dancingmakesyoub


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	Currently owned by Axelander. ____________________________________________________________ On the outside I'm the regular girl-next-door: educated, employed, close to my family, and have great friends. I also just happen to love being sexually dominated. I guess you could say I'm kind of a nerd--I love science (work in clinical research), enjoy museums & libraries, and can spend hours curled up with a good book. I can live in my head sometimes; and saying that I over-think things is an understatement. Of course I also like to exercise & keep active; and am happiest just running around the yard with my dog. (I have a Rottweiler. I like big dogs; I play kind of rough.) I consume my fair share of brainless pop culture; and people always seem suprised at how truly silly I can be at times. My Ideal Person: Sexually, I really just want to give all of my control up. I want a Dom who will totally possess me--make his will mine, use me for his pleasure, so that I can make him happy. I'm not looking for something one-sided; my pleasure should be his pleasure, the same as his will be mine. I love rough sex, so go ahead & grab my hair, tie me up, tie me down, and do it like you mean it. I promise no one has ever described me as 'fragile'. Then again, occasionally treating me like you think I am (fragile) will definitely earn you extra points. Tenderness is just as effective as strength in gaining my submission, and the right dom will know that soft & slow carries its own brand of intensity. But whatever you do, don't hold back. I want to take everything you have to give me, if you can take all of the control I have to give.

Um....is it *wrong* that I'm so in love with/fascinated by the bruises that I manage to acquire from pole dancing? Mainly because they call to mind the bruises I get from being paddled, or when someone grabs me too hard... 0:)

Lol...you know, thinking all of these kinky thoughts, is really kind of distracting when you're trying to learn a new pole routine.. :p ;)

Hate it when my horoscopes are right:
http://astrocenter.astrology.msn.com/msn/MyToday.aspx?Af=-1000

Love it when my horoscopes are right:
http://horoscopes.astrology.com/astronet/dailyfunflirtygemini.html

Why Reilly is my best friend, encapsulated:

My Initial Email:
Hey Boy! Um, yeah, so...today is crap, basically. For no other reason than...that's the way I feel about it. :)
(and since I am so *obviously* Reigning Queen Ruler Supreme of Everything....everyone knows that what I say, goes.)
Oh, and hey--if you still want me to go to that wedding thing with you, you're going to have to tell me what the 'dress code' is, so I can plan accordingly. :)

His Response:
Reigning Queen Ruler Supreme of Everything!!! Love It!
Wedding is still on. Dress code??? No idea, I'm guessing normal wedding gear. The invitation didn't say anything about black tie, so some sort of dress should be fine. ... I'm trying to see if I can get early check in (at the hotel where the reception is being held), so we can get ready / pre-game!

LOL....and *that*, ladies & gents, is why he is my best friend--absolutely no pretense. I mean: "normal wedding gear", "some sort of dress"...could those *be* more 'guy' answers? :p
And you know he has his priorities straight: What to wear?--Eh, not really a concern. Pregaming & an open bar at the reception?--Lol...the only 2 things that matter, really.

Lol...yup, and *that's* why he's my boy. :)

You can recall the creases caused by the smile on a loved one’s lips; or the way the tears crept to your eyes... But pain is hard to put into words, and in life there is always pain--it’s as natural as birth or death. Pain makes us who we are: it teaches us and tames us, it can destroy us and it can save us. And when it happens, it takes our breath away...

Passion, it lies in all of us--sleeping, waiting... and though unwanted, unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments: The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow... empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead...

Life is pain, princess . . . anyone who says differently is selling something.
-The Princess Bride

Night came on, and the full moon rose high over the trees, lighting the land till it lay bathed in ghostly day. And the strain of the primitive remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof were h(er)s. Yet (s)he retained h(er) wildness and wiliness, and from the depths of the forest, a call still sounded...
--Call of the Wild

Life and death, energy and peace... If I stop today, it was still worth it. Even the terrible mistakes that I made and would have unmade if I could; the pains that have burned me and scarred my soul--it was worth it for having been allowed to walk where I've walked. Which was to hell on earth, heaven on earth, back again, into, under, far in between, through it, and above...

There is a time in every man’s education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.

-- Emerson's Self-Reliance

How you climb *up* the mountain, is just as important as how you climb *down* the mountain.

;)

Dancing's 'Crappy Day' Playlist:
(in no particular order)

'Keep Ya Head Up' - 2Pac
'Ooh Child' - Donnie McClurkin featuring Kirk Franklin
'Keep on Singing My Song' - Christina Aguilera
'Don't Rain on My Parade' - Glee Cast
'Get By' - Talib Kweli
'Happy Face' - Destiny's Child
'Gonna Be A Lovely Day' - Kirk Franklin
'Blame It on the Boogie' - The Jacksons
'Canned Heat' - Jamiroquai
'Stomp' - Quincy Jones
'Gotta Work' - Amerie
'Halo / Walking on Sunshine ' - Glee Cast
'Take the Lead' - Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Wisin & Yandel

Potential Add-Ons:
'The Middle' - Jimmy Eat World
'The Sweetness' - Jimmy Eat World
'Still Unbroken' - Lynyrd Skynyrd
'Brain Stew' - Green Day
'Bleed it Out' - Linkin Park

There is a prayer intended to give strength to people faced with circumstances they don't want to accept. The power of the prayer comes from its insight into human nature. Because so many of us rage against the hand life has dealt us. Because so many of us are cowards and afraid to stand up for what is right. Because so many of us give into despair when faced with an impossible choice. The good news for those who utter those words is God will hear you and answer your prayer. The bad news is that sometimes the answer is 'no'....

Old Norse Prayer:

Freya & Frigg, Queens of Asgard,
Loving wives & mothers, yet holders of infinite wisdom,
Show me the way to reconcile the opposites in my life:
Independence and commitment,
Giving and receiving,
Destiny and changing magick.
Teach me the wisdom to be all needed things;
Yet to remain myself, apart and free.
Aesir Goddesses, Bless Me.

*Love is this: that day after day we create for ourselves--and each other--a space to bring our best selves,
And a place for our most broken selves to be known; knowing mends.
Day after day, we remember that it is never wise to attack your partner; that we will live with the injuries we inflict.
Day after day someone knows and cares, understands, and loves.
That day after day someone is silent witness to our most profound and unmet wishes; and a discreet and compassionate witness provides wings.
And that day after day it is indescribably moving, and so we are indescribably moved...

*I was a fool to have hoped that this time would be any different...It’s never any different...it's always just different shades of the same....

*When you love someone, you've gotta trust them. There's no other way. You've got to give them the key to everything that's yours. Otherwise, what's the point?

*I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength--who makes *enormous* demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent...who has the courage to treat me like a woman.

*It takes more courage to *reveal* insecurities than to hide them, more strength to relate to people than to dominate them, more 'manhood' to abide by thought-out principles rather than blind reflex. Toughness is in the soul and spirit; not in muscles and an immature mind.

*Oh, my friend—it’s not what they take away from you that counts…it’s what you do with what you have left

*You don't drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there.

*What is more mortifying than to feel you've missed the Plum, for want of courage to shake the Tree?

;)

* No matter how many plans we make, or steps we follow, we never know how our day is going to end up. We’d prefer to know, of course, what curveballs will be thrown our way. It’s the accidents that always turn out to be the most interesting parts of our day-- the people we never expected to show up, a turn of events we never would have chose for ourselves. All of a sudden you find yourself somewhere you never expected to be, and its nice...or it takes some getting used to. Still, maybe you’ll find yourself appreciating it somewhere down the line. So you go to sleep each night thinking about tomorrow--going over your plans, preparing for them--and hoping that whatever accidents come your way, will be happy ones...

* But...just remember: there is always a way, when things look like there’s no way. There is a way to do the impossible, to survive the in survivable. There’s always a way. And in that, you and I have one thing in common: We’re inspired. In the face of the impossible, we’re inspired. So today, if you become frightened, instead become *inspired*.

:)

When fear makes your choices for you, no security measures on earth will keep the things you dread from finding you. But if you can avoid avoidance—if you can choose to embrace experiences out of passion, enthusiasm, and a readiness to feel whatever arises—then nothing, *nothing* in all this dangerous world, can keep you from being safe.

If I were to acknowledge--much less answer--all of the attacks made on me,
Then this shop may as well be closed for any other business.
I do the best I know how--the very best I can.
And I mean to keep on doing it until the end.
If the end brings me out right,
What is said against me won't amount to anything.
If the end brings me out wrong,
Ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference.
--Abraham Lincoln

Meditations I. - III.

I.) It is evening (as evidenced by the fact that it is dark, and no one else is around), and we are walking through my office suite. I’m walking at a faster pace, slightly ahead of you, unlocking my office door. You—moving at a much calmer, slower pace, almost a prowl—smoothly follow me in and ease the door closed, discreetly locking it. Walking up behind me as I’m bent over my desk--looking for a document, perhaps—you run your hand up the bare skin of my thigh, under my skirt, moving my thong aside to slide one finger, then two, knuckles-deep in me. I never fail to be slightly embarrassed at how wet you always seem to find me; but that thought never lasts long. No thought in my head ever lasts that long, not with the way you feel inside me, how good you make everything feel. In your hands, my body becomes a finely tuned instrument; and one that you somehow have the ability to play like no other, commanding it for your own pleasure, for the wordless passion & joy found woven through each act, for the seemingly endless well of power called forth from each touch of your hand. My body obeys yours as you lead it through rhythms, melodies, and movements; bypassing time & space, entering into a heaven found nowhere else on earth. And right now, here, bent over my desk, unaware that I’m still clutching papers in my hand, I can’t remember what the hell I even came in here for. There is only one thing I can ever remember--only one thing I’m ever aware of, that I know—that I am yours.

(II.) Your house, in your shower, with one foot propped on the corner ledge: I feel the heat & weight & strength of you against my back; your hands pinning mine to the shower wall, your head resting against mind as you slowly move in & out of me, making me feel every inch. I match your rhythm, moving back, my pussy squeezing around your cock, making you moan. I groan a little when you stop & pull out, moving my leg so that I’m standing straight again; your feet coming between mine on the shower floor, widening my stance, gliding your cock up & down the cleft of my behind. Your voice in my ear saying “You’d better keep your hands right there, slave. I don’t want to see them move an inch” as your palms travel from the backs of my hands up my arms, gliding down along the wet flesh of my flanks, lower, until they’re grasping the twin globes of my ass cheeks, gently spreading them. Bending your knees slightly, I moan low in my throat when I feel the tip of your cock tease through my folds, gathering wetness before sliding up, higher. My head falls to rest on my forearms as you work your way in, your fingertips guiding me down on you, encouraging, relaxing, reassuring. My pussy is on fire, dripping wet by the time you come to rest against me, fully seated deep in my ass. You begin to move in & out, slowly at first; and the sensation of you stretching me, filling me, has me bringing my head back to rest on your shoulder, pressing my face into your neck. Your mouth finds mine as you begin to move faster, swallowing my cries of passion, wrought by the most delicious pleasure-pain I’ve ever known. You move one hand to my center, finding & working the hard nub of my clit; and it doesn’t take long at before I’m coming on your hand, at your command. The tightening & tensing of my muscles clenching your cock sets off your own orgasm as you clutch me to you, your own cries of bliss falling into my mouth, my lips still pressed to yours.

(III.) I wake up before you one morning, the sun streaming through the windows, sheer curtains billowing on a soft breeze. You’re on your back, snoring softly, and a huge grin spreads across my face as I watch you sleep, thinking how cute you are as my hands feather over your skin, wanting to touch you, feel your skin, but not actually wake you. My grin turns slightly evil, a little naughty, as I quickly but carefully shed my nightshirt & begin moving down the bed, pulling the sheets out of my way. God, I love that you sleep naked. J It’s so convenient for me on mornings like this, when the first-and only-thought in my head is that I must have my lips wrapped around your dick. Maybe it’s the sun shining, or the birds chirping, or the happy little noises vibrating from the back of my mouth that wake you up; but I can tell the exact second you realize what’s happening, when your hands run through my hair, touch my face. You look down at me with a ‘good morning to you, too, slave’ in your eyes; but it doesn’t quite make it out of your mouth before your head throws back on the pillow, and you groan instead with pleasure. Of course, even with my lips stuffed full of your cock, the corners of my mouth manage to turn up in a smile—which is really all the ‘good morning’ that you need.

"What is your deepest fear, young man? Is it that you are...inadequate?"
-Coach Carter

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are *powerful* beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does *not* serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
--Marianne Williamson

Live. More than your neighbors. Unleash yourself upon the world and go places. Go now. Giggle. No--*Laugh*. And bark at the moon like the wild dog that you are. Understand that this is not a dress rehearsal. This is *it*--your life. Face your fears and live your dreams and take it all in. Yes, *every* chance you get. Come close. And by all means, whatever you do, get it on film. --John Blais - 2005 Ironman with ALS (Time: 16:28:58)

Hmm, let's see...what did Dancing do today?

Wrote a nice little piece of erotica? Check.
Baked cookies? Check.
Went pole dancing? Check.
Was really, really good at pole dancing? Lol..oh yeah, that's a check. ;)

You know, I used to always say that I wanted to be an exotic dancer...
(No, seriously, I really did--when I was a little girl, I used to always tell my mom that I wanted to be an exotic dancer. Granted, I was too young to know what exactly 'exotic dancing' *was*; but...hey, never too late to make those childhood dreams come true, you know?) ;)

Whipped Cream Redux

I hear your voice come to me from the other room, asking “What are you looking for?” I can tell you’re trying so hard not to sound *too* panicked about all of the noise you hear coming from the kitchen; but the repeated opening & closing of cabinets definitely has you just a little bit nervous. The idea of which makes me giggle a little, and only to myself.

Only half paying attention, my answer is: “Um, something dessert-y?”

“Bring me the can of whipped cream from the refrigerator.”

Opening the refrigerator door & grabbing the requested item, I stare at it for a minute, brows creasing and wondering what in the hell you want this for. Walking back to you, I’m still not sure if I heard or understood correctly; and the question escapes my lips before I even knew it was there, “Is this what you wa…huh?”

I stop in my tracks for a second, caught off guard, before giving a quick shake of my head & proceeding forward, holding the can out to you.

The sigh of you lounging back in your armchair has my lower belly clenching tight and a warm flush spreading over my skin. I don’t understand how you can make me react to you so; how just the sight of you sprawled out in that chair—one elbow on the armrest with the fingertips of that hand propping up your head; shirt unbuttoned & open, showing the muscled expanse of your chest; trousers unzipped just enough to free yourself, legs spread wide—can immediately send a heated tingle zinging through my pussy. Then again, I think, watching the way your fist slides up & down your cock—it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why my panties just got so damp—my body knows who it belongs to: You. Barely able to look away from your lap, I place the can in your hand, your elbow never leaving the armrest.

Remaining in front of you, I just look at you steadily, waiting for whatever you decide next. You set the can down on the armrest, resting your head in your hand once again; continuing to fist up & down your cock.

“Strip.” Your command is given with such assuredness, it almost sounds…lazy; and I know it’s anything but.

I obey without any hesitation, though I don’t hurry to reveal myself to you. Taking my time, my eyes stay glued to your face as I undress, baring myself to you. I love it. I love the look on your face when you watch me undress, almost like you’re being torn in two—I love the way your eyes struggle to stay connected with mine, almost a sense of respect. I also love the way you can’t stop your eyes from roaming so greedily over every inch of my skin, as if you want to be all over me, all at once, all the time; and the fire that lights your gaze feels like its own brand on my skin. Standing naked before you, spine straight, hands clasped behind my back, I wait.

A look of satisfaction comes over your face as, sitting up, you pick up the can of whipped cream in one hand & shake; your other hand still wrapped around your cock.

I hear you telling me, “On your knees.” And oh, there is just something about your voice…it’s almost as if its echo is inside of me; like your words themselves hold the only key to my submission. Hands still clasped behind my back, I gracefully lower to my knees; silently thankful that an area rug covers this part of the room.

“Open.”

I don’t resist you as, rising up from the armchair—still holding that damn can of whipped cream--you tangle one hand in my hair and force my head back, hooking your thumb inside my mouth to open me even wider; placing me into the position which will best serve you.

Even in this position the corners of my mouth keep trying to twitch up in some semblance of a smile; and I can’t help but feel sorry for all of those women out there who hate giving head, and pity the men out there who made them feel that way. I may submit to you, may kneel at your feet…but the way you look at me when I take your cock in my mouth—with adoration and ownershipn in your eyes, almost a sense of worship—makes me feel like a goddess. A goddess whose pussy you manage to make soaking wet each & every time you make an ‘offering’.

“Good girl,” you say. “Now stick out your tongue.”

I do as you tell me, extending my tongue out-- and, yeah, maybe showing off a little; I know you love how long my tongue is—getting my reward when you tell me:

“That’s my girl. Good girl, just like that.”

You hold the can of whipped cream up so that I can see it; admonishing me “Now don’t move,” over the familiar ‘hsssst’ of the spray can, painting my tongue with the creamy topping.

I can feel the cool sweetness already beginning to melt down the back of my throat, and fight the initial urge to panic; focusing instead on relaxing my muscles, regulating my breathing, and making myself available for you to use for your pleasure.

Guiding the fat head of your cock past my lips, I feel you slide along my tongue; the size of you pushing a gob of whipped cream towards the back of my mouth. The strangled groan that leaves your mouth sends a shot of liquid heat straight to my core, making my thighs clench at the sensation. I can feel you twitch as you lodge yourself against the back of my throat; and I’m swallowing convulsively against you before I even hear your voice telling me “Swallow. Swallow against me.”

As you start to pull out, you tell me “You can close your mouth now,” as I wrap my lips around your dick. “That’s it--suck me. I don’t want to see one drop of whipped cream on my cock when you open those fuckin’ lips of yours.”

My cheeks hollow as I obey your orders, just the way you like me to; laving my tongue in a circle around your cock a couple of extra times, though there wasn’t quite *that* much whipped cream to begin with.

My mouth opens again when just the tip of you rests on the edge of my tongue, waiting for your inspection/approval.

A sense of warmth suffuses me when you nod your head, letting me know I’ve done a good job.

“Now keep it open,” you tell me, leaning down to pick the can of whipped cream back up, and painting another line on my tongue.

Placing the head of your cock on my outstretched tongue, you bring both hands to frame my face, sliding deep inch-by-inch. Your fingers tense on my scalp, letting me know what the dual sensations are doing to you—the liquid coolness of whipped cream melting against the warmth of my mouth unraveling you faster than you’d expected. My lips seal around your cock again as you slowly pull out; closing my eyes & moaning at the warm saltiness of having you like this.

Then once more; only you don’t pick the can of whipped cream back up this time.

Cupping both hands around my nape, you thrust hard & deep into my mouth, pressing closer until your trimmed hairs tickle my nose, your sac pressed firmly against my chin. The crown of your dick nudges at the softness in the deepest part of my mouth, telegraphing the shudder that works through you when my throat closes around your tip.

As your thrusts become more urgent--less measured & less controlled—the only thought I have is that I’ve never been so turned on in all my life. The little noises you make, the way my name sounds coming from your throat, has me unconsciously rubbing my inner thighs together; desperate for the extra friction needed to ease the ache building behind my clit.

Capturing my gaze, holding it, you tell me “I’m close. I want you to swallow it all. Drink from me. Taste my pleasure.”

My heart & will both melt at the utter possessiveness & devotion I feel radiating from you; how could I do anything but what you ask of me? How could I be anything but yours?

The first jet of your release hits the back of my mouth and I swallow, tasting you, feeling you pulse against my tongue. Your essence seems to fill me: creamy and exotic, wild tasting, masculine and strong.

Your movements gentle as you continue to work in & out, the last of your orgasm working through you. Sinking to the back of my throat once more, you stay there, locked against my mouth.

“Swallow. Swallow against me.”

I obey, swallowing and listening to you moan as I milk the last drops of cum from your cock.

You finally slide from my mouth, hands smoothing down my nape to grasp my shoulders, helping me up. Wrapping your arms around me, I think that nothing makes me as happy as seeing you look at me with such affection & approval in your eyes. It also doesn’t hurt that both of us are smiling like loons at one another.

And when you ask me “So…did you enjoy your dessert?” the only answer I can come up with is, “Well…I’m kind of already in the mood for seconds.”

;)

GEMINI
Feb 26, 2010
Good luck is shining down on you. An unexpected out-of-towner might walk into your life today. Or some free cash. Or a new bike. It's just going to be one of those storybook days.

HA! Yeah, right--like I've ever had a 'storybook' day, a day in my life. Let me tell you the way in which the above would play out in *my* freakin' storybook: That out-of-towner? He'd turn out to be the villian, dressed in all black, who ends up kidnapping me & tying me to the railroad tracks. That free cash? Lol..yeah, sure I might win the lottery one day (suuurre I might). Of course, if that happened, it could only end with me either losing the winning ticket before I could cash it in, or getting hit by a bus right immediately after I did redeem it. And a new bike? Ha, yeah...I'd be riding along on my new bike, feeling all good about myself, right before the front tire came loose & I ended up doing a face-plant into the dirt (or road), probably cracking a front tooth in the process.

Yeah, welcome to my 'good luck, storybook' life--it ain't the kind you read to little kids at bedtime.

‘Killer’ killer whales (regarding the orca that killed the trainer at a Sea World):

Are people truly surprised by this? Because, in all honesty—the only thing that surprises me is that this type of thing doesn’t occur more frequently.
I mean, these are *wild animals*, people. *Wild* animals; *wild* being the key word here. ‘Trained’ is not even remotely close to being the same thing as ‘tamed’, because—make no mistake about it—these animals are *not* ‘tamed’; they are wild animals, with all the instincts of one. And the instincts of *any* animal—wild, house pet, any animal—have only one focus: survival. Plain & simple as that, folks.
Jesus, if you confined me to the equivalent of a shallow kiddie pool when my every instinct--every part of my being—told me that I should be swimming in the endless depths & miles of oceans? Ha! I’d pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat; smiling my happy little dolphin smile the whole time. Then I’d do the same thing to anyone who dared try taking it away from me.
Granted, this would ultimately end in my being one dead/euthanized orca; but still…I’d rather be dead than be caged.
Oh, and they’re launching an ‘investigation’ into what happened? Why? It’s a wild animal; it acted as such. The end. And, c’mon—the trainer *knew* this; every person who works with animals, in any capacity, knows this. There are risks to every job; this was hers. I don’t deny the tragedy of a lost human life, or the grief that now belongs to those involved; but…**you can’t blame the animal**.

Buffy: The world is what it is - we fight, we die. Wishing doesn't change that.
Giles: I have to believe in a better world.
Buffy: Go ahead. I have to live in this one.
--BtVS

You save yourself, or you remain unsaved.

Life isn't a fairy tale. Things aren't always happily ever after. Things like magic wishes, Prince Charming, and true love don't happen in real life. Magic wishes come from money; Prince Charming's a shallow idiot with a bad haircut and overpriced clothes. And true love? Ha, true love is one-sided, Ace. You love him, he loves someone else. He loves you, you love someone else. Never quite works out does it? So you end up with some actor pretending to be your true love. Real considerate of someone to let you know reality was like that before being thrown into it. 'If you wish, it'll happen.' Well, wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up faster. Welcome to reality. Enjoy your stay.

"Certain souls seem hard because they are capable of strong feelings, and they sometimes go to rather extreme lengths; their apparent unconcern and cruelty are but ways, known only to themselves, of feeling more strongly than others."
--Marquis de Sade

A Masters’ Story, pt 4

Back on your feet, the way you’re leaning against the edge of the dresser tilts your hips up a little bit, presenting that magnificent erection to me. At that moment, seeing you standing like that--leaning up against the dresser, one hand propping you up, the other held out to me, beckoning—my god, you look...just, amazing—all hard muscle, mouth-watering cock, a fine sheen of sweat on your skin. You just look so…male; so very, very male. And so very, very mine.

The few steps it takes to reach you are made on shaky legs; and yet it’s you—the way you look at me, the way it seems neither of us can look anywhere but at each other—that keeps me steady, pulling me into you like some gravitational force. Coming into contact with your body again, skin to skin, I am struck anew at how much I want you, how much I always want you. Pulling me into you, wrapping your arms around me, your hands come to rest on my ass, gripping, forcing me to feel the heavy length of you rubbing against me.

For a long moment, you do nothing but look at me; and it feels like your gaze is penetrating me, reading my body, my mind. My heart. It would be impossible for me to look away, even if I wanted to. And breaking this connection between us is the last thing I want to do; there is a physical energy to—a jolt, a tingle—that stuns me, shakes me to the core. Time hangs for a minute—seems to slow, stop, as if the whole universe is waiting to see what happens next—before my ragged intake of breath breaks the moment. Letting it out slowly, reminding myself to breath. I wait... For you.

I feel the absence of your hands on my body as you release me. Your fingers flicking across the clamps on my nipples renews the ache, making me take a slow, deep breath against the fiery sensation; though when you begin applying steady, heavy pressure, tugging my nipples downward, that deep breath gets pushed out of the way in favor of a strangled gasp.

Even through the erotic pain pulsing between my breasts & clit, hearing you tell me “On your knees,” in that dangerously low whisper of yours, has the corners of my mouth twitching up, trying to bite back the grin threatening to break through that’d let you know just how pleased I am at this issuance.

Sinking to my knees, still looking up you, I can only think that, god, I love this part. Taking you into my mouth feels like equal parts devotion and possession, claiming and being claimed, adoration and ownership. I watch as you wrap one fist around your cock, stroking slowly up & down, teasing me. Seeing the drop of moisture bead on the head of your cock has me unconsciously licking my lips; and the sight of my tongue unravels your already fraying control.

Your free hand eases around my head, anchoring under my hair, the soft strands falling over your fingers as you cup my nape. Thumbing the soft skin at the side of my jaw, you slowly urge me forward, telling me, “Suck me, baby. I want your lips wrapped around my cock.”

My gaze flies up to meet yours, connecting, locking with yours as I let you lead me, your hand controlling my movement. Enveloping the swollen head, still seeping moisture, my lips close around you; and-eyelids fluttering- I can’t suppress the groan of pleasure that comes from having you in my mouth again. Sweeping my tongue across the sensitive underside of your cock has your toes curling, gritting your teeth against the bolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Like I said: god, I love having you in my mouth.

Opening wider, leaning in, has me swallowing half your length, laving you with my hot, wet tongue. The feel of me around you, the sight of me trying to fill my mouth with your flesh, has you coming dangerously close to the edge. Fingers tightening at the back of my neck, I relax my jaw as you push your cock into my mouth, the head finally bumping the back my throat; and the moan you make sends a heated rush of moisture straight through my pussy. My eyes find yours to make sure you’re watching as I slowly ease back, leisurely dragging my tongue along the length of you, swiping from side to side, before I move forward to take all of you again. And again. And again. You feel me sucking you, licking you, tonguing the hole at your tip to get more of the taste of you; taking my lips from around your cock, and gently sucking your balls into the warm, moist heat of my mouth.

I know I’ve achieved my goal when you fist both hands in my hair and thrust past my wide, sleek lips; feeling me swallow in you each time you sink deep, bumping the back of my throat. Your deep, insistent rhythm fills me, demanding I take and take, my cheeks hollowing as I suck you in.

I can see you tensing, know you’re trying to deny the growing pressure in your balls, denying yourself the pleasure I want so desperately to give you.

I open my eyes, my gaze lifting to you, begging and seducing all at once. Asking for this reassurance, pleading with you to let go, tempting you to take the pleasure I can give.

That look breaks your control, sending blinding pleasure racing from the base of your spine, burning through your balls and up your cock, exploding into the back of my throat. Hearing my name come from your lips on a groan, feeling you pulse in my mouth, tasting you, swallowing each drop, send me out of my mind with lust, making me moan deep in my throat as I lick your cock clean.

Pulling away from my mouth, you don’t kid yourself—as sweetly submissive as I may be right now, the smile breaking out across my face tells you just how much I cherish those moments when you let go. Satiation lazing through you, you can feel your control reasserting itself; and you know that now is the time for you to break through my barricades, capture my surrender, and return the favor.

(To be continued…)

I'm such a fuckin' lady; you don't have to be so afraid... ;)

Phenomenal Woman
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips,
The stride of my step, The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room, Just as cool as you please,
And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered, What they see in me.
They try so much, But they can't touch My inner mystery.
When I try to show them, They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand, Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about, Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing, It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair,
The palm of my hand, The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
--Maya Angelou

Alone
Lying, thinking, Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty, And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing, And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody, But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires, With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees,
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors, To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody, No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely, I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering, The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering, And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody, But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
--Maya Angelou

I like the way today's horoscope sounds: http://www.collarspace.com/htmlarea/smileys/0011.gif" align=absMiddle border=0>

GEMINI
Feb 20, 2010
Daily Extended
It's time for a fresh start, and you're definitely feeling the longing. Oh, that wanderlust -- it's your driving force. In fact, you've probably been pining away for some action for a while now. In your case, however, you may want to make it a very big, very extensive fresh start. And while moving to Europe might seem extreme to some, to you it's just another leg of your adventure.

A slightly more realistic, less rose-colored-glasses, version of me:
A sarcastic, nerdy, smart-ass with a dark & twisty (and occasionally very juvenile) sense of humor; combined with an insatiable curiosity, along with a less than perfect respect for conventional rules & authority.

My personality, in three words or less: books, music, & coffee. :)

A Masters’ Story, pt. 3

Looking down at me, your gaze connects hard with mine, issuing both a challenge and a plea to accept whatever you do next. Never looking away—because that’s definitely not part of the game—I return your stare with my own; half daring you to try & control me…and half vowing to entrust myself utterly unto your care.

Standing there in front of you, bound by both your will and these restraints, I feel as if the rest of the world has either disappeared altogether, or contracted down until you & I are the only people in existence. Of course, the pinch you deliver to my nipples has me jerking back down to reality, gasping in pleasure/pain at the fiery sensation.

Looking up at you, I can’t help thinking that I’m starting to hate that sexy little smirk on your face right about now, because the way you play with my tits is as good as throwing gas on a bonfire. The ache you’d started between my legs was already making me desperate for you, but this added intensity has my toes curling in need; and the sight of your cock in front of me, dripping pre-cum, has my mouth watering at the thought of wrapping my lips around you.

Distracted by the feeling of your fingertips down over my ribcage & abdomen, I barely have time to steady myself before I feel you oh-so-slowly slide one finger into my dripping pussy, pumping in & out. Gasping in pleasure when you add a second finger, I widen my stance, opening myself more to you. Placing one arm around my waist to steady me, you withdraw your other hand from between my thighs and hold it directly in front of my face, as if I didn’t already know how wet I was. The tensing of your fingers at my waist is an unspoken command I obey by parting my lips; opening my mouth to you, knowing you’ll make me taste myself. Your eyes are pure intensity as I swirl my tongue around your fingers, giving a teasing little moan. Pulling your hand back, your slick fingers paint over my nipples, coating the hard peaks in a combination of my pussy juice & saliva. Repeating this process a couple of times to each breast, the eroticism of what you’re doing making me cream even more.

"Does this make you hot, knowing I’m making you taste yourself, knowing I’m going to taste your pussy on your tits?"

"Yes, Sir."

Grasping me tighter to you, my eyes close when your forehead drops to mine and I hear you groan, "Oh my god, do you know how fucking hot you make me? Feel it," you say, grinding your cock against me. "Feel how hard you make me. Do you see what you do to me?"

Eyes half-lidded from the pleasure rolling through me, head dropping back as I feel your lips at my throat, nipping slightly as I answer with a breathy "Yes, Sir."

Bringing your head down to the breast now held in your hand, your breath warms over my skin as you utter "God, I can’t wait to get my cock in you. I’m going to fuck you so hard..."

Not given a chance to reply, I feel your tongue slide over a hard point once, twice, my back arching at the pleasure, offering myself up to you more fully. As if in acceptance, you start sucking the peak without mercy, and if feels like you’re trying to consume me. Your teeth above & below my nipple keep me pinned in place for the hot suction of your mouth, sending equal parts pleasure & pain racing through my breast, making me gasp. You bite harder in response, sucking more strongly, sending icy pinpricks of pain shooting through my nipple, drawing them even tighter, making me whimper.

“Take the pain for me. Take it; you can do it. Yes, like that; that’s a good girl. ”

I can’t tell if I want to claw your eyes out or pledge an eternity to you; but what I do know is that, for some reason, disappointing you is *not* an option. I simply nod my head, unable to come up with any other response to give.

You bring the same nipple back to your mouth, clamping down tightly with your teeth, remorselessly sucking on my tit, sending pain coursing through my veins again. But this time…oh, this time the most delicious pleasure follows directly after. My body, which had been so tight & tense, relaxes at the sensation.

I sense you switching your arms around my waist, and a moment later I feel your fingers gripping my other nipple in a tight press, twisting the hard bud, wrenching another moan out of me, giving it another tight pinch to coincide with the sharp bite to my other nipple.

“That’s it,” you say, relaxing back. “That’s my girl.”

Wrists still locked to thighs, I don’t even notice the scratches now decorating them. The only thing I’m aware of is the feeling of your thumbs swiping over my nipples, blurring the lines between pleasure & pain, pain & pleasure. And oh, god, the only thing I know is how badly I need you to cover me, fill me, and make me come. Which is why I can’t help but whine in frustration when, stopping, you turn back around to the dresser, quickly grabbing something out of the drawer. My eyes widen slightly when, upon glancing at your cock, the only words I can think of to describe your erection are ‘swollen’ and ‘angry-looking’. Seeing how hard you are reassures me that you want this as much as I do; however it also makes me want to stomp my feet in protest to your level of self-control.

Preoccupied with scowling at you for not just getting inside me already, I’m not even paying attention to what you’re doing…until I cry out at the feeling of sharp, little metal teeth biting into my nipple. I force myself to take a deep breath, hoping to ease this intensely sharp pain. Doesn’t help. Again—breathing in, holding it in for a second, letting it out slow. And again, watching as you lower your mouth to my other nipple. Sucking it softly, gently caressing it with your tongue; the contrasting sensations making me come unglued.

I can’t help but to succumb to the onslaught of feeling; overwhelmed by pain & pleasure, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins. The heated ache centered behind my clit burning even brighter, my thighs clench against the restraints, needing to feel you between them, pumping into me. Your teeth still playing with my nipple—nipping down, sucking hard, tonguing the peak—coaxes another groan of pleasure/pain from low in my throat.

The bite of the clamp on my other nipple, digging into my skin, has icy licks of heat darting straight from my breasts to down between my legs, earning even more of a response from me. Driven half-insane with need, I’m helpless to do anything but look up you, beseeching you with my eyes to please, please just take me already, bring us to the end that we’re both straining for.

Walking on unsteady legs, you retrieve the keys; hands shaking slightly, you unlock my wrists from my thighs, fumbling with the locks as you unhook the cords from my ankle cuffs. I’ll admit to getting a little shot of twisted glee at seeing you stumble from standing up too fast; why should I be the only one affected by all of this torture?

(To be continued…)

"And as for the guy thing...*sigh*...I always feared there was something wrong with me. You know, because I couldn’t make it work. But...maybe I’m not supposed to. Because, okay--I’m cookie dough; I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m going to turn out to be. But…if I make it through this thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day I turn around and realize: I’m ready. I’m cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to – um - enjoy warm, delicious cookie-me, then that’s fine. That’ll be then....When I’m done."
-- BtVS

On 'Coming Home', Doms, and Love: Cuts of a Conversation

On 'Coming Home': Oh,…the words ‘come home’ were all it took for me to know exactly what you’re describing. Because that feeling…that feeling that this other person is your home, that you could walk in any door in any city all over the world, and if they are what’s behind that door when you open it,….then you are home. Because they are there. It doesn’t matter where you are; if that person is there with you, then you are home. That sense, that feeling…there’s nothing else, is there? That feeling of ‘home’ is the most important thing in the world; once you have that…nothing else matters. Well, things still matter, but not quite as much. That feeling of being ‘home’ with another person…that’s what everyone in this world searches for, the thing everyone wants, but no one really has a name for. It’s everything they never knew was missing, everything they never realized that they wanted. That sense of peace when you come ‘home’ to the other half of yourself, of your heart? That’s really just it, isn’t it? That’s what everyone means when they speak of love.

On Doms: (Him) 'But once you made your way into my heart, I cannot help than to try and nurture you and eventually help you to make use of that potential I see. I am a Dom for god's sake! When you don't realize your greatness, I do. If you question your own potential, I don't. If you don't know how to make use of it, I do. If you stumble I will put you back on your feet, if your stance is firm I will put you to your knees...'
(Me) 'Dear god…I didn’t even realize that this is the way I would describe the ideal Dom, until I read your words. But everything you said, right there in that paragraph…I didn’t’ even realize that that is what I’m looking for.'

On Love: I’ve never said that I haven’t fallen in love before; because I absolutely, unequivocally have. For as ‘emotionally retarded’ as I am, as uncomfortable as ‘feelings’ make me…I wouldn’t even know how to try to run from my heart, if I found it in someone else. I couldn’t even begin to…because those times that I have been in love…running never even crossed my mind. When I’m in love with someone, when I love them…I don’t move. I will stand there, stand by them, fight for them, for us, for the potential I see…with everything I am, with everything I have, until it feels like I can’t fight another inch. And then…I’ll simply fight for what I believe in, for what I love, some more. Why do you think I work so hard to protect myself from false imitations of it? Because when it’s real, when I truly love…I’m incapable of doing anything but giving myself over to it, wholly, utterly, & completely.

A Masters’ Story, pt 2

Standing there naked in your bedroom, I am utterly transfixed by the scene in front of me: you standing behind me, all bare skin & muscles, one hand coming from behind to rest at my waist, the other forcing my gaze to meet yours in the mirror. My reflection is outlined in slashes of black, somehow making me feel more exposed than if I were wearing nothing: the leather straps at my wrists locked to those around my thighs, ankle cuffs attached to the cords coming from the bottom bedposts keeping my legs spread wide, leaving me utterly open to you.

Pinned there against you, unable to move, I can only watch as your hand slides down between my thighs; jerking slightly as you lightly—too lightly—circle one finger over my clit. Moving your hand lower you part my folds, dragging one finger through the damp heat between my legs. Back arching slightly, a moan escapes my throat as my head falls back against your shoulder.

Bringing your lips close to my ears, your voice is a hoarse rasp when you ask, "You’re just a little bit wet, aren’t you?" and I nod my head yes in response.

Still looking me in the eyes in the mirror, your facial expression never changes as you deliver one lighting-fast slap to my mound. My thighs attempt to jerk close; but being bound at the ankles keeps me spread open, pitching me forward instead. It’s only your arms around me, securing me, that keep me upright. Chest heaving, eyes wide with shock, I can only stare at your reflection in front of me, not daring to move another muscle.

One arm around my waist and the other stroking between my legs, there’s a note of censure in your voice as you ask me “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Yes Sir; I said Yes, Sir!” The words tumbling past my lips so quickly they run together. Though without even being told, I know I have a punishment coming now.

Lowering your mouth to my ear, your warm breath is a dangerous whisper when you tell me, “Let’s remember that, shall we?”

Throat tight with a combination of arousal & erotic fear, I only manage a low “Yes, Sir.”

My eyes must’ve closed because I distantly hear you say ‘good girl’, and the sharp rap of your fingers slapping the mound of my pussy makes my eyes fly open again. Sensation vibrates down through me, with a burning ache settling right under my clit. Struggling to push past the flood of panic in my brain, I almost manage to realize that it’s not painful when you repeat the process; just a fraction harder this time, stroking the burning ache into a blaze of need. Yet in spite of this desperate arousal clawing its way through me, my attention never wavers from you; the only thing I’m aware of seeing is your reflection in the mirror, all corded muscles in your arms & shoulders, the stress of restraint in your neck. Even as the flat of your hand lands on my pussy with more force this time, making me cry out in equal parts pain and pleasure, I never lose awareness of your body against mine; holding me so tightly to you I can feel pre-cum spurt from your cock. Any other time, the vise-like grip you have around my waist might hurt; but in that moment, the only thing I can feel is grateful for it. Almost as if the weight of you is keeping me from flying out of my skin; as if the sheer strength of you is what is keeping me grounded.

Though as my eyes open & come back into focus, trying to find yours in the mirror, I’m not quite sure who’s supporting who: our reflection show me leaning into you, head thrown back against your shoulder, while your head is bowed forward against my neck, your body curved almost protectively over mine; our chests rise & fall in time together, breath coming in harsh pants. Neither of us moves for few moments, attempting to catch our breath; steadier now, your arms hug me tighter as you kiss my neck, your lips lingering against my skin.

Confident once again in our ability to stand you begin to move around me-- carefully stepping over the cords binding me to the bed posts, keeping one arm steady around my waist—until you’re standing in front of me. Feeling your rock-hard cock pressed straight-up against my stomach has me straining in against these restraints; fingernails clawing into my thighs, the little half-moon marks left behind on my skin the only visible proof of my sexual frustration.

There’s a slight smirk on your face as you ask me if I can remember that; and I have to unclench my jaw in order to reply with a proper “Yes, Sir”.

“Good,” you say, trailing your fingertips up to caress the undersides of my breasts, lightly pinching my already hard nipples, “because right now, I’d rather play with these.”

(To be continued…)

In honor of everyone's favorite non-holiday tomorrow:

Better the love of your Beloved, than the admiration of the world.

No sooner met but they looked;
No sooner looked but they loved;
No sooner loved but they sighed;
No sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason;
No sooner knew the reason than sought the remedy;
And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
-Shakespeare

His hello was the end of her endings
Her laugh was the first step down the aisle
His hand would be hers to hold forever
His forever was as simple as her smile
He said She was what was missing
She said she instantly knew
She was a question to be answered
And his answer was "I do"
-SATC

'...She wanted everything, but she refused to want more. She refused to believe, even for a second, that this thing they were indulging in would ever lead to anything more; she had no delusions she'd ever get more. She was too strange, too off-key--and not in a cute, adorable way either--to ever hope someone could love her as she was, and she was smart enough to know she'd never change. Not inherently. Not where it counted. Nothing she did would ever change that...."
-Miss Congeniality, Shelly Laurenston

A Masters’ Story, pt 1

You greet me with a quick kiss on the lips as I walk through the door and go to hang my things in the usual spot. Unaware that you’re standing so close, I can’t help the surprised ‘oh!’ that crosses my lips as I turn back around & almost bump into you. Looking up at you, my scowl turns into wide-eyed shock when I feel your hand in my hair, yanking my head even further back, as you look me in the eyes and tell me, "No. Tonight you do not have permission to speak. The only things I want to hear out of your mouth tonight are ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’, or—if you need them—your safe words. Do you understand?"

Too surprised to speak, I instead attempt to nod ‘yes’; but don’t quite manage with your hand still in my hair. I wince as—unhappy with my hesitation-- you fist my hair tighter; effectively crushing my body against yours. My wince turns into a whimper when I feel how hard you are against me, and the combination of my pain & your arousal makes my breath kick up a notch.

"Do. You. Understand?"

My immediate answer of "Yes, Sir", free of any hesitation, thrills you. Feeling your cock grow even harder against me, knowing how much my submission means to you, only makes me to want to give it to you that much more.

You keep me there in position for another moment before releasing your grip & stepping back. "I want you to walk into my bedroom, stand near the foot of my bed facing the mirror, and strip."

I simply nod in acknowledgment, silently trying to gather my wits about me in an attempt to rebalance myself. It takes a moment for me to move, willing my legs to support me as I walk back to your room.

Following your instructions, I remove & fold my clothing piece by piece, setting the pile where it usually goes. Coming to stand—naked now, of course--with my back to your bed, facing the huge mirror that spans your dresser.

Watching your reflection in the mirror as you stalk into the room, I can only think that you look like some predator—your shoulders rolling with each step, that little glint in your eye—oh yes, you are definitely stalking, hunting. Seeing you smile at me the way you are tells me I’m your prey; and that right now, you have me exactly where you want me. Judging by the props in your hand, you intend to keep me there for a while, as well.

You stop directly behind me, purposefully crowding me; teasing me by pressing your denim-covered erection into the small of my back. Needing to feel more of you I shift back slightly, fitting my body to yours front-to-back. Noticing the rough sensation of your jeans against my naked ass causes me to wiggle slightly, rubbing my thighs together in a desperate bid to ease the ache between my legs. Though when your free hand taps my inner thighs below my ass cheeks I automatically obey and widen my stance, legs spread.

"Don’t close your legs to me. When we’re alone they’re open wide, showing your availability, and giving me easy access to your pussy. Do you understand me?"

Struggling with myself, half-hating how much I love this, it takes me a second to answer "Yes, Sir."

Caught up by the visual stimulation of watching in the mirror as your hand strokes back & forth over the skin below my navel, I’m startled when something suddenly comes rushing into my line of sight. It takes a second for me to realize that it’s your hand, holding wide black cuffs in your hand. Forcibly tearing my gaze away from the leather straps, my eyes once again meet yours, echoing your arousal.

"You understand that once I put these on you, you are mine to tease, torment, punish, and fuck at will? You understand that your entire body will belong to me?"

I respond with a soft "Yes, Sir", though what I really want to do is beg you to please, please let me be all of those things to you.

Moving to stand in front of me, you place all but two cuffs on top of the dresser and turn to face me again, leaning against the edge of the furniture. "Good girl. Give me your wrists."

I comply with perfect obedience, without pause, and present my wrists to you palms-up. Watching, spellbound, you attach one of the leather hasp-style cuffs to each wrist; pressing your lips to my racing pulse once each is secured.

Taking two more from the pile before you turn back and, fingers beneath my chin, force my eyes up to meet yours. "You understand that any time I indicate I want to make use of your mouth, your pussy, or your ass, you assume the position I request, no questions asked?"

It’s harder for me to answer this—a million ‘what ifs’ filled my mind before you were finished speaking, and a part of me cringes at the thought of giving in so easily, without a fight—but it’s still only a heartbeat before I say "Yes, Sir".

This look comes over your face at my answer--this mixture of tenderness & possessiveness. I don’t even get a chance to wonder at it then, because all of a sudden I feel your hands fisting in the back of my hair and your tongue thrusting against mine, as if you’re fucking me. You stop just as quickly & pull back, leaving me disoriented & shaky; trying to catch my breath as you kneel and slip on the matching thigh cuffs, buckling each in place. Out of nowhere it hits me that these are new, we’ve never played with these before; and I can’t help the tingle of anxiety that flushes through my system. Part of me is pissed to think you kissed me like that just as a distraction; part of me is nervous at having something new sprung on me; the part of me that trusts you is trying to calm down the nervous part; and the rest of me…the rest of me is turned on as hell at the thought of what you’re going to do.

Grabbing the last set of restraints in one hand you stand and cup my face with the other, smoothing your thumb over my cheek as if in reassurance, calming me. It is exactly what I need from you; and I visibly relax at your display of comfort & affection. Unable to look anywhere but in your eyes, I listen as you tell me:

"I will take care of you. Trust me to know when and how you need my cock. Trust me to understand your fantasies, and do my best to make them come true. Trust me to know when you need to be paddled, when you need to be fucked, and when you need for me to wrap my arms around you and hold you. Understand?"

My "Yes, Sir" comes out as little more than a whisper; though what you see in my eyes gives you every answer you need.

Kneeling, you attach the ankle cuffs; though I’m slightly confused when, instead of standing, you reach behind me, fumbling underneath the bed for something. I’m about to ask if you need help, thinking maybe you dropped something, when you sit back on your heels, looking up at me expectantly. The breath rushed out of my chest when I notice the cords on either side of me, resting by my feet. I don’t have to look behind me to understand that you weren’t searching for anything; but rather that what you were doing was securing the opposite ends of each cord to the bottom of the bedposts. Reaching into your back pocket you produce a small pair of padlocks, holding them up for me to see.

"Are you ready for everything I have to give you?"

Nodding my head, I finally find my voice, giving everything to you with a submissive "Yes, Sir". Forcing myself to take deep breaths, I watch as you lock my wrists to my thighs; but there’s no controlling the nervous little noise that escapes my throat when you force my legs wider apart, securing them there by attaching a cord to black leather restraints adorning my ankles.

You rise & turn away from me, shucking your clothes as I stand there, feeling as though I’m splintering into a million different pieces. Ecstatic that you’re finally getting naked so that I can feel the warmth of your skin against mine; anxious at being restrained like this; and burning with the need to be whatever it is you need me to be, for my body to give yours pleasure however you desire it. This level of submission both excites & scares the hell out of me.

My hands are clenching & unclenching against my thighs in nervousness when you come up behind, naked this time. Feeling the hot, hard length of you pressing into my back has my pussy creaming in need; and the only thought I’m aware of is how much I need to feel you filling me up.

Your arms circle me from behind, one hand on my waist securing me tightly to you, as your other palm smoothes over my ribcage & up between my breasts, coming to rest lightly on my throat. Eyes forward, I watch in the mirror as your fingers grip my jaw, locking my gaze to yours; a silent direction not to look away.

(To be continued…)

My Valentine's Day gift to myself?

Pole Dancing Classes!!!! :) :) :)

How fun! Waayy better than chocolate or flowers... ;) :p

You
i never really used to believe
that dreams could really come true.
but then one night i had this dream,
and when i woke up there was You.
so after that i never wanted
to fall asleep again;
because i was afraid that if i closed my eyes,
the dream i was living would end.
but it didn't work, and i soon got tired,
and closed my eyes at last.
and even though it was just for a second,
the dream i was living went past.
so i still don't know if i believe
that dreams can really come true;
all i know is that no matter how hard i dream,
there will never be another You.
-me

(why, yes--yes, I did write that. way back in the day. like, back when i was 14 years old, back in the day.) :)

The Only Antidote for Mental Suffering is Physical Pain

Meaning:
The exhaustion that comes from running through waist-deep snow, either chasing after or running from the 100 lb. Rottweiler trying to knock me down; and the pain that’s a result of shoveling snow for hours, until my muscles burn & ache (or I’m just too cold to feel them anyway).... yeah, that exhaustion & pain?
Puurrrr-fect antidote to the fact that I am just so goddamn tired of thinking.
So instead, right now, I’m finding my peace by being too blissfully tired for my mind to fucking think.
In fact, the only thing I’m thinking right now is that I want to take a wee little nap. See? Thinking problem, solved.

Dear God/Universe/Higher Power/Whatever,

Ok, so…I love all this snow. No, I mean that—I really do. It’s got this whole ‘Yay!’ and ‘Fun!’ and ‘Pretty, Magical, Winter-Wonderland Fairy-Tale’ vibe goin on, right?

But, um, dude…seriously? If you’re not going to snow me in with someone who’s going to screw my brains out until I can’t even remember my own name, then I really, really, need it to *not* snow so much that I can’t leave my house or go anywhere. Because I need to be able to go places & do things. So that I’m not sitting in my house thinking about how much better it’d be, if I could’ve just spent all this time fucking someone.

So, ah, how ‘bout we ease up on all that snow fall there, Ol' Hoss. Alright? Great. Thanks. I’d appreciate it. J

Smooches!

Nicole

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.--H. L. Mencken

Invictus
Out of the night that covers me / Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be / For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance / I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance /My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears / Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years / Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate / How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate / I am the captain of my soul. - William Ernest Henley

You have been weighed. You have been measured. And you have been found wanting. In what world could you possibly have beaten me?

Studying/working in the medical field, we learn that there is always a plan. But...the thing about plans, is they don't take into account the unexpected. Which usually means we're also unprepared. So when that happens--whether its in the hospital or in life--we have to improvise. Of course...some of us are better at it than others. Some of us ...just have to move on to plan B and make the best of it. And sometimes... what we want is exactly what we need. But sometimes... sometimes, what we need is a new plan.

It's such a lie that you should do what's in your heart. If we all did what was in our heart, the world would grind to a halt.

"The truth is I've never fooled anyone. I've let people fool themselves. They didn't bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn't argue with them...they were obviously loving somebody I wasn't." -Marilyn Monroe

We're all put to the test... but it never comes in the form or at the point we would prefer, does it?

Strong is fighting. It's hard, and it's painful, and it's everyday. It's what we do.

The hardest thing in this world, is to live in it.

What I Know:

At this point in my life, there is absolutely no reason I should have made that mistake. I should have known better; hell, I *do* *know* better. I do know that people lie; and that promises can be broken before they are even made. I understand that there is a very real chance that I might never be loved; and that-despite what people would like to believe-there *isn't* always someone out there for everyone. I know that, sometimes, people really are just meant to be alone. I know that I can't change or help time, and so every now and then it will just run out. I'm quite aware that not everything in life comes easy; but absolutely believe that when I work the hardest, that's when it's the best. I know (well) better than to believe that people truly care, even if they say they do. And I know that when I get stabbed in the front by someone I care about, it's only because they missed when they tried to stab me in the back. I learned long, long ago that in the end, I am my own best friend. I know to expect that, at some point in my life (again), I will experience pain beyond the telling of it; and oh, is it gonna hurt like hell. I may not know what it is or when it'll happen; and I also know that sometimes there's no way to stop it from happening. Sometimes I just can't change fate. And I know that, more often than not, the only thing I can hope for is that--in the end--whatever it is will have been worth it. And I also know that sometimes, unfortunately...it just won't be.

The Light of Stars

The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.

There is no light in earth or heaven
But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of night is given
To the red planet Mars.

Is it the tender star of love?
The star of love and dreams?
O no! from that blue tent above,
A hero's armor gleams.

And earnest thoughts within me rise,
When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies,
The shield of that red star.

O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.

Within my breast there is no light
But the cold light of stars;
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars.

The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

O fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know erelong,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.

--by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Submissive's (Naughty) Snow Day Fantasy

Yup...there's lots you can do when you're snowed in. You have all this time to do all these different things...like, maybe...we'd be sitting in bed. Just sitting there, maybe watching TV or reading or something, not particuarly do anything. I might tap my foot against yours once...twice..but I wouldn't act like I noticed it. Wait a while, I might do it again. You'd give me this look, which I'd meet w/my innocent 'Who, me?' expression; which each of us would know to be both a tease and a challenge. We both know that I only tease you because you let me do it; and we both so look forward to the point when you decide that I'm done being allowed to tease. Because what we both want is what comes after--when you decide to put me in my place.
I've tapped you with my foot a few times, maybe shifted a few too many times (on purpose), when out of nowhere I decide to tickle you. Such a good, good, bad idea on my part, because this is where you decide that my little game stops, and my submission begins.
Before I know what happened, I'm stretched out under you with my arms over my head, both of my wrists clasped in one of your hands. My eyes wide because I wasn't expecting this (hoping for it, but not expecting); though I don't say a word because I see that look in your eye...I *know* that look in your eye. It's the one that fills me with excitment & anticipation--excitement because I know that you're going to use me however the hell you want to use me, I truly have no choice when you're like this, and I know I must submit completely to you. And anticipation because I also know that you're definitely *not* going to be gentle about it; in fact you might be a little rougher than usual, just to make sure I get the point--that *you're* the one in control here, that you can do whatever you want to me, that my body is yours & you command it for your pleasure.
Still looking me in the eye, holding my hands down, your other hand shoves aside my panties and your finger plunges into me without hesitation...only to feel how soaking wet I am for you already. My back arches & I groan at how good you feel inside me, my feet plant on the bed & my knees splay out to the sides in a show of submission, & openeing myself to you. I can't stop grinding against your hand as you add another finger, your thumb on my clit, as you start fucking me furiously with your hand. I'm so close to coming that I don't even notice that your hand no longer holds my wrists down, but is instead freeing your cock from your pants. You, however, notice that without my even being aware of it--and without your having to tell me to--that my arms stay above my head, in the position you put them in, almost as though you're still holding me down.
It takes me a minute to realize that you've stopped. I look up at you, confused, only to have you tell me to turn over onto my stomach, but keep my arms above my head. I follow your orders without hesitation, but do so slowly--like you're some wild animal, and any sudden movement would only set you off. (I secretly love it when you act like that, though...when you want me so much that you can't do anything but take me. Nothing else makes me feel so owned.)
Once I'm facedown on the bed, arms stretched overhead, you maneuver my knees beneath me, dragging your fingers through my wetness, spearing inside me once, twice. But my moans turn into a surprised yelp when the first smack lands on my ass. It's harder than you normally are with me, which I can't help but get aroused by; your other hand is on the back of my neck, holding me immobilized so that I can't do anything but take your punishment. My ass is turning red from your hand, and the burn is slowly seeping into my cunt, tightening in on itself, wanting you inside me. Much longer of this, I think, and I'm going to come without you even having to touch me.
You seem to sense this because your hand at my neck moves into my hair, yanking it back and forcing me onto my hands & knees. You force my head to the side, force me to look up at you & into your eyes as you slowly--oh so slowly--work your cock into my dripping pussy. I'm always so tight that you're have to go slow; but you don't mind because you make me look you in the eyes every time you enter me. Your way of making sure I know *who's* pussy it is (it's your pussy, Sir). Your way of making sure I know who's cock is fucking me (it's your cock fucking me, Sir). Your way of making sure I know who owns me (you own me, Sir).
Once you've finally seated yourself fully inside me, you rear back slowly, still looking me in the eyes, making sure I feel every inch of you. And then--without even letting go of my hair or looking away from me--you just completely let go, fucking me harder than you ever have before. Fucking me into submission, owning me body & soul. I'm so close to cumming, you feel my pussy start to spasm around your cock, and you pick up your pace because you know it makes me come even harder. I tell you that I'm going to come, Sir, and your reply is to 'Do it. Come all over my cock'.
I let go and succumb completely to you, orgasming around your cock while you're still pistioning in & out of me. All of a sudden you pull out, wrap your fist around your cock, and come all over my ass & lower back, putting your mark on me. There's something you love about coming on me, spilling your seed on my tits or ass, knowing it was *you* who put it there. You have a passing thought that it's kind of like marking your territory, but it's gone before it fully registers.
I only now become aware of the fact that your hand in still in my hair pulling my head back, and only because you tighten your grip. Your finger plays in the glob of your come that's slowly trickling down my ass. Making sure your fingers are coated, you stab two in my pussy, asking 'who's pussy is this' (it's your pussy, Sir); who's cock did you just come around? (i just came around your cock, Sir); who owns this pussy? (you own this pussy, Sir). You slowly pull your fingers out of me, telling me 'that's right, good girl. that's my pussy'.
I think that's it and start to relax, almost start to turn my head until I feel one of your fingers--now coated in both our juices--penetrate my asshole. I don't know what to do, how to react, so I don't move--I just stay still, eyes wide looking at you, silently waiting to take my cue from you. I follow your lead when you ask me 'who's asshole is this?' (it's your asshole, Sir); 'who owns this asshole?' (you own this asshole, Sir); 'who's going to fuck this asshole?' (though I can't help swallowing a deep gulp of air before I answer that 'you're going to fuck this asshole, Sir).
'That's right, slave. I'm going to fuck that asshole. So stay right there, and don't move an inch', slapping my ass as you step back off the bed.
My head facedown in the covers, arms stretched overhead, your come running down my ass & my pussy still dripping wet, I can't help the huge smile that spreads across my face at the thought that we're not even close to being done for the night.

Ohmigod...SQUEEE!!! I LOVE IT WHEN IT SNOWS LIKE THIS!!!!
I love it when they're these big fluffy white snowflakes; when you're out there walking around in them it amost doesn't seem real, almost like you're in a movie or a snowglobe or...I don't know...some magical story or something.
And everything looks so pretty & perfect...so of course the first thing you want to do is run around in it!
Of course, it's easy to get this excited for the snow because Ally (my rottie) gets so super excited about the snow. I dare anyone who comes to my house to *not* feel the same way, after they've seen her in action. Ally gets so excited & acts like such a clown in the snow...it's impossible *not* to catch on to some of that enthusiasm. :)
So...I'm very happy & excited for all the snow right now.
Of course...it may be a completely different story after I've been out there shoveling for 2 hours....again. :X
But...that's then. Enjoying it now. :)

Pain-- it comes in all forms: the small twinge, a bit of soreness, the random pain, the normal pains that we live with everyday. Then there's the kind of pain you can't ignore; a level of pain so great that it blocks out everything else. It's able to make the rest of the world fade away, until all you can think about is how much you hurt.
Most of the time pain can be managed; but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it--hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Of course, how we manage our pain is up to us. There are no solutions, no easy answers--sometimes you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wounds that cause it heal. You just breathe deep, and wait for it to subside.
Pain...we anaesthetize, ride it out, embrace it, ignore it... and for some of us, the only way we know how to manage pain is to just fight & push through it. Because the truth is you can't outrun it, and life always makes more.

Let me tell you the secret that drives my every waking breath: my strength lies solely in my tenacity.

Ut ego may somnus is nox noctis...

Looking Forward to:
*Feb* - Zumba classes start in 2 weeks. Yaayy!!
*Mar* - Rielly's 30th Bday, and the Philly Erin Express. Lol...guess where I'll be? Yup--first time back to the city in 4 years. Should be quite the reunion, don'tcha think?
*Apr* - Taking a 'Golf for Women' class. Because when you work with as many doctors as I do, it's simply a stategic professional move.
*May* - Regulatory Cert test. And, -ahem--ssh, don't tell anyone--my 30th Bday!
*June* - Taking a motorcycle safety course. Because I can; and I've always wanted to. I grew up around motorcycles (dirt & street bikes), and have always loved being out on someone elses'. So I kind of just figure...meh, why the hell not? Just do it myself...

Random things I would like to do at some point:
Take a Pole Dancing class
Scuba Dive
Swim with sharks
Learn American Sign Language...and/or Mandarin Chinese
Go horseback riding
Learn how to drive stick (haha--car, you asshole). And how fucking awesome would it be to learn how to drive a race car!??!?!? That would be...just, like, the ultimate!
Take various cooking/wine appreciation classes.

What, can't you tell I like taking classes & learning completely random skills? What can I say--I happen to be a very quick study; which also just happens to make me a very good submissive. And the lowest common denominator of all of those things? Adrenaline. *sigh*....my drug of choice

Remember when we were little and we would accidentally bite a kid on the playground? Our teachers would go: “Say you’re sorry”, and we would say it... but we *so* didn't mean it, because the stupid kid we bit? He so totally deserved it.
But as we get older, making amends isn’t so simple. After the playground days are over... you can’t just say it, you have to mean it.
As human beings we can always try to do better, to be better; to re-write a wrong even if it feels irreversible. Of course, “I’m sorry” doesn’t always cut it. Maybe because we use it so many different ways: as a weapon, as an excuse.
But when we are really sorry...when we use it right...when we mean it...when actions say what words never can....When we get it right, “I’m sorry” is perfect. When we get it right, “I’m sorry” is redemption.

"A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more. Nobody is going to win a 5,000 meter race after running an easy 2 miles. Not with me. If I lose forcing the pace all the way, well, at least I can live with myself."
- Steve Prefontaine

When God wants your attention, first He throws feathers.
After that, He starts throwing bricks.

I obviously missed the feathers, dear God
But let me make of these hard clay lessons not a wall,
But a staircase to climb;
To lift me out of blindness, jealousy, anger, ego
To see more clearly and deeply--within myself and others--
So that I may live what I have repeated in a hundred yoga classes:
'Namaste'--the God in me sees the God in you.

'They' say that the power in all relationships lies with whoever cares less. And, well...I'll be the first to admit that 'they' are right. But... power isn't happiness; and I think that happiness comes from caring more about people, rather than less

'They' also say that people who love much grieve much. And 'they' would be right once again. But I think that only the ones with a strong heart--the ones who have much to give, the ones who can love more--are the ones who are moved more... to love again.

So...whatever. I'm going to crawl back in bed for another 20 minutes, wrap the covers all around me, and for the next couple of minutes--and the next couple of minutes *only*--I'm going to pretend like someone else is there with me. Just a couple of minutes, and then that's it--I'll be over it & back to being my normal 'I-am-an-island' self.
***well, whatdoyouknow? the whole 'pretending not to be alone in bed' thing came in quite *ahem* handy. nothing like a good orgasm to start the week off right. lol...getting yourself off in the morning isn't *quite* as good as starting the day off by having sex with someone else, but...hey-a girls' gotta do what a girls gotta do.***

A wise man once said 'tragedy is not what we suffer, but what we miss'.

And yes, to lose your hearts desire is tragic. But to gain your hearts desire?...It's everything you could ever hope for. So if being in love is tragic, then give me tragedy. Because I wouldn't give it back for the world.

Snippet of an email from myself to a friend:
Oh, how I understand you when you say "But I am something else really, which sometimes I am complimented on, but doesn't always make my life exactly easy." (unless I just completely misinterpreted it!)
When I first start talking to or dating a guy, I tell them up front: "I'm like no other girl you've ever dated." Of course, they just kind of laugh & shrug it off, like 'Oh, isn't she cute?'. But then they find out that no, I really was being serious.
And when I say "don't hold back", I truly mean it.Primarily because I couldn't be in that kind of situation with someone if I had even the slightest question of their ability to respect my limits, or not inflict (intentionally cruel or serious) bodily harm. But I also feel like, when my Dom doesn't hold back & just lets go, it gives me permission to, as well. In my normal 'vanilla' life, I'm a very calm, rational, controlled person; who always has a very tight hold of herself. Any emotions or 'feelings' are kept tightly under wraps. So part of what draws me, as a sub, to BDSM is that it's kind of like a means of giving myself permission to just *feel*. And when my Dom really lets go, takes absolute control of me...it's almost like an explicit invitation to feel things very intensely. And I am only as tightly wound & controlled as I am in my day-to-day life, because I need to be--because I am a deeply passionate person who feels things very intensely.

What can I say, people? ADD + alcohol = deep thoughts, derailed...

"You know... sometimes you just have to take a step back, look at yourself in the mirror, and say to yourself: 'Self...(long pause)'...wait, what was I talking about again?"-- yours truly :)

(and nope, still haven't lived that one down!)

My Confession:
I really missed you tonight. I miss talking to you. Knowing that you get me. And every time I talk to someone else it just reminds me of how much they don't.
And here's my confession: no matter what happens during my day, it inevitably somehow leads me think of you. If I happen to see or read something I think you might find funny or interesting, I want to tell you about it. If something good happens, you're the first person I think of that I want to share it with. If something happened at work...all it took was to see you or hear your voice, & suddenly whatever it was seemed way more manageable. I liked including you in my day; because I liked that you got to be a part of my life (even just a little). And so I really missed you--and it sucked that you weren't--tonight.
Because...no matter what happens (and even when I'm mad at you)..at the end of the day, you're who I want to talk to.

*Moments...that's it, that's all you get in this life: moments with the people you love. No matter how many hours, days, years...the quantity is absolutely insignificant, because all you truly get are moments.

*At the end of a day like this-- when so many prayers are answered… and so many aren't-- we take our miracles where we find them. We reach across the gap, and sometimes--against all odds, against all logic--we touch. Against all odds, it happens...

We enter the world alone and we leave it alone. And everything that happens in between, we owe it to our self to find a little company. We need help. We need support. Otherwise we’re in it by our self. Strangers, cut off from each other, and we forget just how connected we all really are. So instead we choose life, we choose love. We choose life, and love, and for a moment...we feel just a little bit less alone.

Practicing medicine doesn’t lend itself well to the making of friends. We don’t have time to worry about all the blood and death and crap it really makes us feel. Maybe because life and mortality are in our faces all the time. Maybe because in staring down death everyday, we’re forced to know that life--every minute--is borrowed time. And each life, each person, we let ourselves care about is just one more loss somewhere down the line. For this reason, I know some people who just don’t bother making friends at all. But the rest of us...we make it our job to move that line. To push each loss as far away as we can.

So earlier today I was feeling all bubbly & chipper; and I had this bubbly & chipper post all thought up. Except now...now I'm not feeling so bubbly & chipper. Right now I'm feeling sad. Sad & teary-eyed. But...I've never been one to let something bubbly & chipper go to waste. So--I'm going to spend the rest of the night (re)reading 'Way of the Peaceful Warrior' by Dan Millman, because it gives me a sense of warmth & comfort. And right now I find myself needing a sense of warmth & comfort. But...for anyone else out there...here's some bubbly & chipper...

Where are all of the playfull men at?
My mood lately is probably best described as 'playfully rough & edgy'. Which chiefly means that: I want someone to plaaayyy wiiitthh! (yeah, that was almost a whine. suck it up.) And I don't mean board games, a verbal sparring match, or a matching of wits (though the latter two are like air to me). No...what I want right now is a 'playfully rough & edgy' tussel between the sheets. The kind that ends with both parties sweaty, gasping for breath, & physcially unable to move another inch. Becuase that's the way it *should* end when both people go at it like animals. ;)
Now you know--playfullness is one of the qualities that I look for in someone.
Now, I'm actually a very serious--though easy-going--person; and god knows that there are an overwhelming number of things in this life to be taken seriously. But sex? Sex is not one of them. I'm not saying that it should be treated as inconsequential or insignificant, because it is definitely not those things. But you should be able to have fun with it, because it is funny. If you take a step back for a second--it's actually kind of ridiculous: the noises, faces, bodies, positions....I mean, c'mon, tell me you're not laughing at some of the images running through your head right now! You should definitley be able to laugh with your partner(s)during sex. Notice I said laugh *with*! WITH! Not laugh *at*! Big, HUGE difference! (at least to & for me).
Sex: serious, and (seriously) ridiculous. :)
Now I suppose with being on this site & all, that it's no big surprise that I love sex. Huuge fan of sex. I like it, I enjoy it, and I think it's all sorts of fun. Slow & sensual fun, hard & fast fun, rough & kinky fun...and--maybe even the best kind--delicously painful fun.
So--to all those out there--here endeth the lesson: grab your partner(s) (or yourself...or whatever...), and go. Play. But above all, have (SS&C) fun. ;)

Lance Armstrong is no Chuck Norris, but the guy's still got a point:

"Well, I guess if a person never quit when the going got tough, they wouldn't anything to regret for the rest of their life. But good luck to you. I'm sure this decision won't haunt you forever." -- Lance Armstrong, Dodgeball

*sigh* Stupid (almost) full moon...

Ever have just a little bit *too* much restless energy? And it almost feels like your skins' 'humming', maybe a little warmer & more sensitive than usual? Because that's how I'm feeling right now.

Back when I was in college (and ok, maybe for a couple of years after. Whatever), this 'restless' feeling usually meant that I'd be starting fights with boys in the bars that night....especially if tequila was involved. Tequila tends to kind of make me an *angry* drunk. Oops. (And, yes--I have started a good number of bar fights with guys. Usually by walking up to them & telling them to 'Take off their sunglasses, flip down their shirt collars, and stop acting like such pretentious assholes'. )

If I could have my way, right now, in a perfect world—I’d have a Dom who was feeling as frisky & riled up as I am. I’d (pretend) to refuse, & maybe put some extra effort into struggling so that said Dom could use extra force to ‘show me who’s boss’. (The huge smile that’d be plastered across my face might ruin it, though. What can I say? I’m smiling just thinking about it!)

^BUT^…seeing as how I’m not in college anymore, and that starting bar fights is slightly inappropriate at this age….and seeing as how it’s definitely *not* a perfect world (and I probably wouldn’t get my way there, either)….I’m going to go running. The sky is gorgeous, the cold air will burn my lungs, and I won’t be able to feel my legs. Perfect. J

And then—when I get home—so that I’ll actually be able to fall asleep tonight…I’ll be getting myself off. Probably a couple of times…maybe three. Or four…whatever. (Um, yeah…I find the idea of being shown who’s boss *really* exciting!)

Like I said: stupid (almost) full moon; always makes me sooo horny.

Wednesday's Wisdom:

*Every morning is a fresh beginning. Every day is the world made new. Today is a new day. Today is my world made new. I have lived all my life up to this moment, to come to this day. This moment--this day--is as good as any moment in all eternity. I shall make of this day--each moment of this day--a heaven on earth. This is my day of opportunity.

*At any given moment, the brain has 14 billion neurons firing at a speed of 450 miles per hour. We don't have control over most of them. The body naturally follows it's impulses; which I think is part of what makes it so hard for us to control ours. Of course sometimes we have impulses we would rather not control, that we later wish we had. The body is a slave to it's impulses. But the thing that makes us human is what we can control. After the storm, after the rush, after the heat of the moment has passed...we can cool off and clean up the messes we made. We can try to let go of what was...

*In oncology, we live in a world of worse-case scenarios. We cut ourselves off from hoping for the best because--too many times--the best doesn't happen. But every now and then...something extraordinary occurs; and suddenly best-case scenarios seem possible. And every now and then something amazing happens...and against our better judgment, we start to have hope. Because--when the worst-case scenario comes true--clinging to hope is all we've got left.

*You can never get enough of what you don't really want in the first place.

*"In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine."
— Milan Kundera (The Unbearable Lightness of Being)

Dude--SERIOUSLY?!?! SERIOUSLY?!?!? How *fucking* stupid do you think I am?!? Seriously! Although...the complete & utter lack of respect that you've shown me tells me *just how little* you truly think of me.
Me? You know--your friend? Isn't that what you called me--your friend? You treat your friends like that? Huh....really....
I am so...*beyond*...disapointed, it's ridiculous. I'm speechless. I'm also really fucking insulted. Seriously. But...oh my god...more than anything, I'm just. so. so. SO disapointed.

Never allow someone to become your choice, when you are just their option.

A person with full courage can often surrender both the fear of losing and the desire to win, and act for the sake of action, even the sake of love. Take for example the Zen story of a monk, whose temple is invaded by an enemy warrior:

"Do you know that I have the power to kill you with this sword?" the warrior says.The monk only replies, "Do you know that I have the power to let you?"

Monday's Musings:

*He who uses trickery should at least make use of his judgment to learn that he can scarcely hide treacherous conduct for very long among clever men who are determined to find him out; although they may pretend to be deceived in order to disguise their knowledge of his deceitfulness.

*It's been said that seeing is believing. But the fact is, we all have our blind spots. Sometimes we recognize them ourselves; and sometimes others recognize them for us. Distance has a way of distorting the things we see...but what appears as an obstacle, may in fact be an opportunity. The trick is having enough faith to carry through...

*In the long run , we get no more than we have been willing to risk giving.

*To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk disappointment. But risks must be taken because the greatest risk in life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing, does nothing, sees nothing, has nothing and is nothing. He cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, or live .

*There is no situation that is not transformable. There is no person who is hopeless. There is no set of circumstances that cannot be turned about by ordinary human beings, and their natural capacity of love of the deepest sort.

* (and my personal favorite!) Love many, trust few, but always paddle your own canoe. :)

Ugh...days like today (cold, gray, rainy) are totally meant to be spent buried under the covers in bed, wrapped up with someone else; or cuddled up with each other on the couch, watching cheesy 80's movie reruns on TV. Both of these things should also be done naked; but if at any point putting on clothes becomes unavoidable, the only acceptable items would be comfy old sweats--preferably grey. :)

But..you know...maybe that's just me. :)

Simply putting the universe on notice: my limit has been reached.

And don't forget to have a good day, now, ya'hear? :)

Today's Thoughts:

I wish that I could be dumb. And then I wouldn't know better; and then I could be happy...and stop....hoping.

What upsets me is not that you lied to me; but that from now on I can no longer believe you - Nietzsche

Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band: Aerosmith

1. Are you male or female: Woman of the World

2. Describe yourself: Pandora’s Box

3. How do some people feel about you: Fallen Angel, Jaded

4. How do you feel about yourself: Chip Away the Stone, Girl Keeps on Coming Apart

5. Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Stop Messin Around

6. Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend: Sight for Sore Eyes

7. Describe where you want to be: Fly Away From Here, Permanent Vacation

8. Describe what you want to be: Amazing

9. Describe how you live: The Grind, Back In the Saddle, Train Kept A Rollin

10. Describe how you love: Head First, Sweet Emotion, I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

11. Share a few words of wisdom: Shut Up and Dance, Deuces are Wild, Just Push Play

Gratitude. Appreciation. Giving thanks. No matter what words you use, it all means the same thing: happy. We're supposed to be happy, grateful. For friends, family. Happy to just be alive. Whether we like it or not. But...maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful is recognizing what you have for what it is; appreciating small victories, and admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know; and maybe we're thankful for the things we will never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

Yes, I am sexually submissive. But--just so everyone is on the same page here--I'm going to take a second and explain exactly what I am *NOT*. Just so we're clear.^^^Things I Am *NOT*: (including, but not limited to) 'easy', stupid, naive, inferior, blind, dumb, or deficient; I am also not a pushover, a doormat, a victim, a martyr, an idiot, or unaware.^^^

Because, you see, in spite of my various insecurities (and hey, who doesn't have their fair share?) I know my worth. I know who (and what) I *Am*.
I am a good person. I'm not perfect and I make mistakes. But I also make a genuine effort at making things work, and making the best of them. I try; and I don't shy away from hard work.
I can be a great girlfriend. I am inherently protective and supportive of those close to me. To those who've earned it, I am unwaveringly loyal and devoted. I'll also go out of my way to give you your 'man space' & not be some needy, clingy female.
And-as I'm finding out-I'm also a damn good submissive. I don't know if I can effectively explain that one, but...yeah. Sexual submission is such an instinctive & natural reaction for me...there's really no other way to describe it--it just is.

And sometimes...sometimes all of those things become insignificant--all those points rendered moot--by *just how much* i *hate* all of those good things about me.

'Hope' is the most dangerous weapon there is. :/

One of best lines I think I've received:

"I'm not sure I want to get to know you. I would always be home sick! "

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Cheesy as it is, it's also surprisingly effectivve & touching. The idea of being someone's home.... yeah...that just perfectly sums it all up, doesn't it?

At the end of the day-when it comes down to it-all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other...it's usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to; and once we've chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much they hurt us. The people that are still with you at the end of the day--those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need.

Thoughts for today:

"Get going.Get up and walk if you have to, but finish the damn race." - Ron Hill to Jerome Drayton during the 1970 Boston Marathon

"You don’t run against a bloody stop watch, do you hear? A runner runs against himself, against the best that’s in him. Not against a dead thing of wheels and pulleys. That’s the way to be great, running against yourself. Against all the rotten mess in the world. Against God, if you’re good enough."
- Bill Persons

Some people follow their dreams, others hunt them down and beat them mercilessly into submission. :)

Just some things that've been on my mind recently:

Trust is a fragile thing. Once earned, it affords us tremendous freedom. But once trust is lost, it can be impossible to recover. Of course the truth is, we never know who we can trust. Those we're closest to can betray us; and total strangers can come to our rescue. In the end, most people decide to trust only themselves. It really is the simplest way to keep from getting burned.

We do not get unlimited chances to have the things we want. And this I know: There is nothing you will regret more than turning your back on an opportunity that could have changed your life, because what scares you the most is the chance of actually being happy.

Knowing is better than wondering; waking is better than sleeping; and even the biggest failure-- even the worst--beats the hell out of never trying.

I know this much: I believe in belief, for its own shining sake. To believe in the face of utter hopelessness, every article of evidence to the contrary, to ignore apparent catastrophe—what other choice is there?

Bottom line is: even when you see them coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really.
But it does.
So, what are we--helpless? Puppets? ... Nah. The big moments are gonna come; you can't change that. It's what you do after that counts; that's when you find out who you are.

dancingblo	DAnx	dandjrod
danny	danielle4	dana
Danz	danishslav	dansubbie