Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Thief in the Night: Part 1: Curiosity

Diebin was by all accounts an exquisite thief. She could slink silently through a house in the dead of night, sneaking small treasures into her copious pockets before slipping out like a phantom in a dream. In theory, a perfect pilferer in most regards. Her ability to spot the shimmer of precious metals or the flicker of gems in dim candlelight was unparalleled. Her one flaw, perhaps, was her curiosity. She liked to see the faces of those from whom she stole. Sometimes, if she found the owner of a jewel particularly intriguing, rather than sell the piece, she might keep it as a token memory.

She frowned as she held the large signet ring up to the flame of a dying candle. It was gold, dark with age but still possessed of that familiar glimmer. Wide and masculine, the seal was comprised of castle spires and two scrolls crossed in the center. The tallest spire in the center of the seal was capped with a small diamond, sparkling with brilliant clarity. It was a fascinating seal. She'd not seen another like it. She wondered at the man who possessed it.

Dropping the ring into her breast pocket, Diebin crept up the stairs, which were lined with cases filled with books. The crackle of the fire in the hearth that could be barely heard throughout the otherwise silent house grew louder as she drew nearer to its source.  The soft rumble of snoring distinguished itself above the crackling wood. Her eyes fell upon the slumbering man lying on his belly in a rather modest bed.

He spanned the length of bed, which was wide enough for two, but not as grand as she might have otherwise imagined. The vague silhouette of his feet could be seen beneath the furs that covered him almost touching the cherry wood foot board. The furs had fallen away from him revealing broad shoulders blanketed in freckles. Diebin drew closer. Dark gold hair lay in disarray about his head he slept. He looked peaceful, lying there. She couldn't make out much of his face, shrouded in the shadows cast by the fire, half hidden by the pillow he clutched in seemingly strong arms.

She reached out and tentatively touched the smooth expanse of his back. It was surprisingly cool to the touch. He thankfully did not stir. Yes, she would keep the ring. A glint of metal caught her eye. She looked to a display cabinet near a curtained window. The doors were mostly glass and behind it, she could see a number of beautiful things within.

She sneaked to the cabinet and carefully opened the doors. A collection of ornate tobacco pipes filled the shelves. Some were of intricately carved wood, others cast of metals polished to a high sheen. Some were even made of colored glass or had ivory carvings on the bowls. They would certainly fetch a good price.

As she reached for a silvery pipe, hot breath fell upon her ear.

"Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

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

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Holiday Treats

Playing around with digital art. This is a collaboration between Daddy and I. Since this is the beginning of the holiday season, I figured I'd start it off with a bang.

Sinful Sunday

Thursday, November 24, 2016

The Little Things

Siggy, my kitten
About a year and a half ago I first mentioned my conflict with the label of "little" in The Word "Daddy". My relationship with the term has changed somewhat, having begun a relationship with an actual daddy dom rather than a dom I simply called Daddy, although I can't say that it's become less confusing for me. In the past two months, I've had two labels added to my rather formidable list of identifications by this man: little and kitty. I can't say kitty is terribly surprising. I mean, I'm a cat lady. But the other...the other I still struggle with.

He constantly tells me I'm a little. After examining the evidence, I can't disagree, but it's still a murky place for me. There's still a part of me that wants to wrinkle my nose at the idea of it. So many of the stereotypical aspects are distasteful to me. I have no desire to wear little girl dresses (not that I could fit into one...). Baby talk annoys the ever loving shit out of me, particularly in written form. The whole whiny spoiled brat thing bothers me (mind you, I'm not talking about the BDSM definition of brat which I have addressed multiple times in the past).

I don't really have a concrete idea of what a little is anymore than I did last year. I have never dared to attach the label to myself due to the stigma attached to the more annoying traits. I also don't regress like so many littles seem to do. I don't have a "little space" or a "middle space." Whatever part of me is a little is always a part of me.

I find that the longer I am with him, the more prominent that aspect becomes. I can't tell yet if the little part is manifesting itself because I'm finally with someone who recognizes it and appreciates or because I know it's something that he enjoys. I've always been naturally inclined to magnify certain behaviors in order to be more pleasing. So, at this point I don't know if it's coming from me or coming out for him.

I often play the "why" game now, in which I will respond to a series of things with "why/because why/etc." until he starts repeating himself or starts laughing. I told him recently that "this" was his fault, but I don't think he really understood what I meant.

I express it constantly around him, but there's still that hint of hesitation or discomfort in the back of my brain. I'm not completely comfortable with the idea yet. I can't see myself doing "little" things in public, even at parties. I'm not going to carry a stuffy around, or sit around coloring with others, although I do enjoy coloring. I'll watch animated movies with others, because who doesn't love a good cartoon?

I imagine part of it is some subconscious awareness of the significant age difference between us. I brought up in The Word "Daddy" that I was self-conscious about being mistaken for my ex's daughter. I'd say that concern would be more legitimate now. It's also just self-consciousness in general about how I'm perceived.

Yep, my disorder hasn't gone anywhere. I'm still pretty keen about not feeling like a weirdo in public. Sure, I can get away with a lot based on my appearance and being female. Sexism is alive and well, ladies and gents, particularly in the Southern U.S. I will still make the argument that women are expected to retain certain youthful traits into adulthood that are considered less acceptable or generally unacceptable in men.

I'm still contemplating this new label. I'm sure as I ponder, I'll post more about it here. I still default to owner in non-DD/lg forums and dom in public. I still think about stuff like that. 'Cause I'm still neurotic as fuck.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

e[Lust] #88

Photo courtesy of Miss Scarlet Writes

Welcome to Elust 88-

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 #89 Start with the rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Heart stabbing

Redemption: The Sex Goddess Project


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

An Open Letter To That Cunnilingus Post

I Found Myself Over His Knee

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

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

Erotic Fiction

The Haunting of Iris Day
MERMAID??? Wicked Wednesday #229
Fear, Scents and Sounds
Lady Amore
love is love
Her Struggle
The New Principal

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Evolving Landscapes
Trust in Me
15 BEST Things About Giving Blowjobs!
With a rebel yell
What lie do you need to hear so we can Fuck?

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Brush
Tasked with asking for what I need
How Old Is Too Old For Wild Lovemaking?
Brass In Pocket
An Unstated Predicament
California Cuisine
Krystal's First Pegging

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

That Adult Bookstore Just Outside Town
Creature of the night
MISTRESS IN A DRESS - or out of it
Come Here. I want to Taste You
Terror of the cane! How to make caning sexy

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

11 Signs You Might Be a Side Guy

Writing About Writing

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

ELust Site Badge

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Briar Rose

Photo by Daddy, Editing by me

"Then round about that place there grew a hedge of thorns thicker every year, until at last the whole castle was hidden from view, and nothing could be seen but the vane on the roof. And a rumor went abroad in all that country of the beautiful sleeping Rosamond, for so was the Princess called: And from time to time many Kings' sons came and tried to force their way through the hedge; but it was impossible for them to do so, for the thorns held fast together like strong hands and the young men were caught by them, and not being able to get free, there died a miserable death..."
" the hundred years were at an end, and the day had come when Rosamond should be awakened. When the Prince drew near the hedge of thorns, it was changed to a hedge of beautiful large flowers, which parted and bent aside to let him pass, and then closed behind him in a thick hedge..."   
"...he mounted higher, and all was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing; and at last he came to the tower, and went up the winding stair, and opened the door of the little room where Rosamond lay.
 And when he saw her looking so lovely in her sleep, he could not turn away his eyes; and presently he stooped and kissed her, and she awaked..." -- "The Sleeping Beauty" - The Brothers Grimm from Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales (p. 671-673)
Sinful Sunday

Friday, November 18, 2016

Monday, November 14, 2016


I assumed my drought of inspiration these past several months came from being alone. Not much to draw from an endless parade of inane messages and two failed dates, really. But now that I've been in a new relationship for about 7 weeks, I still find it difficult to put words down. I find it difficult to write about him or us, and I'm not sure why. I should have a font of material. This is by far the most engaged relationship I've ever been in.

Perhaps that's it. I've never been this entangled with a man before. As you know, if you've been following me for a while, my previous owner did not ask much of me. The lack of physical contact left me with a lot of time for contemplation. The whole of relationship was mental, so I could spend countless hours navel gazing and cranking out page after page of BDSM rhetoric.

Here there is no distance to sit around and contemplate. I'm either with him or anticipating being with him. I spend the week trying to complete the list of weekly tasks I've been given. Sometimes I manage it. Sometimes things pop up and I can't, and then I kind of panic. I wouldn't say that is caused by fear of his reaction, but that I have OCD and I hate when things don't go as planned. I'm either with him, talking to him, or doing things for him and that doesn't leave a ton of room for general theorizing.

As I said in my previous piece, he's pretty damned enthralling. I tend to get wrapped up in my owners, but not to this degree. But then, I've spent more time with this man than either of my previous two partners and it hasn't even been two months.

It's strangely perfect. Everything fits together rather nicely. I can't pick out a single thing that bothers me.

I've never really done a ton of negotiating. I attribute that mostly to my default slave mode. I can't say we've done a ton of it here either. We've just naturally fallen into the M/s category, some flavor of TPE. At least, as much as you can this early in the relationship whilst living apart.

If I stay with him, he cooks for me. If he stays with me, he decides whether I am permitted to cook for him or if we will go out. In either case, he decides where and when we go somewhere. He drives. Always. He opens all the doors. Always. At restaurants, he decides either what we eat or if I am allowed to order for myself. He often decides what I will wear, as well, if I get to wear anything at all. He decides if we play, how we play, when it starts, when it stops.

He takes my physical limitations and emotional states into consideration, of course. He is a Daddy, after all. He tells me he's a Daddy, not a Master, but I think he sells himself short on that front. They aren't mutually exclusive and he fits into both categories nicely in my opinion.

He told me the first weekend we spent together that regardless, he will get his way. I think that's probably one of the hottest things a man has ever said to me.

I find it difficult to write about him, about us. Not only because I know he will read it, but because I find it damn near impossible to untangle my thoughts. He literally breaks my brain.