, my body still feeling on fire.

"You are only my alpha in uniform, Jay. It will take many more bites like this to cause submission in someone like me." He laughed, coming close enough to have pinned me against the wall. I could smell my own blood on his laughter, and I began to laugh with him, lost in the delirious madness of it all.

Puppetry

2010-07-06T09:41:00.000-05:00

There has always been a ghost over my shoulder. Not Master, him. I think it's finally time to put a name to him, and I've decided on The Puppetmaster.

He always had a weird sort of control over me, even when we were kids. I mean, I had already noticed my service-loving inclinations (I was the best damn host in the house!), and genuinely loved to serve people. There's very little as satisfying as someone's expression when they realize that yes, you got their favorite drink and snack and placed them in your usual spot, just because it made you happy to do so. The Puppetmaster was always happy to take advantage of that, and I loved letting him.

The day he was bored was barely different.

I remember I got him a soda and an oatmeal pie, because he really liked them, so did I, and maybe he would share as a reward. (I learned early on that service=reward) I also remember that he said he wanted to try something. I remember being confused, but generally willing to do something new, because when you're a kid, everything new is pretty awesome.

After that I only remember flashes. The feeling of hands that already dwarfed mine wrapping around me. Pain. Asking him to stop. How when he was done he said he didn't mean to hurt me. How I felt that sort of blank, confused haze where there is no pain or knowledge, and how I felt....like I had upset him. My body hurt, and I was confused, but I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about how he felt about me, and that fear of displeasing him took root in my brain.

I never felt any guilt about what happened. I didn't even think what he did was bad. It wasn't as though sex didn't have meaning to me yet, I was just apathetic about the idea (though there is plenty of suggestion that a grandpa had also molested me at a much younger age than the Puppetmaster), knew what it was, and didn't care.

But what sex BECAME was bleak. Sex was just what other people wanted from me, and my natural submissiveness and the cruelty that bloomed in the Puppetmaster made it easily attainable. I'd do anything he told me after the first time he raped me, because that's what he wanted. That's what made him happy. If he was happy, maybe I'd be happy.

But I always suspected there was something wrong with him. His personality varied, and sometimes, he would be a sweet, amazing boy who I was lucky to have as a friend. We'd laugh, joke, and you'd have thought that we were made for eachother. But when he wasn't that boy, he was terrifying. The first time he fucked my ass, I bled, and discovered how much he loved my blood and tears. I discovered how cruel men could be.

I have only been 'free' from him for around 4 years. That doesn't sound that long ago, does it? I'll be 21 this fall.

He had ruined me by the time I met Colin.

I was still in his possession when I met Master

I didn't even think about escape until I was a freshman in high school.

I didn't even manage that; The Puppetmaster abandoned me when I became too old for him.

I carry scars from him on my entire body. There is a scar on my left breast over my heart from a time when he tried to get rid of me(not the first).

I'll never be able to run freely again because of him.

Sometimes, even now, I'll wake up in the middle of the night and feel his hands on my body.

I like to think, that if I saw him today, I could kill him. But I know that if he were able to speak even a word to me, I could be his again. Most days, I am blessed with not remembering this much. I may still feel him, feel his presence, his hold over me, or even think of him fondly some days(days on which I hate myself for such a thing). He lurks in the back of my head, in my shadows, and my dreams. Not all ghosts have to be dead.

2010-06-05T15:52:00.000-05:00

"Open your hand." I did as he asked, and an oblong white pill fell into it. As I contemplated it, he presented me with a snack, to take it with. Down they went, and soon afterward, the vague excruciation that constantly hovers about was quelled.

I felt a weight on my chest, and as I looked down, he kneaded my right breast, watching my face for my response. A pleased sigh emerged, and he flicked the nipple through the thin cloth of the lime green wife-beater. The pain caused a whimper, and with a wicked smile he slid his hand under my shirt, continuing his caress.

After a few moans, he pulled me up by the hand, leading me to our room. We stood on top of our futon, left Japanese-style on the bare floor. He pulled my shirt over my head, nibbling at my neck once it was free. My hands fumbled at his belt, before I stripped him bare in front of me. He deftly undid the button of my jeans, requiring a sway to my hips to pull them off, clinging as though they were poured latex.

His arms encircled me as he pressed me to the futon with a rare tenderness. His tongue's feel on my nipples made me blush and moan, though nothing compared to when he spread my legs to lap gently between them. His hands stretched beneath my legs to grab my wrist and pull them close, raising and spreading my legs from the movement. I whimpered, the feel of his tongue bathing my clit so carefully making me thrash beneath him.

In a flash he was on top of me, pressing my hands over my head. I never had the chance to be startled as he dipped his cock in my wetness, making me groan a little before shoving the entirety in. His hips ground against me slowly, painfully so, after the hard, soul-shattering thrusts I am used to from him. I pressed back against him, rocking hard. Each stroke was careful, almost teasing, though that didn't stop the first orgasm from coming. Aware of its presence, he began slamming into me harder, drawing forth a torrent of screams that were only muffled by his hand. The longer we continued, the rougher it got, until suddenly he was out of me, grabbing me by the hair and pushing my face onto his cock. Each spurt was delicious, and dutifully swallowed as I rubbed the smooth ball of my tongue ring against the bottom ridge of his head. A whimper was my cue to stop, and I pulled away, licking the stray drops from my lips.

"Good girl"

Sample Pt3

2010-05-13T23:06:00.002-05:00

She was far wetter than I expected. My tongue darted out to taste her clit, and the barest whisper of a gasp comes as a response. On that tangy sweetness I can taste not only her excitement, but her secrets. She hasn't been touched, and she regrets it. My eyes take in the sight of her, the firm and proud breasts on her chest, each nipple standing out with the telltale flush as if to say 'it is certainly not cold which moves us'.

I wrap an arm around her knees, pulling her up so that she is hanging horizontally, supported by the chain and my hands, which spread her legs just slightly. I admire the view, her cunt slick and ready, anticipating me, juices trailing down those shapely legs and, aah, that ass. The compulsion to pleasure her, just to watch her cum, crosses my mind fleetingly, but I am quick to shake off. No, this is for myself. Instead of burying my mouth in her folds, I take the meat of her inner thighs between my teeth, biting sharply. I release quickly, and she reacts with the expected squirming and wailing. I can feel myself smiling shortly before I bite again and again, in different places until I can hear the different notes of panic well into her voice.

I move her carefully after that, settling her so that she is at hip-level. Her wetness calls to me, and I long to answer its call, though it is certainly too soon for my fun to end. I adjust the trousers I wear, making sure there is plenty of looseness in the groin (oh god, the painfully throbbing groin, how it longs to plunge into her, to make her part of me!). My hands mold those lengthy legs around my hips, and I press against her, cloth-wrapped head just nudging at her folds. A whimper comes as her legs open as if by magic, and I press, gently, against her clit. The gasp that comes brings a shiver with it, and she struggles into a more sitting position.

I raise an eyebrow at this behavior, as she strains herself to press her torso against mine, the pinkness of her tongue reaching out to lick at my collarbone. The whimpers that come from her have changed, and instead of being fearful, they are pleading and comparably loud. A low rumble escapes my throat when I chuckle, and I shed the clothing from my upper half. It is far too hot in here anyway, but I know your hands like to roam. Your tongue travels up my neck, and you try to nip at my ear before I pull you away and smack you for it. You know better than that, and we both know it. I was quite (pleasantly) shocked when you brazenly licked my lips, moaning throatily at my taste. No, I can't let you do that. You're to stay completely in the dark. I shove you back, hard so that you fall, supported only by the chain and at a poor angle to move. The first thrust into you is rough, and complete, and the shriek you make and the contortion of your mouth and your spine turns you into a different beast.

In a heartbeat my pants are off and kicked aside, and this time when I thrust into you, my unfettered heat burns inside you, though it's nowhere near as hot as yours. The warm pressure makes me groan, and I stop holding back. Each thrust into you is harder than the last, and the heated air in the tent stifles us and makes us sweat more, giving us the oily sheen of gladiators. I settle into the rhythm of instinct, a pattern that I imagine looks erratic, but your mostly-hidden flush and mouth open in a quiet 'o' of pleasure tells me that inside your head, you're writhing, breathless, and not even able to communicate to your body that it needs to do the same. Your cunt must still be connected to your mind, because it squirms, flexes, and squeezes me as though trying to pull a harder thrust from me. My response is just to pound into you harder, and before I lose my grip, my cock buries itself in you once more, throbbing rhythmically with my pulse as it floods you.

My orgasm hits like lightning, swift but unmerciful, and I nearly drop to my knees. They wobble as I refrain, just long enough to free you from the chain. I let us both plop down, and listen to you pant, no less hard than you were when I was fucking you. That thought makes it hard not to smirk, but this is hardly the place. I tug the half-hood from your head, because I want to see your eyes. When you look at me, I cannot be sure if you truly see me. Those dark brown eyes are filled with fog and affection, and as I stand and offer a hand to you, you stare dumbly at it.

"Time to go, pet." You do not comprehend, but your body knows what to do.

Microfantasy Monday - Lost in the Woods

2010-05-03T17:07:00.000-05:00

She dropped to a crouch, panting as sweat glistened over her bare skin. The two large fox-like ears on her head did nothing to amplify her hearing, though at this point she wished they did. Her head looked around carefully, listening for sound. She had taken off so quickly once the cage was opened, and been so distracted by the foxtailed assplug, that she hadn't any idea of where she was. No sound of running water came to her, which made her cringe; the creek was the only landmark she had for finding her way back.

A snap echoed through the wood, and she paused, trying to discern direction. A second snap came, and she bolted in a perpendicular direction, trying to get behind him as quickly as she could. A shadow moved overhead, and too late she realized she was trapped. Soon the hunter would catch her, and she didn't quite want this game to end yet....

The Sweltering Celtstarted it

Rare goods pt 2

2010-04-20T22:37:00.001-05:00

There's nothing around me. Is there? The world's presence comes back into focus, but I cannot see. I shake my head, and the feel of something soft yet bristly (horsehair?) on my back startles me. I can't hear anything. A soft murmur tugs at my ears, and it could be people, or animals, or even a stampede for all I can hear. Occasionally a breeze blows by, but I cannot tell what it is from, only that my skin is bare. My arms are sore, and I try to readjust them, only to feel a sharp tug back upwards in my shoulders, and I realize that they can go nowhere.

I can feel the blood rushing to my legs, and I can tell that I'm sitting with my legs folded beneath me, but my feet don't feel bound. My mind lurches forward, trying to remember how this happened, but is too groggy for its intentions. I'm left feeling vaguely sick in addition to being confused. The breeze chills me slightly, an added measure of discomfort to this whole situation. Suddenly there is a tug on my hair (so that's what was brushing against me) accompanied by the suffocatingly thick scent of a man who hadn't bathed in far too long, pulling my head back as the feel of warm flesh presses against the outward curve of my ass. The acrid breath that puffed hotly against my neck made my skin crawl.

The hand that was on my ponytail let go, trailing down my back to curl around my chest and reaching for my breast. I turned and snapped instinctively, and felt a crunch between my teeth and a muffled sound of fury immediately after. A hand smacked against my face, and without the warning, I fell backward, supported only by the chains. Suddenly the floor was tugged out from under me, letting me fall what felt like several feet, wrenching my shoulders. With no slack left in the chain, and nothing to support me, the ground felt alien beneath my bare feet. The hand pulled my hair, hard, and when I yelled, a wide strap of thick leather was thrust between my teeth, and pulled tight against my head. A snarl escaped my throat, but that was the last thing that did as the strap was tightened. Another smack hit my cheek, and my assailant was suddenly gone.

The silence that followed left me vaguely unnerved, but I began to relax. Mostly. I was still pretty pissed for having ended up in this position, but a heavy fog has settled over my mind, letting me be aware yet unfeeling of my own anger. Suddenly there is a sound, completely unidentifiable, which just riles me up more. I turn and snarl, looking for the source of that faraway noise, but it does no good, here in the darkness.

A hand grabs for my ponytail again, but winds the hair around itself to pull it taught. It forces my back to straighten even more, but the electrical jolt it sends down my body makes me stiffen, all over, and my breath hitches. There is a light pressure on the leather in my mouth, and I can almost see his finger running over it as it trails its way to the side and hesitates.

There is a careful tug, and the hard pressure put on my head by the buckle comes free. The strip is left between my lips, but I hold my mouth open all the same until it is gently tugged from between my teeth. I could bite now, but suddenly I do not wish to. My mouth closes instinctively, now that it is free.

The same finger that must have traced the strap brushed against my bare lip, and a curious sense of calmness washes over me. Hot air puffs at my neck, a different scent than the rancid-smelling man who hit me. Heat travels down my body, making me suddenly aware that I am unclothed and very wet.

The hot breath halts at my hips, letting a tongue roughly flick my clit. I yelp and jump back, only to be caught behind the knees and be pulled up by them. Sharp bites land on the insides of my thighs, and I squirm and try to scream with no idea if I succeeded. Suddenly something rounded and thick presses against me, and despite the texture of the fabric, I know perfectly well what it is.

It nudges at my lips, and even though I never planned to be here, never planned for this to happen, I am more than happy to help spread my legs.

a brief explanation

2010-04-19T20:34:00.000-05:00

Master and I are getting married this summer <3
Instead of a wedding ring for my finger, I'm getting a pair for my nipples

Purveyor　PT１

2010-03-18T21:49:00.004-05:00

My nose crinkles at the onslaught of smells. People's fodder and feces of animals is strewn about, and I glower at the mess as I step gingerly, taking care to keep my leather boots out of the mess and make decent progress at the same time. I am not the only one who is here for her, as evidenced by the crowd that has clustered around the same place I am going.

My boots make soft thuds against the damp and soiled ground with every step, carrying me towards a tent full of nothing short of amazing. My heels click to a stop a few meters away from a grubby, fat man dressed in roughly woven clothing. His left eye seemed to be crusted shut, but the other peered menacingly at me, until I tapped at the silver insignia on my breast, a distinctive seal that differs even from that of the rest of my family. He looked disgusting, but was clearly smart enough to put two and two together; He let me pass without a single word spoken between us.

The scent changes when I lift the flap, and instead of animals and reek, I can smell only her, leather, steel, and desire. In the bonds she had been placed into, she looked even more beautiful than I had ever seen her. My breath catches at the sight, at the swarthy skin with its pale sheen of sweat glistening in the firelight, skin that makes you crave its taste, skin that would drive you mad if only you could lap up its sweetness. I did not expect to find her like this, and while the thought that she is for other men sickens me, I can still feel my cock swell at her countenance.

She didn't react at all to my appearance. The blindfold that covered her eyes looked more like a half-mask, and from the side, I could see that it also covered her ears. There must have been a gap at the back, because her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, making a fucking perfect handle. Those wicked things that she called teeth must have found a victim, as there was a thick leather strap between them that was buckled around her head, above which she held her hands. The idea of someone falling prey to her jaws makes me smile.

As I moved closer she started, and whirled around, trying to find the source of the sound. Growls could be heard from that beautiful mouth, and I chuckled, eyeing the chain that connected irons around her wrist to the ceiling. Such a dangerous woman, with such a fierce soul, reduced to being absolutely harmless. I could tell she was furious, and her anger and helplessness only made my cock throb heavily. My hand darts quickly into her hair, winding itself up and making a fist in the dark tresses. Her body froze at the tension, and my other hand grips the leather strap, traveling along its length to the buckle. As I pull it free, I realize I am close enough to smell her musk more intensely, and I must decide, shall I set her free yet?

2010-02-23T21:45:00.000-06:00

My back scraped and pressed against the wall, his hand that wasn't wrenching my hair (oh god just pull a little harder please ffffffuuuuck) pushing up on my ass, his combined efforts lifting me. A nearly-silent yelp escaped around the ballgag between my lips as he thrust into me with no preparation. He chuckled at my whimpers, plunging himself into me while forcing me to look straight at him. "That's my beautiful girl..."

BadBadGirl started it

2010-02-21T22:55:00.001-06:00

I twisted the knob of the hot water, frowning at the cold that came out. Whatever, it'll be warm by the time I need it. I stuck my head out the bathroom door, watching Master play with the kitten.

"Taking a shower?" he asked, more to talk aloud than ask a question.

"Yep."

"Is it that bad?" I made a face at him. He was talking about the pain. And as a matter of fact, it was, actually. The hot water would soothe my joints long enough for some fun, and I was pent up enough after a week of immobilizing pain. He looked puzzled at my expression.

"Do you want me to join you?" I nodded, before dipping back into the bathroom. There was no need to undress; Even in a Minnesota winter, I am almost always naked, and right now was no exception. I ducked into the water with a pained groan, sitting in the faux waterfall. He trudged along eventually, dropping his clothes in a loud heap. He took the ass beads from the hook by the bathroom door, turning them in his hands as he contemplated them, then decided against it.

The moment he entered the water, he pushed my head against his cock, and I was more than willing to comply. I tasted it, savored it, and ultimately tried to convince myself that the water falling on me wouldn't cause me to drown. My tongue focused mostly on his tip before I rammed it down my throat, up until he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me down to a sitting position.

He embraced me from behind, his hands at first greedily pulling and pinching and squeezing at my tits, before his right hand slipped down to play with my cunt. Within moments I was panting, my breath made all the more ragged by his teeth on my neck and shoulders, wrenching whimpers and moans from me. He didn't let up until he had had his fill, finally letting me spill free from his hands. As I caught myself, he reached for the lube, silicone rather than water-based. I was pulled up to my feet and bent over, his fingers probing at my moistness before he entered me in one stroke. He pressed me up between him and the wall, his thrusts grinding against my ass with each pump. He molded me to his whims, pressing me forward, pulling me back, fucking me until I came hard enough to not pay attention. I barely heard him when he whispered for me to swallow it, just before he pulled out. At the same time, he turned me around and pressed my head downwards, onto his cock to catch every drop of thick pleasure that came forth.

He patted me on the head, a smile in his eyes. "Good girl!" came his praise, as he pushed me the rest of the way into a sitting position. "Now stay here in the warmth. Your joints need it." He dressed and left the bathroom, leaving me dazed, happy, and satisfied.

2010-02-19T09:07:00.000-06:00

I wondered how long it had been, as my fingernails grazed slowly over the rising mound beneath the blanket. Appreciative murmurs came from him, and I took a firm grip on his covered cock, my breath catching at its touch and warmth and pulse.

I gripped him, rubbed and caressed him until that spark in my nethers grew into a flame.

"...May I be used tonight, Master?" in the darkness his eyes lit up, and even as he asked if I was sure, he was rolling onto his knees to kneel over me. I moved onto my back, legs wide and lips spread for him, and he thrust his head in, nestling it in the warmth of my cunt.

"If I am not wet enough I can be hurt." I whisper tentatively, but he pays no mind. He thrusts himself deeply into me, and I squirm with the discomfort his size causes. I hear a deep groan as I squirm, and murmurs of appreciation and amazement at the tightness and slickness of me echo in the darkness.

He slams into me, paying me no mind as his mate, only filling me with HIS cock and HIS need, and the thought drives me harder and wetter until he leans over me and ravishes my neck with his teeth and fills me with his seed. I am left to clean myself off, and he plops next to me with a contented sigh, pulling me up against his shoulder and cooing at me about how good a girl I am, how fulfilling a toy I can be, and how lucky I am that he only wanted to get off once. I purr and nuzzle in response, pulling the sheets over us and tucking us in, and I am glad that despite having been carried down this road before, I chose to walk it myself.

I've had this migraine for like three weeks

2010-02-15T20:08:00.000-06:00

it is trying to kill me. I thought it was from dehydration, but it didn't help after a few days. I can't take ibuprofen or acetominophen, so my option is either marijuana or sodium naproxen. We don't have the latter, and the former's not been helping much the past few days. Blagh.

I've been woken up twice in the last two days by the same marijuana customer. He buys like a half ounce each time, and I don't mind the $180, but this guy annoys me in general.

I've had a serious case of the 'wish I was a boy' blues. And then right in the middle of it came my period. Joy.

When I was little, I always knew I was a boy, so I hoped that when I turned 13 I would evolve (like POKEMON!) into a boy. Instead, on my 13th birthday, I got my period. Point taken, universe.

I wish more of my classes were done completely online. I'm 90% done with my math class, in the course of about a month. Sweet. Dunno what I'll do with that extra 10 hours a week when I'm done. I mean, it's not like I've got a ton to do anyway.

WHICH HAS KIND OF LED TO ENNUI.

To fight it I've been reading fanfiction, dojinshi, manga, reading anime. Anything to get a little further into a different world.

I wish I was able to be in a different world sexually, but due to those past traumas, I've already mostly figured out what I do and don't like. Also my health is getting worse.

I read this post on someone else's blog, who was worried about her husband's health and thought he might have Celiac's (a couple of years ago). And then I realized I had ALMOST EVERY SYMPTOM on that list. I mean, I didn't gain serious weight my entire life, and the only difference in how much weight I've gained NOW is that I look less skeletal and more fleshed out.

My family always teased me when I was younger about how thin I was, and how someday when I had kids that was all going to change. Guess they didn't know I wanted to do tightlacing when I got older. That'll show 'em! And if I start young, I will have a pretty shape for the rest of my life because it is hard not to when you're wearing skin-cages every day.

When I was a kid, I knew I didn't want kids. I remember asking my grandma one day why EVERY married couple she knew had kids and none of them were childless. She told me (I think) that people often got married because of kids, and that most people wanted them. I 'fft'd at her. Kids are annoying. And loud. That's why I was a quiet kid :3

The Universe has a sense of humor. I can tell because it's got a running joke with a vibrator. We (used to) keep it on the side of the bed where there is roughly a foot-wide gap between it and the couch. Pretty decently sized gap. Shit falls in there all the time. But if you go grabbing something you dropped, there is a 90% chance you will turn on the vibrator. "Here, let me grab my glass-*BZZZZZZZ*" "Can you hand me my shirt? *bzzz*" "Where's my goddamned pencil? *bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*" This has been going on for like two weeks. I even moved it to the other side of the bed, but, guess what? *Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

When I moved it, it took Master most of a day to realize it. He saw it and was all "oooooh, what's thiiiiiis? I remember this being elsewhere!" I lol'd pretty hard, because I had forgotten about it and he was about to have a lot of fun with this, and I KNEW EXACTLY WHERE IT WOULD GO.
"You were Maaasturbatin', weren't you?" He makes weird voices when he accuses me. He makes me giggle when I get all nervous, and it's a phenomenon completely unique to him. I cracked my shit up. "Aha! I knew it! That's why it's over there!" Lololololololol nooooooo. So he realized I was cracking my shit up and was all "I can tell, 'cuz yer laughing!" LOoooooooooooooooooooool. "No, that's not why *heeee* I'm *snrk* giigg*giggllllle*ling."

"oh. ......Then why are you laughing?"
"Because the answer's no better than either of your guesses!" (I was about ready to rofl my face off.)
"Tell!"
"*gigglegigglelolololsnort*so it would be more convenient when I masturbate!"

formspring.me (short story long)

2010-02-05T22:31:00.003-06:00

Can I fuck you?

Um, hell no. I'm in a closed monogamous relationship. Master's tried letting me be used by other men and neither of us find it to be something we like. And even if I WOULD after such a ridiculous question by someone anonymous, I'd have to get to know you far better. Even as a whore I had a dinner meeting first, with no sex involved yet.

Just because I'm someone's sex object doesn't make me YOURS. Just because I'm a slut for someone else, doesn't make me yours. See the pattern? Good.

Ask me anything

The Ballad of Ginsama

2010-02-02T09:33:00.000-06:00

Long ago, there was a little girl who bore the weight of seven hundred men on her shoulders. She despaired, for no one would deign to help her escape the evil lord she was controlled by. It happened, one day, that she met a boy with hair, so blonde and bright that it made the snow envious. They were both lonely, and found a quiet affection in the other. The two grew close, and the girl took in the boy's love of stories and Japan, and taught her to fight the demons she both loved and feared.The boy had the heart of a prince, and as he trained the girl, he would regale her with stories of what it would be like when he freed her from the evil lord, and the two grew closer with each day and story.

One day, the evil lord who had been watching his slave's developing strength and confidence, decided that an end must come to this foolish game of theirs. When next he took the little girl to his chambers, he forbade her from seeing the boy, and the girl wept piteously. This did nothing to thaw the evil lord's cold heart, and after beating her, he sent her away. The girl, however, had regained enough of her strength to defy him, and she and the boy carried on, out of sight of the evil lord. Until one day, the boy prince never came to the spot where they met.

The girl waited as long as she could, returning every day, though in her heart she knew that she would not see him again. Without the boy prince, her strength and spirit waned, and the wicked lord laughed and maimed her legs so that the girl would never forget who she belonged to.

Despite her pain, the girl often thought about the boy with white hair, and all he had done for her, and she did so for many years, until the day came that the girl could not remember his voice, or the smell of his hair, or his laughter, or the taste of his tears, or even what he looked like.

But the girl never forgot her love for him.

Ass shot

2010-01-31T13:21:00.003-06:00

Just giving all of you a picture of my pet's very fine ass.

2010-01-22T14:48:00.000-06:00

In the world of blogging, I have come across few like me. I don't mean sex bloggers, or nerds, or even nerdy kinky sex bloggers. I mean bloggers who are not afraid to reveal not just a hidden part of themselves, but the whole of themselves. Especially in the world of kink, this is so very uncommon.

I do not hide who I am, period. I have a certain screen of anonymity woven by fortune of a woefully common name (How many Elizabeths do you know?) that I disregard on its own. In fact, the combination of First, Middle and Surname is so common that a private detective would be unable to find me. The rest of my anonymity, however, spreads out to having seperate Facebook accounts, and that is really more for the old friends whom probably wouldn't be interested in the sordid things I can get up to. I am no more secretive here than in real life, because this IS my real life, this is my real self.

For example, on my Fetlife, you can clearly see my face, which is something I do not hide. Okay, maybe I am tilting my head down, but that's nothing to do with fear or shame of a nonsexual nature. And even with such an exotic-for-the-area face, my agoraphobia and social anxiety produces enough anonymity for us all.

On Twitter, for example, from time to time I talk about the marijuana trade I dabble in. Could someone trace my IP through a bunch of hoops and find me and have me arrested? Sure. But that's the only way. I feel confident enough that I only have one Twitter, and no fears for a future career of mine. I am not saying that I am arrogant or untouchable, merely that you would not be able to tell me from a description. Capture my men, and they won't have a useful name to give you. Only a nickname for a far more common legal name, one I don't hear or use often enough to identify with.

Many of my friends know what I am up to, and some even have the address to this blog. I make no secret of my weaknesses(though I certainly don't just toss them out there), nor do I flaunt my strength. They know I answer to only one person, and that I am an almost entirely unknown force in my capabilites, having heard more war stories than times they've ever seen me stand. I like to think I would have made Mr. Mozart proud.

"Be silent, if you choose; but when it is necessary, speak — and speak in such a way that people will remember it." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

2010-01-09T19:48:00.001-06:00

"You look warm, love." A cool hand presses against her forehead, and he frowns.

(Oh, I am), she thinks. The warmth between her legs has been nigh unbearable, and all sorts of filthy thoughts were making their way into her head. It left her face flushed, her nipples hard, and her lungs short of breath. She is desperate for orgasm, but because he'd shown no interest the past few days, she didn't speak up.

He frowned at her still, worried. "I'll be back as soon as I can once I'm done with my errands, kay?"

She nods, turning away from him to sit sulkily at the screen of her computer. An arm wraps around her shoulder and pulls her close for a brief moment, filling her nose with his scent. (Fuuuck, I need to fuck), she groans inwardly, resisting the urge to pull him close and bite, and kiss, and most importantly(fuck) fuck. Instead she keeps her composture, giving little reaction to the kiss he lay on the top of her head.

"Bye, love", he calls out, trudging through the door. She waits until she hears the steps stop clacking, and in an instant she is up, rummaging through the silk Chinese box that holds most of their toys. She picks out her favorite three, putting them to the side while she strips, then cleans up the mess she's made.

In her need, she slips a set of beads up into her cunt, revelling in the fullness and the gradual increase of length and width. A clamp goes onto each nipple, and she adjusts it quickly. The first adjustment makes them too tight, and she groans pleasurably at the pain. She corrects the grip quickly, an easy feat given that her nipples have been hard all day. A hand slides down to her cunt, feeling the ring that is left protruding by the beads, and she tugs it out, a shivering gasp escaping her lips. She slips the newly-slicked beads into her ass, shoving the largest in in a matter of seconds.

The fullness overtakes her for a moment, and she pulls hard at the chain connecting the clamps. The pain wrenches a low moan from her full lips, and her hips buck with her need. Images keep flitting through her mind: Master's cock in her throat while he kneels over her, being fucked on her stomach in the early hours of morning, a fight for dominance with her Master that ends with her howling on her knees. She grabs the last toy, a vibrator, and presses it hard against her clit, and the orgasms crash over her in waves, one right after the other, soaking her in cum and sweat as her body thrashes.

Once she catches her breath though, she hops into the shower. The warm water helps to relax her as she cleans off her toys, as well as herself. When she's done, the toys get tossed back into the toybox, and she takes her seat on the couch.

Not five minutes later, she can hear footsteps making their way up the front steps. Master's home.

Microfantasy Monday - Service

2010-01-05T15:45:00.000-06:00

While the Roman bath fills, she sets everything out in the order it will be used; Crystal pumps full of fruit juice-based shampoo and home-made soap and are placed first against the sill of the mirror. She puts a puck into a bamboo cup, and uses a badger-hair brush to work it into a lather, which she puts against the mirror before rinsing the brush. It is carefully put with the rest of its set, the straight-razor carefully polished and sharpened as it should be. Her eyes rove over the selection, before remembering to add the small bottle of aftershave to the end of the row.

Scented salts and oils are poured carefully into the bath, filling the room with the fragrances of melon and sandalwood in a distant land. Her hands move up to her head, plaiting her hair carefully in a way that allows for no loose strands. She slips carefully into the tub, a sponge and washcloth on her right, and a set of glass anal beads and steel shackles on her right. The door opens shortly after she finishes settling herself, and she bows in the waist-deep water.

"I'm ready for my bath, pet. Are you?"

TMI Tuesday #219

2009-12-29T00:54:00.000-06:00

1. On a scale of 1-10, how good was your 2009?
      It. Blew. CHUNKS. It started off in a meh-type way, and it ended up as a skid mark on a little kid's underwear. ~.~

2. What are your favorite/naughtiest/sexiest/most fun 2009 memories?
     Master and I got my kitty back from Texas! We got a new kitty! There was a large amount of spankings! Also we made new friends! :3

3. What’s the one thing you thought you would never do, but did in 2009?
Watersports, but I only did it as a pro-domming thing. Which, I also did this year. And was a terrible experience. I'll stick to domming because I enjoy it.

4. What do you want to change in 2009?
Master's family's perception of us. We may be young, but we're still adults. Also getting my nipples pierced.

5. What is your all-time favorite gift (whether given or received by you)?
    Rimming.-shiftyeyes-

Bonus (as in optional): On special holidays- like birthdays, anniversaries, ringing in the New Year -are you more inclined to do a sex act that you wouldn't "normally" do?
Fff, no. I'll do whatever Master wants of me, but that hasn't been anything out of the ordinary, though.

A merry little Yule gift for you all...

2009-12-27T13:59:00.000-06:00

Personally, -I- don't celebrate Christmas. I mean, I do all of the stuff that Master's family does with them, but it's more out of obligation than anything. I'm horribly pagan, you see, and as Master's family wouldn't let me do what I wanted for Yule, I don't see why YOU guys should miss out on such an enjoyable pagan event.

I hope you guys had a Happy Solstice

Microfantasy Monday - Role Reversal

2009-12-13T15:53:00.000-06:00

She cannot keep her eyes off of him. Every motion he makes directs her attention straight at him. His shirtlessness has only been making her eyes linger, smoldering with a lust hotter than any flame. Her eyes dart to his tattoo. Something they share. They're marked for eachother, and it warms her loins to think of him that way. Her mate.

His scent fills her, fanning the flames inside of her. She needs to kiss him, kiss him so hard that her fire spreads into him, so hard that their lips are bruised despite the growing hunger. She wants to nip at him, mark him, to clear up any ambiguity of his status. To wrap her arms around him, to feel his strength. To smell her sweat on his skin. To take him, and his enticing scent and firm muscles, and his pure maleness. To fulfill a need so basic, so animal, that it feels out of place in the world. She needs a rut that will leave them both gasping, panting, exhausted.....and hungry for more.

The Holly King is coming!

2009-12-07T15:01:00.000-06:00

King of Holly, just slip a corset under the tree, for me

I've been an awful bad girl,

King of Holly, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa, baby, a custom collar would be nice, too, from you

I'll wait up and feed your deer

King of Holly, so hurry down my chimney tonight

The Horned One is dead for the year, and the Holly King is on his way. In the meanwhile, Santa's sitting over at Fetlife right now, letting good and bad subs, pets, slaves, and more sit on his lap to tell him what they want for Christmas.

So about that Indian thing...

2009-12-04T16:47:00.001-06:00

Yes, I am part Indian, several types. Primarily Comanche and Apache on my Mother's side, and I'm Aztec on my dad's side! Isn't that neat? (This is why I am grr ferocious.) So that's why my general moral disapproval of Thanksgiving (see below), my love for nature, leather, blood, and slavery.

So, I'm not gonna recap what you were taught in school (The rest of you guys all had Texas History in grade 7, right?), but you'll notice how few you see anywhere. I'm not particularly dark, but I am recognizably native, despite how watered down it is on my mom's side. I am fierce, with the heart of a warrior, but the lame body of a beaten slave. I am proud and strong, and can take down almost any opponent with little more than a knife. I am clever, and once upon a time, I was self-sufficient. Being self-sufficient requires much skill and learning.

I realized that I cannot realistically hunt down and kill half of the animals I like to eat (alligator, cow, things more than 3 times my size, I get kind of wary about). Farming can provide more food. Duh, right? SO! I tried to be a vegetarian. Woo, right? WRONG. This was TERRIBLE for my body. After a fainting spell and an emergency room trip, and some other stuff that's a blur, turns out I have a digestive system that's more suited to a diet of meats, sugars, and nuts than one suited for vegetables. It's simply not long enough to pass most leaves comfortably. So leafy things (with the exception of certain types of lettuce, one of which is that watery shit you only get in fast-food restaurants) are mostly out of the question. But switching that to be LEAVES, sugars and nuts hurt. So well fine. I'll try some tofu. (At the time, all that was available was bricks or soy milk in my area.)

I won't lie. I loooooooove tofu when it's cut in cubes and cooked until yellow and topped with soy sauce. TASTES LIKE EGGS SOMEHOW. And that was pretty fine. So I tried finding other kinds of tofu stuff. I could only find two or three variations, and they were mostly stuff like 'notdogs'. So I tried those. And. They didn't taste like hotdogs. They tasted like tofu. Feh. After getting some outside opinions ("Why?" "What's that gray thing?") my grandmother and siblings stated, with surprise, that it tasted like hotdogs. fffffff. I only tried this for a short time, but ultimately concluded that I simply have too sensitive a tongue for tofood. Eh. I tried. Good enough for me.

So, given that I couldn't NOT eat meat, I had to figure out something to do about this. To make a long story short, since then I've learned to snare, hunt, and butcher my own food, how to tan the hide, and how to use all of the parts myself. No part of any kill I make (personally, at least) will go to waste. I find these incredibly useful skills to have. Now, by now, you may be asking where I'm going with this. You remember how I said that you never see any Indians anymore? That's because nobody does things the old-fashioned way anymore. I think I've talked about this before.

Go up to a random person on the street. Will they know how to make their own butter? (Maybe around here, since we're across the river from Wisconson) How many of them know how to mend their clothing? Or what an awl even is? Point me to two people who can make their own shoes. Tell me how many hunters this year are doing it for food, and not for sport. Who reading this blog knows which plant to give someone in severe pain after an accident?

I know.....4 people who can do any of these things. Aside from myself, I don't know any of them who can do all of them.

I know that many of the things I do are primitive. Most people see these as small eccentricities:
The only part of the lasagna I don't make myself is the cheese, pasta, and pureed tomatoes. And I'd make those if I had the space. I prefer my smoke with matches, not a lighter, and I'm trying to figure out how to make them. I REFUSE meat cooked with gas (because of the flavor, the danger, how bloody unnatural it seems to make fire with gas and because I'd make my own charcoal if, again, I had the space).

But most people don't know exactly how far I'll go for it. I will not use synthetic materials, given the choice. And yes, this means leather over polyester. There are several reasons for this. For one, see the above about my eating meat. It's not something that's going to stop anytime soon. I can do my best to find 'ethical' sources, but in the end, an animal will still die so that I will live. That is the way of the rest of nature, and I don't mind that that's how it has to be for me. If cows were carnivores, they wouldn't hesitate to eat us, let alone debate the ethics about it. But remember how I said I use all of my kill? If an animal dies for me, aren't I obligated to use every part of it? If I eat meat, but don't use animal products, I might as well be killing an animal just to use a single part of it, which is even more wrong and disrespectful to the memory of the animal. I won't lie, I'm really fucking thankful for every bite of meat I get, because I could not be plausibly sustained without it. And I never fail to show my gratitude. It might be an 'itadakimas' (a Japanese expression of gratitude for your meal, 'ee-tuh-dah-kee-mahs'), or a bow, or even a silent thank you. That animal knows I am grateful for it.

And I've had a lot of people tell me about why I should use synthetics, but no one ever mentions why I shouldn't: They're synthetic. Most of our synthetic materials are oil products. If it's harming the environment with its toxic by-products, how is it better for the animals? And many synthetics are cheap, which is fine theoretically and economically. This is terrible ecologically. Because they are cheap, they're mass-produced even more than natural materials. Which means more chemicals. And animal skin is pretty damn durable? Know how durable? The animal that wore it lived OUTSIDE kind of durable. Which means that leather will last me for a very long time. Master has a leather jacket that's at least ?? years old, and the only problem with it is the (synthetic) lining is fraying, and the zipper. I have my mom's old leather motorcycle jacket from the 80's, and it looks better than most of the things I currently own. I bought a pair of leather shoes from Payless that lasted almost 3 years. 3! By contrast, I've bought one pair of pleather pants. While they looked good on me (more like vaguely patterned latex than fake leather), they were useless within a few months. And I regrettably, had to throw them away. I couldn't recycle them, and the pleather wasn't durable enough to be able to make anything else. So they went into the landfill. The only place they can go. I know not all synthetic experiences are quite as short-lived as mine, but their fate is inevitable. I know there's some good quality stuff out there, but it's hard to find, and the answer, states Occham's Razor, is usually the most simple. If I'm killing a cow for its food, the only sensible thing for me to do is to use to rest of its body, and feel thanks every time I pull on my boots, smell a hamburger, or sit on my leather couch, which Master's family owned for many years before we did.

EDIT: Speaking of Leather, I forgot to give a shoutout to Ayya Wear. Their leather is Javan, fair trade, as well as tanned and dyed with vegetables. They make beautiful clothing that honors the spirit of the animal that wears it, and is made with reverence and careful attention to detail. Expensive, but what I've seen so far looks worth it. They also express many of the same sentiments found here.

2009-11-27T14:14:00.000-06:00

So while all you guys were celebrating the rape and debasement of my people, I was just drinking, because people celebrate such a thing. Master, on the other hand, thought a little debasement was in order for me...

Microfantasy Monday - Symbols

2009-11-23T14:29:00.000-06:00

The scalpel's path along my skin was smooth and elegant, the designs welling up in a gorgeous red before being daubed away. I was entranced by them, by the way the blood came up seconds after the scalpel had passed, springing forth in a bloodily benign chase. It was surreal, ancient symbols conveying modern language blossoming on my skin. My eyes moved up to Master's face, seeing how he watched the artist carefully, waiting for a wrong move that never came.

After each section was done and wiped clean, he took a paintbrush in hand, painting over the fresh wounds with almost-as-fresh ink. He wiped it into the wounds and I grimaced, the redness of the blood rising up again to mix with the blackness intruding upon its path and wash it clean. More ink. More endorphins. More me

Happy Blogiversary, Essin' Em!

2009-11-18T00:08:00.000-06:00

So, Essin' Em has been doing the blogging thing for FIVE YEARS. That is a long time. BUT, in those five years she's done a lot, enabling her to throw a huge contest! Everyone was challenged to find the answers to the most questions in a month.

And here are my answers to the scavenger hunt:

How old she is: 23, up until sometime around Chanuka

Her real name: Shanna Katz

The names of her cats: Kali, Kinsey, and Jasper (who is Q's cat)

The number of lettered partners she has had on her blog, and list them: 5: C, Q, J, K, F

Five of the companies she does or did reviews for: LoveHoney, Liberator, Babeland, Fun Factory, SexToy.com

Where her first job was in the “adult industry”: Working at HotMoviesForHer

Her number one porn star crush: Jiz

What happens everytime she gets another 100 followers on Twitter: A risque picture

Who created her Facebook Fan Page: The Lovely Nadia West!

One blogger who helped her to find/understand her Femme identity: Sinclair

How many tattoos you have, and what they are (bonus if you know their meanings): 4: Femme spiral for your 'self', Embracing (ambiguously gendered) lovers, a moon and three stars for your future, a flying pig and 'Aba' for your dad, and a Tolkien quote beneath the moon and stars.

The other country have you lived in: Germany

Number of states you’ve presented/taught in (bonus for which ones): 4, or five, if you count D.C.: Colorado, New York, Washington, Pennsylvania, and D.C.

Your absolute favorite toy ever is: The Hitachi Magic Wand, of course!

Two of your favorite kinky activities: Fisting and nipple play

Eight sex/uality bloggers you have met in person: Sequoia Redd, Audacia Ray, FiveStar, Mollena, and Madison Young.

Three issues you feel VERY strongly on: LGBTQ issues, thorough sexual education (seriously, school. If you had taught us about vibrators, there'dve been fewer girls in trouble), and lube.

Five of your top ten toys/lube/etc: FunFactory Curve, GiGi, Vampire Gloves, NobEssence Tryst, and the Hitachi.

Three of the four porn companies you’ve shot for: GoodDykePorn.com, NoFauxxx.com, CrashpadSeries.com

The color you're allergic to: Pink

Two of your favorite colors (bonus for all three): Hunter Green, Black, Red

Your degrees are in: Well, your Master's is in Human Sexuality, but your BA is in Sociology. A good combo, I think. :3

One of your favorite body parts: I don't knooooooooooooow D:

What is special about your tongue: it is geographic, which is sad. D:

Site your advice panel is on: The Lesbian Lifestyle

Site your column is on: Out Front Colorado

So, happy blogoversary Essin' Em, and thanks for the chance to win some awesome stuff!

Microfantasy Monday - Games

2009-11-16T20:04:00.000-06:00

I put the controller down with a huge sigh. Master is triumphant, glad we won this round. Of course he is. It means I take another swig of a drink consisting of Starbuck's frappacino, creme de cocao, and vodka. The coffee covers most of the kick, but after that huge gulp, I could still feel it. That harsh warmth fills my body, and I glower at him. Each won round is an additional drink. My eyes dart to our most recent purchase, a clear set of anal beads. They'll find their way into one of our asses tonight.

Sell Eye Bait

2009-11-03T14:03:00.001-06:00

Yeah, I know I said I was going to do the celibacy thing and all, but apparently Master's decided 'celibacy'=he can fuck me as he likes, with no retaliation or instigation on my part. Yeah. Um. I don't understand either. But being so subservient is nice, and I'll do a post on that later.

Well, Twitter asked me why I wanted a duration of celibacy. To be honest? I don't want the celibacy part.

See, I've told Master, even from the beginning, that I think a spiritual cleansing should be done before any major transition. So I allowed myself six months. Six months to cleanse my body, mind and soul. (Although a spell I'm doing later this month might take longer than that to work off)

And while sex is pretty awesome and amazing and yessssssssssssssssss, we must sacrifice for self-improvement.

But the funniest thing? NOTHING prompted me to make this decision. It's been something I've known and thought about for plenty of years, back even in the furthest of my memories. Dunno why. Maybe something I heard when I was too young to remember words? Seeing as I can remember words back to around 2 years or so, seems like something I'd remember if it was directly said in my presence. Though I don't know why any of the adults in MY family would talk about celibacy, let alone women, who I was mostly around. So wherever this idea came from, I think it sounds like a pretty swell idea.

See, I also have this obsession with being ABLE to do things. I know how to make my own mayo, almond milk, butter, whipped cream, baked goods, how to filter water in the wild, what plants I can make pain relievers for myself out of... And I also have a huge love for self-control (blog post lateeerrrrrrrrr~). And it isn't like I've gone 6 months without a fuck before. I'm one of those people who likes to do things because I can, especially if they delay gratification.

THIS POST PROBABLY MAKES NO SENSE, because it wove itself directly from a train (or more than one?) of thought. Whoops. Can't expect me to ALWAYS make sense I guess. Wait why am I justifying myself to you guys :| -leaves-

2009-11-02T10:21:00.000-06:00

I see him stand, and watch him for a moment. He plays with the hanging scarves for a minute and my gaze returns to the computer. Until he steps closer to me, a scarf in hand with a large knot close to one end. "Open." he demands. My mouth opens wide, only to be filled with the knot. He wraps the rest of it around my head to hold in in place, smoothing it out as he goes.A silkier material is wound around my eyes, and he gradually fades away amidst the layers. I feel him move my arms back behind me, and he ties my forearms together. He tugs at me, making me stand and stumble according to his movements. Steered into the bathroom, he bade me to sit, and then I heard the thunk of the door closing. After that, I could not even hear the silence over the pounding of my own heart.

I don't know how long I was in there, but before I began to wonder, he returned. My hands were let free, and the gag and blindfold tightened before he led me elsewhere. I heard the sound of heavy fabric falling, and the short shirt I wore was pushed up around my breasts. A strong hand brushed aside the short plaid skirt I wore, leaving me exposed. I felt a tongue on my clit, and nearly melted under its touch. It flicked, rolled, and made me scream and writhe. Teeth grazed my tits and nipped at my neck, and the head of his cock nudged at me as though trying to sneak into the warm embrace of my cunt.

He bit and thrusted at the same time, leaving me breathless even as I inhaled to scream again. I buried my head in his shoulder and tried to bite, only to whimper as he hammered me to the ground in retaliation. His scent overpowered me as he held me tight, pumping with an animal need. My legs wrapped around his waist, the only thing I could do.

He abruptly stood, lifting me up with him. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling them against his. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, my head nestled into his neck as I yelped in pleasure behind the gag. The motion let the silken blindfold fall around my neck, and I saw his eyes for a brief moment before I came yet again.I slid my hand down, pulling the fabric of my skirt out of the way, only to be met with an ardor even more fierce...

2009-10-23T12:40:00.001-05:00

Sprawled out on the bed, he looks like a king. He is surrounded by lush pillows and softness, but her focus is on HIS softness. He beckons her, and with adoring eyes she obliges, crawling to his side. Her lips land lightly on his abs, before he takes her hair in his hand and shoves the slave at his cock.

Her soft lips part, only to close tightly around him and shield him from her teeth. Her tongue winds itself limberly around the member in her mouth, the tip licking the single drop of fluid from his smooth head.

Abruptly pain flashes through her, and she tries not to scream. The nails of a hand dig unmercifully into her back, forcing her further downward where she gags on the flesh in her mouth. The second hand wraps around her hair, and pulls, hard. Pain shoves her down, before pulling her up again, and suddenly she is on her back, begging for more.

His hands move deliberately over her body, pinching and scratching and gouging. The pain makes her entrance slick. He thrusts into her, and her cunt tightens, suddenly aware of how huge he gets. Her teeth manage to barely sink into his shoulder until he pulls her back by her hair again.

"No." That is all he needs to say and he knows it. His thrusts grow faster, and his thickness tears into her, makes her scream, and makes her very, very wet.

"Please?" she whimpers, eyes glazed over as she looks at his shoulder.

"Why?"

"I need it." she whispers, and he moves her head into the crook between shoulder and neck. She bites, tentative at first, then carefully harder. His teeth abruptly return the favor, and she bites down hard to stifle her screams, though she writhes around his cock.

He lifts off of her, pulling her body and molding it to his ideal; her head and arms face downward, while her ass is high in the air. He presses down on her back, before thrusting roughly into the gash between her legs. That is all she is to him now, as he pounds away, concentration focused on his own orgasm.

The pounding grows faster.

Harder.

He becomes heavier as he grabs her hips, ramming into her. He goes deeper with each thrust, and her yelps of pain and pleasure are quieter. There is no sound from her for the last thrust, just the heaving of a comforted sigh.

He lowers her complacent body back to the bed, taking a nip from her shoulder.

She will be good for a while. Such beasts are easy to tame.

Honesty, promise me I'll never find you fake it....

2009-10-02T22:55:00.000-05:00

Okay, I know it's from an old old Avril Lavigne song, but I don't care. I LOVED her music when she first started. But now she looks and acts just like everyone else....Shame. Anyway, Chloe got an Honest Blogger award and is passing it on to pretty much everyone that wants to do it. So I figured that since kink and sex have been missing from my life lately (!!) I would put something else up here. I may not be having sex or kink, but that doesn't mean I can't still blog, does it?

The rules are 10 truths and 7 tags? Got it?

Anyway, 'ere goes!

1 – I have a long list of fears, and a thorough understanding of them. But for some reason it doesn't help. Like, I'm agoraphobic, because for a very long time I was confined to a small space. Between the ages of 7-16, I had never lived in a room bigger than 6x12. My room at home was 5x10. My captors gave me a bigger room than my family did.

2 – If you hurt me, know I have the power to COMPLETELY destroy you. If I hate you, things will never be the same for you. This summer a falling out came about completely unprompted by a friend, who insisted I didn't have any reason to have a part of Master's life, let alone my hatred for Master's mother. She ripped me apart in front of Master, and she now has no part of his life. They're not even FACEBOOK friends. :o

3 – I hate myself. Not even, like. Normal self-hatred. Self-hatred like I feel physically ill when looking at a picture of myself. I don't know why. Maybe it's because of the same reason I don't like looking at other people I hate. I classify my image of myself as autophobia. I am terrified of myself. It got to the point that for several years I didn't look at myself in a mirror. And then it was only to attack those pimples and blackheads and stuff. Seeing myself in a full-length mirror is the same as seeing a photograph of myself. Lots of friends have seen me as a sex symbol for god knows WHAT reason, and when I'm reminded of that WHILE looking at myself. well. It's pretty depressing. I don't have ANY idea what could make me so sexy.

4 – Due to the lack of sex and kink in my life, I have a 6 month vow of celibacy that doesn't expire until March, almost April. I did this so that Master and I wouldn't fight about not having sex anymore.

5 – Women hate me. Like. Jesus FUCK why do women hate me so much!? Every girl I've dated has cheated on me and broken up with me for a boy, and none of them have told me. The BOY told me! And the ones I try to keep as close friends? They'll claw my eyes out, shit down my throat and tell Master's he's a douchenozzle for choosing me over them. FUCK.

6 – I tried to be a vegetarian once. It did not go well. I fainted in a K-Mart and wound up in the hospital 3 days in. Turns out I can't easily digest plant matter and had to get my stomach pumped. Maybe this is why most Native Texans aren't vegetarians? (Never met a vegetarian that was a Native Texan. EVER. All the vegetarians I know are from north of Oklahoma.)

7 – I have been allowed to run so free, that I may very well be able to think of myself as a person again. For the first time in a decade.

8 – I have a remarkable apathy towards other people's emotions. Just because I also have empathy, doesn't mean I care. I'm just pissed that I have to feel what you feel even though I don't CARE what you feel.

9 – I am a huge anachronism. I believe in a goddess and a god, prefer horses, bicycles or foot to cars, prefer buying only staples so I can make as much of my food as possible (MAYO), and would love to be able to extend this to meat also. Don't get me wrong, I like animals plenty. It is just that I hate the taste of synthetic stuff (also I do not believe in it, thus the preparation thing) and will die from salad overdose. I shit you not (harharhar). Part of the reason why I would like to extend this to livestock is because meat IS a necessity for me. I know how they treat animals in the food industry, and I hate it. I want to buy humane meat, but it's expensive and unaffordable. I want my own animals so I can make sure that until they are food, they are happier than any commercial livestock.

10 – I hope that someday, I will be okay. That all of my mental issues will be gone, that I won't be so hated, and that someday, I may even have friends rather than business partners. At the same time, I am afraid that my body will wear out long before this, and that my poor health will ensure that I never see this happiness.

Lessee: for tagging I pick.....Kaya, Merrick, Catwomany2k69, Coyote's Kitten, Ang, umm... anyone else I guess!

In the Dark

2009-09-25T13:06:00.000-05:00

His head turns with every motion, desperate to find out what it is that she's doing. It does no good, his eyes wrapped with a silk scarf. All he can do is hear, and he worries when he hears rummaging. It sounds like metal on glass and wood, and he doesn't know what it could be, until he hears the rattle of the chain, and then feels the searing cold metal wrapped around his cock.

He yelps, squirms, and she pulls the chain away, only for a pleasing tightness to envelop the head of his cock, the Fleshlight touching no more of him than that. The teasing continues until she leads him elsewhere, and ties his hands to a doorknob, giving him only the motion the door allows.

He twists and turns to face the noises she's making, only to yelp at the coldness of honey on flesh, contrasted by the warmth of melted chocolate on different spots. Every bit of sweetness is lapped up by her tongue, the only thing touching him. She moves away again, and her reappearance is only marked by flecks of cold water coming in each direction. More squeals, more frantic dancing as she freezes him and licks the water off, drips warm chocolate on him and flicks more water on. He stumbles, and knocks over the glass, so she leads him, unawares into the puddle of coldness, before sitting him down on a cushion.

Hand wrapped in his hair, she turns his head and shoves it at her cunt, shivering as he laps blindly. Once she is wet enough, she sits on his cock, grinding long and deep. She pulls the bonds from his hands, letting his hands free for a better fuck. Up and down she bounces, occasionally rocking her hips against his hard enough to elicit whimpers.

She pants heavily as she reaches her hand up, tugging off the blindfold, and she suddenly finds herself on her back, pinned and with his sweat dripping on her with each smooth thrust. His arms wrap under her knees and pin her hands, pulling them far from her body and giving him a few more inches of pounding room.

She is startled by her sudden lack of control, but not for much longer. In what feels like only a few minutes, she is rendered into a gasping puddle, begging him to finish.

BBG's Big Bad Contest

2009-09-12T21:41:00.000-05:00

I've had this wishlist at eXtremeRestraints for quite a while, but haven't bought anything off of it! Just so you guys know, the purchase of any of these things will get you an advance copy of the post about its first use, and some BAWDY pictures.

Blue Leather Fur Blindfold - I am a HUGE leather person, and find EVERY part of it, the smell, the texture, the strength, and especially the color to be very erotic. The cuffs, collar and thigh belt set I have now are blue and green, and this blindfold would be absolutely amazing combined with them!

Adjustable Spreader Bar with Cuffs - A basic staple to a pervy kit! Really it is amazing that we don't have one yet.

Strict Leather Deluxe Locking Thigh Cuffs - Master keeps lamenting our lack of thigh cuffs. He enjoys pinning my wrists near them, being just barely too far away to cover myself or otherwise interfere with him.

Thai Jelly Anal Beads - Why wouldn't I want these? The beads we had were really cheap and painful(!) and we REALLY ought to replace them with something nicer, ne?

Ben-Wa Balls - I keep hearing really good things about them and would love to be able to exercise my cunt.

Nipple Clamps with Bells - Master says these will amuse him. Good enough of a reason for me!

BadBadGirl's contest is here, but it's probably too late to enter, as I am posting this at the last minute like a procrastinator.

American Badass, part 1

2009-08-06T12:02:00.000-05:00

Okay, first? American Badass is a song done by Kid Rock. GI JOE, WTF are you doing using this song in your movie and commercials? I get it "I. Am. AMERICAN BADASS" know the next line? "You can watch me kick, you can roll with rock or you can suck my dick!" Yeah. Okay. That works in the song. BUT YOU BUTCHERED THE SONG. It has been lopped off in some places, and some completely thrown in in random spots. Because of this, GI Joe? I don't care how awesome you are, you and I will not be friends this summer. Also of note? You guys used "I'm like [pornoflicks, like] Amazing Grace ... I'M GONNA [FUCK SOME HO'S, AND] ROCK THIS PLACE" ALSO ALSO ALSO. wtf. That completely fucks up the rhyming scheme, throws off the whole song.

NOT having to do with Kid Rock, I'm sure that most of you remember that I smoke and sell small amounts of marijuana for a huge profit. We're making sure that a) the neighborhood kids who smoke pot have someone reliable and safe that they know in their community to buy from, b) I get my medicine for free, c) PROFIT OMGWEAREINSOMUCHDEBT. Everyone with me? Good.

As I'm sure most of you know, in the drug trade, shit happens. This summer I have lost a total of 2000 dollars, including the last of what I've been saving up to buy a laptop (that was used as an emergency investment fund). The first loss this summer was my iPod. We were babysitting Master's siblings (because their mom is off ho'in' around) and one kid (the eldest, Miller) threw a party and got entirely smashed on the front porch, in one weekend. Neighbors had to ask them to calm it down, and the police did as well. They were lucky they didn't all get arrested for being loud, arrogant, drunken jerks. In an act of discipline, on Sunday we threw out the remaining friends, and told Miller NOBODY over. So we go downstairs into the basement for two hours, come back up, attempt to use my browser from my iPod, and it won't work. My iPod has been stolen by Miller's friends. Police report etc etc, I'm not getting it back, even though it was the backup for my entire computer. Passwords from Flock, feeds, dirty pictures, music, media. All that's gone. It pisses me off, but I can't do anything about it now. And the worst part? Miller and Master's mom said "oh well that's what you get for leaving your valuables out in plain sight in your own house." Neither of them are calling it his fault, and I can't get a new one. FINE, be awful parents and disciplinarians. It turns out (once we checked) that everyone else's iPod in the house is missing. This is what you get for not supervising your house.

But lo! Like times gone past I get on with it. Still pissed, two months later, though. HOWEVER, in Mid-June, the marijuana supply line began to run dry. Chicago and the areas it contributes to (including the town where I live for the school year) almost completely ran out. This was bad. We ended up losing around 400 dollars trying to invest in something that wasn't around, in addition to, well. Bills 'n stuff. Fine enough.

Things went pretty well for up until about 3-4 weeks ago. Someone asked Master if he could buy a half-ounce. This is a lot of money. Using logic I figured out, a) we could take only making 10 on that, because we'd be able to take the money and buy more, and continue on as before, and b) I wanted this kid to stop bugging me. See, I was at an appointment earlier in the day, and he had started calling and texting, trying to see if I could do this RIGHT THEN. It was 12:30pm. Master doesn't get off work until 3:30. Irritated, I texted him on the train with the price, and told him I, not Master, would weigh it out and give it to him. Then he started saying 'no, I need [him] to do it!, but he has to hurry.' -eyebrow raise- Well, kids looking for their pot are KNOWN to be impatient (I've been woken up at 2+AM 3 or 4 times this summer.) So, I go home, weigh it out, and talk to Miller about this friend. Miller who is a pretty untrustworthy (shady, in local slang) guy. Miller, who is a shady guy, says that this friend is also pretty shady.

Shit. If Miller says this kid is shady, then he must be trying to cheat us. I didn't like the kid in the first place, so I go back to our room and take a fair amount out of the bag. When Master gets home, I tell him, he goes and reweighs it out repeatedly, and then shorts him more. We form a plan: Master will go outside, get the money, bring it in, and I will take him his product. This is what, in Texas, I did for large amounts of stuff that involved larger amounts of money, so I know it would work.

However, he went outside without telling me, where the kid managed to convince him that no, he couldn't wait, he had to GO, but he wasn't going to give Master the money without the product. 'Fine,' he says, and comes inside, gets it, and goes back outside, myself unaware. He comes back inside later, swearing. The kid handed him the cash and pealed off. We got taken, I admit it. He handed Master weight money. That means that he gave us a twenty, with 1 dollar bills on the inside of the wad, with a 20 on the outside. This is done to make it APPEAR that you have the proper amount of cash, while cheating someone. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

(to be continued...)

Microfantasy Monday - Ceremony

2009-08-03T00:57:00.002-05:00

She skitters around the house like mad, trying to do the things that need to be done. Laundry is sorted and put away while she cooks dinner. It is midnight, and she wants it to be fresh when Master returns home.

As she puts away the last of the clutter, she slips out of her clothing, and latches each cuff, calming down at the familiar weight. The leash clips onto its collar, and she holds it in her mouth as she tends the rest of the food.

10 minutes.

She runs to the couch, putting the pot in the grinder, grinding it, and settling it neatly into a long-stemmed glass pipe, reminiscient of those of wizards found in fantasy novels.

3 minutes.

She pulls out the roast, cuts, slices, and arranges it on the plate with a well-practised deftness, coiling a mound of pasta in the centre of the plate, mashed potatoes on one side.

It looks as though it could be crafted by the most masterful of chefs.

As she hears him ascend the steps, she kneels in front of the door, hands out and cradling a lighter and the pipe, with his dinner sizzling at his seat and a cold drink next to it.

He opens the door and looks at her with approval as she rises to offer the pipe, only to raise an eyebrow.

"You forgot the nipple clamps," he gloats, with the barest hint of a smirk.

Microfantasy Monday - Teacher

2009-07-26T22:01:00.002-05:00

"Harder." There is no softness in her voice, and he cringes at it, unused to hearing her speak so harshly. He obliges, the instrument slapping against her flesh harder than it had before.

He feels uncomfortable this way, while she teaches him how to hurt her. Submitting to her while she submits to him.

The awkwardness arouses him as he listens to her commands. "Harder."

This time leaves a mark, and he trembles a bit. He knows what he'd do to her if she marked him, and it makes him nervous.

"Further in, off the hip."

It smacks again, harder, and he can see the moisture gathering between her lower lips, lust unspoken. Staring at it, he licks his own lips, desperate not to lose control.

2009-07-23T13:26:00.004-05:00

She writhes for what feels like hours, and his tongue labors on tirelessly, ripping orgasms from her flesh. It becomes too much for her, and her hips buck against him, only to have that tenderest bud of flesh caught momentarily between her teeth. She yelps and moans, pulling his head up to lay it on her chest.

"Just a minute before you fuck me, please."

Her breathing is labored, and she struggles to catch her breath. Once she's regained control, his cock dives into her, and she squirms around him as he bounces her, pins her, ravages her.

Each thrust is met by her hips, each animalistic groan answered with another in a needy, frenzied rut. Both are working and tiring, desperate for satisfaction.

When it comes, it leaves its mark in viscous fluid. She is covered entirely between her neck and her mound, and she laughs in pleasure, satisfaction, and the absurdity of love.

Microfantasy Monday - Sleep

2009-07-06T12:46:00.003-05:00

She wipes her mouth as she rises, the flush on his face and glistening swollen cock plainly thankful. "Now what do you say?" she asks with that smirk, meaning she can either be cruel or generous right now.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Would you like to fuck me?" she asks, giving the hard flesh another squeeze. His breath catches, and he nods. "May I?"

She nods in return, fingers feeling the box chain he wears around his neck, a collar far more subtle than any of those she had ever worn herself. She allows him to lower himself onto her, and when he begins thrusting with too much abandon, she slows him.

Her nails dig into his hips when she wants him to go deeper, and occasionally her palm finds his ass cheeks, always leaving them red and handprinted.

She is relishing this control, and when he finds himself close, she bids him to stop, though his seed doesn't listen and spills. With a small frown, she realizes that it would not be right to punish him for this, not yet.

When he settles next to her to doze as she reads, she glances over to his face, half-buried in a pillow.

After one day, he is doing marvelously.

He will be a fine slave indeed.

Feeding Frenzy

2009-07-04T21:20:00.005-05:00

It started out normally enough; She awoke with his cock pressing up against her ass, and purred a little to herself as she pressed back against it, feeling the solid hardness. Grinding up against it, she begins to open her eyes, before overcome by a sense of urgency.

Fuck.

That one word is the only thing on her mind as she readjusts her angle, pressing back against him until he is half-inside her. He makes a quizzical noise at her ("Uruu?") and she stifles a laugh, pushing back against him harder.

Sensing her urgency, his own rears its head, and their joining is rough. They fuck like that for a while, his fingertips digging into her hips as he pulls her back against him, making her bite her lip to stifle the groan.

Soon she turns over, and grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulls his face closer to hers, their tongues meeting in a hurried frenzy.

Faster.

He climbs on top of her, and in response, she grabs his wrist with one hand, the other's nails digging into her hips as she pulls him against her, even more roughly.

Harder.

For a while they wrestle while they fuck, and each's minor victory over the other results in more panting, more groaning, more sweat. Eventually she manages to force him onto his knees, and she mounts him, thrusting her hips just as hard against his, until he pushes her back onto her back, and drills into her.

Hands are pinned.

Pins are overcome

It is a contest to see who can bite hardest, leave the most marks (a round she won with pride).

They push, shove, and more than once she, being smaller than him, is pushed or thrown back onto the bed and ploughed into without mercy. Sometimes she wrested control from his hands, pinning them down to have her own way with him as she sank her teeth into his neck, and he did the same in return.

For a few minutes, she finds herself screaming involuntarily as he presses a vibrator against her clit, with no mercy from the hard flesh already penetrating her.

Sweat beads up and rolls off their backs, their shoulders, thighs and chests until he throws her on her stomach, and lifting her hips, pounds until he quivers. He whirls her around as he pulls himself out of her, wrapping his hand in her hair as he spends himself on her face, before both collapse in exhaustion.

Competition

2009-07-03T23:58:00.005-05:00

Who can collar whom first? I can, she boasts to herself in her head.

The collar that was hers lies beneath her pillow, a padlock held like a secret in her mouth. He slumbers silently, dead to the world.

With all the cunning and quickness that a fox is known for, she stuffs the double-layered black and green leather strap beneath his pillow, a hand clutched strategically over the rings, lest the sound should alarm him. No movement.

She stuffs it under diagonally, and with one hand, grabs the end farthest away from her, drawing it down toward the bottom of his pillow. The other hand holds the other end, guiding it as she slowly slides it into place, all without disturbing him.

Bringing it to the level of his neck, she ponders.

Capture now, or wait?

She is impatient. Right now, more than anything, she wants to possess him. Not merely to have him, but to own him. To make him writhe beneath her touch and her cruelty, and to have him beg for mercy from her unyieldingly sensual temper.

With a frown, she waits. She turns her head, dropping the lock, where she stuffs it beneath her pillow. Settling onto his chest, she buries her face in his neck, smelling his scent entwined with the leather. Soon he will always smell like this, and she could very well do it now. But right now, she will savor the anticipation.

Her mouth waters for him, but she (to her dismay) cannot yet possess him, although she is so eager. Instead of giving in, she trails her fingers over his chest, inhaling the intoxicating scent of sweat and leather and steel.

"Soon. Soon you shall be mine. And soon you shall suffer beneath my hand."

A smile forms against his neck, and again she feels the urgent need to clasp the collar around his neck, and lock it before he awakens. Sleep finds her with this smile, and her hand clasped around his neck.

Black like cigarettes

2009-06-30T12:07:00.005-05:00

It was the first thing she did after claiming her freedom, buying them. The black cigarette withered in her hand as she sat under her shelter, her haven, the place she used to come to smoke her medicine. With each exhale, she shudders as the poison makes her salivate. She spits at her own feet, wallowing in the misery as she tugs the filters off of each cigarette.

With a twitch, she starts scratching frantically at an itch on her neck, an itch that will not go away. It is an indicator of her mental state, and the rash doesn't seem likely to leave anytime soon. Her head leans back against the grafitto'd wall, and a few silent tears leave rivers on her cheeks.

Freedom isn't so sweet as it sounds. It hurts her, but she knows it is for the best.

She scratches at her neck, where her collar used to be. He took it off once for convenience, and never replaced it.

Even when she asked.

Things have been going poorly for her. Three cigarettes through the pack by morning(15% of the way to death, she thinks), she wonders (with a frightening calm) whether or not she will live out the summer. In one way, she hopes so. But another part of her has an vague idea of joy over the idea of her pain finally ending.

She isn't sure whether she does or doesn't want to live to fall. She has always held that true love stories have no ending, and that should hers end, so would she.

Grinding the cigarette's remains into the ground, she wonders if there will be another chapter, or even an epi(taph)logue.