Breath of Surrender

“With the fingers of my dearest ally, passionate lover and forever King both wrapped snugly around my throat and thrust deep inside of me, I breathe in His Dominance.”

This morning, I was pinned against a wall in my bathroom with a hand to my throat.  The strong fingers of his right hand were wrapped tightly around my neck, while the digits of his left hand were penetrating deeply into the plush flesh of my vagina.  My nipples were aching, erect, and the beautifully metal bars that adorned through my flesh glistened in the bathroom light as I thrust them higher into the air.  Weak at the knees, a slight bend caused the length of his fingers to breach me deeper.  I relaxed into his hand’s embrace around my throat.  I allowed my breath to grow shallow as I reveled in the sound of my lusty heartbeat in my temples.  A steady, beautiful beat of surrender.  A seductive paradox: a hard, cold wall pressed to my back; a temperate and utterly satisfied soul lies encapsulated within a sweltering and lascivious body.  His asphyxiation is a warm blanket to my sexuality in which I find complete comfort.  His restraint is my rapture.

I was once pressed against a wall with a forearm to my throat.  I felt little fear in this instance, however, I was not safe.  I looked into the shallow eyes of a man in which dominance was something feigned.  The increasing pressure at my throat was an act of desperation intended to quell my protest.  Yet, my protest persisted.  Raising my chin higher, I looked down my nose to the spineless man and uttered in a hoarse voice, “You are an embarrassment to real men.  You are nothing but a little pussy.”  In this moment, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.  Keep in mind, we were not operating within any type of BDSM dynamic.  We were simply a toxic couple whereby his abusive behavior was his way of attempting to control me, and my antagonistic attitude was my method for establishing my inability to be controlled.

I have always had a thirst for dominance from the time I was young.  Dominance was something enigmatic to me.  A specter in the night whilst I traipsed in the shadows of insecure men’s souls.  My quest for dominance was akin to a hunger pang where you can’t quite pin exactly what would satisfy your craving, but you know you must have that certain, “something”.  I would later learn that a little “something” was actually a whole dynamic that I needed to center my sexuality around.  I identify as closely with being a submissive to Him as one would identify as being gay, straight, bisexual etc.  My sexuality is interwoven with my submissiveness; but, I had no idea I needed this dynamic until I met my King.

Prior to Him I was destroying men in their vain attempts to control me.  A free spirit “firefly” whereby they would temporarily trap me within their glass jars until my spark would no longer ignite.  A lioness in a mesh net.  A pit viper in a shoebox.  A siren to a slew of hopeless seamen.  No man could possess me.  No man could turn me to a kept pet.  No man solidified my commitment.  Until Him.

With the fingers of my ally, passionate lover and forever King both wrapped snugly around my throat and thrust deep inside of me, I breathe in His Dominance.  I relax into the embrace that never harms me.  I relinquish control to the Man who never forced my surrender.  I give full ownership to the only man able to possess me.  The only Alpha to trump my own.  My King.

His warm breath exhaled against the lobe of my ear as he moans, “mine”.  His kiss upon my lips.  His body pressed against my skin.  Hunger satiated.

His.


Interlude 1

My diamonds are at home. He cleverly hid them from me as punishment for leaving the house sans wedding rings yesterday. Yet, my collar graces my neck in a way more personal than a wedding band surrounds the finger…

People put so much stock in marriage – the crux of commitment, intimacy and trust; yet, so many marriages are without all three. I have never cared for marriage much, finding little connection to the union.  Being married never made me feel committed. In fact, I have only been able to commit to one man, no matter what my marital status had suggested.

I feel my marriage is an afterthought by comparison to the commitment I have to serve and obey my King, who is also my husband. My marriage has been reinforced by our lifestyle. Our marriage enhanced by my servitude and his personal conviction to cherish what is His. His because we choose, regardless of the piece of paper between us.

Society recognizes the rings on my finger as a symbol for marriage. The same metal and stone combination that grace the finger of the vast majority of women. Only a few people would recognize my collar as my commitment to serve. Both bring me great pride to wear. Both are a symbol of my devotion, eternally.

However, I prefer the “weight” of my collar.


Rain Dominance

Rain

Order me to my knees.  I am sturdy upon my bent legs, finding my greatest strength in my submission before You.  My gaze tracks upwards. I admire Your muscular thighs, mouth agape as my eyes travel to revere Your weighty balls, watching Your cock pulse as blood begins to lengthen You.  The muscular “V” of Your hips forms a beautiful foundation for a ladder of abdominal muscles.  I scan them, one by one.  My eyes play hopscotch as they skip across the ridges of Your stomach.  Eyelashes pressed against my eyelids, dusting just below the arch of my brows.  Your swollen chest heaves with the intoxication of Your will over me.  Your pulse beats a drum in your neck.  I wait patiently for the mark I crave.

I close my eyes and transcend into a mental space far more comfortable than the one I’m forced to exist within during the vast majority of my conscious hours.  A place where You can smell my sex from Your place of superiority over me.  My sweet smell emitting from between my thighs spread wide.  My scent ignites You, as if embers attached to my essence in the air, drifting with purpose toward Your flared nostrils.  Our primal instincts attune to one another’s body with such intensity, we eclipse humanity.  We are our primal best. In this place, we are far superior to the limitations of our human bodies.

You omit dominance as sweat from Your pores, and I find myself in need of more.  I want to feel Your ownership, temperate and tumbling over the curves of my body.  Yours, as I’m splashily painted from the brush of Your body.  Beads meld together atop my shoulders, summersault down my back, and disappear into the crease of my ass.  Your liquid strokes cascade down my breasts and congregate into drops suicidal off the tips of my erect nipples.  You tag my stomach in Your organic mark, a river trailing between the lips of my sex, through my delicate folds, and coming to rest upon the ground below. Tributaries trickle down the front of my thighs, resting in puddles at bended knees.  The smell of You omitting from the tendrils of dampened hair, gathered to sharp points at the sides of my breasts.  I breathe in Your savage animal and exhale Your captive pet.  I kneel, marked as the beasts grace the bush.  Territory.  The fragrance of possession rising off of my ivory skin as steam from a warmed Earth.  The tickle of Your dew grasping momentarily to my folds in a last desperate attempt to resonate upon my flesh.  Owned.

My eyes still cast upward toward You, my King.  You are the Earth, the Sun and the Moon.  I worship You.  I am cloaked in your liquid essence as if wearing a shawl of luminous candlelight glow.  Mirrored upon the amber reflection of my skin, You, My King.  My body and everything encapsulated within it belongs to You.

The bouquet of Your dominance radiates into the air as You drive yourself deep within Your prey.  Your strong hands press into my slick flesh as Your heaving sack slaps aggressively against the folds of my cunt, dispelling the condensation upon the petals of my pussy.  A drizzle from my flesh to the ground below, hands and knees in a puddle of carnal claiming.  My utter submission in every savored drop that once traveled my skin.  Your mark upon my body, I am both for You and made of You.  Baptized in Your dominance, I find sweet submission.

 

*Image courtesy of Pinterest. Photographer unknown.


On Assignment:

I have been absent for far too long.  In the meantime, life has been quite good to me.  My King and I are very active in the lifestyle, and He has required I begin some writing assignments. I have thoroughly missed writing and have been put to the task by My King to get back into the swing of putting thoughts to words.  Words are so very close to my heart. The vast majority of my posts, as usual, will center around our lifestyle.

Wishing positive energy to you all that may still be reading (or occasionally visiting) this blog.


Children, Not The First Priority

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In celebration of the New Year, I’d like to wish you all a happy and prosperous 2015!  I thought I would throw that little “feel good” energy before I go on about my regular writing.

As I’ve indicated before, I don’t really concern myself much with marriage or the condition of the institution within society.  I believe marriage should be a beautiful expression of love; but, as love has many layers of intensity and can be fleeting in nature, I am left untroubled by the crumbling of unions.  I do feel there is a significant contributor to the disintegration of marital bliss, despite the numerous messages culturally programmed into us suggesting the contrary…

Putting the kids first.

I know many dedicated parents who subscribe to the cultural kid-centric groupthink, and I can hear them shaming me in my head for the words I previously typed.  I could not care less.  I feel with great passion that we have deviated far from lifestyles that encourage lasting monogamy, a difficult practice to maintain to begin with.  I also speak often of how marriage and monogamy is particularly juxtaposed against male evolutionary development.  Worse, we have relatively abolished adult right and welcomed children to participate in an authoritative position within the household.  We wonder why society suffers from an unruly and dysfunctional family life.  We wonder why the majority of the populace suffers gravely from a false sense of entitlement.  But, we keep treating little Johnny and baby Janie like they should be the center of our universe, the sole reason for living, and our only source of enjoyment as adults.  I feel the sex most slighted from this misappropriation of importance are men.

A mother will often care for her boys with tenderness, providing a feminine love much different than the love a boy experiences from their father.  Boys learn that they are to be valued as a contributor, a provider and the “head of household”.  Society sends a similar message to boys, encouraging strength, competitiveness, emotional hardiness, power, and success.  These messages cultivate a mission within boys to behave a certain way, and by the time they become men, they associate an expectation upon those they are romantically involved with:  They assume they will be valued for their contributions to the home and to the relationship.  But, conversely, we are teaching women quite the opposite.  An emphasis on importance is being directed away from the wife, and pointing toward the “mother”.  At one time, it appeared that “wife” and “mother” were in agreement.  Now, it appears that it’s all “mother” and a big middle finger is being given toward men and being a good “wife” – Unless we need the men to contribute their sperm, of course.

I have seen women quickly neglect men from the moment their eyes gaze upon their child.  Sure, a woman can say that it’s because a baby requires more, a man is self-sufficient, and he should not need to be cared for.  A woman could argue because of the baby time is scarce, and because of this, there is little time left for the husband.  A woman could uphold that both she and her husband agree that the children should always come first.  I am just going to step out there and call bullshit:  You got the greatest contribution from the man – his seed and his money – Therefore, you hold little regard for him after.  He becomes a side note, a hindrance, and a nuisance.  Women cluck among each other, “I have three babies; two children and a husband.” I have heard women say, “My biggest child is my husband.”  I have never heard a woman say among female gatherings how much they value their husband as a man, as an individual, apart from what he does for her and the children.  To most women, men are a vessel of production; their value does not extend beyond what they can provide.  Sadly, they often won’t complain and suffer in silence, because they were taught not to be needy.  This is a disgrace.  Men need tenderness, appreciation and love for their contributions.  They need to be acknowledged.  But, women are often too busy bitching or making bracelets on their daughter’s rainbow loom to care.  No wonder porn is more comforting…

Children should not understand their place of value is greater than that of the parents.  Children should understand that they do not have the power to dictate every day decisions made in the household.  Children should not be requested to be more adult than they are by allowing them to make decisions that affect the well-being of the entire household.  I will go on further to state that I appreciate that my household is headed by a man who assumes all of the decision making.  Certainly, we take things to an added extreme while operating within our 24/7 Master/slave relationship; but, that dynamic only encourages a power hierarchy that enables the children to understand their place.  They do not get to make decisions that impact the adults, especially my Husband.  My husband places the greatest of priority upon the health and well-being of his wife.  We both understand that the children are our first responsibility; however, they do not get to occupy the place of household priority. They are valued above the relationship maintained by the adults.  They have consequences for their actions and how they impact the household.  They have expectations that are akin to those reasonable for a child.  Everyone has their place.

You cannot show your appreciation for your man in the same ways you wish to be appreciated.  Men need to be shown appreciation in ways more tangible.  They need to be fucked.  They need to be loved.  They need to feel appreciated by drawing their dick into your mouth and selflessly pleasuring them.  I realize I sound exceedingly cliché, but I believe men should be provided delicious meals and a loving touch along with kind words.  Men need you to remember they are visual, and present yourself in a way that show you value yourself for your own feminine allure.  He needs you and your love as desperately as your child, he just won’t scream and cry until he gets it.  His lack of vocal outcry does not make his needs less important; on the contrary, his reluctance to ask for doting affection and attention shall serve as a warning sign that he is growing despondent.

I am merely arguing that women need to acknowledge that children are the first responsibility, not the first priority.  A distinct differences lies between responsibility and priority.  You can tend to something else, such as a child; meanwhile, you can acknowledge that your husband is the priority.  I believe that the adults in the household need to maintain that the two of them, and the health of their relationship, should be the first priority.  As children are deliriously needy, allow them to be your number one responsibility – understand the difference.  Hopefully you will raise your children to be self-sufficient, well rounded, and independent adults.  You will not achieve this by allowing them constant priority and attention.  They will grow up and build homes of their own.  Once the dust settles on raising your little family, you may see the only person left to stand beside you is that man you devalued – if you are lucky.  Make him your first priority, and your children your first responsibility, and you may just be holding hands to watch the dust settle together.


Fair Play

Warning:  This post is likely to offend you.

I have been absent for a while dealing with the holidays and other work related business.  As I can finally take a breath, I find myself moved to write.  I felt like a zombie there for a while, simply going through the motions and obligations that the holidays bestow upon us.  My creativity was stifled under all the responsibility, but I had time to think about things that I wanted to write about.

I attended a bridal shower yesterday for a close friend of mine.  On her invitation it read, “…is registered at Lowe’s, Home Depot and Target.”  I stared down at the invitation in my hands and thought to myself, “Dear God…How long can you expect a marriage to last if your bridal shower invitation resembles that of a housewarming party?”  I refused to get her a gift of anything she requested, and instead got her a giftcard to a local sex shop complemented by a card that read, “The key to a lasting and happy marriage is an open and mutually thrilling sex life, not a new toaster or 5 horsepower blender.”

I am not a believer in marriage; at least, I should say that I am not a believer in marriage in the traditional sense.  I don’t believe that marriage is the answer for lifelong happiness, family security, and a guarantee for monogamy.  I believe that marriage makes little sense, as it essentially forces individuals into patterns of predictability for the survival of family; meanwhile, society perpetuates a notion of lasting passion and fulfillment.  Passion and fulfillment can certainly be achieved while married, but usually that involves a high level of disclosure and intimacy.  Further, I am not a believer in marriage as our present society would see fit.  I believe that now, more than ever, men are emasculated within the bounds of marriage.  We have begun at young ages to emasculate our boys into behavior akin to females.  We are expecting of men to act as women, boys to act as girls:  Sit still, behave, be polite, don’t dominate, don’t show signs of aggression, and do not be overtly sexual.

We women are highly sexual creatures as well, despite what our society would have you believe.  The most dishonest of behaviors I have seen were displayed from women.  Women can easily secure a reliable man, whilst trolling for a thrilling and short lived tryst between the sheets.  He would be none the wiser, as men often assume that women are happy as long as they are provided for.  Another nod for society on that misconception.  Men typically do not feign well, as they are not as accustomed to operating from a place of dual existence: The “me” I will show the world, and the “me” that I relish within my mind.

You may not like reading this, but I don’t believe that people who cheat are necessarily guilty of anything aside from searching, and in some cases, attaining personal happiness.  The quest for personal happiness is our “right” as we are told; however, we are also told the quest should look a certain way.  Now would be an excellent time to stress honesty, but alas, I will not.  I can completely understand an inherent need for secrecy with the amount of responsibility and stress we have placed upon marriage, monogamy and the necessity to deny our inner desires.  Those who often cry “liar” toward the cheater were the ones most likely to cast judgment upon that person’s sexual desires; or withhold sexual gratification for personal motives; close doors for intimacy and communication that should remain open; and abuse their lover for the same qualities they initially found appealing.  Shame…

My opinion, as it applies to most cases of infidelity that I have experienced or been informed of, stem from a place of rejection.  In my experience, the people most guilty of these slights are the “fairer sex”.  Women are conditioned to believe that sexuality should be used as a means for gain and attainment.  Women are usually guilty of using sex for securing a man, reproduction, financial security, or material possessions.  If she happens to secure the responsible man AND a child – Jackpot!  She has significantly upped her chances of being taken care of for the majority of her life, with minimal effort on her part.  I firmly believe that once those essentials are provided for such women, they proceed to quickly pull the plug on devoting excessive energy to sexual fulfillment and emotional intimacy with their spouse.  Women who express their sexuality freely, for a personal fulfillment void of motive, are often labeled unkindly.  Why?  Because our society is threatened by sexual liberation.  Instead of embracing the fact that we are extremely sexual creatures and monogamy is highly unlikely under “normal” conditions; we buy into the farce that civilization has created for control: Religion.  But, that we will safe for another post…

If monogamy is something you choose to strive for – you had better up the ante.  My husband and I strive for monogamy, and my husband is deliciously territorial.  I permit my husband to express his territorial behavior from the recesses of his mind, because I find it primal and utterly delightful.  Blended within the fibers of our commitment to monogamy is the belief that our marriage didn’t guarantee a thing, aside from joint property ownership.  We understand that in order to beat the odds against our inner nature, we must consistently work toward sexual fulfillment and enlightenment.  We understand that communication is essential, expressing our deepest inner desires and working toward making them a reality.  This can be difficult, as you must be willing to listen despite your own personal “notions” of how things should be.  Certainly, you do not have to agree to fulfill your partner’s every whim; however, I also believe that you cannot expect to have monogamy from that person if their desire is strong.  I don’t believe this should be troubling, instead, I think it should be viewed as freeing.  Do your best and the rest will fall into place as it will.  As I’ve argued before, the more we repress the animal, the more the animal will rise within us.  To convince yourself of anything different is to ignore your evolutionary past.

I feel cheating was justified in the vast majority of situations.  Sure someone gets hurt and it can have lasting effects upon families and such.  As a collective society, we have built unrealistic expectations upon the human, and thus, marriage.  These expectations have long acted as a catalyst for crying victim and mental instability by the person being cheated on.  Aligning your expectations with these societal presumptions is setting yourself up for failure, and will neglect to serve you well, aside from an excuse for your own negligence.  You cannot expect monogamy; instead, you must cherish it within your relationship and work toward maintaining it.  That’s simply the best you can do.

I am so sick of hearing people speak of monogamy as if a guaranteed “right” in their relationships.  You can hope for it, encourage it, and cultivate the best environment possible to maintain it; however, if you don’t continuously strive to maintain it, you should not be surprised if the practice of “monogamy” fails you.  Believing monogamy is in our human nature was your first mistake; believing you are entitled to it simply because you are married or in a committed relationship is your second mistake.

If a person declines to acknowledge their own personal responsibility to cultivating an environment encouraging of monogamy, then I believe they deserve to be cheated on.  I believe that entitlement encourages laziness; the same expression can be applied toward marriage.  A person who believes that marriage guarantees them monogamy is a dangerous partner in life.  It is highly likely that their entitlement will lead to a laziness that will not only stifle your sexuality, but devour your spirit and crush your individuality.  Too often, we expect promises to last a lifetime even as we fail to maintain the environment for which those original promises were made.  I believe cheating is a right in any relationship where a person feels entitled to your loyalty without maintaining their end of the agreement.  Do I feel that you should leave the relationship entirely?  Sure, that is probably a good idea.  However, as a society we have complicated relationships (especially marriages) to aid in trapping people in lifelong commitments.  We have worked for centuries to cultivate these domestic messes and are often victims of our own misplaced assumptions and financial entanglements imposed upon our marriages.  That is our fault and failure as a society.  Blaming a person who cheated and failing to acknowledge how you may have encouraged the “discretion” is your fault.  If you are unreasonable enough to believe in monogamy as a guarantee at all costs, then you deserve to be cheated on for your laziness and unrealistic expectations.

Alas, as I watched roughly 20 women “oooh and ahhhh” at blenders, pots and pans, and a Keurig 2.0, I quietly hoped that my friend would soon realize that her perception of “happily ever after” is already skewed.  I hope that she will encourage open communication between she and her spouse, release her expectations, and begin to appreciate him on a “human” level.  I know she won’t, and I can’t help but surmise that I will hold her hand in the not too distant future as she cries on my shoulder repeating, “He promised me forever…”  I’ll remember how much importance was placed upon the house and not the man.  I’ll remember how her expectations aligned so naively with societal expectations.  I’ll remember how I wrote her a card that said, “I refuse to gift you a household appliance for your bridal shower, and instead, encourage you to tend to your sexual relationship.”

And I’ll know without her ever needing to say that instead of giving her husband unlimited and unrestricted access to her “cake”, she decided to bake one instead.


Greetings!

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A lovely gift to add to my collection…

It’s a shame that it also comes with this to add to His collection…

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I absolutely hate this paddle.  I am quite fond of “thuddy” hard hits, not “slappy” sharp cracks. My Dom/Husband can grow tired of my attitude; admittedly, I use my wit and intellegence to push his buttons sometimes…Ah, yes…I can be a SAM. But, sometimes I just enjoy being an asshole and hoping to get a pleasurable punishment for it…

He was on to my tricks! I’ll avoid a slap from this device no matter my “playful” asshole urges.

I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and feeling inspired again! Have a lovely weekend, you beautiful Sirs and subs out there…oh, and those of you who are simply curious too, you deviants 😉


For Shits and Giggles…

I love that expression, lol.  I decided to post an old post from a blog I operated years ago.  I thought it would serve the purpose of entertainment, and as I previously stated, I am longing to assume my grip on my creativity.  Enjoy…

Vagina Mine 

It was a morning like any other for Winston T Grape. He spent it hanging out with friends and having a nice, relaxing day, but when the evening rolled around, Winston was called into work. Winston worked a dangerous job at the enamel mines in the north. Frequent flooding and cave-ins made it so few of Winston’s friends ever returned. Winston donned his plum colored uniform, and ventured out the door for what could be the last time.

Winston was ready for his regular work, but he found that he was redirected to the mine in the south where he would be working alone. This gave Winston pause. Not much was known of the mine in the south and certainly, none of Winston’s friends had ever been there to the best of his knowledge, but Winston was no raisin. No-sir-ee! Winston was a Grape, just like his father before him, and his father before him.

When Winston arrived at the mouth of the cavern, he noticed some similarities in humidity and appearance, but the southern mine was smaller and this was going to be a tight fit. Winston peered cautiously inside; the walls were slippery. Suddenly, as if some unseen forced nudged Winston from behind, Winston found himself tumbling into the depths of the cavern.

When Winston came to, he was somewhere in the middle of the mine. He took a look around and realized he was alone and the situation was dire. Furthermore, there was no enamel to be mined here! What the hell was he supposed to be mining? Fortunately the sounds of a rescue team were mobilizing outside. Winston could see as the rescue workers attempted their first rescue, but alas, the rope was only long enough to reach Winston, and the rescue worker’s attempts to grab Winston only pushed him further into the cave. The rescue worker had to withdraw. Suddenly, there was a cave-in of sorts. The walls moved slightly, and it felt as though Winston were moving back toward the opening of the cave, but when the cave-in stopped, Winston sank back into the depths. A flood of water that originated closer to the opening of the cave washed directly out and didn’t help Winston at all. These were dark times indeed!

What Winston didn’t know is that a rescue team with a longer rope was being formed outside. This rescue team was highly specialized and good at what they do, but this was not their usual mission. The specialized rescue team was sent out, and they entered the mine. With nary a difficulty they grabbed Winston and pulled him out of the mine. That took so little time, they rescue team was actually upset that they were called in for so trivial a rescue, and they just tossed Winston onto the midland plains just north of the mine.

Winston was lost. All he knew at this point was work and he started roaming toward the mines in the north. He was tired, and he was wet. Every step exuded moisture, and when Winston arrived between the bountiful twin peaks he turned and looked at the glistening trail that had been left in his wake. He was immediately picked up and put to work in the enamel mines and never returned again.

The moral of the story:

Don’t put a grape in your vagina.


We Shall See…

Another casual, light-hearted update for all you lovelies…

On top of an exceedingly demanding professional life, I am working on a significantly long paper  for a class.  I was *cough, cough* “fortunate” to have an uber-feminist professor in this class, which has resulted in some interesting debates between she and I, as well as some of my other classmates.  I am not anti-feminist, per se, in the sense that I believe equal treatment for equal work.  However, I do believe that men are significantly misrepresented within our present society by a virtual pendulum swing toward feminism in the name of emasculating men.  Ultimately, I believe heavily in evolutionary psychology and cognitive development as it applies to biology.  I believe men are men and women are women for reasons primarily dictated by biology; I believe hormones, physiology, and thus, brain development coincide with our responses toward the environment.  I do believe culture plays a heavy influence as well, akin to adding standards of performance to a basic blank slate:  As if taking a large boulder and carving it into a beautiful sculpture; the beautiful sculpture may represent something upon it’s surface, but at it’s core the subject is simply rock.  Culture carves.

Anyway, my professor has assigned readings for this particular class that I find are bias against men.  If I were a man in this class, I would feel as though I was a pig on a spit, rotating and roasting before a crowd of chanting, spear wielding women.  They would extend their fists vehemently into the air, exposing the hairy pits of rebellion.  They would dance around the rotisserie man with dangling breasts of stretched tissue and “beaver bump” one another in the name of “fem-araderie”.  Roast that man for all his oppression – Men and their penises are to blame for all our problems in the world….

I cannot stand this course.  Such potential in the material to be squandered away by personal bias.  Anyway, I digress…

After numerous debates, I have decided to compose my final paper on cultural dynamics as it effects aspects of BDSM culture and alternative relationships.  Ah, yes.  Imagine the joy I will have once I receive a poor grade in this course due to the fact that I will discuss being a female sub to my male Dominant.  My professor is notorious for grading according to personal opinion and perspective.  Undoubtedly, my close-minded professor will know little about the lifestyle, as she will see it as another way culture oppresses women.  To expose that fallacy, I plan to discuss the role of dominance and submission, as it pertains to the individual and not the gender of the person.  Ultimately, I plan to show the BDSM culture as a place where gender is an illusion; a place where a person is accepted as an “individual” and not as culture would define him/her or his/her chromosomal make-up.  She likely has read Fifty Shades of Grey and was repulsed by that pathetic depiction of the community – even though she likely masturbated to images of being dominated by a man.  Typical.  I’m going to blow the top off of this bitch, and I am looking forward to it.

Again, I can’t wait to write a substantial piece for pleasure, for a change.  Presently, my language has been reduced to legalities and formalities, and I am feeling creatively handicapped.

I also was nominated for the “Bad Girl Blogger Award” from the lovely Whispering Girl, which has brought me great joy!  I am incredibly flattered.  Thank you for such lovely words of recognition.  I am chomping at the bit to assume my more creative pursuits, I just have to get through the next week or two.


Absent

My loyal lovers…I wanted to write a quick note to acknowledge my absence and let you know I have not dropped off of the blog (in case you may have been wondering). My professional life has grown quite demanding as of late.  I also had family in town, and have been feverously working on getting my house to its typical state of beauty. 

Once I clear up some cases, I will be returning to my normal routine. I plan on doing some new research that will inspire me, I’m certain. 

I have been keeping up with all you lovelies through my email subscriptions, paying extra special attention to my certain favorite inspired bloggers out there.  I hope all of you are having lots of delicious sex; kicked up a notch with a touch of dominance, submission, and overall LOVE. 

-M