Sunday, May 31, 2015

Peekaboo Purple



I'm super self conscious about any revealing clothing, and lingerie is the most uncomfortable shit ever, but I thought this was a really good shot of my ass.

Also, I'm a nerd,

Yeah, nothing frilly or deep this week.


Sinful Sunday

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Word "Daddy"

I'm a fairly self-conscious person. I live in constant fear of humiliation. When I go out, I'm forever worried about being stared at or mocked, silently or otherwise. I am constantly smoothing my skirts to make sure my thighs are covered, adjusting my waistband to make sure that ever-present crease in my belly is smoothed out and the muffin top is well-contained, tugging at my blouse so that the stretch marks on my chest and the acne on my shoulders are out of sight. I rehearse conversations with salespeople and cashiers so I don't fiddle with awkward pauses or flub things with stuttering. I'll often not speak at all to avoid saying something that draws undue attention to me.

The bunny Daddy sent me. 
In this way, I have always been uncomfortable referring to Daddy as Daddy around others. Or even master. I have defaulted to referring to him as my owner on Fetlife. In my local group, I just default to my dom. I'm not sure why. I suppose for simplicity's sake. Daddy/babygirl dynamics are common around here, so referring to him as Daddy shouldn't bother me. But then, disorders rarely make sense, do they?

I have a thing for plushy alligators.
Perhaps I avoid it because I'm not in a Daddy/babygirl dynamic. I notice online, daddy doms are almost always associated with age play. Most DD/bg dynamics are associated with age play, even if many or most of them aren't. I've never done age play. My first dom expressed an interest, but he never got around to doing much of anything. Daddy has zero interest in age play. In fact, it creeps him out. Fortunately, he's not reacted negatively to any of my more childlike traits. Perhaps he expects it because I'm 13 years younger. Perhaps he simply expects a woman to have such traits.

I've never identified as a little. I have never really even figured out what makes someone a little. I have even less of an idea of what a middle is.

There was a brief period when I was active in the Dd/lg chatroom on Collarme, that I thought I might be some sort of little. I mean, I love stuffed animals. I like animated movies, especially those from the Disney Renaissance. I have some childlike mannerisms. Although, I'm not sure if they are so much childlike or adult imitations of what adults think is childlike. I also love to color those fuzzy posters with the super complex designs.

My favorites, yo.
I struggled with this a bit, when I was trying to find "me." Was this something I was? Or something I only resembled? I mean, most of the other women my age are into the same things. They're not littles. Well, some of them are. I hang out with a lot of kinky people. I think I know two littles. One is in her mid-twenties, the other in her 40s. Or at least little is one of the labels they identify with.

Is it simply because it's acceptable for women to retain childlike personality traits that they're almost expected to? I suppose one could go on and on about society's efforts throughout history to keep women as perpetual minors, but I'm not one to rage face about feminism.

Even as I explored various age play groups, I could never quite identify with the little crowd. It never clicked in my brain the way other things did.

I supposed that's a good thing, given Daddy's distaste for age play. I'm not sure how I feel about age play myself. I've never done it. I'm not even sure how you'd go about it. I feel like it involves a lot of dress up...

It's amusing that he doesn't like it though, since he has a big thing for pigtails. I've always considered pigtails to be a childish hairstyle. I think I look fucking ridiculous with pigtails. Repunzel + pigtails = hilariously awful. The one exception being two braids a la stereotypical depictions of Native American women, but I find those annoying to wear.

I also may or may not have a thing for unicorns.
And yes, that's a mini pillow pet and I love it.
I imagine if I were a little, I likely wouldn't advertise it much, much like I don't refer to him as Daddy around my friends. I do it here, because, well, I can't see your faces or hear you sneer with disgust if you do. Because, that's how people react to age play. It's often a case of love/hate. Either you love it or you think it's the most awful disgusting thing ever. Obviously that's not completely the case, but one gets that impression online.

Especially with the term Daddy. You will often see threads asking how anyone can call their partner Daddy. You typically get two responses. "I love that word!" and "Omg, that shit squicks me out so bad." Especially because Daddy is associated with age play, which squicks a lot of people, or it's associated with the "Sugar Daddy" which pisses people off.

I'm neither of these things. He's neither of these things. I asked to call him Daddy because sir has never felt right in my mouth and master just sounds so damned formal.  I associate all that is warm and fuzzy with the word Daddy, and perhaps the childlike part of my personality revels in it. It's affectionate, but still authoritative, much like our relationship.

I probably won't call him that in public though. Most people say I look 16, and his oldest is almost 18. I don't really want people thinking he's actually my father.

And I think about stuff like that.

'Cause I'm neurotic as fuck.

Monday, May 18, 2015

Soul of the Gray (Part 3)

He laid her gently on the massive bed. She shifted uncomfortably as the soft pelts beneath her pressed into her tender flesh. Instinctively, she pressed her thighs together, painfully aware of exposed body. The night air was cool against her skin despite the fire in the hearth. She held her arms crossed over her breasts against the chill and his roving eyes. The Master looped a finger through one of her cuffs and easily lifted her arm above her head and attached another chain to it, securing her to the heavy oak headboard. He looped a finger through the other cuff. She stiffened her arm against her chest, not wishing to relinquish the meager modesty it provided her. He frowned slightly and tugged a bit harder, breaking her resistance with ease.

She took a shuddering breath and bent her knees, turning her body so that she could tuck her feet up behind her. Her arms rested on the pillows behind her, bound by the smooth metal that had lost its coolness. The Master bent over her, his large hands grasping her at the waist and turning her firmly onto her back and sweeping her legs out straight before her. He snapped a pair of metal rings about each ankle that matched the ones at her wrists. He eased one leg away from the other and chained it to the bed post. He leapt over her onto the bed, the movement so light and effortless it made her gasp. Again, she resisted as he pulled her ankle across the bed and locked her into place, leaving her open and exposed. Her breath came faster and faster as she began to panic.

Seeing her fear, he slid up beside her, slipping a muscled arm beneath her head and draping a leg over her thigh, offering up his warmth. He rested a hand high on her belly just below her breasts. Leaning in, he buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. He gently kissed the sensitive flesh, stroking her belly until her breathing settled into a normal rhythm and her heart slowed a bit.

His hand moved to caress a modest breast, the rough callouses of his palm sending a tingling sensation shooting from her chest to somewhere low on her belly. Eilin fidgeted, unsure of what to do with such a sensation, not that she could really move anyway. His touch grew more insistent, massaging her flesh with his strong hands. Her breasts, her belly, the generous swell of her hips. She gasped softly as he drew his claws over the tender skin in the space where belly met thigh, as everything contracted and convulsed for the briefest of moments. Her eyes popped wide as her hips lifted from the bed and fell heavily back to the furs.

He loomed over her suddenly, looking down at her with luminescent eyes. "Do you know what it is like to have been without touch for centuries? Hundreds of years I have spent in this cold place, the only heartbeat in my ear my own, the only human scent that of my own body." He squeezed her waist. "I have missed the solidity of flesh, the soft scent of woman, the heat of blood beneath the skin."

He rolled atop her and pressed the full length of him against her body. He was strangely hard and soft at the same time. His muscles were like warm stones against her, pulsing with his swiftly beating heart, but the silky hair that covered him felt much like the pelts resting beneath her. He slid down her body, maintaining the contact until he knelt between her bound feet, gazing down at her hungrily with those uncomfortably bright eyes.

"I have missed this," he all but growled before burying his face in the heat of her sex.

Eilin cried out with surprise as he desperately tried to inhale her, his hands slipping beneath her thighs to hold her hips. Even in his seeming desperation he was careful to keep his claws from parting her skin. His nose parted her folds to delve into the wet heat, the coarse hair of his beard tickling her skin. He stabbed his hot tongue into her opening, sucking greedily as he did so, as if he might drink the very essence of her into himself.

Eilin pulled hard against the chains, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar pleasure. Held open by the chains and in place by his steely grip, she could not escape the  assault on her core. He drew his tongue up the length of her slit to draw steadily on the tender bead nestled between her folds. He sucked hard, growling against her. The vibrations sent waves of bliss roiling through her. She whimpered, fighting against his grasp. He growled again, shifting his fingers ever so slightly so that the tips of his claws pressed lightly into her skin. She felt their sharpness. There was no pain, but she knew further fidgeting would press them deeper. A warning. She whined wordlessly into the air.

A deep laugh between her thighs had turned her whine into a soft moan. Those coarse hairs on his lip and chin drove her mad at both ends as his tongue continued its persistent quest to undo her. The little bead of flesh throbbed wildly beneath his attentions, seeming to grow until she felt it might burst. Pricks of pain amplified the sensation as he nipped at her swollen lips, pulling them in between his own lips alternately to draw out the sting.

Her body went taut beneath him as the pressure low in her belly grew at an overwhelming rate. She pulled hard on the chains, gripping the smooth links in her fist until the muscles in her arms ached with the effort. His devouring of her became more frantic, his tongue moving deeper into her body as he hummed against her.

She snapped like a bow string, the tension fleeing from her with a soft cry, her body falling into convulsions. His hands released the instant she had erupted into her release. He watched with satisfaction as she twitched and throbbed in the aftermath. He pressed the heel of his hand against her and rubbed occasionally to send new aftershocks rolling through her.

He settled onto the bed, resting his prickly cheek against her thigh. His breath fell coolly upon her dampness, making her shiver. Idly, he played with the soft hair that dusted her mound.

"Oh, aye, I have longed for such a meal for handful of lifetimes."



Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Nameless Grace


"She walks in beauty, like the night
        Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that's best of dark and bright
        Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
    Thus mellowed to that tender light
        Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
                                     
    One shade the more, one ray the less,
        Had half impaired the nameless grace
    Which waves in every raven tress,
        Or softly lightens o'er her face;
    Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
        How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
                                     
    And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
        So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
    The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
        But tell of days in goodness spent,
    A mind at peace with all below,
        A heart whose love is innocent!"
- She Walks in Beauty - Lord Byron
Sinful Sunday

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Elust #70

exposing 40
Photo courtesy of Exposing 40

Welcome to Elust #70 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #71? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Exposed! My Mom Knows!

Flash Fiction: "A Taste"

I am a Sex Blogger & I Reject Pseudonymity

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

'X' is for X...
Give my guilt an erotic payoff? Tell me more.

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Dis-moi…

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7

days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Blogging

Hidden

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Great Outdoors (Or Why I Trust Him)
I'm Reminded You Can't Force an Orgasm
Yes I am Sexy
Why Choose Monogamy When You Can Choose Every
Would you? Could you?
On Being Haunted

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

A Horse Among Unicorns: Embracing my Straight
Being a Disabled Top in Kink Community
And here I thought kink was all about consent
10 Signs You Don't Understand Submission
The Answer

Writing About Writing

Sex in Real Life vs Fiction
Terms of Use

Poetry

Six Nine - A Happy Horny Haiku

Erotic Fiction

One Saturday Evening
Cerulean
Stolen Minutes
Taste
Haunting you
Woken
Q is for Quenched
A schoolgirl spanking story 10
Sit Here Please
My Prize

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Fat-Shaming
Spanking, Brits, and what if we didn’t?
"V" is for Virgin

Erotic Non-Fiction

My first date with Lexy - Part 2
Goodnight kiss
How To Kiss Me Like You Mean It
running cold and hot
His cum came out my nose.
Going Down. Honey, Coconut Oil and Cum.





ELust Site Badge

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Am I Jaded?

She called me jaded. Perhaps, she wasn't wrong. Her observations made as I sat across from her eating a rather mediocre burger at Friday's. They were more char than flavor and I wasn't enthused that my order of no veggies with mayo had resulted in no mayo with pickles hidden underneath the overcooked meat. Pickles are gross. Almost right up there with onions.

Perhaps she wasn't wrong, exuberant in her newness, fascinated by each new activity presented to her. I wonder if I was ever so excited just to bear witness to kink, in whatever form it might take. But I doubt it.

We sat there at our pre-munch munch, discussing the bondage activity that was to happen at the party.  Kitty sat beside me, and we both talked to Peach of the various demos we had seen over our four-ish year stint in the local scene. I confessed that I found most demos boring these days. I mean, after your 23rd fire demo, especially if you don't personally enjoy participating in fire play, the whole mystique of setting someone on fire tends to fade. When you yourself teach others how to throw a flogger, a flogging demo is tedium at best.

Perhaps, I simply don't like demos. They're very limited, to say the least. They typically concentrate on a single fetish, more often than not a physical activity, and it is a lesson rather than an experience. The emphasis is on technique rather than what is actually happening.

There is also my singular lack of voyeurism. Watching has never done much for me. I'm a tactile creature. I prefer to do rather than watch.

But, perhaps, it is also the singular nature of a demo or of any activity at a party. The simplicity of a single fetish being enacted at once lulls my brain into the soft hum of boredom from the lack of complexity.

The fantasies that come to my mind are nothing if not complex. It's never so simple as a spanking or a flogging. It is the trappings that surround the activity that make it truly profound. I can be the asexual bottom, but that is a shallow pleasure, a small itch to be scratched when needed.

What I need to be fascinated goes beyond that.

For instance, knife play is delicious of its own accord. The sweet sensation of a sharp edge sliding delicately across your skin, hinting at dangers but never quite parting the skin. I can lay prone beneath a blade and sink into the deep meditation one might experience while getting a massage.

Oh, but oh, what can be done with a knife when other games come into play.

Imagine, if you will, lying upon your back, on a bed, perhaps, soft and yielding beneath your naked flesh. The linens feel warm against your back while your front lays naked and exposed to the chilled air. Your limbs are pulled away from your body, secured in an open position, an inescapable position. A blindfold traps you in the darkness, just as you are trapped on this bed, spread and helpless.

Something hard and cold is placed upon your belly. A knife from what you can feel, lying harmlessly upon its side against your skin. It is gone again for the briefest of moments before you feel the thin sharpness of a blade being drawn over the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. Your muscles contract against the sensation that almost feels like a tickle. Fortunately, and unfortunately, you are bound and unable to close your legs against the threat treading so close to the very core of you.

It's not just the knife against your skin, but the darkness, and the helplessness, and the anticipation of not knowing where it's going to strike. You don't often see something like this as a demo. If I saw something like this at a party, I might call it an exhibition. I rarely see much that incorporates multiple fetishes in combination at a party.

Even as a top, I typically only do a combo scene of sensation and impact. Generally no bondage, and
certainly no domination. Mmm, domination. The thing that seals the whole thing together for me. It's the element that is the key to my real pleasure, to exquisite enjoyment. Because, in the end, I'm a force girl. I enjoy the helplessness of not being able to prevent what's happening.

And that's not always kosher at a party. A lot of things won't be. One has to negotiate around the comfort of one's audience and the comfort of one's partner. As I previously established, I'm not a voyeur. Watching overtly sexual acts makes me uncomfortable. I can't even watch most porn. I'm also not an exhibitionist. The only people who see nudity from me are Daddy, Kitty (because she's my photographer), and perhaps other female play partners if we're playing in private.

I understand that the things that stimulate my mind won't generally be seen at a party. They can't. I understand that groups are often about education unless it's a private, closed group. With the constant influx of newbies, one has to keep going back to the basics time and again in order to keep people on the same page. I think the scene suffers sometimes because of this. There is a need to go more in depth into things, to go beyond BDSM 101 into the more fascinating aspects of kink and the lifestyle.

I don't think I'm jaded. I just think I've grown beyond the beginner stage of my kink, where the newness has lost its sheen. I have mastered the basic steps, what's left is the endless series of dances waiting to be composed.


Tuesday, May 12, 2015

33 Confessions

My horde of kittens. Fear my fluffy
minions!
  1. I am not a confident person. I'm confident in very particular skill sets, but not overall.
  2. I love very deeply.
  3. I could forgive a man I loved almost anything.
  4. I'm far too honest most of the time.
  5. I don't like crying in front of people.
  6. I feel awkward when people cry in front of me.
  7. I'm not a very independent woman and I'm not afraid to admit it. I would rather have a partner than not.
  8. I'm clingy and I don't have a problem with it. I enjoy being with my partner or talking to my partner a lot. However, I try not to be irritating.
  9. Sometimes I wonder if I was a virgin for so long because I never had any offers.
  10. Sometimes I wonder if I'm modest only because I think people won't like my body.
  11. I have very specific wants about kink, but I could probably compromise a lot for the right man.
  12. I want to lose weight, but I don't want to be thin.
  13. I want a man who will physically fight with me because I think it's hot. I would be ecstatic if he could/would teach me how to do it better as well.
  14. I sometimes feel like a hypocrite because I'm overweight, but I'm not really attracted to overweight men.
    Honeysuckle from
    the vacant house
    next door. 
  15. I used to ignore men on dating sites who send me messages in text speak.
  16. I find small talk boring and unnecessary. I'd rather talk about something completely off the wall than answer "What's up?"
  17. I'm starting to think "how are you" is the worst pick up line ever. You can't get to know someone with that question because, statistically, they will always say "fine."
  18. I hate playing 20 questions. It's a really awkward way to have a conversation.
  19. I'm jealous of all of my friends who have big boobs.
  20. I'm more willing to clean other people's houses than my own.
  21. I'm one of the pickiest eaters you'll meet. I don't often eat at other people's homes because I don't want to insult them by not eating their food.
  22. I’m Obsessive-Compulsive and food is one of my triggers. Humiliation is my primary trigger, whether perceived or real.
  23. I have a "slave book" in which I keep pertinent lists, like rules, limits, random facts about Daddy, because one of my compulsions is checking and I like reference material. 
  24. Other people do not register to me on a sexual level if I am in a committed relationship. Few do so even when I'm not.
  25. I like nipples and it makes me sad if my partner won't let me suck on his.
  26. I would rather watch someone else play video games than watch TV.
  27. I'm a fairly decent service top and I could easily teach a newbie dom do a lot of things.
  28. Topping is one of the few things I'm actually good at teaching someone to do. Otherwise I'm more of a "You either get it or you don't" sort of person.
  29. I forget things I think are irrelevant, but I remember the strangest minute details about things I'm interested in.
  30. I've been told I'm a good singer, and I'm inclined to agree. I don't ever perform partly because I don't think I could sing to an instrumental track and not fuck up the timing, and partly because I have terrible stage fright.
    Roses from the vacant house across the
    street. 
  31. I will go to the movies by myself when I want to see something or if I’m embarrassed about wanting to see it.
  32. I am terrible at flirting. I generally have to be beat over the head with it to recognize it. Yet, strangely enough I can write it fairly well.
  33. Oh, and I have weird fondness for songs that sound a little stalker-y. 




Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

I'm a Weirdo...

I am 24 years old. I have been active in the local BDSM community for 5 years. I have been in 2 romantic relationships and 3 power exchange dynamics.
Taken on one of my platonic outings
with a submissive male friend.
Went to dinner and a kink party.
Alas, not a date. 

I have never been on a date.

I have never been on a planned romantic outing with a man alone where you do date things and he pays for it ('cause I'm old-fashioned like that). I can't say that I've ever been out alone with a man I wasn't related to more than a handful of times in my life, and never in a romantic context.

I'm beginning to wonder how I have managed this. 

I must say, I've always been perplexed by the Hollywood concept of dating. You know, where you go on separate outings with multiple potential partners during the same time period until you figure out which one you like the most.

I mean, who has that many options? I've never really had multiple people express serious interest in me at the same time. Hell, I've been in relationships with the only men who have. Never managed that date thing, though.

I was with my ex for a little over a year, the latter seven months in name only. We only went out alone once. I don't count that because Kitty was supposed to join us for a movie and she bailed, so we ended up at the theater alone.

Pre-kink party dinner with Foxy.
I mean, I'm sure people count staying in and such "dates." But, before those count, you have to have been on an actual, real, stereotypical date, right?

What do you do on a date, anyway? I have this nebulous concept that includes dinner. I like food. A movie sounds dumb though because you can't talk. Perhaps my imagination is stunted because I live in a town of 20,000 people that closes at 10 pm and I've only been to a bar like 3 times ever.

I've long imagined my first meeting with Daddy and going on my first real date. Granted, my nebula has only really expanded to include gobs of kinky sex with my dinner. He doesn't dance. Not that I know of any dance clubs around here. Although, personally, I think dancing would be a fun date. Perhaps, I'm simply limited because I think of dates as night things. 

I've been disappointing Om Nom
on our Cut the Rope 2 dates...
I had originally planned to write up the fantasy of that first date that I've been building up in my head for the last year to post for you, but recent events have left me wondering if I'll ever even see that day.

Which is even more depressing than the fact that I've somehow missed out on one of the integral experiences of post-pubescence.

What can I say but let that freak flag fly?






Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Friday, May 1, 2015

"Quiet Time"

I can't say that I've ever felt unsure about this relationship until now.

Even when his crazy ex stole his phone and tried to harass me and I could feel my heart rate going up again and that strange pit of fear appeared in my stomach. I pulled through and wrote it off like I always have. I have my blinders on when it comes to my men. I always have.

But this time. I don't know.

Another kid. A kid that shouldn't have been able to be conceived.

Attached forever to a woman who would make his life a living hell and mine too if she knew who I was beyond the simple name of Rabbit.

He asked for quiet time. He's confused, overwhelmed, upset. Understandably so.

I'm less upset than I thought I'd be. Mostly I'm worried.

"I need some quiet time, Rabbit."

How long will the silence last? Will he still want me when it ends?