30 December 2011

Once Loved. Once knew.

"Strange how someone you once loved can become just another person you once knew."

 Nicki Minaj

The end of another year.

A year which for me, saw a final goodbye of someone who had been such a part of my life for so long, even if from a distance at times.

They were someone I once loved.

Someone I loved in a way that I had not before.

Someone I loved because of things that we had shared, in many ways, and in ways not shared with another.  I know that they will be things that will not be shared again, not with them or indeed with anyone else.

But, while they were someone I once loved, they have in many ways, through the separation of time, become just another person I once knew. 

I didn't think at the turning of this current year that it would witness this.  I didn't think that the words that came from their mouth ever would.

The thing is, they have before.

I know first hand the depth of the darkest places they go to and when lost in that darkness that the only thing they know what to do is to lash out at those closest to them.  Except, this lashing out, has led to the separation in distance and time.  Their decision. Their choice.

I think, even though someone can become someone we once knew, that the feelings that were once felt, will always be felt.  That we will always carry them with us, even if in the recess of our thoughts and memories, that just because someone isn't with us any more, that they are not a part of our lives, we do not simply just forget. It doesn't mean that we no longer care.  It doesn't mean that we do not remember or that we just stop feeling.

We just remember differently.

We just feel differently.

But, for them. For him.  He was someone I once loved. Through his actions and his choice, he is becoming only someone I once knew.

Although I know the passing of time will never take away what was our reality, it may make us strangers.  The passing of time and the growing distance will never take away the fact that they were someone I once loved.

Whether they were once loved. Or whether they are becoming only someone once known.

Nothing can take away the reality of what was.

23 December 2011

To the robbing scum!

 . . .to the complete and utter total bastards who burgled the family home during the night last night, two days before Christmas. . . I hope you fucking rot in hell!!

Such people are really the scum of the earth with absolutely NO thought to the effects that their actions may bring.

Not the fact that they have taken things, that they take presents bought for family and children . .  .not the fact that they leave the property damaged . . .but also the fact that they leave the place feeling violated.

That they take personal possessions with such sentimental value, the watch my brother had for his birthday, the last thing that my Mum had a part in buying for his birthday knowing that she wouldn't be alive to see it. . .personal items, wallets, money, phones . . .just help yourselves you low lifes!!!

They don't think of the effects it has on those who live in the house, of how unsafe they are left feeling.  That feeling of being violated in such an awful way.

The police say it took them probably less than 30 seconds to break into the house via the french doors, before the dogs disturbed them enough to run . . .


I wish I believed in the thought of karma biting them in the ass . . .fucking scum!

22 December 2011

restrain desires

Those who restrain their desires do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.

William Blake

I was reading a blog recently.

Another one about a situation of a male wanting a WLM and the wife not "playing ball".  One where he has tried for over four years of their marriage to get her to take control.  And now finally, he has the realisation that it just isn't going to happen.

In many ways, the frustration but also the sadness of the writer is clear to see from the words that fill the screen.

And yet, it is also such a shame because as I said to him, there are indeed very few males who genuinely want the things that he wants and that it isn't easy from my own perspective as a Dominant female, in finding a male who really wants to live their lives that way.

It seems that so many are within the relationship that they "settled" for, one which they hoped they would be able to manipulate and change to have their submissive needs met.  Except, they forgot to remember that really, while some may be dominant, they do not have the need or the desire to dominate.

One of the comments on this guys blog from a "dominant female" saying how this blog proves what she says all over online as being right.  I mean, the poor guy is struggling with the reality of what may not be for him, and here she is "gloating". 

People like that, really get up my nose!

Who gives a shit what she has written anywhere?

Who is she that needs to be proved right or wrong anyway?

And why choose to do it on a place where this blogger is coming to a pretty harsh and stark reality that his wife will not dominate, and that he will not be able to have the WLM that he so longs for and craves.

I mean, FFS woman!

Bring your head out of your own ass!

It isn't something proving "you" right.  It is a situation that is seen time and time again.  It's not rocket science is it.  So, you've said something out there in oblivion and this is another one to prove your "theory". 

Well lady, it's not your theory is it.

It is a reality for many.

So get over yourself love!

Anyway . . .rant over.

Aside from this most pathetic comment that really I don't know why she bothered to rub the poor guys nose in it . . .someone else had commented about accepting not being able to have what we want and that we should just put up with it.

But should we?


Or is it because that person can say that, can put up with whatever their lot in life maybe because their desires can be restrained. That the reality is, their desires for the things that they want or need in life aren't that strong. That they can accept what little bit they do get, because ultimately that matches the level of desire that they have.

There will always be compromises in whatever type of relationship or dynamic it is.  Whether it be "vanilla" through to D/s or FLR.  Compromise is something that we all have to do, whether we be dominant, submissive or on anywhere on the scale inbetween.  Life isn't perfect.  We aren't going to find a relationship which gives us 100% of what we want or need.

But we can make a decision to follow a path, we can make a decision to at least make changes to have those things that we want . . .maybe if he had been honest at the beginning of his relationship with his then wife to b back then, it would have been a lot different . . .saved many years of trying to "push" her into dominating him. Saved him many years of frustration and heartache and not being able to be the person that he is, or wants to be.  And saved him the situation  of now deciding whether what he is faced with having in terms of his marriage and life, is going to be enough.

A situation of deciding whether his desires can be restrained.  I wonder if they are weak enough.

I know for me that they aren't.

I know that my desires for the things that I hope for, need are incredibly strong, and as such, would still prefer to not even begin to walk down a path that could ultimately not give that.

My own desires cannot be restrained.  My own desires are not weak enough to be restrained.  And as far as I am concerned, I have no desire to restrain them anyway.  

Life is far too short!

21 December 2011

My response VI - fantasies of femdom porn

Dear femdom_porn_fantasist

I do not live my life as if I am appearing in some Femdom porno film!

And I am not quite sure what leads you to think that all dominant women are of that ilk, that we are just this group of women who cannot wait to do things to a guy, such as yourself or that we are here to make a guy endure whatever.

Porn is porn.

It is an industry run by men and for men and in the main, is there to cater to the fantasies of men.

As such these movies give an incredibly false representation because he is the centre of attention and she is focusing every bit of her attention on him, which is quite far removed from the dynamic of D/s or an FLR.

The concept that D/s or an FLR (or whatever "term" you wish to use to describe such a dynamic) is all about what a woman does to a man is a very prevalent belief, but is also a misconception.  

It is this imagery that leads so many submissive men, like yourself, to have this idea that Dominant females are here to meet every want, need or desire that you may have and the belief that this is what D/s or FLRs are about.

It isn't. Not by a long shot.

Instead these images in turn makes it very hard work for dominant women like myself who do not live their life like a porno movie to get this across.  It creates a barrier that we have to get through to show that those images, those porn films are not the reality, that yes they may depict women having fun, enjoying what they are doing, but it doesn't reflect the dynamic as to how it can be lived.  

The porn industry, particular in relation to Femdom porn has a lot to answer for, of how it shows what us dominant females should be doing, should be wearing or how we conduct ourselves.  It is so far from how many dominant women are, of how the dynamic or relationships work.

Instead, the relationship is one which has a dynamic where there is a power imbalance, it is not defined by those images from porn which suggests the dynamic is there to meet his desires or wants.  However, it is defined, in my opinion as a dynamic where his desire to serve, matches her desire to be served, but more so of the commitment that each makes to the relationship but which simply reflects within it, the shift of power, the shifting of the control over to her hands.

The desires or wants that I may have, are ones that are served by the FLR dynamic, where his desires and the needs or wants that he may show, are fulfilled in that dynamic because of his desire to serve and please his dominant ~ that is serving.

If I however choose to pick at certain desires, to fulfil certain needs, that is my choice as to how and when it may happen. It isn't defined by the dynamic and neither is it required by the dynamic in place.  But neither is the imagery that you have gained from watching so many misconceived ideas is it possible to live the life reflected in such false and fake situations that is depicted in so many areas of Femdom porn.

So, I do not feature in femdom porn. I do not live my life like I am in a porno movie, and as such, I have no desire to live out any porno fuelled fantasies that you may have.

It isn't my reality.  It never will be.

Good luck.

20 December 2011

The ache

You know that ache.

The dull ache inside when you long to be fucked.  When you ache for the feeling of a cock deep inside, being fucked, being fucked hard. 

"You have that ache right now . . . don't you?" I asked.

The glazed eyes looked up at me, and although I already knew the answer I forced the words to come from your lips, to watch the cheeks burn with humiliation.

"You want that physical release.  The mental release that being fucked and used brings . . .don't you?"

The eyes once again gave it all away and when no words were forthcoming I pulled back my hand and made contact with the already reddening cheek which reddened more deeply with the sting of my palm.

You already knew that begging doesn't touch me.  That while yes, I can quite happily watch someone begging, pleading, but, it doesn't touch me. It doesn't make me weaken or give in, in fact it makes me the opposite, it hardens me.  I know, I can be incredibly stubborn at times.

"You know that I will use your need against you . . .don't you?"

"Yes. I. Know." you replied in almost a whisper.

I am watching you closely, the look in your eye, the desire, the wanting and the needing so clear that it doesn't need words to voice it.  I know you too well.  I know the longing that you have.  I know that you want to be taken and used.  But I have no intention of doing so, or at least not in the way you are wanting right then.

Instead I sit back in the chair and watch you, your legs shaking a little from where you have been in the same position for so long.  You are shifting slightly.

"So. You want it.  Beg."

And there it begins, your begging and pleading.  You tell me how you are a whore and a slut and need to be used like one.  You tell me that you need to be filled and stretched, fucked and hurt.  You beg me for it to happen.  You beg with humiliation, shamelessly pleading.

I request you to start playing with yourself while you're begging, and smile at the sharp intakes of breath between the movement of your hands as you build closely to an orgasm.  You know that you will not orgasm without being told you can, and I tell you to keep begging, to keep playing, and your mind struggles between trying to do these two things at once.

Knowing that you want something so much, makes me want to not give it you at all.  To do everything else but give you what you want at that moment.   Instead I want to tease you, to torment you, to hurt you. But not to give you the one thing that you're pleading for.  This thought satisfies part of my own sadism, making you suffer all the more brings me pleasure.

Making you suffer makes me wet. 

You are desperately not trying to come, the precum glistening on the end of your hardened cock. Your hand easing off every now and then as the concentration on your face intensifies the closer to orgasm that you are.

"You want to be fucked and used and stretched . . .then you can do it yourself."

You look confused, struggling to comprehend what is being asked of you.

"Use your fingers. Finger your ass."

A look of disappointment passes fleetingly through your eyes and your face, as I raise my eyebrows at the brief display of your frustration.You sucked your fingers, made them wet and started to use them on yourself, your other hand still pumping up and down your cock.  I enjoyed watching the movements of a novice contortionist as you tried to do the things you'd been instructed, I enjoyed watching the physical struggles that you were having, the struggles of trying not to come, the emotional struggles as you battled with the emotional feelings, the humiliation of fingering your own ass while masturbating your cock, all while I sat and watched.

I am whispering into your ear, telling you how dirty you are, how much of a slut that you are, and telling you that I know you want me to fuck your ass and to fuck it hard.

I decide to make you show me how hard as I pass you the glass dildo that I had bought just for this occasion.  Your eyes had balked at the sight of the double ends, one much bigger than the other.  The fear in your eyes now as I looked at one end and then the other was as plain as day.

I forced the small end of the dildo into your mouth, telling you that which end I used would depend how well you sucked it.  Except, I already knew which end I was going to use.  

You suck it hard, gagging as it hits the back of your throat.  And you are sucking and fingering yourself and your cock is still in your other hand as you're taking yourself to the edge time and time again.  

You plead with your eyes.  You beg with your mouth.  Except it falls on deaf ears.  

"Now, which end would go in easier?" I ask.  You do not reply. Instead as I inspect it and smile, you already know what your fate is about to be.

I remove it from your mouth, forcing the wider end of the dildo into your mouth, forcing it into your throat. You're gagging, tears forming in your eyes, breathing heavily, gasping, choking.  

"Now fuck yourself"  as I pass him the dildo with the large end facing him.

"You know what to do.".

You are distracted from the edging, as you struggle to push the end of the glass dildo into your well fingered ass, and as you force it into yourself, you are fucking your ass with the glass, edging yourself frantically.  Wanting to please, wanting to orgasm.  And the dull ache of wanting to be fucked has turned into the longing ache to orgasm.

And you begin to beg and plead all over again, I beckon you over and you crawl towards me on your knees, the glass dildo protruding from your ass.

"Don't stop" I tell you as I push your head down between my thighs, sitting back, closing my eyes, knowing that the dull ache to be fucked is not yours alone.

19 December 2011

This time of year . . . .

Is not the easiest time of year, for so many people.

As people make plans to be together with family, it is always so apparent the family who are no longer here to be a part of it.

Planning the dinner for Christmas day which once had 12 or 14 people around it, now reduced to half that number, through people moving on, moving away and through the loss in one's passing.

Christmas was always one of my Mum's favourite times of the year, she always planned it so well, and it is a time which feels incredibly empty without her.  In fact, many things just do not seem right without her.  No matter how much time passes, it is something you do not get used to.  You just learn to cope in different ways.

This year, will be the first year I have ever spent Christmas eve in my own home and it will be for the little man too.  Another piece of proof of just how much things change, that the family that was once so close and tight together have drifted apart a little more each day, like icebergs on the ocean, floating in different directions until we all are out there, floating in the same ocean, but isolated from the others.

It breaks my heart when the little man tells me it feels like the others do not want to see him.  It breaks my heart that he feels as he does, that at this time of year places so much focus on "families", yet it is this time of year which also makes things hit home.  I wonder if these family members have any idea of the hurt their actions can cause?!

The missing "parent", the family who are not here, those who have passed . . .when so many think that it is such a wonderful time of year, and it can be.  But there are for so many when it is the complete opposite.  

A friend of mine across the ocean, watches as the family that she has left make open plans on media such as facebook to get together at Christmas with an invite that never comes her way.  Gatherings that she has never been invited to and instead makes her plans on how to get through the day on her own, taking care of other peoples houses and pets while they are away with their own family.

My heart breaks for her and I wish the ocean weren't so wide.

She said she was thinking about how much she wanted to really feel the joy of this time of year without it being constantly undercut with sadness, telling herself that she should be happy with what she has,  to stop making comparisons and to accept the situation in life more philosophically.

Except, it isn't that simple.

It isn't that easy.

And it is times of year such as this, which makes it incredibly hard not to miss things, to not wish that some things were different.  There isn't any philosophical thoughts or views which can take away that undercut of sadness.

Sometimes its just a case of getting through.

Sometimes it is just a case of finding a way to deal with that undercut of sadness, attempting not to let it cut so deep, but when everyone around us is lost in their days of happiness and celebration, there are others who wear a mask, placing a smile onto the face just to make it through.

12 December 2011

My toy!

The first time I brought you to orgasm was while you were talking to your mother. 

You had been talking to her for what seemed like an age.

I was bored.

My feet had been massaged to death and I decided that I wanted to tease, that I wanted your attention, your undivided attention. Not a little bit fitted in between a sentence every now and then.

I was playful.

And decided that you were the little toy that I wanted to play with.  Mother or no mother. 

I started to run my nails up and down the inner sides of your thighs, even beneath the trousers that you were wearing I know that you could feel them, I felt you shiver, I saw your own self begin to harden beneath the material.

Your eyes pleaded with me to stop, except it just made me want to tease you all the more, determined that I was going to make it as hard for you as possible (quite literally!)

Your breathing was beginning to change, you started to shift uncomfortably, and just when you were about to reply to her once again I started rubbing your hardening cock with my hand, causing you to gasp with a sharp intake of breath.  I heard you tell her that nothing was the matter and that you were listening.

I giggled as I began to tease you some more.  My hands working up and down the inner lengths of your thigh, gently brushing against your cock and balls every now and then, causing small sharp intakes of breath which made you look at me with pleading eyes; causing me to do it all the more.

I slowly unzipped your trousers, freeing the hardness that begged to be played with. Your eyes however begging me not to.  I grinned mischievously at you. You already knew that I wouldn't stop even if you asked me. A soft sigh escaped from your lips as I gently stroked you, all the time you just kept talking.

You didn't look at me when I lent over you, my tongue following the path of tiny raised welts that my finger nails had just carved into your skin.  You didn't dare to look at me as I began to tease your hardness with my tongue, flicking it quickly across the very tip.

Tantalisingly slowly, gently teasing.

You didn't dare to look at me when I reached up inside your shirt and started flicking your nipples with my fingernails.  More gasping, more sharp intakes of breath causing me to do it all the more, yet harder.  I watched you flinch each time I flicked the erect nipples with my nails, watching the way that you would screw your eyes tightly together and grimace, trying to find a way to quietly process the pain.  All the while listening and talking to your mother.

I gently twisted them between my finger and thumb, rolling them back and forward, gently at first, waiting until you were about to speak before twisting them hard, digging my nails in.  Watching you wince, while silent moans were desperately trying to escape.

Your mind was confused, not knowing whether to expect the gentlest of touches, or the harsh pain inducing force.  Back to teasing gently, I began to move your legs apart, exposing yourself to me, and I slid two fingers inside my mouth, wetting them with saliva, and watched the fear grow in your eyes as you tried to figure out what I was about to do.

Deep down, you already knew it.  Just as from the grin on my face you knew that I did too.

I was getting more daring.

The sadist in me was wanting to hurt you more.  And although you couldn't say it, I know that you were pleading with me not to as I teased the entrance to your ass with my finger.  Your cock began twitching, precum spilling over the end showing quite clearly that although you feared what was coming next that the reality was it aroused you.

And as I buried my fingers deep into you, I took your cock deep into my mouth, tasting you, teasing you with my tongue.  Licking it with force and fervor. You gasped, almost choked at the mixture of pleasure and pain, the mixture of delightful teasing combined with the intrusion into your body.

I took your cock deep into my throat, my tongue teasing around the head, flicking with great enthusiasm.  I could tell from the way that you were tensing up that you would not be able to hold it anymore.

Between gasps and sighs, between deep inhalations and brief exclamations your words stuttered, as you struggled to find the words.  All the time I am teasing you, sucking you, working you provocatively to the edge.  My fingers working competently yet arousingly until you can fight it no longer.

I knew that she was confused about what was happening and I knew that you were struggling to deny that anything was happening, your own mind confused with trying to focus on the conversation but distracted intensely with my mouth, my hand, my fingers.  And through sighs and moans as I took you from my mouth, one hand working frenziedly over your cock, the others fingers working deeply into your ass, you came. 

You struggled to find the words between your moans but managed to say goodbye to your mother.

I took the phone from your hand placing it onto the table smiling at you while sitting back and watching your expression.

I grinned at your confusion, your embarrassment.

I grinned at my toy.

07 December 2011

Top 100 sex bloggers . . .

Some of you may be aware that Rori over at Between My Sheets creates a list each year of the Top 100 sex bloggers.  

It was through her wonderful list that I came across some very wonderful blogs for the first time last year and am happy to see that my most favourite of blogs is one appreciated by many!

Anyway, someone (somewhere) nominated my new little blog and we creeped into the list of the Top 100 Sex bloggers. 

What a wonderful surprise and how nice to be alongside some most wonderful blogs and writings.  I won't list all 100 here, but  Here is the list of the top 100 sex bloggers click on it, have a read, because there really are some wonderful blogs and writings to follow . . .

And thank you to the anonymous nominator who took the time to nominate my blog too!  Thank you to Rori for including me in her list ~ as a newbie to blogging here, it is wonderfully appreciated. 

And we even get a little pic to show off with *smiles*

06 December 2011

Lingering taste

It had been over a year since I had seen you last, but I knew at the moment that I saw your face again, that I wouldn't be seeing it again after this.

I sat in the passenger seat of your car, but the distance between you and I was oh so much greater.

The coldness of the lack of words could have turned our lips to ice, and it was clear that the water hadn't yet passed under the metaphoric bridge.  

You had started to drive and I had wished that I hadn't stepped into your car at all.

But I had.

It was my choice.

I needed to know that although I felt it was the last time, that I had to make sure that it was.  I don't know why I was doubting myself.  Maybe it was because of that water that hadn't quite passed beneath that bridge.  But whatever it was, it made me step into your car.

Your words drove over the past, raking it up, just like we had raked over so many times before.  Your voice was breaking, I refused to look at you, refused to acknowledge the pain in your eyes.  You kept it in, just in the way that you always had tried to when we had first met.  I remembered the first time that you had allowed the tears to fall, that you had given in to those feelings, those emotions, those tears for me.  But, that ability to keep it all in, was something that had never truly left you.  A pretence of a strength that you felt you had to show, as if showing the emotion, the feeling, the truth was a sign of an inner weakness that we know wasn't there.

You had stopped in the layby only just out of sight.  There had been times when we hadn't even worried about that, stopping where or when we had needed or when the desire had become too much.  And we began to make a journey mixed with longing and lust but most certainly nostalgia.

Your hands made their way to touch me.  I leant back, closed my eyes, lost to the moment that hadn't been felt for so very long.  You asked to taste me.  To taste me before we parted ways, and in silence as I watched the lines of headlights pass by the car casting shadows over your face that I knew every inch of, I knew for sure that it was the last time. 

You drove me home then.

And as I walked up the pathway and stood at the front door, I watched you touch your lips with your fingers, and knew that you had discovered the lingering taste of a final goodbye.

05 December 2011

I still can't . .

Separated by a metal table topped with slight smoked glass, you sat there and looked at me, waiting for me to speak.

I shook my head.

"I still can't." 

This was the third time that you'd been in this same situation, the third time that I'd had to give the same answer.  It didn't please me telling you that I couldn't.  It didn't please me professionally speaking that you were there at all.

But you were.

And while it may not have pleased me professionally speaking, personally I was quite pleased you were.  The vulnerability in your eyes, the chiselled face which turned almost boyish when you broke out into the beaming smile that I will always remember.  

You looked at me, a slight pleading in your eyes.

"I can't do it." I said more forcefully.  "You know that I cannot do it."

You had started to plead with your eyes and I had to look away because I couldn't and wasn't prepared for you to reach in and pull out my insides to put on view.  

You stood up, not breaking your gaze.  I in turn remained seated, sorting out the paperwork on the table, watching your feet through the top of the glass table.  You weren't moving anywhere, just stood rooted to the spot.

"I can't do it. Not until it is right. Not until you've done what you are supposed to be doing"

You sat back down again, letting out a deep sigh as I stood up, putting my papers together.  At that moment you seemed so small, so delicate, so needing and wanting.  And as I began to walk around the table towards the door to send you on your way, I reached up, touched your face as your hand reached up to keep my hand attached to you.  

I looked down at you, knowing that inside you were crumbling, that all of the solid foundations that had been built since the last time were fast collapsing to the floor.  And while I couldn't do what you wanted. I could do what I wanted.

A short time later you were standing, adjusting your clothing, placing your now flaccid self back into your tight fitting boxers, pulling up your trousers that moments before had been round your ankles.  I on the other hand adjusted my skirt, straightening it, making sure that no-one would know that only moments before it had been hoisted around my waist while I rode your cock, tongues fucking each others mouths, hands twisted into fists of hair as a hunger was fed and sated. 

"So? Can you now?" you asked.

I shook my head.  "You know that I still can't"

You looked at me, long and hard, your eyes smiling.

"I've got work to do now, but we can try again after the weekend." I said as I moved towards the office door to usher you out, pulling you in for one last breathless kiss, moving your hand to my breast for one last torturous moment.  My hand reaching between your legs for one last lingering grope.

As the door opened and you stepped outside, another colleague was waiting to come in, I knew you couldn't say what you wanted.

"We will attempt it again after the weekend.  The more we try, the more chance there is of getting it right".

You looked at me before walking away.

"Come in . . ." I said

Promptly ushering the person who had been waiting outside in

"I understand we have to go over that case work again . . . .that it wasn't quite right the last time"