In Which lil Eats Her Words...

Yesterday, I woke up at 2:30 A.M to the sound of music booming across the neighborhood. Amazingly, my husband was able to not hear it until I said something about it...He tried to blame me. And he practically slept in until 4:00! Naturally, quiet descended at 5:00, after we had already consumed that first glorious cup of coffee. So of course he made me go back to bed for morning sex and a nap.
I know, terrible, right?
This morning I woke up to snow. Not sure which is worse.

Anyways...You were wondering which of any vast number of words I was planning on choking on?
Patience dear friends, patience.

First, I would just like to say:
Hallelujah,
praise be to the heavens,
thank you all of the Gods above and below,
sweet deities long since forgotten,
and the powers that be,                  
soccer season is overrrrrrrrrr!

I simply cannot overstate that fact.

Now where was I? Oh, choking on my words. Lots of them in fact--it's one of the drawbacks of a tendency towards excessive verbosity.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about D/s without punishment.
My darling husband had the gall to suggest that I print a retraction. After careful research into the archives, and no small amount of consideration, I respectfully declined (okay, my refusal might have been slightly less dignified than my wording implies).

The post was fairly well received.
I meant every single word that I wrote.
He said everything that I said he said (seriously, I checked--it's in print).

Suddenly, he insisted on the return of the book, and began beating my ass punishing me for infractions.
Wtf?
I just went and made public statements to the contrary you know!

How could we possibly be happily existing on such very different pages? I mean, this is important stuff, right??

"You mean you've been punishing me under a different label therefor insuring that, not only am I getting punished, I am completely missing out on the sense of absolution that really should come with it??!"

Apparently, D/s works with or without punishment.
But switching back and forth should really be against the rules. I mean, what happened to the notification process?? In retrospect, it probably went the way of the complaints department...     

And here I thought he was just picking on me for fun.

Now I know for sure that he's doing it wrong...

No Winning...

Him:
"And exactly what are you going to do about it?"

Me:
"Umm...Uh...File a complaint. With the complaints department!"

"Lol. The complaints department is downstairs."

 He said, while shoving my head towards his cock.

Sigh.

I'm sure that there's something wrong here. I just can't seem to put my finger directly on it...

Keywords Again...

"Why won't my dominant man dominate me?"
Uh...

"Are slow learners mostly submissive?" 
Oh come on, that's rude. And erroneous. And dare I say, somewhat slow and small minded...

"My husband wants me to be a slutty slut."
Because non-slutty sluts are really just no fun at all...

"How to control my wife without her knowing it." 
I actually find this one to be quite disturbing. I hope she leaves you.

"My husband called me a lesbian and..." 
Not to be too dramatic or anything, but I'm absolutely dying to know what the rest of that sentence was. What do you think?

"Do women like to be called whores?" 
Alright, I'm going to perform a small public service and say that you should probably proceed with extreme caution...

"Submissive that won't submit."
Yea...We've all been there. Safe to assume you didn't find any answers here...?

"Inside every man is a slut." 
Finally, I knew it!

"How to be the perfect submissive girlfriend."
Oh geez, I wish I knew...

"Excessive complaining."
Oh, for fuck's sake!! I would like to file a complaint...

Dominant's Playground

It's an amazing feeling--to be a Dominant's playground.
It's thrilling
and inspiring
and overwhelming
and hot.
It's the stuff fantasies are made of.

Except for when it's not.

Playgrounds get used. Hard.
They don't choose by whom, or when, or why, or how much.
They are not always played with as they were designed to be, and they will see much pain and joy over the course of their existence.

It's easy to crave
it's easy to say
my body and my mind are your playground.

Until he starts to play.

Sometimes it's glorious, breathtaking, and mind-blowing. Everything flows and all feels as it was meant to be. The play is wanted and within it there are new and amazing heights as yet unreached.
It is easy because I desire it.

Yet it is not those moments that define me as his playground. It's the moments in which I am unwilling, those times that I want to close the gates, hang up the swings, and bar the gates.

But there is no closing time.
This is always,
in all ways,
when and how he says.
Because in our agreement, he doesn't just get the playground--the whole park belongs to him.

Maybe he likes his playground a bit more like a garden. Perhaps he tears out an awesome slide, and plants a rose bush. You miss that slide, it was fun, and it was part of you.Then he waters that rose.
Over and over again.
Until one day, it is beautiful
the scent is like heaven,
and the blossoms are like nothing else you have ever seen
it makes you smile
and it makes you bleed
it causes you pain
and it brings you peace.
It becomes an intrinsic part of his playground.

Then he continues to make changes. After all, the playground that is you belongs to him now.
Maybe he likes mind games and you hate them, but one day you find yourself to be a piece on the board of his playground...Because now, the only games you play, are the ones that he enjoys.

Image source unknown

Just Be...

I really haven't been feeling like myself lately.
We've both seen crazy, and it ain't pretty, so feeling like I'm popping out of my own brain isn't a reassuring feeling. Because that's what hormones do when they're out to get you--they try to ruin your life.

I want it so bad. I need it. That feeling of his ownership. To be pleasing...
But I have been falling apart left and right lately.

Standing in the kitchen, I leaned my head against his chest, feeling almost human. Stroking my cheek, he leaned down and whispered, "It's like flying dreams--you can't force it. You have to quit trying so hard and just let it happen. Let go. Just be."

That's a hard one for me. Always has been. Perhaps that is one of the reasons I feel the way that I do about BDSM--it helps me to enjoy the moment for what it is, not what it was, or what it might be...

Just be.
Here.
Now.
Such a simple concept, yet so incredibly difficult to practice...

Unused Inspirations

I have some more saved inspirations, courtesy of st. So here goes.

What do you call Alpha around the house? His given name, a nick name, a pet name. You don't have to be specific or personal.....
 Usually, I just call him babe. Though, sadistic bastard is a term that often makes appearances...

What does he call you?
Depends on his mood. Occasionally, he calls me by my name (it's never nice). For the most part he calls me babydoll, though little one and little bits do make appearances (yes, "bits" does mean bitch. Something to do with a dog we used to have...).

How did your garden do this year? And those green tomatoes - did they ripen up?
The garden had a rough life this year. We still have boxes of green tomatoes. I don't want to talk about it.

What's the first thing you do when you wake up? The last thing you do before you go to bed? 
You mean to imply that there are women in the world who do not have to make their first and last daily stop the bathroom?!

Do you have a bedtime?
I wish! I begged for one, but it was a no go...

Do you wake up with an alarm?
This is going to sound ridiculous, but I set the oven timer when we need to wake up at a certain time. Though I suppose that I will have to find a new method when we get the other stove...

What is your favorite blend of coffee? Creamer?
Hands down Kona. Seriously, in my world there is no better. Though it's mostly a treat item. And regular milk.

If you could go anywhere on vacation, where would it be?
At this moment, I'm inclined to say anywhere without children.

I still have a few saved up for inspiration emergencies lol. So, thanks for the questions.

Planning and Zoning

Apparently, there are planning and zoning laws applied to my body.

Who knew?

And apparently, taking notes in pen on one's wrist is a serious violation of said laws.
First time in forever that I write anything on my skin, and he catches it immediately.

Picky picky man.

Until There Was Nothing Else

After pissing all over me, he wrapped his hands around my throat and slowly, yet inexorably, pushed my face under the shower head.
I struggled
and I begged
though I'm not entirely sure that I made much sound.
Sucking in small gasps of air when I could, the world faded away
until I was sure
that I couldn't take it for one more second
one
two
three
and he pulled my head out of the water, loosening his grip around my throat.
Then again
and again
and again.
Occasionally shoving his hands in my mouth as I begged
no
no more
please.
my body negating my words
as I leaned in
opened up
and begged for more.
Until he pulled me in close and held me against his chest, as the water made its way down our bodies in hot rivulets.
I wanted his cock in my mouth
needed it like I had needed air only moments before.
I'm not entirely sure how I ended up on my knees
if perhaps he placed me there
or if I pleaded and begged my way down
until he was in my mouth
hard and ready.
And there was water, dreaded water, flowing down him. In my eyes, in my nose, flowing into my mouth as he shoved himself down my throat until I gagged
and begged for no more
again
and again
and again
feeling wetness that wasn't water
making its slow way down my thighs.
As I choked on his cock
sucked in water
blinded by a mixture of soap and water
the world faded further away
until there was nothing else.

Persnickety Perspectives

The muse and I are still on rocky terms. I do have some more inspirations courtesy of st, but I must get something from my own brain to page before my brains start leaking out of my ears. Apparently, the muse is not a necessary component of being overly dramatic.

Life is really so much about perspective, isn't it...
Perspective is what we use to create our definitions of life. It has an incredible impact on our interactions and how we feel about life.
I exaggerate not, when I say that my perspective sucks lately.

Look at the pretty birds, you say? One day fairly soon, they're all going to die you know.
See, told you so.

How we see things defines our experiences.

I need a drastic shift in perspective. All the way around.

Saved Inspirations

My son spilled juice all over my laptop a while back. Miraculously, it still works. This is the first time I have really used it since though, and I must say that the sensation of sticking keys is arguably close to nails on a chalkboard for someone with a tactile bent. It's driving me crazy. If there's an extra t here and there, it's not my fault...

Fall is here, and oh what a Fall it is. It's like a beautiful warning for things to come.

I still have some inspirations left, and I fully intend to put them to good use.

One kind lady asked if I had ever told anyone outside of Blogland that I'm in a D/s relationship.
I have not. Though I imagine that, if an observant person spent enough time with us, there would be no need lol.
Avoiding temptation is fairly easy for me because I'm not exaggerating the amount of friendships in my life right now--I don't have anybody that I would be tempted to tell.
Alpha is actually a very private person, (allowing this blog was a stretch for him) and I doubt that there would be any situation in which he would condone outright telling anyone in our lives about the structure of our relationship.

And more courtesy of Jz...

-In a perfect fantasy world of unlimited support and resources, what's your day job?
-Back in that perfect fantasy world, where would you shop for your clothes?
Oh, Oh, Oh, my perfect fantasy World!!
I would be a student forever. seriously, In my perfect fantasy world I go to school all the time just to learn--no end goal, no final graduation, just class after class after class....And get payed for it. Oh yes...

In this perfect world of continuous learning, I would shop at Victoria's Secret. That's not clothing you say? We are talking a fantasy world after all. Okay, okay, there's also this wonderful yet horribly expensive local shop that has some great stuff, so there and Victoria's Secret. Seems like a fair compromise.

-Rich or famous?
This is, would I rather be rich or famous, right?
Definitely rich. I don't see the appeal in fame at all. Plus, just imagine the uproar when the paparazzi snapped a shot of him him slapping me around. Scandalous I tell you. As is, no one cares. Lol.

-What would your patronus be?
I admit that I probably put an abnormal amount of thought into this question. Only to end up asking my husband. Sad I know. I was terrifiedly sure that he was going to say chihuahua. I'm fairly sure that the reasoning behind that one is obvious...But no, the darling man said the owl. I actually think he got that one right. Except for the minor fact that my night vision seems to be deteriorating, but I fully intend to ignore that for a while longer.

I am going to ditch the coffee limerick in favor of drinking another cup lol.

And last, but certainly not least...

-How did you two know you were destined for D/s?
 Ah, what a question. I wonder if our replies to this question would differ...
Putting aside my rather sordid discovery, and our tumultuous beginnings of D/s, I would have to say that it just felt right.
I know that probably sounds corny, but it's true.
For once, I was really able to let go and actually enjoy sex.
Arguments were no longer the norm, but the exception.
There was no void between us, no untruths, no doubts about belonging together for the long haul.
Everything felt real and alive. As if our relationship up to that point, while often incredible and beautiful, had been in black and white. It was like D/s brought us color in HD.

Thank you for the inspirations! I might actually be able to form an original thought or two now. Funny how sometimes you just have to get into the flow and then it comes on its own. I wouldn't hold my breath though. Just in case.

WTF...?

I'm a fairly high strung person. I admit that. But I try to behave like a big girl, and exercise some semblance of self control...
I have been failing the whole emotional stability thing lately, which is probably why I lost my shit on a woman at the gas station today. In my defense, she started it.

I have cleaned a lot of toilets in my time, and I do not clean the public toilets I use. My general policy is to leave them in the condition I found them. Preferably without touching anything.

So today, some woman (customer) follows me out of the gas station to yell at me about the condition I left the bathroom in. When I informed her that I had found it in that condition, she switched tracks and began yelling at me about not cleaning it!

Yea...

On a good day, I would have probably laughed at her and walked away muttering something sarcastic.

Did I mention that I have been a bit on edge lately?

I may have told her to quit being such a fucking cunt to random strangers.

Good thing there's laws against grabbing mouthy strangers by the hair, because the thought did cross my mind.

Sigh.

So no, I didn't lose my temper, but I have damn sure turned into a slave to my mood swings, and they sure as hell aren't confined to a certain time of the month. It's not pretty.
Overall, given the extent of my current temperament, I would say that I was successfully polite during this particular encounter....

Been saving this one...

What What and Describe...

While it is true that my muse has run away, Jz was kind enough to fill in temporarily. I'll be milking her suggestions for all they are worth, and I'm pretty sure that I can get several posts out of them.

 -What one book and one album would you NEED on a desert island?
 Oh, oh oh, just one book??? omg, omg, omg, I can't decide...I guess it would have to be my Cornell Illustrated Encyclopedia of Health. I know it sounds boring, but that thing is huge, and quite useful. So it would take a while to read, and should I get bit by some sort of island critter, it would no doubt prove quite useful...But I might change my mind tomorrow...
One album...This raises an important question, am I alone on said island? Because I would hate to pick something and have Alpha throw it into the sea...The pressure is getting to me. I can't decide!

-What's your favorite cooking blog?
I could have a favorite cooking blog?! Apparently there is a previously unrecognized hole in my life...Must acquire a favorite cooking blog! Any suggestions...?

 -Describe to us one thing you never tire of looking at.
I have to pick just one? This whole decision thing is stressing me out...
I would have to say, Alpha's back. It's muscular without being muscle bound, said muscles do interesting things every time he moves, it's completely smooth, and I find it totally captivating. Don't judge me, it ripples for godsakes! I've been drooling over it for 15 years. If it belonged to anyone else I would no doubt be banned from staring.
Plus, if he has his back to me he's not actively chasing me down.

Still to come courtesy of Jz:

-How did you two know you were destined for D/s?
-In a perfect fantasy world of unlimited support and resources, what's your day job?
-What would your patronus be?
-Rich or famous?
-Back in that perfect fantasy world, where would you shop for your clothes?
-Write a limerick about coffee.

More inspirational ideas still welcomed. I can't seem to keep a muse for long so don't be stingy!

Temp Position

I think my Muse is broken. That, or on an unsanctioned hiatus.
This leaves an open temp position free for the taking.

So...

Ideas?

Because if all else fails, I have always been able to write something.
Not this time.
I got nothing.
Oh, I had something the other night...But it vanished with my dreams.

And not being able to write is its own kind of crazy. Don't like it one bit.

So...

Fill in for my muse...?

As an Observer...

I fell in love with this picture. It is a position in which I squirm in terrible discomfort, but...

source: Daddy's Tender Touch

It does make for a really hot image...As an observer anyways.