The curves of your body enchant
These brushes.
Each stroke a masterpiece of your
elegance and grace.

Each flowing line a symphony of pleasure to my eyes.

As I travel down your breast to slowly circle your nipples

lingering only long enough to hear the sigh in your thoughts

I breath in your senses tasting every wish you have.

Drifting to you tummy to the gentlest of strokes long

and with focused intent, caressing your skin with the softest  of touch

Watching the downy soft hair of your body stand on end as my breath

finds your heart, tickling its needs and teasing its darkest desires.

With hands bound and feet tied. I continue down the inside of your thighs

flicking and licking as only a good brush can do.

The simple grace of your body fills my soul with passion

and thoughts that ache to take you in my arms.

And drink in the very essence of your soul.

B~xx

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I put a towel down on the bed, grabbed the lube and butt plug and took off all my clothes. My idea was that I was going to wear the butt plug around while I wandered the city for a couple hours to ensure I was nice and prepared for him. I inserted the plug and turned it on. Oooh the vibrations felt good.

I got dressed and put on my makeup all the while wondering how I was going to wander around with this huge plug in my ass. I was starting to get very horny by just walking around the hotel room, but I had made up my mind. I was going out with it in! The room was quite and I could hear the buzzing and wondered if anyone else would notice it too.

I circled the room a couple more times before gaining the courage to leave. I walked out the door and almost ran into one of the maids. I paused and wondered if she could hear the plug vibrating in my ass before I continued on a few more steps. By the time I made it out the front doors of the hotel I was very turned on. I could feel my panties starting to get soaking wet and I wondered how much longer I could take. I took a few more steps and realized that I wouldn’t be going any further.

I turned quickly and beelined it straight for my hotel room. Once inside the door I could feel my knees buckling as I tried to make it to the bed. I stopped for a moment to reach in my bag and grab my Hitachi Magic Wand. I had such trouble plugging it in, I was very shaky and was aching for that extra intense orgasm that only comes from the Hitachi. Once I reached the bed, I was basically mush. I got onto the bed and quickly turned on the wand, placing it between my legs. Within seconds I was moaning in ecstasy. The combination of vibrations pushed me over the edge in no time. Breathing heavily I turned off the vibrations and fell back from exhaust. I only walked a little bit, but right now I felt as though I had just finished a marathon.

I have been going to this Italian Deli since I was in grade school, my family and those lucky enough to have been introduced to “Pizza By Georgio” by my family, also agree, this is the best place for Italian Subs and Pizza. Friday nights used to consist of Georgio’s Italian Sub and Pepperoni with Extra mushroom pizza night! I miss it now that I am so far away!

If you are ever even remotely close to Downey, South Gate, Paramount area, swing by to this hole in the wall, you will want to come back again and again!

Pizza by Georgios, South Gate, CA

 Gets 4 out 4 stars in my Book!

• Rating: 4 out 4 stars
• Price: $ (out of 4 $)
• Parking: Free Lot
• Seating: Casual, Hole in the Wall, TV screens, Friendly Owners
• Location: 13323 Paramount Blvd, South Gate CA 90280

Check out below the Best Pepperoni and Extra Mushroom Pizza EVER!!

We’ve had a couple sleepovers, been on a few dates, all the normal things that people do. I’ve been single for going on two years now and they’ve literally been the most productive ones of my entire life. My career took off, I got more done than I ever thought possible and I’ve really loved it. But this man seems to understand that. If I say I’m busy at work, he says he’ll just talk to me later. And actually means it! If I’m schooling the people I work with at a drinking game, I can tell him about it and he’ll cheer me on instead of making me feel like I shouldn’t be socializing. He understands my weird obsession with wanting Iron Man and the Hulk to bang. Even when I’m so southern and uncaffeinated in the morning that he literally can’t understand what I’m saying, he thinks it’s cute instead of horrifying. He says please and thank you in bed and he manages to set off all my possessive triggers like it’s going out of style. The bruises he leaves last for a ridiculously long time and I could suggest just about anything in the bedroom and he wouldn’t bat an eye.

I realize I’m being extremely girly about all of this, but really it’s just a nice feeling to know that somebody likes the thought of you enough to give you a chance. It’s so incredibly difficult to find a person who is not only compatible on a kink level, but on a personal level. And the Nerd is. The other night we ordered pizza and watched Star Wars and then afterwards he was adorably polite and requested to be tied up. Who am I to deny something like this? I want to bite bruises into him and then make him pancakes when we wake up the next morning. I want to put him in a rope harness and then go see Star Trek again. I want to see how well he responds to electricity play and then discuss Batman villains. I want. I want.

And he lets me be ok with wanting things like that. Hell, he probably wants it more than I do and I absolutely adore that. This is a man that will push me to be better than I am and that’s exactly what I need right now. So now I guess you’ll get to watch me stumble through a relationship, internet friends. I might need some serious hand holding at times, but I think this will be an amazing part of my life. I found someone who thinks my geek side is just as sexy as my kink side, someone who will very happily sketch superheroes or fabricate a flux capacitor while I build a steampunk Jessica Rabbit costume. Or make DIY sex toys while I practice my knot work. So despite the fact that my life is a continually fluid and very mobile kind of place, I’m throwing myself off the proverbial edge and going for this. Somehow I think the Nerd will make it worth my while. I’ll more than likely be having a lot more BDSM themed updates since my life just got more exciting, love you all!

Apparently it’s been one month and three weeks since I last posted. It’s actually been going fairly well? I think… Perhaps, I actually don’t remember but I know I’ve been having good times so that’s a positive… I’ve been improving in my photography anyway, well, I think I have; I’ve been learning things to do with my camera even though I’ve not been practicing with bulb mode. I guess I should figure out the bulb mode and timings and such, especially as Sir bought me a tripod for which I’m super thankful for. It might seem pathetic but I thought it was a really kind gesture, to be honest, he’s very kind anyway. Maybe. I’m not as doubtful now but I think I’ll seem stupid if I start saying such things and in the end it all turns to shit. A frequent occurrence in my relationships between various people, romantic or not. Ha. I’m quite contradictory and it just makes me appear awkward. I am awkward.

Well I went off on a tangent, a short one. I actually started writing that a while ago then got distracted. I guess it was the shortest update ever. Mainly because I forget things. I might start turning this into a sort of photography blog too? As in… I’ll post the occasional photo from the various collections I have and they might give me something to write about. Though I presume that I should start to watermark them if I do that. I think my next photo related post will be about the falconry this weekend, that was awesome, I got my shoes pecked by a vulture. Apparently they like the sticky out vans label on the side of the shoe.

Right, yes, as is the nature of my apparent mental illness, my mood has changed compared to what it was about two hours ago so the motivation behind this post has also changed. The things I were going to mention have totally left my mind… Perhaps, to be honest, I know what my main topic was so it’s fine, I can work from that.

A&E, everyone says to go to a&e in times of crisis, right? I did the first time, when I was 15. I had never done anything physically dangerous enough to end up in a&e as a result of my mental health (again, I’m hesitant to relate anything to the ‘health of my mind’) at this point but I had cut to the fat a few times and used ligatures but always used my hands to tighten whatever I was using; when I passed out, I would loosen the tie and regain consciousness eventually. But basically, I’d never overdosed, as is the ‘typical’ thing for a suicidal 15 year old girl apparently. Yet I later figured out a multitude of things that I could do that would end up landing me in a&e requiring medical treatment. Back to the point, I sobbed and told the woman at the desk why I was there, or more likely, my mother did but I know that I sobbed. I’m pretty sure that Mum did too to be honest. (I’m remembering the lead up to going to the hospital, urgh. Not recounting that; too painful.) I then remember ending up in a room with a horrible doctor from one of the adult psychiatric teams, asking really upfront things and clearly not giving a shit about my mental state. He was asking me about sexual relationships and various other things that I did not want to talk about, especially with my mother there as well as the fact that I was just getting over my ‘sexual relationships’, or keeping them locked away. This was after seeing a general doctor who was kinder and asking if I had any injuries as well as filling out a few forms, maybe he knew the next man I would see was incredibly unpleasant. I had two slightly gaping wounds to my right forearm, it’s quite strange to think that nearly 4 years ago, my right arm was clean… free of scars and now it’s starting to match the left… vaguely anyway. Anyway, yes, that doctor patched them up. I ended up getting sent to an adult ward (psychiatric) for the night, I’m really unsure as to why, that wasn’t a true assessment. I think it might have been that they weren’t going to send someone from the unit I ended up going to (about an hour and a half away) to assess me at 3am but they must have deemed me a risk to myself so kept me in. The next day, after very little sleep and multiple panic attacks, I saw my doctor from CAMHS (child and adolescent mental health service) as well as a nurse from the psych unit I was meant to go to and they instantly decided that I needed to remain in hospital. I don’t see why, they wouldn’t do it now but I presume it was for an assessment. I’ve just had a horrible thought as to why they wouldn’t do it now, I really didn’t want that thought. I was in that state of depression where everything makes one cry, I’m not exaggerating either, I could barely see for tears clouding my vision. Anyway, I had some lunch with a staff member and got glared at by this grumpy older woman because I was ‘too young’ to be there. I might add, it was mostly older people so I didn’t really fit in anyway but the staff were kind to me. Blahdiblahdiblah, I ended up at the place that I’ve now been to twice, my last admission being the longest and the worst.

This time, I was there for only 2 months and transferred to another, less secure and more theraputic (or so they say), unit that was more like a house for around 4 months – I got leave throughout appart from the few times I had blips at home or had self harmed in hospital. Apparently I was due to be discharged around 6 weeks in however, on one of my home leaves, I stocked up quite a large amount of paracetamol and overdosed, returning to the ward with a rather funny coloured face and barely able to speak due to how sick I felt. When my mum left, I told one of the nurses. It might seem really stupid but I did want to die, I just didn’t want the dizziness or the sickness. They told me to sit on the sofa and all the other residents in the lounge just stared at me, I think they knew because they could see all the nurses/support workers rushing around and using the phone with urgency in the office. (There was a window to the office that could be seen into via the lounge area.) I ended up ‘over the other side’ as they called it, in the general hospital, well, in a+e then on the pediatric ward on a drip. They took my blood and before they even got the results, they told me that my paracetamol levels were way over the required amount for treatment and did I agree to it. Of course, if I didn’t agree to it, they would have contacted my mother and I was absolutely terrified of that happening, she found out about it in the early hours of the next morning. She didn’t react as crazily as I’d expected… The next times she did and it just made me angry. Moving on, it was a horrible ordeal and I was on a drip for over 24 hours though I’m sure it’s meant to be a 16 hour drip. I was in the hospital for 3 days and my bloods still hadn’t come back okay, the liver function tests. I had to go over to the psych unit with a cannula in my arm, all bandaged up so my cardigan wouldn’t catch it, for my review where I saw my student manager from the high school whom gave me a chocolate cow for easter which was so lovely. She hugged me and pulled on the port in my arm, I flinched and she had such a sad look in her eyes. As cliché as it may sound, I realised that my first overdose would most definitely not be my last even though I told everyone I regretted it. I did regret it though, I hated the way people reacted and their reactions have just gotten much worse as the years have gone on. Couldn’t they take the hint that I really wanted to die?

I got discharged a few weeks before my 16th birthday but a few months later I ended up back in hospital, with my third overdose, my second hadn’t been acknowledged and I just spent a few weeks feeling like I was dreaming and randomly throwing pencils in my lessons because I didn’t feel in control of my actions. That was most definitely not paracetamol; I’m not going to say what and I’ll never say how much of any type of chemical, I’m not here to give ‘tips’. The hospital I ended up in was the theraputic unit and I was only there for 3 weeks, which was unusual because it was usually more long term. One of the nurses really wasn’t happy with me being there. I don’t think they wanted to send me there but because I was under 18 I had to? I was still expressing suicidal intent so I guess they had to do something. Time went on and things just got worse, getting visits from the police/picked up from bridges and taken home etc… I eventually ended up back in the acute unit…. This wasn’t for an assessment thought, I ended up sectioned and staying there for 10 months with no leave at all for the first 4 months. I had ingested something that I was sure would kill me but nope, it came out…. The other end. After multiple xrays and an endoscopy, I was sent back to this unit that I hadn’t really minded the first time. This time was very different. I was hardly voluntary, many people will know that they use the whole, “if you don’t go in voluntarily and peacefully, we’ll section you and you’ll have to.” so I went in ‘voluntarily’ if you catch my drift. I was only voluntary for 3 weeks and they were restraining me and injecting me (rapid tranq.) within the first week, something that they aren’t supposed to do. But hey! Who takes the word of a ‘crazy chick’ if she files a complaint? No one. I found that out when they forced me to take sedatives when I’d just woken up so they could take me to a&e … I ended up in a&e a lot on that admission. I could barely walk I was so sedated and I fell asleep waking for the doctor, I was expected to answer questions too… Good one. Oh, I forgot to mention, we went in a taxi, not a porter’s car… With four staff. FOUR. I wasn’t going to run off with my legs giving way, was I? Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnyway. That admission was horrendous and at the end of it, I was diagnosed with severe depressive disorder and an emerging personality disorder. Emotional disregularity or something, aka Borderline. Which meant that as soon as I turned 18, I’d be classed as a borderline. Oh, I had my 17th birthday in hospital and was only allowed an hour out with my mum, I still valued that hour away from the ward though. And I took antipsychotics and gained a load of weight. When I took the amount of paracetamol that I had done the first time, I didn’t even need treatment because of my bodyweight which hit me like a brick. By the way, a paracetamol overdose is incredibly unpleasant, even if you aren’t dying and can leave you with permanent damage – my liver for example. Those weren’t the worst things about my admission but yes, ladidadidah, my consultants changed part way and my second consultant was a prick but I guess he got stuff done. He made me feel like what I was doing was being seen as attention seeking which was really shit and wouldn’t help me with the moments in which I was restrained. Even during the two and a half hour restraint, nope, removed all PRN and IM medications. I would have refused the PRN, everyone knew this but I did quite a bit of damage to myself because I wasn’t medicated in time, it really bothered the staff to have me pinned down for that long too.

Yes. Right. My main point. I turned 18 and suddenly everyone just stopped giving a shit. I’m pretty sure it was because of my diagnosis. I was a mess earlier and considering going to a&e cause I wanted to overdose and I have enough to do a ‘good amount’ of damage to my body, as well as 24 capsules of a medication that I’m allergic to but I’m kind of afraid of anaphylaxis, which is quite understandable, I’d say, if someone isn’t suicidal especially, that fear being reduced when I have major urges. I thought my urges would get worse but to be honest, I’d rather cut now instead. You can tell I’ve been distressed/am distressed because of the time and because of the pointlessness of this rant, AHAH life. And the time it is… I’m not even tired but I want to sleep.

If I was going to go to a&e, if I was screaming and crying and saying I was going to take tablets, they would put me on a ward, maybe for a night, maybe for an hour and then they would just release me.I’d have to speak to someone but then I could just go. It’s been put on my medical notes not to do anything about it, apparently as a warning type thing that comes up on the computer when they open my notes. I know that when someone is diagnosed as having borderline personality disorder, they say that a firm word and direction is enough, they need to be told straight and develop strong attachments if too much attention is given etc, maybe they think that I’d get too attached to hospital. I don’t want to go back to hospital by the way, at all, I just want things to be over or fixed. “all or nothing.” But my thought earlier was that they don’t want me, or people *like* me, kind of a, “screw ‘em, let them kill themselves” idea… Surely that makes sense? It makes me feel really shit. I’ve done and said various things and just been left to my own devices. But I’ve seen them follow the protocol, to an extent, to say that they’ve done what they can and so they don’t get into trouble if something ‘really bad’ does happen eventually. Under 18 year olds in the UK, or where I’m from, tend to get treatment whether they want it or not if they’re seen as ‘needing’ it… Over 18s do not, unless it’s their first time involved with anything considered mental health related… I think. Depends on where you are and what’s wrong I guess. Psychosis is different I think. I’ve experienced forms of psychosis but nothing so severe that I think I can fly and end up jumping out of a window for example, or thinking that a major corporation are after me – the stereotypes. I don’t know. Anyway, I know that there would be no point in me going to a&e in a crisis because they wouldn’t do anything; I don’t even know what I’d expect them to do, there isn’t really much that they can do. Organise a day where I can just roll around with cats and colour in. Yeah, that would be nice. And prescribe me a small amount of Diazepam, not enough to get me hooked, 5mg, maybe 6 doses like the last time, just to help me ride it out. Though I did double them up to 10mg cause it was the only thing that took the edge off, the sharper edge. I wasn’t spacey or anything. But nope. They’d just send me home. I could only be taken seriously if I’d done something and I don’t want to have to do something big just to get the attention of services and let people know I need help. This goes to another rant of how sometimes I want help and don’t want to die…But do really. Or I do want to die and don’t want help. Lots of states of mind. Meant for another ranting blog post.

I don’t think that this entry will make much sense. Sorry.

The floodgates were already opened and after the initial surge of emotion and passion, I’ve been left with the damage. Maybe that sounds just a bit dramatic. It just feels like the excitement of the waves crashing against my walls lead me to forget that after the storm there’s always a clean up.

I was simultaneously all consumed and hesitant. I feared getting lost in the moment. I did anyway. I feared allowing feelings to creep out and resurface. They did anyway. I told myself remember this, remember that, don’t lose sight of these things. I started to, but I’ve had to stop myself.

As long as I’m rolling around, tangled in memories of what we’ve done, I’m fine. I smile. I cum. I sigh. Then after the endorphins settle, then I think. I wonder. I remember. I’m reminded. I’m lost. I’m confused. I’m sad. I’m stuck.

Wondering how it would feel to be placed over your knee and having your strong hands come down on my backside. Wondering how it may feel to be tied up by you and left to rely on my trust in you. I told you that I’d feel comfortable exploring with you because I trust you and I know you wouldn’t harm me. So I spent some time revisiting things that I had separated myself from because it became too painful. Words and images that sparked my interest simultaneously stung. It was never play for me, but now, what else can I call it? Who am I kidding? It feels good during but the speaking of it in hushed tones after the fact, allusions to words that I dare not say, it feels like, I’m not sure of how it feels. I know it doesn’t feel like before, then again, it’s not like before, so why would it? Right?

Before it felt like I could breathe it. I could live in it and relish in it and not be embarrassed by how I felt. I didn’t have to be fearful of what I felt. Even thought I was confused, it felt safe to feel. I’ve acknowledged my feelings since then but I feel like I’m wrong and I shouldn’t and I should keep it to myself and I shouldn’t allow myself to feel it. It’s confusing. It’s always been confusing. It’s a bit frustrating. I realize that it’s me though.

I’ve had a tough night and day and I’m just remembering how you’d check in on me and make me talk to you. Even if I was nervous or afraid, you assured me that it was okay and you made me talk. I always hated it but afterwards I’d always feel better. It’s in retrospect that I see how  the other aspects were important to me too, not just the carnal. I miss your guidance and I miss how you’d reign me in when I felt like I was too in my head and spinning out. I guess I’m just missing things right now. It just sucks majorly.. to recognize that those things really are not your job or responsibility. So if I’m sitting here the way that I have been for the last day for reasons that have nothing to do with you, it’s really not your responsibility to check on me. It’s not your responsibility to offer me guidance. It’s not your responsibility to fix it or comfort me. It’s a bitter pill to swallow but I guess it’s best that I do. It’s too easy to get wrapped up in the pretty paper, in the happy feelings, in the euphoria of our time together. It’s always been a fantasy but now our dealings seem more dichotomous. It’s way more black and white. When we are together it’s very clearly the fantasy. The rest is very clearly the reality.

I guess this is part of the M… because I’m not saying red light.

Book Blurb:

Beth has been scarred both inside and out by a sadistic Dom and has worked hard to put the pieces of her life back together. However, the successful disc jockey knows one piece doesn’t quite align. She yearns to submit and searches for the one Dom she’s convinced will help bring her to lusty new heights.

When Ryan agrees to assist Beth, he’s surprised by her determination to persevere. Intrigued, he pushes her limits by using his gifted carpenter’s hands to bring her wild, erotic pleasure. Ryan, though, has scars of his own, and a tragic past filled with death keeps him at a distance.

Two broken souls will find a way to heal together. Beth discovers what she needs in Ryan, and her journey mends Ryan’s heart. But when the life Beth abandoned rises from the shadows, Ryan realizes there’s something far worse than his tortuous past—a future without Beth.

Warning: Get your world rocked by two very tortured souls who come together in a blinding explosion of sensual passion that knows no bounds. Except when there are ropes, custom-carved floggers, glass dildos and motorcycle sex involved. Oh, and did I mention the m/f/m ménage scene? One can never have too many skilled men ready to lend a…hand.

Book Link:

Ellora’s Cave:
http://www.ellorascave.com/rock-your-soul.html

Book Excerpt:

“To your knees.”

She blinked, stunned at the power and command in his voice. As the control washed over her, she wanted to respond, but she found herself too annoyed things weren’t going according to plan. While she’d expected him to ask her questions to find out what he was in store for, she didn’t expect anything of this magnitude.

Angry, she returned his glare.

He smirked. The reaction caused her insides to turn to jelly, her vitriolic thoughts vanishing on the chilly night air. Why did he have to be so goddamned handsome and annoying at the same time?

“I suggest you listen if you want me to consider taking you on as I don’t like repeating myself. To. Your. Knees.”

She opened her mouth to protest and he tilted his head down just enough to give her another message. A very stern one she couldn’t help but listen to. He would not be ignored.

She dropped her hands to her sides and slowly lowered to her knees. The rough rocks immediately bit into her shins, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him she was in pain. She heard the unmistakable sound of buttons popping on his jeans and looked up just in time to see him part the denim. What in the Sam hell did he intend to do? If he expected her to suck his dick right here and now, he’d better think again.

“Eyes down.”

The authority behind those two words coursed through her, compelling her to obey. It had been a long time since she’d had this kind of reaction. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she complied. The denim pooled around his ankles and she found herself staring at the pile.

Just as she started to wonder if Elena had been out of her mind to recommend this man, his hand slid against the top of her head. His touch was almost calming and, despite her annoyance, a feeling of tranquility washed over her. His fingers combed her hair, catching the elastic holder from her ponytail, pulling it free. He continued to run his fingers through the strands, fanning out her hair. She relaxed under his persistent touch. The pain in her legs melted away and she gave a soft sigh as her body started to quietly buzz.

Yes.

The crunch of rocks jolted her back to the moment. She listened to him move away, leaving her alone on the rock path in front of his house.

What in the hell?

Beth looked to the left and her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted him. He strolled toward the small lake at the front corner of the field, towel swinging in his hand as he walked. Those jeans of his were at her feet and she now had an unobstructed view of his bare ass.

A very firm, very tan, perfectly formed ass.

Christ on a slinky going down an up escalator if he doesn’t look even better out of those jeans. Transfixed by the bunch and pull of the muscles in his thighs and butt as he walked over the uneven ground, she forgot her place and openly gawked.

When he reached the bank at the water’s edge, he dropped the towel and walked right into the lake. She expected him to dive under the surface, but instead he slowly moved until the water lapped as his hips. He sunk as if he were a knife cutting through the water, disappearing with no more than a quiet ripple disturbing the surface. The lake smoothed in seconds.

The only indication she ever had company were those damn jeans on the ground in front of her.

Author Bio:

Sara Brookes is an award-winning author who has always been fascinated by the strange, the unusual, the twisted and the lost (tortured heroes are her personal favorite). She is an action movie junkie, addicted to coffee and has been known to stay up until the wee hours of the morning playing RPG video games. Despite all this, she is a romantic at heart and is always a sucker for an excellent love story. Born and bred in Virginia, Sara still lives there with her husband and daughter. The entire family is owned by two cats, Galahad and Loki, who graciously allow the family to cater to their every desire.

Author Links:

Website: www.sarabrookes.com

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/Sara_Brookes

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/brookesofbooks

Facebook Author Page:
http://www.facebook.com/authorsarabrookes

Announcement List:
http://eepurl.com/mbG31

Sorry, huh?? Just because my ideas of submission don’t gel with the type of girl you want means I am not a sub? Does that make sense to you?

Here’s my response:

“I think you are aware that submission comes in many different forms. I enjoy submitting sexually but I’m not looking for a TPE. I don’t want someone else making my decisions for me: what I wear, eat, etc. I believe that I’m my own person and I want to learn from my own mistakes.

That in no way means that I don’t enjoy being disciplined for behaving badly so long as it stays “in the bedroom,” so to speak. I also enjoy domestic activities such as cooking, baking, organizing, DIY projects, etc. But I want those things to be something I choose to do. If I’m being forced to do these things every day, I would stop enjoying them so much.

It’s true – I do enjoy rough, kinky sex. I’m not too shy to admit that. But I am also naturally submissive. I like making people happy and seeing them smile. And in bed, I like pleasing a man. I enjoy doing (most) things that he enjoys because he derives pleasure from it. Ideally, submission means putting everything I have into the hands of another and trusting him to take me where I need to go. Even if I had no clue I needed to go there. But with that being said, some subs enjoy submitting this way both in life/bed, just in bed, and sometimes just in life (there are slaves/subs used solely for domestic purposes.) I enjoy submitting only in bed. I completely respect those who can have a successful TPE but that life isn’t something I want for myself.

I’m a bit insulted by your insinuation that I have no idea what submission is. Because the thing is, the definition of true submission will vary depending on the sub you talk to. And that’s one beautiful thing of D/s. It means something different to everyone. It doesn’t fit into a nice neat column.

But to answer your question in short: No, I’m not only into rough, kinky sex. I have always defined myself as a sub and will continue to do so.”

Ugh… just had to get that out there. I don’t want to throw stones but how can someone call themselves Dominant and not realize that submission comes in different forms? I’m a little frustrated by this.

—————–

So of course he responded to this message.

“One of you last emails goes on about being independent and wanting to be independent, which by definition contradicts submissive, no?? I think you are just fairly new to the lifestyle and not quite sure what you want.”

“I don’t think that wanting to be independent has anything at all to do with submission. A submissive doesn’t have to rely on her Dom for everything. I’ve been involved in this lifestyle for over seven years. I know what I want. Just because it doesn’t gel with what you want doesn’t mean I don’t know what submission means or that I’m new to the lifestyle. Let’s not beat a dead horse and just agree to disagree on the matter and definition of submission, mmk?”

“I was hesitant because f your age and I was right. I have been your age and appreciate your viewpoint…but it will take time fr you to appreciate mine.”

“I talked to one of my former students yesterday.  She reminds me a lot of what youhave portrayed about yourself.  Was never attracted to her, but I like seeing her successful after giving her some guidance.”

Okay, it’s official. This guy thinks I’m straight stupid. Trying to tell me that because of my age I don’t understand real submission and that I will understand when I get older. HUH?! I’m sorry but last time I checked I didn’t just fall off the back of the turnip truck. I have been involved in the lifestyle for over seven years, despite my age. And guess what? I will NEVER appreciate your view of submission. Now that doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. But I will never appreciate it and it will never be my view of submission.

And then that second thing he sent? Saying that one of his “former students” reminds him of me. But he was “never attracted to her” and “his guidance” helped her become successful. Whoa this guy crossed so many lines with me. I wanted so badly to message back but I am just going to delete the messages and take the high road here.

You know, I just think it’s funny because he says I have no idea what submission is and yet he wants to control his future subs duties around the house, etc. and says he’s not into TPE. Yah, okay, buddy.

I posted the first half of this blog post on another site I belong to and I received a wonderful message. The Dom who messaged me shared with me this fabulous analogy: “I always like to remind people that Submissive’s are like apples, grapes, oranges, pears etc. They are all different yet still all fruit “

Thank you, Sir! The above sums up completely what took me this entire blog post to illustrate. WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT. It’s one of the things I absolutely adore about the BDSM lifestyle. We are different people with different kinks/fetishes/likes/theories. And yet we all want the same thing: happiness with a partner(s) who complete the missing pieces inside of us.

I do realize this post was totally all over the place. But what is a blog for if not for venting, right guys?

In other news, I shopped at the flea market with a girlfriend today and came home with a Meatloaf CD. It was hot hot hot this week-end on the east coast! How did everyone else fare this week-end?

Till later -

BB

PS – I still hold out hope that one day I’ll be updating this blog with news that I had a good experience with a guy/Dom! LOL. Keep the faith, readers!

Well, I’m exhausted after a long, long weekend of editing and formatting. Now I can proudly say the next of my novels is online, and available instantly on Amazon and Smashwords. Kobo, Apple and Barnes & Noble will add their editions in a few days.

It was fun to write a collection of short stories which detailed a lot of Jill’s past (Jill being one of the lead characters from my The Uncertain Cuckold series). I felt I also discovered much about her I hadn’t realised. That might sound like a writer’s cliche, but honestly it’s true. Jill changes my stories from their original plan. In fact, in the 7 part story The Garden Centre Guy, I did absolutely no planning. I literally let Jill dictate from the recesses of my mind. That was great fun for me, never knowing what would happen next.

More about the new anthology is below.

And now I will return to The Uncertain Cuckold series, writing the next installment, number 3, The Undefeated Cuckold. You’ve all been very patient waiting for it. I’ll write it swiftfly, and with the same quality you’ve come to expect.

Thank you all for reading. If you like my books, please tell people. If you’re too embarrassed to do that, or value your privacy in your personal life, why not leave me a review on Amazon, Smashwords or one of the others? Thank you.

JILL’S DIRTY BEDTIME STORIES VOL. 1 (Amazon or Smashwords)

Jill is a mysterious, highly-sexed woman, whose decisions, never mind her motivations, often astound her partner, Matt. What parts of her past fuel her sensational, salacious sexual behaviour? Why does she so often confess to lusts for aggressive, possessive and domineering men outside of their relationship? Perhaps, in Jill’s Dirty Bedtime Stories, we might begin to understand her.

This is a scintillating collection of 16 erotic short stories and a final, mind-blowing novella, teasingly titled The Second Skin Body Suit.

The stories delve into Jill’s past, as she retells several sexual encounters to Matt. We discover ex-boyfriends, a boss, a friend of the family, strangers and her master, a man who insisted he owned – and would always own – her most private part.

Topics covered include adultery, anal sex, BDSM, dress-up, exhibitionism, fetish, group sex, lingerie, massage, masturbation, oral sex, pornography, sex in public places, vibrator play, voyeurism & more.

Story Titles include…
TIED IN TIGHTS
TRAIN TRYST TO DUBLIN
THE GARDEN CENTRE GUY (PARTS 1-7)
CAMPING TRIP
AM-DRAM FROLICS
COLLEGE GIRLS IN THE NIGHTCLUB
VIBRATOR VIRGIN
MASTER’S KINKIEST SPANK
BIKINI SPUNK
ADULTERY IN AN 8 SERIES
MILE-HIGH MAULING
JEN’S HEN NIGHT
THE TURKISH MASSAGE
DARK WIG, PVC & PORNO
TURKISH BONDAGE
LONG NIGHT EXPLORING JILL’S PHONE
THE SECOND SKIN BODY SUIT

Jill’s Dirty Bedtime Stories Vol.1 is available at Amazon or Smashwords