30 Days of KINK~Day 13

Day 13: Explain as best you can what the appeal of kink/BDSM is to you? Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?


Questions like this is why I have enjoyed doing this little project. Voluntary self analysis can be entertaining, fun,  and soul searching. I am not separating the questions in my answer, I am allowing the words to come with this one.

The ability to surrender all control is what appeals to me most.  Secondly, that my relationship is mine alone, no one else has one quite like it. I am one hell of a strong independent (when I want to be) woman (toot toot). I have been in complete control of my life since I went to college at seventeen. I made every single decision. I’d consult my parents, or my friends, but the final say was mine. I loved it!

When in a relationship though, things are different. In my old fashioned, progressive, but still very sexist views, a woman has her role, her place in a relationship. My place is in submission to my man. My role is to take care of him so that he can take care of me. My role is to earn his love and respect. I must endeavor to please him, to make him happy as much as I can. My role is to be committed and devoted to him. My role is to love and support him . To tell him respectfully if he is wrong, but to support the finality of his decisions in his life, mine, and our lives together. My role is to submit to him in almost everything. I say almost everything not because I would “put my foot down,” when it comes to certain things. I say almost because of the role I feel a man should play in a relationship.

A man should be the epitome of strength, physically and emotionally. I honestly can’t stand to see a man cry. To me it is a sign of weakness and should only happen in response to certain life events or extreme pain (that is another post).  A man has the opportunity and means to rule  a woman with an iron fist. A man could belittle, destroy, beat, and weaken a woman to her core to gain her submission.

A good man, would not need  or want to. (Is that some sort of proverb written down some place?) A good man has earned the love, submission, and respect of his woman. He has earned this by supporting her wants, needs, and desires. He listens to her and values her opinions. He has earned this by loving her and taking care of her. He has earned this by being selfless. A good man believes his happiness is directly tied to the happiness of his woman.

When I have a good man, I have the innate need to surrender myself to him. To place my mind, body, and soul on an altar as a sacrifice for him to do with as he pleases. I want to kneel beneath him, feeling him tower above me. I want to feel his strength.  I want to worship at his feet. I want to be lead around the house with my collar on, knowing he owns me.  I want to worship his cock, and all the pleasure that he brings me. I want to share in every fantasy he has. I want him to take his rightful place as the Dominant in my life.

I am so turned on right now. I have to quit writing when I am at work.

SubSpace and AfterCare

I received a message in which a new submissive wanted to know what subspace and aftercare was. Talk about a loaded question. So as promised I am posting here in response.


I assume that both of the subjects are relative to those whom are involved. I believe there are different degrees of it. I can say I experience two types, one when he is denying my orgasm. It is a place of intense sensation, hypersensitivity, and psychological torture for me. It feels good and it hurts and eventually I am gone. It is hard to describe. I don’t pass out, I am there but I am gone.

The other Subspace for me is a dangerous place to be. It is a time in which I have no control over anything in my body. I am aware of what he is doing to me. I am not aware of how much it hurts. I am not questioning the bruises that will come. All that matters in that moment is that I am pleasing him. Whatever it is he is doing to me, he wants it, and I do not have the mental faculties to object or wish otherwise.  Dangerous because to me, he could go down my list of hard limits scratching them off one by one, and I wouldn’t care. Subspace is bliss. A different type of bliss.With that said, I think subspace is different for ever sub, as each person is different. This is why to me, finding a compatible dominant is so very important. Which leads me to our next subject.


Again it is all relative. There are hard scenes, and light scenes, sensual scenes, and everything in between. All of these can require aftercare. There is both physical and psychological care needed. In the midst of a scene chemical changes within the body can occur. There are sometimes endorphins released. Endorphins are a natural drug. Think of it as a high. You must give your body time to come down. Otherwise, you have withdrawal symptoms. After a particularly hard scene other physical needs need tending to. You may be hungry, you are often thirsty. All of these fall under aftercare of the physical.

Psychological aftercare is the cuddling, the hugging, the kissing, the approval you feel when he says “good girl” or “you have pleased me.” It is when I am full of sobs from everything he put me through, and now he consoles me.  All of these secure you, they bring you back  into the realms of reality, the real world as it were.  Personally sometimes aftercare is fulfilled by his making love to me. The connection is powerful, it mends me.  Not to beat the phrase, but it is all relative. I can not express how much of these aspects of a D/s relationship will depend on the D/s. I’ve heard of Dom’s sending a sub away in shackles, kicking them out the front door when they were done with them. Although this would be shattering and hurtful for me, it seems to work for others.Again compatibility is vital I feel. My sir knows what I need and I leave it to him.

In addition, I have no idea how or if a Dom experiences Domspace 🙂 I do believe my Sir has his own version of aftercare. It includes caring for me, but after a hard scene is when he is most open with me. We talk for hours, it is a like peek into the depths of his mind that he doesn’t always share with me.

Now I open this post up to all sorts of comments. Reflecting on my experiences makes me wonder about others. What is subspace for you? What do you need during aftercare?

Hey doms! Do you experience some sort of DomSpace? Do you too need aftercare?



Love Goes on Living….

They say we learn about love from being surrounded by it. Rochester, New York journalism student Laura Allen’s grandparents taught her a lesson in love that outlasted their lifetime and lives on in hers, as she shares the story. She writes:

My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word “shmily” in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving “shmily” around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.

They dragged “shmily” with their fingers through the sugar container to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us homemade pudding. “Shmily” was written in the steam on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point my grandmother unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave “shmily” on the very last sheet.

There was no end to where “shmily” would pop up. Little notes with “shmily” scribbled on them were found on car seats or taped to the steering wheel. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. “Shmily” was written in the dust on the mantle and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. The mysterious word was a much a part of my grandparents’ house as the furniture.

Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They finished each other’s sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle. My grandmother whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was–the man she met on a blind date–and how handsome an old man he had grown to be. Before every meal they bowed heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune and each other.

But there was a dark cloud on my grandparent’s life, my grandmother had cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier, and at that time I remember that she’d painted her room yellow. With a yellow room, she explained, she would always be surrounded by sunshine even if she was too sick to go outside to enjoy it.

With the help of a cane and my grandfather’s steady hand, they still went to church every morning. But my grandmother grew weaker until she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.

“Shmily”. It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother’s funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother’s casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby.

Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew then that, although I couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.

“S-h-m-i-l-y. See How Much I Love You.

Hard Day

∞Ava stared at her computer screen trying to focus on work. It was Friday and she was needy. Work was impossible. After typing a quick e-mail notifying her boss she was leaving early, she shut down her computer, grabbed her purse, and headed to the elevator.

It was a long ride down and she absent-mindedly watched the floor numbers change from 40 to 30 to 20, and finally she was at the parking garage.  “He won’t know what hit him,” she thought to herself with a sly smile. Ava sped down the interstate planning her attack.

When she got home she quickly prepared the lasagna and placed it in the oven, picked out a wine and headed upstairs.

Ava plugged the tub, and turned the water on, poured in some of the lavender oil he had given her, and stripped as she waited for the tub to fill. When she began to wash herself, her mind wandered to the way his hands felt moving across her neck, down her breast, teasing her abs as he trailed lower. Her heart  sped up, and she abruptly stopped herself. Monday was the only day she was allowed to please herself. She sighed in frustration, finished bathing, and toweled off.

Looking through her closet she chose a blush pink lace teddy that fell right below her ass. After putting it on, she headed downstairs, and checked the lasagna. A few more minutes she thought and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Ava glanced at the clock 4:58, he would be home at any second. Just then she heard the garage door open. She grabbed the cork screw, and began opening the bottle of wine.

“Hey baby,” she called out as she heard the door open. Ava began pouring the wine. “Dinner is in the oven, I hope you’re hungry.”

“You are so fucking beautiful.”

Ava stilled, and set the bottle down when she heard the tone in his voice. She could feel his gaze on her and it sent tiny shivers through her body. Ava reached out to the oven, and turned it off. “Hi” she said again.

“Take two steps, and grab your ankles.”

Ava silently and quickly did as she was told, her heart starting to pound. As she bent the teddy rose exposing her creamy behind. She could hear him disrobing and waited patiently. Before she knew it he was on his knees behind her. He placed his cheek against her behind and nuzzled it softly. Ava’s breath quickened, skin on skin.  He began planting delicate kisses on her ass, as he moved his hands slowly up her legs.

“Do you have plans tonight?” he asked.

“No Sir.”

“Did you have plans tonight?”

“Yes Sir.”

Ava could hear the smile in his voice as he said “smart girl.”

His hands reached the meeting of her thighs. With his left hand he cupped her vagina resting the tip of his middle finger on her clit. Ava’s knees weakened at his touch and she moaned softly. He began moving his fingers in slow agonizingly slow circles around her. She moans louder as this is what she had been wanting all day, to feel him touch her. He stopped and slid two fingers inside her. “Ah” she moaned. and with no warning except the sound of the air moving his hand came crashing against her behind.

“One!” she screamed and moaned as he continued to explore her insides.

“You are always so ready for me aren’t you my sweet slut.”

“Yes Sir…Two!” His hand slapping her again. He removed his fingers from her, and Ava groaned at their disappearance. Then she felt the cold wetness of  her juices hitting the air, and finding a home on her ass he wiped his fingers clean against her. Then warmth, as his tongue moved across her behind.

“Why do you taste so good?” he asked.

“For you Sir.” He came to a stand and smacked her ass again but harder. Her mouth shot open and protest, and all that came out was “three!”

“Stand, face me” he commanded. Ava obeyed. “I’ve had a rough day today. You have pleased me with all of this.” he said gesturing to the wine and the contents of the oven. “How were you able to get all of this done?”

“I took off from work early Sir.”


“I was needy Sir, I had planned to seduce you.”  Ava replied smiling at him.

“Well, I wasn’t aware I needed seduction.” He said humorously. “I don’t want this going to waste. Let’s eat.”

“Yes Sir.”

“When we finish, you may pick a blindfold, two toys, and then report to my office, position C.”

“Yes Sir.”

“At ease.” Ava reached out and kissed him.

“I am sorry you had a hard day baby.” Ava said moving to pull the lasagna out of the oven. “I will make it better, promise”

One Key to Great Sex

This post is a response  to the re-blog “Are you missing something?”

The second man I had sex with taught me a lot. We worked together. (bad idea) I fell for every trick in the book with that one. ” Would you like a drink?” “Want a tour of the house?” “Just one kiss before you go, please.”

Then there I was beneath him, moaning in response to each thrust of his cock. It felt so good having him inside me. I was used to missionary, (Did anyone else have another first position?) Then he moved me some sort of way, I can’t even remember how he had me, but I remember not feeling him the way I had before.

Here is the good part. He noticed!  He stilled, gazed at me and asked “you’re not into this position are you?” Before I could respond he had flipped me over, pushed my leg to my chest and forced himself swiftly into me again. I cried out in ecstasy as he pushed me closer and closer to that sweet release.

When we were there in that blissful space I couldn’t stop thinking how he noticed that I wasn’t “into the position” before I could register it myself.

This was new. He was paying attention to my needs.  In that moment I learned so much. This interaction was just as much about me, as it was about my partner. Great Sex, was a two-way street. A perfect combination of give, take and communication.(it is the key to everything isn’t it)

From that point on I tried to find men who would be attentive selfless lovers. I tried harder to make sure I was one.