Thursday, June 29, 2006

Time is the final currency

You know, I don’t know why I find it so powerfully erotic. Logically, it’s a sentence… one of those phrases that starts with "I want you to…" Does what comes afterward really matter? It’s neat and simple and leaves no room for ambiguity. "I want you to…" I don’t have to interpret it or spin it. I only have to do it. And I did. At 9:08PM. And it was good. Thank you, B.

And don’t tell me that women don’t buy shoes just to keep other women from having them. Remember that ebay-spree I mentioned? Well, today the last item on my watch list was closing. Shoes, perhaps? Why, yes. One of the pitfalls to sniping is you sometimes get busy doing things like… oh… earning a living… and you forget to bid. So I emailed to ask the seller if she was planning to relist them. "No. I’ve decided to keep them." Dammit.

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

I dont want to be your downtime.

So I sorted appropriately and discussed with R what it is that’s Amiss. After 3 completely draining hours of banging heads about it, he sought the path of least resistance and presented a simple solution… pretty much the same simple solution we’d talked about before. Yet here we were, having the same discussion again. I walked away somewhat disappointed and in shock wondering how my intelligent husband couldn’t understand my point.

Well, he finally got it… yesterday at work. I guess he just needed some time to mull it over. Yay us! He got it. We had a good debrief about it last night over bourbon salmon** and spinach salad.

Another result of the post-head-banging debrief is that I’m not going to be vague about my thoughts here any longer. I started blogging with the understanding that at some point (far off in the future), the two men in my life would be reading it. I didn’t intend for it to be this point in the not-so-far-off future, but I let it slip to B. (There’s a whole nother entry about Freudian slips and manipulation that is somewhat intertwined with this, but that’s for another day.) So here we are.

From the News of Good News Department, my black bra has resurfaced. I’m really excited about this. It wasn’t cheap. Turns out it had jumped into one of the toy boxes in the basement. R found it last night frolicking with a riding crop and some leather ankle cuffs. Yes, I truly believe my toys are no different than the Toy Story toys. I hear them rattling around in the basement from time to time. It's hard for chains to move about quietly.

Speaking of toys, R gave me a good beating last night. (Yay me!) I have the weirdest bruise pattern I’ve ever seen on my ass. Well, there was that one bruise that was the size and shape of Australia, but this is different. It’s almost like stippling. I keep looking in the mirror to try and figure out what it’s shaped like. Nothing yet.

Another week has passed without B and I being able to get together. I am missing him pretty awfully badly but am trying not to whine about it. We all get to hear enough whining in our lives, don’t we?



**This is an excellent marinade for salmon. It's not my recipe, but an exhaustive 60-second search of the net yielded no results for the source.

Salmon Marinade

7 Tbs Bourbon (cheap stuff is good)
1-1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp salt (or to taste)
1/4 tsp pepper (or to taste)
11 tsps cooking oil
2 Tbs dark brown sugar
6-1/4 tsp soy sauce

Mix all ingredients well. Pour over salmon fillets in casserole dish. Cover and let marinate for 4 hours or overnight.

To cook:
Grill on medium heat. Place Salmon skin side down. Cook until 3/4 done. Remove skin after turning over. Brush with marinade and cook for 1 minute.

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Monday, June 26, 2006

I can see right through you...

As you can see in number 54 of my list, I hate to shop. Detest it. I went to K-Mart (Yes, K-Mart sucks, but it’s near by) one day last week and was amused and irritated to experience every single one of The Reasons I Hate to Shop. I wrote a whole several paragraphs about it and decided not to share because it’s just bitching and moaning. And we all get to hear enough bitching and moaning in our lives, don’t we?

So the K-Mart trip evolved into subsequent trips to the office supply store, another discount store, and yesterday, the bookstore. Oh, and last night I shopped on ebay. I am a big fan of ebay and have an on-again, off-again relationship with it. I’ve been off-again for a good long while now. But I actually placed several items on my Watch List, so I may be going back. My ebay shopping (and yes, for those of you who are wondering, I DID buy shoes) led me to a web site from Holland, where, yet again, I made a purchase. And out of all that shopping, not one thing was for the toybag, which is a shame.

Now by this time, bells and whistles were sounding loudly. And not just the storm whistle, though it was going off all weekend. This shopping spree is indicative of something else going on. It’s not PMS and it’s not spending anyone else’s money to get even with them in some way. It’s my money.

I feel this sense of accomplishment by just coming to the realization that Something Is Amiss as evidenced by this shoppingfest. So I’m watching and sorting and thinking, which may get me into trouble. But I’m in pursuit of the truth (but not justice and I think I’m familiar with the American Way).

I think I know what it is, but there are some things on the periphery that I want to rule on before moving forward.

Speaking of Superman, I saw a preview for the upcoming movie at the theater yesterday. It looks good.

Another vague entry with rumblings of some vague discontentment… You know, since both of the men in my life read my blog now, I'm finding it a lot more difficult to talk about things in any form other than vagueness. Maybe I need to try some more fiction.

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Friday, June 23, 2006

My "100 Things About Me" list

All the other kids have them, so here is my list...

  1. I like piña coladas.
  2. I like chi-chis better.
  3. I don’t like to touch newspaper. It creeps me out.
  4. As a child, I learned a lot from Schoolhouse Rock and can still sing most of the songs.
  5. I voted as an absentee in the last presidential election.
  6. I am an avid reader.
  7. My favorite fruit is pineapple, with blueberries coming in a close second.
  8. I collect random things… little boxes, silver charms, pressed pennies, concert ticket stubs.
  9. I have been to a bullfight.
  10. I’ll never go to another one.
  11. I’m learning to be more patient.
  12. I love music.
  13. I am a golden god!
  14. I amuse myself by quoting movie lines.
  15. I have files on my hard drive from as early as 1993.
  16. I prefer red wine over white.
  17. I believe everyone should have to wait tables at least once in their life.
  18. My favorite color is blue.
  19. My eyes are blue.
  20. I dig cute shoes.
  21. I prefer to be barefoot.
  22. I am happy with my life.
  23. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
  24. I don’t have any tattoos, but would probably get one if I ever found "the one."
  25. I think "the one" is an overused concept.
  26. I don’t like mushrooms.
  27. I wonder if Paris Hilton’s 15 minutes will ever be up.
  28. I can’t sleep naked.
  29. I love to sing in the car.
  30. Talk radio is an oxymoron.
  31. I love to travel.
  32. I hate to fly.
  33. When I have to fly, I think of the same song lyric every time we’re about to land.
  34. I have dreams that happen in recurring locations. Different dreams, but in the same locations.
  35. I believe in reincarnation.
  36. I love games.
  37. I like to win.
  38. I wish I could take public transit to work.
  39. I don’t like odd numbers.
  40. I’m an ESTJ.
  41. I have big feet.
  42. I like to read "100 Things" lists on other blogs.
  43. My favorite Stephen King book is The Stand.
  44. I was a band geek in high school.
  45. I have a gun.
  46. My aim is true.
  47. I don’t believe in organized religion.
  48. I have a small scar near my right eye.
  49. So does my husband.
  50. I name my cars.
  51. I like to drive fast.
  52. I prefer crunchy peanut butter.
  53. Most people look familiar to me.
  54. I hate to shop and do most of it online.
  55. I am a stickler for correct grammar and spelling.
  56. I have been skinny dipping.
  57. I don’t iron well.
  58. I have been hypnotized.
  59. In my mind, I have a song that reminds me of most people I know.
  60. I’m a joiner.
  61. I like hockey.
  62. I like the muppets.
  63. I have been to 30 of the United States.
  64. The state I haven’t been to that I would most like to visit is Maine.
  65. The city I haven’t been to that I would most like to visit is San Francisco.
  66. I have visited 25 countries.
  67. Outside the US, the place I’d most like to visit is The Seychelles. I’m not sure I could sit on a plane long enough to get there, though.
  68. I frequently mix metaphors.
  69. I played with that apostrophe for FAR too long.
  70. There are very few perfumes I can tolerate being around. I never wear the stuff myself.
  71. I love to give gifts.
  72. I have a list of things I want to do before I die.
  73. There was a solar eclipse on my last day of high school.
  74. I’ve never fed anyone peeled seedless grapes. Yet.
  75. I am a bit of a liquor snob. I only drink call or premium brands.
  76. I am listening to the soundtrack from Garden State right now.
  77. My favorite Star Trek is The Next Generation. Riker is hot!
  78. I will see two concerts this summer.
  79. I have seen the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.
  80. I have not ridden in a spaceship (that I know of) but would like to.
  81. I believe no one should have to work on their birthday.
  82. I believe in symbolism and think there are no coincidences.
  83. I can’t carry a small purse. And I carry a purse, not wear it.
  84. I read a quote in a literature class in college about eyes. It was profound. I’ve looked for it off and on ever since then, but have never been able to find it.
  85. I was in an accelerated program in middle school, but when I got to high school I had to choose between that and band. I guess you can’t be smart and be a musician at the same time. *sigh*
  86. I met my husband on the internet…
  87. And my Dom…
  88. And two of my previous boyfriends.
  89. I need 8 hours of sleep a night.
  90. When it comes to the place I live, I like décor that is fun, bright and colorful.
  91. Leftovers that go into my fridge come out months later cleverly disguised as a science project more often than not.
  92. Over the past few years I have gone from having a lot of close friends to having few close friends and a lot of acquaintances.
  93. I hate being interrupted when I’m speaking.
  94. I am guilty of interrupting other people, but it’s something I’ve been working on for a while.
  95. I think teachers are very underpaid. Professional athletes and celebrities get paid way too much.
  96. I generally follow the rules unless they don’t make sense.
  97. I once had a New Year’s resolution to not listen to any car dealer commercials on the radio for one year.
  98. I succeeded, but it made me a compulsive radio button pusher and I remain one today.
  99. Thank the gods for my mp3 player.
  100. I love the smell of leather.

And special thanks to R who was valiant enough to point out that (the item formerly known as) 98 contradicted 55.


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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Fiction: Latin Class

He just didn’t get it. Even a couple of beers didn’t help. He was on the cusp of college fame. Women were throwing themselves at him left and right. He didn’t care; he wasn’t interested. He’d been holding back… playing it cool and it was almost time. He’d been anticipating this since before he even was sure it was real. He still wasn’t sure it was real, but he was pretty sure. La Macchina was pursuing him. He’d been pursuing them for more than 3 years.

His research into secret societies led him here. The night he’d hidden behind the sofa when his dad came in. That he’d overheard his dad mention the name, and that he’d been sober enough to remember it the next day, those were the notable facts. He’d searched his dad’s office and he searched online. He found nothing but subtle clues and a lot more questions than he’d had in the beginning.

Despite the time he spent searching for info on La Macchina, he had time to almost major in Latin. His advisor had gone to considerable lengths to be sure he understood the benefits of a degree in Latin. She wooed him with lofty ideas of becoming something he’d never wanted to be. But the classes were not as boring as they’d seemed and the subject matter seemed to come easily to him. He was about to begin an independent study course with Dr. De Luca and remembering his appointment with her at 8am the next day was enough to convince him to call it a night.

He walked slowly back to his apartment, fighting off the thoughts that crept into his mind that told him he’d been wrong. He wasn’t ready to accept that his advisor might be right. Other things were out there and they waited patiently. He just didn’t want them.

Dr. De Luca sat at her desk, writing out something on a pad of paper. She didn’t get the world’s obsession with computers, preferring instead the weight of a finely balanced pen and the smoothness of ink flowing across paper. She looked up as he walked into her office and sat down.

Steven greeted her with the friendliness that they’d both become used to in their conversational exchanges. He looked a little hungover and she told him so. He smiled in reply and said nothing to incriminate himself. As they talked about the subject at hand, his independent study course, Steven noticed that she was watching him closely. She seemed to be gauging his responses and measuring him up in her mind. At least that’s how it seemed to him.

He realized he’d not been hearing her for what seemed like several minutes. Hearing her mention his "research" snapped him out of his daze and brought him back into the moment. He’d kept his research very quiet and the mention of it startled him.

"Excuse me?"

She stopped and looked at him, amused. "Your research will have to be much more in depth for this course. You understand that, right?"

He fumbled a little, still not sure he heard correctly. "My research?"

"Steven, is something wrong?" She leaned forward, her forearms crossing on the desk.

"No. I just… I guess I may have a touch of a hangover after all." His attempt to divert attention seemed to have worked and they finished up the planning phase. They set up a regular time to meet each week, Tuesday nights after her evening class. It seemed a little late for course work, but it meant she wouldn’t have to be on campus another day of the week so it seemed justified.

The rest of the week drug by slowly. Steven went through the motions of studying and doing research. Yet he was distracted more often than not. Every face that he saw, he searched. Was this the one? Is now the time? Apparently not and he found himself back in his advisor’s office. She asked him to tell her about the work he’d done over the past week. He did so, and thoroughly. His expression fell when she commented that he’d not done the work she was expecting. This is not the kind of news an overachiever wants to hear.

She stood up and walked around her desk, taking a seat behind him on the small sofa that took up the front wall of her office. "If you think this level of work will get you through this, then I’m afraid I must not have made myself clear, Steven."

He swiveled around in his chair and looked at her. The sofa was set low and she’d actually put herself in a position where he was looking down at her now. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to spurt forth some excuse, but no words came. They were trapped somewhere inside as he watched her move her hands to the top button of her blouse. In slow motion, he watched while she unbuttoned the top button and the next button. He blinked.

He diverted his glance to the office door, wondering if he could make it before things got any weirder. "Steven." Her speaking his name caused him to shift his eyes back to her. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t about to open her blouse. She was a good 20 years older. There was no way he was going to let this happen.

"I have to go, Dr. De Luca." He bolted from his chair and was out the office door before she could reply.

She sighed and walked back to her desk. She picked up the phone, dialed a number and spoke just one word. "Nothing."

Over the next week, Steven ran the gamut of things he should do… confront her, study harder, drop the class, talk to the department head. He did none of these things. And he told no one about it. Tuesday night found him back in her office.

Like nothing had happened, she asked about his work over the past week. He had actually done some work over the week, if for no other reason than to take his mind off the situation. He talked about it and she seemed receptive. And she seemed to be leaving her clothes on, which put him somewhat at ease.

"Did you find anything interesting about the treatment of criminals in ancient Rome?"

"I didn’t really run into anything about that." His mouth spoke, but he was really wondering where this came from.

"You should do some digging around in that area, Steven."

Having no idea how it would relate to the subject, he said he would. They continued talking about the material and finished up a little early. He couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to be out of her office. After the last week, it just seemed bizarre.

Another week brought another study of the people around him. Where were these people? Where was La Macchina? His frustration was building and he spent a good part of his evenings drinking beer.

Another Tuesday rolled around and he thought about his last talk with Dr. De Luca. He had completely forgotten her "criminal" remark and almost as an afterthought, he googled the topic before he left to meet with her.

She was running late and he waited outside her office for about 10 minutes before she came hustling in apologetically. As she dropped her things and settled in, she asked him specifically and carefully, "What did you find about criminals in ancient Rome?"

And he told her, seamlessly covering the fact that he’d just gotten the information about half an hour ago. She listened, maybe a little too carefully, as he spoke. He got that uneasy feeling again and continued to speak, willing it to go away. She finally sat back in her chair and seemed to visibly relax.

"You’ve done well this week, Steven. Your research is improving." Her eyes never left his and her hands once again moved to her blouse.

"I have to show you something. It’s important." He wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t sure it was because she was speaking these particular words or if he was paralyzed.

Her hands swiftly found every button and her blouse was soon sliding down her arms to the chair behind her. He watched in disbelief as her hands moved to the center of her chest and unfastened her bra. It, too, slipped down her arms and he continued to stare, now wide-eyed.

"I thought you were never going to get here," she spoke, almost in a whisper. "I couldn’t lead you or help you any more than I did. I had to wait for you to find the right subject matter."

As he stared at her, his mind replayed the "subject matter" he’d just covered. And the realization struck him like lightening. Tattoos.

He almost smiled then, but didn’t. He did get up and walk around her desk. He knelt beside her and swiveled her chair around so that her body was facing him. Across her left breast, there was a tattoo made up of tiny words written out in a fancy script.

"La Bibblia de la Macchina…" He read the words three times and though he understood them, it took him a beat to realize what they meant. This was the jackpot.

He looked up at her, comprehension dawned and a new crop of questions passed through his mind.

"Yes, it’s real…" she said.


This story was inspired by a phrase in a notebook: "Boobs as Books." Though in my mind, it's been changed to "Books on Boobs." Perhaps that phrase wasn't meant for the person who jotted it down after all...

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Monday, June 19, 2006

You're not the only one...


… adrift on this ocean

I’ve missed out on putting my thoughts down here for several days. I’ve been too busy to do much else but chase the fires. I see that Bonnie talked about a topic that is near and dear to my heart yesterday… music. I’m still on the lookout for additions to my compilation Songs To Be Beaten To. I have only 4 so far, but I got some excellent suggestions from the folks who posted with Bonnie. I’ll be checking them out.

I find myself at the end of this long day having mixed emotions. I had one of those attitude adjustment weekends… and I made a promise to myself that I would have a more positive attitude. I think B is rubbing off on me in that respect. Then I had the most frustrating day from hell. Dinner with friends added some perspective.


I think I am in the process of learning another lesson in patience. I was sick week before last. And so my play date last week with B ended up being a dinner date. Don’t get me wrong… there’s nothing wrong with dinner. It was one of the hottest dinner dates I’ve had this year. "Go to the ladies room. Come back with the nipple clamps on and the butt plug in." B makes me soar and at the same time keeps me humble by the awe he inspires. So there’re two weeks that my ass hasn’t been fucked but good and it’s looking like this will be the third.

R told me last night that he doesn’t remember exactly how it feels to slide his cock into someone on that initial thrust. I think the fact that his brain lets him forget exactly how it feels every time - other than reminding him that it feels "good" - is a bit of a blessing. It’s what keeps him coming back for more, no pun intended. This discussion happened shortly after I wouldn’t unwrap my legs from around him after he’d come. I just wanted to hold onto that feeling of being filled a little longer.

I’m restless. Again. Dammit.

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Monday, June 12, 2006

And now we're back where we started...

I happened to catch a show on Bravo tonight called Three of Hearts. It caught my eye because of the polyamorous relationship it documents. The premise is two men who have a relationship decide to invite a woman to become a part of it. It’s dated 2004, but I’ve not seen or heard of it before. It was interesting and somewhat sad. Because of the limited view that’s portrayed, the viewer doesn’t get much of an opportunity to hear about communication within the group - with the exception of the person who has the more extroverted personality. Nor do we get to hear about sex until we learn it’s absent. I think understanding these dynamics are important to understanding their relationship. There are so few models of polyamory that we see, that it seems like such an opportunity to be able to examine another relationship without having an emotional stake. This is a challenge. There are very few people to bounce ideas off of. I'm not saying I need another relationship around which to model mine, but it is helpful to see how other people handle similar situations.

So communication and sex... these are topics that are near and dear to me in my relationships and I continue to strive to understand them.

The weekend was pretty much a waste. I believed there were some interesting learning opportunities that, while they were hard to experience, presented opportunities for understanding and growth. Lots of little daggers were thrown about and looking back on the weekend from my Monday perspective, I don’t see any learning that’s taken place after all, which is a big disappointment. Especially since I went to bed last night feeling positive about the outcome.

I'm a little perplexed about my seemingly newfound ability to be in the middle of a "situation" (R would call this "banging heads"), and see it somewhat analytically. This is so not me. I do question why that's happening or even if my perception that it's happening is valid. I wonder if I'm the only one here learning anything, or sometimes, if I even AM learning. And to me, that's what it's all about. (And here you thought the hokey pokey is what it's all about...)

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Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Fiction: A Birthday Party


This one's for you, B. I hope your day is special.

She loved birthdays and thought that everyone should be treated "special" on their special day. She’d thought about it for quite a while. She asked subtle questions. She poked and prodded, looking for a hint. What would be the perfect gift for him? She loved giving gifts, but she was stumped. Nothing seemed quite right.

As the days on her calendar filled with red Xs, she became more and more worked up about it. The tribute she felt would be right hadn’t presented itself and she found herself staring at the clock on her desk. 11:59 p.m. The night before. Sighing heavily, she went to bed.

Her phone rang early for a Saturday. In her state of half-sleep she mumbled into it. His voice was clear, "Good morning." Switching into auto-awake mode, she replied with a cheery "Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you. I’ll see you at noon. Be ready for me."

And just like that he was gone. She got out of bed and began her day, starting with a strong pot of coffee. She took her time getting herself ready. It was a special day and she wanted to look pretty for him. She ran across town to a bakery that was known for their cakes and she picked a single cupcake. It had a big dollop of white icing on the top and they even included three candles in the little box.

He arrived promptly at noon. She met him at the door and smiled up at him as she leaned into him for a hug. Her hand brushed up against something hard and she pulled away from him, looking at the box he held in his hand. Yahtzee. He’d brought a game. "How very odd," she thought. Their time together was usually spent in other pursuits.

He came in and sat down, placing the game on the table in front of him. He didn’t look like he was feeling too special and she began to explain the Birthday Situation. He let her babble on about the things she’d thought of getting him or doing for him or to him until she’d gotten it out of her system. When she realized she’d gone on and on, she stopped and glanced at the table.

"Are we playing a game today?"

"Not exactly."

He removed the top from the box and took out the plastic cup and five dice. He put the lid back on the box, then moved it to the floor.

She felt some nervous anticipation, as she wasn’t sure where this was going.

"Over the past month, you’ve talked a great deal about this day. As a matter of fact, you mentioned The B Word at least 66 times in the last 30 days. For a day I’ve tried hard to forget, you have dredged it to the front of my mind time and time again."

As the words sunk in, her eyes widened and started to tear up. She blinked hard willing the wetness away. He’d counted the number of times she said it? Shit!

"You disregarded my attempts to let the day pass without fanfare and ignored any references I made about it. I am disappointed at this lack of understanding on your part and so today you will be punished."

She bit her lower lip and the silence hung heavily in the air between them.

He nodded toward the cupcake that sat on the dining room table. "I see you’ve planned a celebration. No party is complete without games, so today your punishment will be determined by chance."

He picked up the plastic cup and shook it gently, making the dice rattle.

She watched, fearful of what was to come. He’d used The D Word and she was shocked.

Tilting the cup, he let a die roll out into the palm of his hand. He held it out to her and with an unsteady hand, she took it.

"Roll."

She rolled it onto the coffee table.

"Four." He picked up the die and stuck it in his pocket. He handed her the cup with the remaining four dice.


"Roll."

She rolled. Two ones, a four and a two. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad and she glanced nervously from the dice to his eyes.

"Eight. Lady luck is with you today. Bring me the round wooden paddle."

She jolted out of her state of shock and quickly moved to do his bidding. When she returned with it, she knelt before him and presented it. It didn’t seem to help his mood much.

"Undress."

Again, she moved quickly, dropping each item of clothing neatly into a pile. While she disrobed, he continued, "This is a punishment. There will be no warm up. This is not for your pleasure, nor does it please me to have to do this."

She was naked now and she stood before him, her eyes cast downward. She was relieved she hadn’t rolled a 24.

"So you will get 8 hard swats with this… times my age today."

She actually gasped aloud as she did the math. She couldn’t take that. She just knew it.

He saw the fear in her eyes. "You will take it."

He moved her to the end of the sofa and pushed her down over the arm of it.

"Count out loud. Any one that you miss will be repeated."

And the paddling began. By the time she’d counted to 30, tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the seat of the sofa. At 50 he stopped for a break. At 150, he stopped again.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

She caught her breath and tried to calm down before speaking. "Only that I am sorry."

"When this is over, it will be over. You will not dwell on it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir."

And at some point that day, it was over. She kissed his hand and thanked him for correcting her. He held his hand over her ass, feeling the heat coming off it.

"Bring the cupcake and some matches."

Despite being extremely sore, she was back in a flash with them. As he lit the candles, he told her to resume her position on the arm of the sofa. Tilting the cupcake sideways, he listened to her cries as the wax dripped onto her ass.

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Monday, June 05, 2006

You just might find... you get what you need


I knew it was going to be good when he locked my collar around my neck. I was a little confused when he led me back upstairs though. I'd just arranged everything downstairs as he'd asked. The candles were lit. The lights were dimmed. The music was on. But up the stairs we went. Seeing him take out the collar was a relief.

But then he pushed me onto the bed and proceded to fuck me, but good. The thought did creep into my mind that maybe he was asserting his dominance by not giving me what he knew I needed (see previous entry). That wasn't the case, though, because after finishing, he took me right back downstairs. At that point I was thinking how good that was. Not good as in good, but good as in a clever mindfuck.

I eventually ended up in wrist and ankle cuffs attached to either end of the spanking bench with two straps tightly securing my torso to the bench. Completely immobile; ass exposed.

And I did get that spanking I needed.

Thank you, R.

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Friday, June 02, 2006

Now I'm here... now I'm there.

Don't you just hate it when real life gets in the way? I do. I found myself on a bus today, having daydreams about the bus driver bending me over the seat and paddling me with his clipboard for not wearing a seatbelt.

I need some normalcy. I really need a spanking.

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