Tag Archives: confidence

Bonding over Bitching

I work in an office of women and it’s quite discouraging.  Through the course of a single day, the topics of conversation include: Reality T.V, how much they hate their bodies, celebrities, plastic surgery, cosmetics, and how annoying their kids/boyfriends/husbands are.  I have never had much in common with women, especially the “modern” woman.  Perhaps my lack of appreciation for the modern women stems from my facing constant rejection by many of them due to the way I live my life.  I am openly submissive.  I love my husband and he rarely annoys me.  I enjoy meeting his needs, and I love to take care of him in any way necessary.  I don’t like to be an inconvenience to him and I refuse to be a nag.  Thus, I have a relationship that is relatively free from any resentments or drama, save the occasional squabble over something stupid like him not picking something out for dinner off his bi-weekly menu I make him.  We have a relationship that, I would deem, comes as close to perfection as possible. My relationship and my lifestyle, it would appear, would be the cause of my lack of steady female companionship. I am rarely unhappy with any part of my personal life or myself, so I appear haughty I’m female circles. The perception of haughtiness is threatening and the antithesis to female bonding over bitching.

I also don’t hate my body.  I appreciate my body.  I am happy with the way it looks and feel very comfortable naked.  If I come into a pattern of low self-esteem over something about my body, I’ll make an expeditated move to fix it in whatever manner possible.  If I feel like I’m hanging onto a few extra pounds, I amp up my workouts and cut back on some of the foods that could be holding me back from my goal.  I have nothing against plastic surgery, and may find myself in need of some in the future.  But, I don’t see a need to discuss it at length with other women. How does airing discomfort provide comfort? Can women only dish a complement without the need for one in return if they perceive themselves as equal or better than the person they are paying the compliment to?

How does this fix anything?  How does this make these women feel better?  Perhaps, female comradery is built upon a foundation of self-hate and negativity. Do women have to demean themselves to find acceptance from other women and feel as though they fit in?  Why are the lives of celebrities (or their assumed lives based upon what the media portrays) fascinating enough to cover the span of an hour or more in near constant communication?  Who the fuck cares? Any significant amount of time spent discussing celebrities is an utter waste of time. If each moment brings us closer to our death, I don’t want to spend it discussing the Kardashians for an hour.

My life experience thus far has revealed that to share a relationship of any depth with another woman you must be at least mildly miserable with yourself and your life.  You must enjoy complaining.  Complaining seems to be the very thread essential to the fiber of the female friendship. People within earshot of such pointless, meaningless and seemingly endless jabber should be the newest victims to form a hashtag movement. Are you having to listen to women bonding over bitching and it’s making you miserable? #metoo.

Empowerment Through Punishment

Mistress M 234 (2)

I find myself here as a blanket of darkness surrounds me.  My arms are bent to form perfect right angles against my back.  The soft Japanese rope silken to my skin as small plumes of flesh escape at either side of the bind.  My wrists are one atop the other, partners in the challenge of maintaining the required position.  From the ladder laced between my parallel arms spawns a woven road to an anchor point in the ceiling.  A slight ache emerges from the inflexibility of my muscles; an ache transforms into pleasure as I breathe into the binds, allowing them to become one with my own flesh.  My sight removed from me.  I now stare into a darkness that is as endless as my determination to withstand what may.  In the end, You will be proud of my will, King.  I will make You proud.

“Challenge me”, I whisper to You as You place five heavy, beautiful beads of stainless steel inside of my sex.  You seal my fate with a kiss before commanding me to spread my legs wider, marking two areas on the floor with a material I can feel on the pads of my toes.  I imagine a thick glue holds my place, unable to slip, unable to budge.  As the space between my thighs expands, I become a vice around the spheres internal.  The metal seeming to surpass my body heat, feeling like small orbs of pure sexual energy within me.  Steely, my determination to impress You.  Tight for You.  Watch what Your treasured cunt can do for You…

My walls dripping of sweet glaze.  My focus intermittently interrupted with the thud of my favorite flogger.  The scent of deer hide leather fills the room – intoxicating.  I find myself in a crux of ecstasy.  Each thud upon my athletic thighs and my thick ass transports me higher.  A drunken relaxation veils over my body as the autumn breeze.  I’m both equally vexed and utterly seduced.

My stubbornness exhaled with every breath as the air smells of my obedient defiance.  You have transitioned to a device for punishment.  Oh, and You know me so well, so fluent in the language of me and my capable vessel.  You lay the gauntlet before me, my King.  With each calculated strike, my mind becomes a fogged street.  An intoxicated haze fills the space surrounding a deliberate focus, as a single beam of light through a heavy mist.  Thoughts break themselves from the ray, slightly fractionated, but the focus remains.  My head begins to bow as my body gives way onto the binds for support, my fortitude gives way to frustration as I teeter a pencil thin line – one side of temerity and the other surrender.  My head falls in acquiescence, my hair a waterfall of my succumbing pride flowing before me.  Your strong hand grips my chin as if Your hands cupped together to catch the spill, offering the liquid back to my lips.  I feel Your breath as You slowly and purposefully move your lips over my neck and to my ear.  Your words, a deep and calm whisper, grab my attention like a thunder clap that rattles through the quietest of nights:

“Beloved, you will keep your chin up.  You are my warrior, my valkyrie.  You will hold your head with pride because I am proud to have you as Mine.  Proud to have you by My side, fighting any battle life may put before us.  I’m proud to have you on My arm, to show you off to the world.  Proud to leave My mark on you, My claim inside of you.  Mine.  The punishment I give you is not to belittle or break you; My punishment is to build you up and make you stronger.  I will correct your behavior when I need to, and I will help you be better.  You are My wife, My beloved whore, My warrior and greatest ally.  Show Me how strong and capable you are, My valkyrie.  Do not let Me see you drop your chin again.”

I immediately correct, the fog lifts, and I’m standing in a meadow of absolute mental clarity.  I am Your valkyrie!  We have many conquered battles behind us and we have some wars before us.  This ax of insolence I wield at the world – this ax is not for You.  The shield I adorn keeping a true “me” from view – this shield is not for You.  Ego, the steed that carries me and rides me on high – he is not for You.  The many wounded in my wake, in the name of You and my love for You – You will never find yourself among them.  Casualties, they were far too weak for me.  I have always been strong enough for You.

Lifting my head, I note a heightened awareness of my value, my preciousness.  The heart that smolders within my chest – this heart is for You.  My flesh before You; full breasts, wide hips, physical feminine wiles, tethered and tied – My flesh for You.  The strength inside resides – Empowered by You.  I rise because I’m me.  I hold my head higher due to You.

As You continue to correct me, to build me, I will show You.  My King, look at my strength, see my devotion.  Look at what I can do for You.

Fifty Shades of M


I’m feeling particularly feisty today…a delightful post I wrote a while ago before this blog existed.

I love a man with manners, but respect is more important in the bedroom.  The female obsession with Fifty Shades of Grey is basically the cry out for the good fuck that women don’t know how to ask for.  It’s quite simple really. Women are sick of taking care of you.  They are sick of having to take the lead in your everyday life.  They are always in control.  They want you to show them that you still know how to make their thighs tremble.  You are not a dependent little boy.  She wants to know that you can take her as passionately as she imagines the man next door could.

Does this scene sound familiar:  You are tired from a hard day of work.  You struggle to get dinner on the table within a reasonable time before you need to go to bed.  You are already preparing yourself for tomorrow’s work day.  You are exhausted, but there is a reasonable part of you that recognizes that you haven’t had sex with your partner in a while.  You proceed to get ready for bed and climb under the covers…clothed.  You turn on the television and settle in, your arm pressed snugly against the side of your partner’s body.  You don’t say much, but you begin to kiss or touch each other in a somewhat suggestive manner.  You can pretty much predict the routine that will follow.  He will follow the same “pleasure trail” as usual.  Right breast…Left breast…a little fondling…he’ll trace a line down your stomach in simple, meek kisses.  He’ll pay some oral attention to you, assuming it’s pleasurable.  He’ll assume his spectacular oral skills are making you wet, when in reality, it’s just his saliva.  You don’t make much effort toward him, because you have a headache.  You then have approximately 3 to 5 minutes of sex resembling the pace of a metronome.  If you’re lucky, you’ll cum.  But, you’re not really concerned with this anyway…because…well, you have a headache.  Plus, you know he’ll keep going in his sad attempt to satisfy you if you don’t lie about it.

You’re a timid bunch, gentleman.  The world has emasculated you.  Sure, you may not be 18 anymore; but, you still have the glorious effects of that surging testosterone.  Most women agree that a man who is unapologetic in their attraction to them is a complete turn on.  Stop being coy and delivering the same punches you’ve always thrown.  It’s time for a new bag of tricks.  It’s time for you to reclaim yourself as an alpha male.  It’s time you took control in a much bigger way.  I’m going to switch rolls a bit here.  I will have the cock.  I will successfully lay the pipe.  And it goes a little something like this:

I walk in from a hard day of work.  Throughout the day, I’ve envisioned all the many ways I was going to make you surrender to me.  I pictured myself with a handful of your blond hair, shoving myself deep into your mouth.  You’d be staring up at me, and this would give me a sense of elevation.  You are always telling me what to do.  I am always asking for your permission.  I imagine you, face down, and leaned over the kitchen counter with your legs spread.  I am deep inside you, and with every thrust, you are pushed against the cool countertop making your nipples hard.

I watch you make dinner.  I admire your curves.  I envision the positions I’m going to put you in when we go upstairs…when everyone is asleep.  We finish with the mundane tasks of our evening and head upstairs.  You’re at the sink beginning to wash your face.  I come up behind you.  I take my hand and run it up the back of your head, grabbing a significant handful of hair.  I pull the hair downward, exposing your neck.  You’d expect me to go there next, but I don’t.  I proceed to spread your legs apart and penetrate you with my fingers. I keep the grip on your hair, tugging a little with every thrust of my fingers.  I push you face down onto the counter, with my fingers still inside you; I pull your ass up to meet my face.  I tongue you from behind.  Not too much.  Just enough.  I turn you around and hold your face within my hands at my waist level.  I bend down to grab your breasts.  I am just delicate enough to not bruise you.  I’d part your lips with my thumb, opening your mouth and rub the head of my cock on your lips.  You suck me in.  You wouldn’t be shy about it because I wouldn’t let you.  I sense you’re beginning to enjoy yourself, so I stand you back up.  I aggressively grab your hips and bend you in half.  I thrust into you.  I don’t proceed gently.  I take a free hand and grasp your shoulder to enable me to penetrate you deeper.  I finger your clit while I’m inside of you.  My strokes are long and deep.  I hold my cock inside of you and feel you clench around me.  I fuck you ridiculously, furiously and barbarically.  I pull out.  I have to taste you.  I have to taste “us”.  I lift you onto the countertop and spread your legs in front of me.  I kneel in front of you and bury my face in your sex.  I nibble on your lips and flatten my tongue, rubbing it along your clit from side to side.  I bring you to climax. Before you recover, I put myself back in your mouth.  You attempt to resist, but I only want you to know how good you taste.  We stumble toward the bed, and I lay you on your back.  I enter you and fuck you so deeply, you’d swear I was trying to part you in half. Your nails are digging deep into my back, your face buried in my chest.  With each thrust, I bring you closer to the edge of the bed.  Your head and upper body are draped over the edge, and I watch your tits bounce with each thrust.  You struggle to brace yourself and I grab the tops of your thighs and penetrate you deeper.  You feel every kick of my orgasm.  I pull you back onto the bed and lay on top of you, remaining inside of you.  You are not allowed to clean up.  I stay inside you until I start to soften.  When I pull out, I watch our passion trickle out of you.  I watch your body rise and fall with each exacerbated breath.  Exhaustion will claim us both shortly and this is the last vision I want to have before it does.

This does not have to be a fantasy.  This is not a passage from a book.  Don’t allow me to fuck your women better than you do…

Fuck Fifty Shades of Grey

Own Your Sex

intimate young couple during foreplay in bed

I am going to ask you to do a little experiment for me: Next time you go to the grocery store, take a good look around.  Be aware.  You won’t have to look too hard.  Let’s say you stroll down isle 9 to grab yourself some coffee and you aren’t alone.  She shares the isle with you; shoulder length, wet to dry styled hair, pulled up into a pony tail, oversized shirt draped over a pair of wilting tits, sweat pants casually tucked into the crack of her ass down to flip-flops on un-pedicured feet.  You glance at her face and she wears a sad expression.  She wears the expression of a woman who is suffering from cramps, constipation and fatigue.  This woman couldn’t possibly be married, could she?  Who would want to fuck that on a nightly basis?  Take a gander at her ring finger and you’ll see a glistening diamond donned upon it.  Shocked?  Or maybe he shares the isle with you.  He is wearing a sports team t-shirt and jorts (jean shorts).  His cheeks look at if he’s storing up for winter with a belly to match.  You observe an awry back hair or twenty sprouting from the back of his shirt. You’re sure he isn’t getting laid and he is a minute man, without a doubt.

Now, picture that same woman enthralled in a glorious sex session with her man.  Picture her tearing at the sheets, tossing her hair, biting her pillow and shoving that man deeper inside her.  Picture that woman (as she is currently carrying herself) in a pair of heels and black lingerie.  Have I made you want to puke yet?  I feel you.  Let’s say that this particular woman isn’t in good shape, because this type of woman often isn’t.  Is that the reason you cannot picture her rocking some fish nets with stilettos?  Probably not.  Is it possible that you cannot imagine her enjoying her sex life because she clearly doesn’t own her vagina?  BINGO.

It’s no different for a man.  A man must own his dick.  The difference is men tend to own their dick on a daily basis.  I personally believe they are more connected to it because they have to touch it more frequently.  They are brought up to own the fact that they are boys, that they stand up to pee and they are lady-killers.  Think about the cutest boy you’ve seen lately and think about how many people have said to him, “Ooooooh!  You are going to be popular with the ladies when you grow up, handsome!”  Now, that kid usually grows up to be a man who racks up a fair number of notches on his bedpost.  Then he gets married.  His wife becomes the lady written about above, and he becomes a blob of minimal testosterone.  He looks around at the beauties of the world and fantasizes about days gone by.  He imagines a time when he’d thrust between the thighs of a woman like that blonde.  He remembers how he used to make Jessica scream, Ashley claw his back, and Sarah orgasm six times.  Ah, but now…Now he is overweight, his breasts could fit into a training bra and his penis is lost in a forest of overgrown pubic hair.  He’s lost it.

So, do we blame this upon marriage?  Can blame monogamy?  Or would it be more appropriate to say that monogamy often leads to laziness?  Wouldn’t it be more fitting to say that once a person feels that they are pulled off the shelf that they no longer need to be on display?  Shame. We should never, under no circumstance (especially marriage), forget to own our sex!  Monogamy is a privilege that needs to be paid respect.  We should never treat monogamy as a right.  And you should never forget those days of hot, sweaty, animalistic sex.  You need to recreate them.  You need to pull yourself out of an insecure rut.  You need to own your vagina.  You need to own that cock.

Let’s start with the ladies, shall we.  I don’t give a shit if your husband says you look best when you don’t have any make-up on.  I don’t care if he says that your ass looks great in those sweat pants.  I couldn’t care less if he says you look better since you’ve put on 15lbs.  You shouldn’t allow these generous complements become rules for conduct.  Be honest, what do you feel when you look into the mirror.  Do you even look in the mirror?  Without being overly critical of yourself (this is counter productive), what can you do in an instant to improve how you feel, how you present yourself to the public, and most important; what can you do to amass adoration and make insecure women jealous?  Simple.  Orgasm.  If your significant other cannot be found then you need to get busy tending to yourself.  An orgasm isn’t something that is short lived.  You carry an orgasm with you throughout the day, a glow of happiness radiates from you. Forget the apple – “An orgasm a day keeps the frump away”.

Take pride in yourself!  Pull that hair down from the pony tail.  Take care of your hair and skin, put on make up, perfume and a pair of heels.  Wear figure flattering clothing.  Own the fact that you were born with a vagina, and therefore, amass more power than any other creature upon the planet.  Save me the excuse of kids, ladies.  I know a few woman with more than one kid who take the 45 minutes to present themselves beautifully – you’re excuses are your reasons for failure.  You fail an excuse yourself for it and that is shameful.  You are simply lazy and continue to lie to yourself daily.  Stop that.  Don’t look to your man for his approval.  Look for the approval of other men and women.  If he is suddenly insecure and jealous (unless already supremely confident), then you know you are doing something right.  A man should be proud to wear you upon his arm.  He should be concerned that another man may favor your attention.  He should be wary that you leave the house looking like you care to present your beauty.  If you need to kind of push yourself at first, do it.  Touch yourself more often.  Look at yourself in the mirror after you put in some effort and complement yourself.  Feed your sexuality and notice the changes that come about you.

Men, you are a little easier to address.  Look at your dick and remember your past.  Remember the hottest sex you’ve ever had.  Remember the expression on her face.  Remember that time when you were sweat drenched, balls deep and driving it home.  Relive that tonight.  Relive that tomorrow.  Live that daily.  Be the man who takes control of who he is.  Don’t be the man who waits for permission from his woman.  Do not be the man that believes settling down means having to hide that you admire other woman.  Fight from falling prey to your woman’s insecurities and instead, comfort and encourage her to be a better woman.  Don’t give in.  You are of an evolved brain, but you are still animal.  Monogamy is something that is not part of your nature, but part of your evolutionary mind.  You own monogamy, but you need to own your animal side.  Women have the despicable ability to drain the testosterone out of a man.  Since many of you guys are with insecure women; it’s safe to say that your woman is working against you.  An insecure woman wants you to blend in with your fat, overgrown hair, limp dick and un-manicured appearance because she doesn’t want to lose you.  A secure woman knows you’ll never find better, but she’s not willing to test the issue either.  Take care of yourself and get picked up on.  Flirt and find your manhood.  You’ve still got it.  Keep these things to yourself, especially if you know your significant other cannot handle it.  Bring the energy home and take it out on your woman.  When she asks where all this newfound energy comes from say, “I’ve realized that as a woman you have needs that I need to meet.  I want you to know how much I appreciate you”.  Sounds lame, but a woman suffering from a lack of confidence will eat this up!  If you have a woman who doesn’t want you to masturbate or look at porn, then sneak.  Fact is (within reason) these are normal and healthy acts.  These are acts you’d probably do less of if you had a satisfying and active sex life.  Participating in these acts will keep your testosterone production at a healthy level and will keep your mind clear.  Do not allow a woman’s insecurity drive you from your manhood.  You are not cheating.  You are not doing anything wrong.  If you have a woman who doesn’t understand this, then cover your tracks and do what you have to do.  I encourage you to open up and be honest, but that can prove very difficult with some women.  Whatever you do, don’t allow anything in this world separate you from your package.  Owning your cock is a justice to the rest of the world.

Things counterproductive to owning your sexuality are going to come up within your life. Jobs, kids, finances and health are just a few that can hinder embracing your sexuality.  Try to push through these times.  Try your best to avoid becoming that man or woman in isle 9.  Confidence and sexual prowess can only increase the connection, attraction and intimacy within your relationship.  If you are not attached, then you should be putting your best food forward toward sexual gratification.  Vince Lombardi states, “Confidence is contagious. So is lack of confidence.”  Vince Lombardi was not a loser.  Don’t allow your vagina or penis to become one.
Have fun tonight!