Dec 312007

Aswirl in April

Wednesday April 4, 2007 – 03:30pm

i just realized it has been about a year that i started exploring the BDSM / Ds lifestyle. Trying to find and claim happiness. Trying to define who i am. Trying to let the voices inside of me have a chance to be heard. And now, a year later, i’m still in that exploring, learning stage; i have more knowledge, but in so many ways i feel no closer to understanding.

Brief summary/timeline:

  • Reconnected with first love; found out that he has discovered he is a dominant (explaining why she was never able to resist when he’d come calling). Real or not, who knows, but not apparently able to become part of her reality;
  • Got caught up with an online Dom – someone who listened and heard some of her darkest secrets and places, and didn’t run. Someone who opened the door on a particular brutal demon in her past, and stood by her as she did the first thrust into its heaving chest. That dragon has no power over me now, though neither does he;
  • Experienced a whirlwind, realtime, though extremely limited connection and collaring. But, evolving from the spectacular way it crashed and burned, i also experienced dark, scary places of fear and betrayal
  • Found amazing men and women who have defended, protected and loved me – utterly unconditionally. They have restored my hope, my belief in the world, and myself. What amazing gifts.

So, as i continue to plod along, i continue to try on different “outfits”, turning this way and that in the mirror. What looks good on me? What fits me? Is something too tight? too loose? too revealing?

i was released from my collar over the weekend. We mutually decided that we are not at the same place in our journey. Perhaps our roads aren’t even going to the same destination. We are still very good, very special friends. We will be sharing “custody” of “Baby” (our online discussion group, GDsN. So, in many ways, things won’t change, but in others, they already have.

i’ve been told i’m a lousy submissive, a disobedient, willful brat. Yet, i know i don’t like being without limits. i like knowing where the end of my leash is, what my boundaries are. i like not winning or getting my way just because i can. i want to be made better, for someone to care how i improve.

And, yes, right now, i also think i want to explore not just submission, but harder and deeper discipline and masochism. Yet, i’m torn sometimes. Some dominants would let me explore and everything with anyone, knowing in their mind, i’d still be bound to them, yet that idea leaves me feeling ‘unbound’ in some ways. You show your love for your puppy by fencing it in.

But, for those that want to cherish just me – and want me to cherish just them involves sacrifice – and belief that i’m worthy of that sort of commitment. When i have that sort of situation before me, do i look around a bit simply to ensure i have a backup plan? Perhaps, it’s not so much wanting others, but wanting to know others would/could still want me. When will i learn to be able to just release and trust that i really am, really can be enough?

On the other hand, yes, i can top, but does that mean i want to be a Dominant, even if my inner Domme does claw her way to the surface now and then? She is strong, determined – and then ends up leaving me sad and empty when she gets what she wants.

*Who am i?
What am i?

Who am i becoming?
i sure don’t…
not right now …
not today…
not at this moment …

Does anyone know?
Will i ever know?

If you know, will you let me know?*


Hear Ye! Hear Ye!#

I officially proclaim… WOW!

Friday April 6, 2007 – 03:40pm

During this holy time for many religions, celebrating rebirth and renewal, as well as simply finding the cathartic joy in spring cleaning, i have personally declared this “Wipe Out Weekend.” (WOW)

As part of my goal for WOW, i want to extend a hand of civility and renewal to any and all those that have been hurt, by my actions and inactions, by rumor or innuendo. As well, i sincerely regret any that i may have injured inadvertently, either by catching them in the crossfire of unnecessary battling, or not maintaining the healthy relationship we should.

I urge each of you to jump in and take part in WOW too. Let’s erase the pains of the past, and move toward the joys of the future. Even for those that it seems true reconciliation may never occur, i hope for cordial treatment in future encounters. We may not be able to forget things that have happened or words that have been uttered, but i no longer want to use them to darken my view on others or on opportunities.

It is often said (though i don’t always remember well), that we cannot control how others react, but merely how we respond. I am choosing, starting today, right now, to respond with positive rather than negative. It is up to you now 🙂

Let’s WOW each other – and enjoy a new day!


The Helga Theory

Monday April 23, 2007 – 10:40pm

i am so grateful this was shared with me. it helped put into words some of the frustrations, misgivings, confusion, disappointment and sadness i have been feeling lately.

Inside every woman is an independent woman who represents her assertive drive, or ego if you will. Ego is not a bad word… unless it is used for selfish purposes only. Our ego or drive… gets us up in the morning. Gives us the determination to deal with day to day things, strive towards a goal, makes decisions, gets us out of harms way, and pushes us to stand up in front of others with our opinions knowing that all will not be received well. This is Helga. As you can see, Helga wears many hats. Most of which, many times, may be the proverbially cone bra & helmet. You see… Helga (who has grown much larger as she gets older) also has another job. She protects the other person living inside this woman… the little girl/submissive.

Helga has been conditioned by her environment (nurture) with fear. She has seen the little girl/submissive being abandoned, used, abused and all in all… not loved. The little girl however… is still just that… a little girl by nature. She wants to come out to play… trusting in all she meets… showing little fear of her surroundings… reaching out to love and be loved… unconditionally.

Helga… is her guardian. Helga is the one that men/Doms do battle with. Helga is the one that could get the Pope to reconsider His faith! When one is hearing Helga spout off… (as in trying to figure out how a conversation about finances can get turned around to arguing about garbage bags)… what many times He is hearing is the verbalization of the internal battle between Helga and the little girl. It is a very frustrating time for the woman… as she tries to sort out her intellect from her emotions.

Many times… men will give up trying to reconcile the conversation and leave. Helga then wins. Some men will try to battle Helga straight on. But as any good warrior will tell you… one should never battle the enemy on THEIR turf. Helga will win again. For you see Helga will convince herself… no matter how right Your points are… that you know not of what You speak. In BOTH instances… the little girl submissive is standing behind the leg of Helga… praying you don’t go away.

The trick is to learn to walk right through Helga… not by breaking her down per se… but by not Reacting too much to her insecurities/fears. Whatever we react to… automatically gives it more power. So the trick is to recognize Helga’s fears… and walk calmly through them… to then reach out for the hand of the little girl/submissive who yearns to come out to play.

You then… become the Guardian.

And Helga… can sit her little ass down… knowing the submissive is safe.

Helga seems to make herself known from time to time. She at times… will get back up. She, as in all life, wants to exit. She will challenge You from time to time. Test you unconsciously, to see if You still can be trusted with the Guardianship of little girl/submissive. If you don’t buckle or react too much to her… she will soon know that the little girl is safe… and she can rest again.

Slowly… you should notice… she makes fewer and fewer appearances.

Now I know… this all may sound oh so very simple in dealing with the complexities of humans. Life is certainly not black & white. But I hope I maybe put a name to some of it for you.

Good luck and keep walking through… Helga.

{by the way, i think my Helga is named Inga}


Thank heaven for lil girls?

… but what i don’t understand is how someone so unlovable can have good people love her?

~baby joy

Tuesday April 24, 2007 – 12:41pm


Small parts?

Tuesday May 8, 2007 – 02:18am

Infamous director Stanislavski is reported to have said, “There are no small parts, only small actors.” In this lifestyle, and by extension, the community we live in – be it online, real time, or some combination thereof – this is true as well.

It has been brought to my attention i am a member of the lifestyle community, and in some small way, considered a leader as well. i make no claims to greatness, or that i deserve recognition, but i have had to acknowledge not only my own role, but that of everyone, regardless of their part in the journey.

i sometimes feel a bit like a young movie starlet, who has flashed into fame: It isn’t necessary to have talent, but timing. Being “out front” as i have become, at least in the online realm to a small degree, has made me a focus and a target of attention, both positive and negative, of speculation. In some ways, it is irrelevant if this one can “act”, but simply that i am recognized for my “celebrity.”

Does that mean i am any more important, more talented, more necessary, more special in any way than any other member of the lifestyle? No, not at all. i hope you will take a moment to look at yourself as well. Where do you fit on the stage of life and lifestyle? What role do you play or wish to play?

Perhaps You have always been out front in a starring role – good for you! Are you a star in Your local theater? or earning an Academy Award? (But, we have all seen those in the lime light that prefer to be dramatic divas, unable to consider others as they flash in their own glory lol)

On the other hand, maybe you enjoy being a small bit player, that may or may not even be named in the program. Or, even behind the scenes completely as a technician. Those have a place as well, especially for those that enjoy the camaraderie of a local troupe, or merely a place to expand a hobby in lighting or costumes.

We must keep in mind, too, not to confuse notoriety with prowess. It may be easy to assume “fame” of sorts equals technical skill in the craft, but it only takes one look at Lindsay Lohan (imho, lol) to convince that they are not the same. The same with those in the Lifestyle community: Do not assume that because a “leader” is well known that His/Her skills also match (or vice versa).

As actors on this “stage”, we all can continue to learn, to grow, and to share. We can take classes, watch others, explore deep within ourselves. The growth should never stop, and remember, all parts are important, vital and lead to a beautiful show!

To my fellow “actors”, i say Bravo! … and the show must go on!

P.S. A final note, also from Stanislavski:

Remember this practical piece of advice: Never come into the theatre with mud on your feet. Leave your dust and dirt outside. Check your little worries, squabbles, petty difficulties with your outside clothing — all the things that ruin your life and draw your attention away from your art — at the door.


And now a look at casting…

Thursday May 10, 2007 – 01:00am

…(and miscasting – apologies to fans of Tom and Katie… if there are any… lol)

Continued from my last blog train of thought…

If all of us are involved in one form or fashion in this ‘production’ called the lifestyle, then there are bound to be ‘casting’ issues — or determining who fits best in the roles around us.

There are a number of parts to be filled, from leading roles to bit players. Obviously, as Director and co-star in our own show of life, we need to look carefully at how we cast these parts, particularly those that are most conspicuous.

What sorts of things should be considered for this role? There are a number of fantastic actors out there, but for whatever reason, they should not merit an extended focus. Certain things can be changed (hair color, manner of dress), some with vast amounts of extended work (skin appearance); others that will simply never change. If a dominant feels thoroughly dominant, they will not “turn” submissive just because you ask them too, and vice versa.

Some ‘candidates’ may be actively pursuing a role, and some you may hope audition. There are some that you may not have even considered, but once you examine them with a particular role in mind, it becomes hard to imagine anyone else playing that part (don’t know about you, but i can’t imagine Sally Field as Mrs. Robinson, or Dustin Hoffman playing Michael Corleone).

Innate skill should be considered. Does the person have a natural talent for the part they will be playing? What training have they had? In what areas? How has it improved them? It only does so much good to be ‘classically’ trained, if the part is for a slapstick parody.

Hmm… now who to cast for my leading man? Or, whose leading lady-slut will i be? For what parts am i being considered? Will i be pretty enough? smart enough? young or old enough? experienced enough? obedient enough? focused enough? …. will they?

On a side note, for trivia buffs like me, this is an interesting site for finding out the “coulda beens”, etc. Not Starring


Always a woman

Wednesday May 16, 2007 – 11:38am

i have heard it suggested before; perhaps it really is ‘my’ song?

She can kill with a smile She can wound with her eyes She can ruin your faith with her casual lies And she only reveals what she wants you to see She hides like a child But she’s always a woman to me

She can lead you to love She can take you or leave you She can ask for the truth But she’ll never believe And she’ll take what you give her, as long as it’s free Yeah, she steals like a thief But she’s always a woman to me

CHORUS Oh-she takes care of herself She can wait if she wants She’s ahead of her time Oh-and she never gives out And she never gives in She just changes her mind

And she’ll promise you more Than the Garden of Eden Then she’ll carelessly cut you And laugh while you’re bleedin’ But she’ll bring out the best And the worst you can be Blame it all on yourself Cause she’s always a woman to me


She is frequently kind And she’s suddenly cruel She can do as she pleases She’s nobody’s fool But she can’t be convicted She’s earned her degree And the most she will do Is throw shadows at you But she’s always a woman to me

(c) Billy Joel


Playgrounds and Playmates

Tuesday June 5, 2007 – 10:01pm

i used to have a playground… and a playmate… both are gone to me now it seems. i know it is in great part due to my choices, even when they were made from love.

i miss them both, and no one even knows i used to play there.

“This Used To Be My Playground”

[Chorus (first time without background vocals):] This used to be my playground (used to be) This used to be my childhood dream This used to be the place I ran to Whenever I was in need Of a friend Why did it have to end And why do they always say Don’t look back Keep your head held high Don’t ask them why Because life is short And before you know You’re feeling old And your heart is breaking Don’t hold on to the past Well that’s too much to ask

[Long and movie versions only:]


Live and learn Well the years they flew And we never knew We were foolish then We would never tire And that little fire Is still alive in me It will never go away Can’t say goodbye to yesterday (can’t say goodbye)


No regrets But I wish that you Were here with me Well then there’s hope yet I can see your face In our secret place You’re not just a memory Say goodbye to yesterday (the dream) Those are words I’ll never say (I’ll never say) This used to be my playground (used to be) This used to be our pride and joy This used to be the place we ran to That no one in the world could dare destroy

[Short and movie versions only:]

This used to be our playground (used to be) This used to be our childhood dream This used to be the place we ran to I wish you were standing here with me


Seeking the slave girl within

Recently i had the exciting opportunity to attend an amazing local function: Naughty Nights – Sultan’s Harem. i wasn’t even sure initially if i wanted to go, since my preferred escort was unavailable. And even though i knew several that would be there, some with specific parts to play, i had a hard time getting motivated. No play on the calendar for me… No feet at which to sit… remembered pout

Of course, once i started trying to put together a costume, the fun of the “scavenger hunt” took over and i got more excited about going. i had planned to turn over my good friend for her evening’s duties, and then go about being cordial, friendly, but not necessarily enthusiastic.

All of that effort was wasted, however, once i got to the club that evening when i was approached by the Mistress of Ceremonies, the Sultana herself, and asked if i could do her the favor of filling in for a slave girl for the production, as one had fallen through. “Uh, sure, what would that entail,” i started to ask.

She lifted two very thin, very sheer, very small pieces of gauze and held them before me. i looked at them, then looked down at my not so very small physique and pondered for a moment. Did i dare? Would it be considered an honor or a flagrant disobedience? i wondered to myself for a brief second, swallowed hard, smiled nervously and took them from her hands.

Shortly before the night’s festivities were to begin, i shimmied my way into the skimpy material. Thankfully, i had packed panties, because we were allowed to wear them… but nothing else but our “rags.” After a while, as the people started to file in, and the heat started to build, i began to appreciate the light weight nature of my garb – what little there was to it 🙂

When it was almost time for us slave girls to make our grand, dramatic entrance, we huddled together, holding hands, giggling, smiling at the pleasure we’d been granted. We were to look and sound scared, even though we were promised hair pulling and floggings – so no giggling and looks of delight we were ordered!

Once the door swung open, and we started with our screams, i let the moment take me where it would. We were thrust into a makeshift rope cage, huddling together for comfort (and to stifle our own giddiness). One by one, we were pulled up for “examination” and delivery of “blows” by the “Sultan’s brother.” Needless to say, i struggled and tussled, guaranteeing a good hair pull along the way, but the hollers of pain from the flogging were all faked. sigh

It felt amazing, nearly primal, as i bared my teeth, shaking my head and rarely-loose hair from side to side, growling at my captors. When the performance concluded, and the overall play was due to commence, the four of us girls smiled and grinned, our glow from the performance our primary attire by that point.

As the night progressed, i agreed to be part of the Earth Vibration Ceremony. i ended up being one of only 6 dancers to slog my way through a half hour of jumping, moving, thumping, undulating, writhing and pounding. Early into it, i was sure i wouldn’t make it to the end, but with the encouragement of the Sultana (and my stubborn pride making it impossible to want to walk away), i managed to shake my bells and body parts until the last drum beat thudded in time with our pounding hearts.

After the evening’s vibrant festivities, as reality wafted in on its gray cloud, i looked back in amazement. It almost felt like Cinderella, thinking back to the ball, with only the one glass slipper to remind her of a magical evening.

Who was that girl that rhythmically danced so freely? From where did the wide smiles and lack of inhibition and self consciousness come? Is she still inside me? Will she ever return? Is she really me?

(c) July 07


What does she want?

Tuesday August 7, 2007 – 02:32am

So when the girl asks, is she wanting a no or a yes? Even when it sounds like something she wants… and maybe she does want it… does she want the “no” even more?

Is it love, a gift of boundaries, if she is told no, or is it just being selfish? Or is it love, or simply spoiling to the point of rotten, to be given everything she wants? Maybe she wants, needs to feel worthy of being given limits, told no.

What did the girl want to hear? no? yes? Perhaps only that she was worthy of His concern…

It is not always easy to be a girl…


Mere words

Wednesday August 22, 2007 – 01:32pm

For anyone that believes words have no power, that they are “merely” words, let me offer the following:

*I love you.
I do.
I’m pregnant.
It’s a boy.
I’m sorry.
It’s inoperable.
Nothing we can do.
Good girl.
I’m scared.
Goodbye. *

And the hardest of these “mere” words…? The silence that comes after.


To calm the savage beast…

Monday August 27, 2007 – 09:05pm

What started out as a personal experiment to see if i could endure (as i am claustrophobic), or even fit in a metal animal crate, became instead a potent place for visualization and recapturing a bit of my emotional center.

A lovely Friday, filled with experimentation, learning and pleasure…

Followed by some intense messages from an interested and interesting Domme on Saturday…

Then, off to the club on Saturday night….


ok, not technically true. Sir did give me permission to go with and to top my very good friend. And, i wanted to… tried to… but never could get my heart nor head into it. Sorry honey 🙁

For me at least, sometimes the range of thoughts and feelings can get a bit overwhelming. This weekend stretched me emotionally in ways that i hadn’t imagined. Mentally, i thought i had things sorted out. i was happy that my friends were happy. i was glad to have a chance to see and make new friends.

but instead… i was hollow… empty…

i was a pet in a cage, but without the collar… nothing tangible to remind me of my slave home…

Two hours i was in there, in my shiny silver embrace. First was the amazing flow of chemicals through me: throwing me into an intense sub space, hitting me, rolling my eyes back on a cloud of endorphins… Memories came to me, one in particular, over and over… Thoughts, on the other hand, faded to pathetic wispy webs… believe it or not, it soothed me being inside.

Then came the dark doldrums… the ache in my gut, the deep loneliness… the hurt at what i had seen… and the ache of what i was not feeling…

Eventually, the cage embraced me tighter, let me let some of the emotions out… And the people left… and i had to leave too…



Monday September 17, 2007 – 04:56pm

As i was trying to put myself to sleep recently (i either can’t sleep or can’t wake up sometimes, it seems), i started thinking of all the words that start with W. It’s actually quite a wonderful letter, and i enjoyed realizing how many words went with it. Here are some of my favorites that came to mind… (in alphabetical order, so you won’t know how wicked my thoughts were – whew!)

why not?

What are some of yours that i’ve forgotten? Or favorites of those i’ve remembered?


Diamond in the rough?

Monday September 24, 2007 – 08:01pm

i think i just realized something… something that apparently i have been hearing from a number of sources, but haven’t until now been able to internalize, much less begin to believe:

Did you know that Someone taking the time and interest to improve you, to refine you, is a sign that they care enough to invest in you, not just the opposite? Even if this interest is expressed by showing displeasure, it is not automatically a sign of impending doom and dismissal.

And, now, the light bulb has gone off:

i am worthy of being corrected, of being molded, of being taught to be pleasing. There is enough in me that has been seen to be valuable, that i am being shaped like a gem, knocking off the irregular edges, and polishing me to a fine shine. i can be made to gleam, with each cut and chisel by the expert Jeweler.

i am freed !

All this wasted fear, stress and anxiety, based on my internal surety that corrections were the path to rejection… now i know (and will hopefully remember) that i am “enough”… recognized to be of enough value to be worth the effort…

Thank You friends for helping me hear the message… Thank You Sir for reassuring me the leash will tighten…


Do you have an inclination for BDSM?

Friday October 19, 2007 – 01:56am

You scored as a Experimental

Experimentation is a great place to be. Open-mindedness when it comes to sexuality can open doors and allow you to discover things that you didn’t think you would find engaging. Having such a curious attitude can help you learn more about your own sexual nature as well as the nature of others.

Experimental 86% Submission 79% Bondage 71% Masochism 68% Switch 50% Degradation 39% Sadism 32% Exhibitionism and Voyeurism 25% Vanilla Sex 21% Domination 14%

My thoughts regarding the results: As much as i have been teased about being dominant, it was my bottom score. hmmm… interesting… Of course, my switch score was exactly 50% – now something is fishy about that switchy answer chuckles

From Quizfarm


A Wild Ride

Wednesday November 21, 2007 – 01:42am

(some random musings… letting my passions, fantasies, memories take hold)

All these …
and senses… and feelings are rushing through me…

i love His car…

When i step into the car, and His scent comes wafting out… i swallow deeply… inhaling it…
So that by the time i sit beside Him, i’m thoroughly in space…
and unable to speak or nod…
but only squeak out … Yes Sir, good evening.

And, yes… i love love love that feeling
when we’re hitting the upper numbers of the speedometer…
racing to our destination…
anticipating the play to come…
especially when the top is down and the stars are out…

mmm… and the way we touch casually in there…
and how He pins my arm under His as He shifts…
or trails His fingers under my skirt…
am i wearing panties?
how wet i am…

The very tight air in the car, is being shared…
So very close…
so very tight…

And thinking of the rattan cane spotted behind the seat…
That He hasn’t used yet…
but has ensured i’ve seen.
And of the implements in the trunk…
That massage, sting, startle my skin
bringing me to life as the flesh raises.

And the times when we’ve gone to the mountains…
and i’ve fed him chocolate covered walnuts
as i feel His mouth take them from my trembling fingers
Having Him encourage me to eat one too…
And knowing the flavor of my mouth matches His…

Stepping out, my legs shaking…
kneeling by the trunk, as He pulls out His collar…
lowering my head, and begging to be allowed to wear it again…
my hand resting on His belly as He cuffs me…
The clink of the three rings…
Matching the sounds of the wrist restraints

Holding on to the back of His car as He cinches my corset
Feeling Him plucking the ribbons one by one…
Strumming them securely into place…
Him asking if it is too tight, can you breathe girl?

And i cannot…
but it has nothing to do with the corset.
Yes Sir i answer
There is no other answer after all…
None other that makes any sense when i’m with Him.


Taking Stock

Monday November 26, 2007 – 09:12pm

One of the thing about being put into stocks is that you can only look one direction – the position you are placed, typically forward. It is a furnishing that does not leave you room to squirm around, looking side to side or to look backwards, longingly over your shoulder. One way… His way…

And so it was a few weeks ago…

Sir reviewed the main room, then He led this girl to a corner of the dungeon. There is a lovely rainbow shaped piece of equipment there. This one has been fortunate enough to dig her fingers into the black padding on it before, and it has a handful of other memories that come to mind on approach.

He stands for a moment, looking eager, excited with His latest plan. “girl, I would like to put you in the stocks.” My eyes widen, bulging a touch with fear. He knows i am claustrophobic, and the stockade presents a unique trap for this wild animal. i have told Him no limits, and i intend to maintain that, but i feel the hesitance wash through me with a dark sense of dread, as my eyes lose their sight to a crimson blindfold.

Feeling myself step backward slightly, fearful, my chest aches with the flush of fear. i attempt to reason, to tease my way from the impending impound. “But, Sir,” i stammer, “i have never seen them used. Perhaps they are intended for display only?” He chuckles, knowing my attempts are feeble. “Turn around girl,” He says finally, directing my fumbling fingers to the edges of the leather half-moon.

This girl’s eyes close beneath the silk of the covering, masking the fluttering of the rapid thoughts. As the blows strike my cool skin, turning it warm from His impact, my will to obey and my fearful spirit combat. Will He actually ask me to be locked inside the wooden jaws of the stockade? Will i be able to do it? Will i bolt in fear? Would i tell Him “no”? Does He already know the answer?

At last, the slapping sounds go silent as does my internal screams of fear. “Sir,” i whisper. “Yes girl?,” He asks, searching my face. “Sir, would You please put me in the stocks?” By the end of the question, the words become more confident, begging for it, as if it had been my desire initially. His sexy smile spreads across His face, hearing the hunger i now feel for it. “Please,” i whimper, my voice just above above an exhale.

He deftly prepares the apparatus, and i stand patiently. We discover that He needs to remove His collar from my neck in order for me to place its pale sinews within its wooden maw. i momentarily feel defeated, deflated, my limited confidence preparing to bolt. He raises my face, lifting my chin with His skillful finger, and i look Him nearly in the eye… and i remember… It is not the physical trappings and accoutrement that makes the girl belong.

She does not obey because she wears a collar; she wears a collar because she is willing to obey.

Once within, the wood clamps on this girl, swallowing her. Yet she is calm. He pets her cheek, reminding her she need not fear, He will not allow her to be harmed. And she knows it to be true…


What Fell from the Falls

Thursday November 29, 2007 – 03:12pm

So here i am…
taking these words out of my head…
and from the tears on the pillow…

What is it i need? want?
What do i need to be able to do to make things better?

i need to be able to ask for what i need, when i do find them.
i need to ask… ask the questions… be ready for the answers…
i don’t even know how to ask for permission.

So many times i’ve caught myself telling Sir something…
explaining, clarifying…
but not quite getting to the point where i can ask…

Why is that?
Do i think i don’t have a right to the things i want and need?
Do i think that i will be told no?
That i’m stupid for asking these things?
That i’m a craven psycho, full of cravings and delusions and desires…

How do i say…
i need you to tell me no
i need you to think of me…
i need you to not think of me, and think i’m crazy
i need to know i’m not forgotten
i need to keep a connection to this place…
i feel i get let go… i need to know i was here…

that someone else will know i existed
that i made a difference in some small way,
caused a bit of a ripple
coz if i don’t make a difference, i simply don’t matter
and if i don’t matter…
then why be here?

it’s been hard enough some days to even want to stay here
to keep connected to the world… the people in it…
and now… i’m trying really hard to stay…
to have an address
a home as such
a reason
and i want to be a reason for you to have a moment too

please.. please don’t forget me…
please need me
because i need you too


Elegy for a Love Lost … and Found…

Saturday December 1, 2007 – 12:35am

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was young, not much older than my daughter. She was a nerdling, just beginning to see the world expanding before her. She was old enough that she had been broken by those around her, but not so old that her heart had been captured. Not until that one spring day… the one day, while milling about on an ancient tool, an electronic bulletin board that she stumbled upon a voice among the modem tones.

Word after word, line after line, posted to one another as they got to know each other. Rapid fire descriptions of likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams spattered the monotone screen, the clunky characters being absorbed like tasty morsels of a sweet dessert. In their relative anonymous world, peppered only with the clatter of their keyboards, they typed of their secrets, building images of each other before a glance was exchanged.

We should meet, he suggested, striking fear in her heart. What about at the water park? She quivered, dreading, sure that once he saw her, he would turn, leave, and never another word would be shared with her pen pal. She tried to find descriptions that let him know that she was more round, than the pencil shape as he illustrated himself. He would see her in a bathing suit, especially among all the beautiful girls in bikinis, with perfect skin and flat tummies. Closing her eyes tight, she tried to block out the sense of dread turning her soft belly ill with great waves of nausea.

But meet they did. Instead of turning away because of her flawed shape, they nearly missed each other. After all, his swim trunks were orange, not red, no matter how he described them. They matched his bright hair, fiery in the summer light. Both of them were nearly luminous with their pale flesh, tinged with pink pockets in their flushed cheeks. And love was cast. Sure and certain, confirmed by the first kiss, surrounded by wild screeches of splashing kids and hot hot sunshine, leaving gleams of sweat tears dripping down their faces.

The girl was entranced, not even hearing his stuttered speech. The boy, nearly man, recognized her blind devotion and for once, realized he too was lovable.

And so it was… fast forward through special moments and many years…

… a beautiful poem, speaking of windows and souls, and happy hearts…

… the prom her junior year, with her tightly permed hair and the dress her mom made for her (in a color that ultimately became the color of her Maid of Honor’s dress)…

… walking in the dark of the local parks, one by the river, the other lush with greenery. Kissing, caressing, devouring each other.

His hands moved over her trembling goose bumps, leaving her gasping, whimpering, hungry for more. She wanted to give her first flesh and blood to her first love, but she felt unworthy. Long before, when she was a barely a school ager, it had been taken, over her objections, both silent and spoken. She managed to protect her brother, but lost a part of her soul in the process. How could a man that was so connected to God, for now he had grown into one, find a whore like her worthy? She had wanted to save it, but the withdraw had already been made.

More years passed and they continued to come together, to part, to always seem to find a way back to each other. Even until the last time…

The last time was nearly 16 years ago. He happened to call the day she returned for a few days from her year work contract in Maryland. The girl, now woman, answered her parent’s phone to hear the man’s voice summoning her. Let’s see each other, he urged. She had no way to refuse, as always bound and bidden by his voice. They got together, retracing the steps of the park paths. The stars lit their way just enough to enhance the gleam in their excited eyes. And love bloomed yet again in the spring…

She left, taking a plane back to what now felt like a punishment, time away, far away from his touch. They wrote every day, more than once a day. Real mail traversed the miles between them, the kind with words on paper, stamps and envelopes, still filled with magic and mysteries, as well as the daily and dreary. They began to talk of marriage again, this time adding themselves to a wedding story. Imagining silk and lace, rattling through guest lists, hope sprang from the spring blooms.

Until the silence…

the unbearable, empty silence…

The days stretched, and finally she heard from him. His voice was staccato with the stuttering that had become absent in their conversations. The girl he had been seeing now carried his child, growing within her, growing at the same time their plans had been blossoming. He didn’t know all of what he planned to do, but he knew he had to do something to help her. He returned the girls mother of pearl college ring, without a note or a word. And he was gone…

And that was it…

Until last year (see a few previous entries). And then until this year.

This year, he came back to the woman, who had become girl. He was now Dominant; she was now submissive. In 2006, she might not have been able to resist, but it is 2007.

He wrote to her again, like the old days on the BBS. Intense, rapid fire exchanges, making his intentions known. He wanted her back. She told him she wore a ring, and allowed a Master’s collar. And He disregarded it all. He laid claim to her mind, her heart, her soul. But she was a new girl, a joy girl. She couldn’t just give herself away; she was owned already. She needed the power exchange, not just for her essence to be taken.

She wanted to be able to believe in Him. She wanted to be able to give to Him. No more, her heart screamed back. With every return, he took pieces away, without leaving any of himself behind. No more… No more…

And even until this week, He shared His craving of her, His love for her, His desire to finally consummate their passion. But He didn’t ask who she was. He didn’t even want to know. And now, once again, He hasn’t even stayed around to find out…

Goodbye first love… Your latest claim has set me free…



From head to foot

Sunday December 2, 2007 – 10:27pm

i had a memory…

Once upon a lifetime ago, in the first house i served, i was sitting at the feet of the Master. He sat on His chair, His alpha sub on the couch nearby. We three had spent many hours together that day, and i was feeling blissful, in my first blushes of submission. i remember looking up at Him, then back down to His feet. i so very much wanted to express my gratitude for being allowed to serve Him, in some profoundly personal way – for me, it came to mind as a foot rub.

Now in the realm of “kneel bitch-suck me” doms of Collar Me, etc, this would have simply been a chance to have my head shoved between His legs. i am not dismissing sexual service as a way of showing your submission, but it was not where my mind was going. (i have connections to religions that involve foot washing as a special bonding and forgiveness ritual).

When i raised my eyes again slightly, i saw His girl looking down at me. Her look made me feel even more awkward than i already was, so unsure in the “right” ways to do things. After looking up at her, i couldn’t even find the words to say to Him, nor able to look up beyond His denim covered knees. My cheeks burned, my heart pounded, words burbling behind the dam of my tongue. i never did find a way to ask Him if i could massage His feet.

Last night, i was given the chance to rub Sir’s feet. Unlike before, i learned and felt confident in being able to ask if i could. i knew that He could say no, but He didn’t. That said, i did slip and “demand” His hand to extend the massage to His nimble digits. But, when i stumbled in that way, He didn’t punish me… He didn’t send me away… He didn’t react angrily. He pointed out what i had done, and immediately i saw that i could have done it a different way. With a deep breath, burning cheeks, and an apology coupled with a proper request, i was allowed to continue my service.

And i reveled in it all… giving the massage, getting the correction…

It is what i knew it could be, as He helps me be the best i can be.

Thank You Sir. -Your joy



Monday December 3, 2007 – 11:36pm

Dear Sir,

What a day… A touch overwhelming in very quiet, simple ways.

It was another day without my sweet mod mari at my hand, to help with the group. But it was the first time i got to speak to her via phone — every bit as fun and enlightening and pleasurable as i expected her to be. Fortunately, it appears things on the message side at least are relatively quiet. Of course, i do have 56 pending members as of this moment, plus a un-subscription or two with whom i’d like to follow up. Plus, i need to send a reminder to all those that are pending to remind them to take the time to speak with me via messenger, as well as a personal note to those whose applications have expired. Every now and then i get tempted to just approve them all, but i just can’t seem to let that go, and allow just anyone to join, and with it, their potential negativity or inattention to the group. Then again, maybe i will need to…

Especially if i take advantage of the opportunity that came to me today. It is very flattering to be considered, but i’m sure that even if it is not required to be time consuming, i would find it hard not to want to dedicate energy and effort toward a good purpose. Definitely would like to speak to You regarding this, to help me think of what all i want to ask, to help me decide.

And, another of my mom’s sisters died today. Feels like the deaths are coming more often these days. i won’t be going “home” for the funeral, but it is still sad in a way. Mostly though, i feel sad for my mom who is seeing what is comfortable and familiar fade more every day. Though it is often that way for me too, when i visit; she has been doing so much remodeling, it is not the house i grew up in anyway. What is left when i return? Not much of anything.

Things i still need to write about when i have a lil more brain: cages, kindlings, hair cuts. More to come…

Respectfully submitted,
Your joy


Hair she is

Tuesday December 4, 2007 – 11:12pm

Dear Sir, i was speaking to someone in conjunction to the group recently. She mentioned a requirement of her Dom to have her hair cut very short as part of her submission and joining His house. This reminded me of Another that this girl had speaking to previously. He spoke of fantasies of cutting my hair off, leaving me bald. i alternated being repelled and strongly attracted to the descriptions He put forth.

Actually, i like the idea of having such a visible sign of my submission, especially as i know i have been prideful of my hair in the past. i enjoy it being pulled, tugged, played with. But, on the other hand, especially since we don’t live together, to be able to see You by seeing myself – how profound that could be. Even as it is, i wear an intimate piece of jewelry. And, i think i mentioned how a certain Domme would have placed her own ‘rings’ and tags there. Thinking of the number of ways i could be connected, simply and purely, is a pleasant distraction to my day to say the least.

Is there another way i can show, and more importantly see, my submission to You? Your claim on me? Something added to my gold chain i wear? (i don’t care about what others may see or notice or not, but i personally like signs and symbols). Just some thoughts…

Humbly, Your joy


Busy Signals

Wednesday December 5, 2007 – 11:06pm

Dear Sir,

Sometimes the world seems so quiet, even with all the clutter of the noise around me. It is noisy, but more like a white noise, none of which is special enough to lure me out. Even with everyone shouting to me, i need to hear my name, to hear “girl” whispered… i need to be summoned. i really miss not hearing from You, especially on the days after we get together. The drop hurts, leaves me empty.

And i know i’m greedy. i know You are pulled in so many directions. i wish You could pull me more often in Your direction. Please, just a few words… i need You to remind me…ground me…reclaim me. Please remind me who i am, who i have become, who i am becoming.

Respectfully, Your (weary, lonely) girl


An apology, compassion, encouragement

Monday December 10, 2007 – 02:28pm

Dear Sir,

First, i ask You to please forgive Your girl for not writing (at least where You can see it). i have started several comments, blogs, notes and letters over the past few days, but nothing has managed to sound coherent enough to share in a meaningful way. i know You can relate to the time demands family and work can put, though it is hardly an excuse for my not writing to You anyway. i humbly apologize…

On a side note, i’ve had some good conversations lately, particularly with a person who had known You before. i was once jealous of her, with of course no reason to be. When i spoke to her in person recently though, she mentioned a memory that was similar to one of mine, and it sent a cold lump to the bottom of my stomach. i know that she is not connected to You (and, in fact, is in her own relationship, for which i am very happy).

But what impressed me most was her compassion, especially as a woman. She recognized my discomfort at discussing past connections. Rather than judge right or wrong, or to tell me to get over it, she saw how awkward it was for me. She didn’t ask me to compare experiences, or detail the sensations she received compared to mine. She didn’t make me feel inadequate because i longed for some of the same things, or make me feel like i needed to compete. In fact, she apologized for my discomfort. Did she need to? No. Did it make me feel better just knowing she understood? Absolutely. Do i think more of her than i did before? Oh yes, very much.

Thanks for our conversation regarding my recent opportunity. i hope that it will still be available to me, but whatever will be, will. Since Your nod of approval and encouragement, i’ve been especially focusing my energies toward the Mod Squad. If i am to be more active in another organization, i need to ensure that Baby is taken care of. i’ve recruited at least two mods (waiting on word from another), and will be training them shortly. i work with such fantastic people, and it seems every day i learn more from them about life and the lifestyle. They encourage me in amazing ways, and we build each other up. imho, it is a glimpse of some of the best the lifestyle can be.

i hope to see or hear from You soon, and perhaps i will be able to provide a lightening to Your day (or night). i always enjoy every moment in Your service.

Gratefully, Your joy


Mmm… tell me girl…

Thursday December 13, 2007 – 03:47pm

“Sir, last night i had a dream, a dream about You…”

“Mmm. Tell Me girl…”

With the nod of those words, i was able to let loose with the words that matched the visions that had come to in my slumber enhanced fantasies:

i was allowed to serve You, to bathe You, to soothe You. The room, lit by candles reflected the flickers of heat emerging on my cheeks as i moved my hands over Your knotted, taut flesh. The steam from the bath smudged our images in the fogged mirror, blurring the lines of our bodies. Standing close, our breathing slowed as our hearts raced, both synchronizing. Moving my nails, i drew light designs into Your dampness, sending messages of my devotion throughout Your nerve endings and shivering shocks through my own.

You extended Your finger, looping the silver, middle ring of Your collar firmly. Without words, i knew to follow. The softened lines of the room blurred even more, as my hair curtained across my eyes, my chin tucked to my pulsing chest. Leading me to the edge of the bed, i kneel, waiting as You climb into the soft cocoon of sheets. Time takes on its own odd shape, as i become one with the silence of the space, eventually so quiet that Your breath gains the momentum of the storm brewing within my own being.

With a look of bliss crossing Your countenance, i hear Your words commanding me, “Please Me.”

How grateful i am for even a few words from You, for a chance to hear Your desires, Your pleasures, and to allow me to serve You. Even in just the reading of the word “smiles”, sends a wide grin across my own face, lasting for hours, thinking of Your happiness.


Pleasure, Pain and Chain

Friday December 14, 2007 – 07:48pm

Per Your request:

i had a wider window of time to arrive this time, with no threats of punishment for being late. Though, thankfully, traffic was accommodating and even with driving back roads i was able to find where i needed to go easily enough.

Upon arrival, i was a touch surprised to see Him awake, wearing a nice collared shirt, sitting at His computer. His greeting as i stepped inside the unlocked door was casual, reflecting our friendship, but not quite the immediate jolt into head space i expected. i kissed Him gently on the cheek, and stood over His chair, holding Him in a gentle embrace as He finished up His simple tasks. He asked if i had any new restrictions or requirements to follow. No Sir, the same, i replied. With a wicked smile, He declared i was wearing too many clothes and so it began.

i scurried up the stairs in front of Him, knowing my ass was in sure jeopardy. Ordered onto the bed, i put my head toward the metal foot board. Turns out that was a bad choice, since it did not permit me a pillow to press my face into as He delivered His first two strikes, pushing out unintentional grunts from my open mouth. He quickly and sternly reminded me of the requirement of my silence and stillness, with no pouts.

His brief warm up series began again with renewed vigor. Remembering the lessons we have heard, i forced myself into concentrating on the rhythm of my breath than the sensation of the blows. After about a dozen, my body began to transform the sensations, realizing they were temporary and would be leading soon to being awash in the familiar warmth of the chemical endorphin flow. And flow it did, the smooth sensation coating my insides, as my face spread into a glassy smile as He rubbed my ass with abrasive scratchy material.

As quickly as it began, we pulled into a mental and physical parking space. We caught up with each other as people, talking about our relationships, past, present and pending. He teased and tormented me with thoughts of a person i hope to introduce to Him. Knowing my competitive and prideful ways, He promised to deliver an even higher level of intensity if she were to watch us play. It is an area i know that needs to be tempered out of me, though i do believe i would not put my physical safety ahead of my stubborn pride, regardless of how much i despise the idea of calling a safe word.

Whispering, He talked of chain binds. He debated with Himself, muttering how using them could be quite boring for Him, watching me unable to move, taking the fun of whether or not i could hold still on my own. On the other hand, a chained subbie can be a delight, available for Your pleasures. As He leaned toward not throwing on the binds, i had to fight hard to keep a pout from crossing my greedy face.

Eventually, though, He decided to reward my restraint with His own. Running a tight ring with the thick links across my chest, feeling the metal pinch my nipple, brought a unique pleasure. i cooed in a whimper. He proceeded to run a length between my legs, the chill digging into the heat of my female flesh. As He pulled and bound my hands behind my back, the steel began to actually feel hot, as if burning a brand into me. Tucking my legs backward, He finished putting me into a face down, hog tied position.

He proceeded to flick my skin over and over with a sharp sting of leather. Eventually, i was flipped over, receiving slaps on, around and under my fleshy breasts from His over-sized hands. He ruefully complained about His lack of accuracy, evidenced by His occasional missing the target of my tender nipples. Swallowing hard, i absorbed the bites of the leather, fighting the impulse of crying out or to beg Him for mercy.

Another break, this time marked by watching a TV series i didn’t know (but in which, i am now interested) and discussions of politics, literature and economics. We lounged, luxuriating in our comfort for the hour of the program. When it was done, it was time for refills of His vices. He returned to the bedroom, to point out that my phone was “beeping.” To encourage me to make it stop, and stop soon He declared a swift six for each beep after that point. i tried to work efficiently at turning off the bells and whistles, but managed to accumulate 48 from my trembling fingers. He delivered 12, when i failed somehow in my count or providing Him the information in a way He preferred — and the count started again. The 48 was delivered in various ways, including slappers and other implements popping off my tender skin.

Removing the chains, we climbed back into the bed, snuggling, reclaiming our connection to the mundane world, filled with boring chores and less fun company. Slipping back into my clothes, we shared embraces, our bodies both greedy to feel another person’s flesh before the sensation became scarce again.

As i drove away, my thoughts immediately returned fully to You, and my gratitude for Your understanding of this one’s needs and desires, and Your willingness to let them be met in Your absence. Any confusion i may have felt before washed away, as i fully felt confident in my place with You by Your granting of this time, rather than the reverse that originally plagued my thinking.

Thank You Sir, more than ever Yours, Your joy


Bound Dreams

Swans dancing on dreams
of silver rings of light
Tinted sepia by the longing
The dreams of what might…

Sunday December 16, 2007 – 10:17am


While You Were Sleeping

While You were sleeping
What dreams came unbidden?
What secrets and fantasies
Moved out from being hidden?

Did You rest upon my bosom
Your weary head tended,
And allow my trailing touch
To Your heart be mended?

Did You dream miracles,
Myth, magic and of might?
Dark enveloping skies
Caressing velvet night?

Were Your eyes blinded,
Lit by searing sunshine?
Caressed by its warmth
In a place beyond Time?

Feel my rose lips now
Kissing Your furrowed brow
Pressing into You
Dreams of moments like now.

(c) joy, 2007

Sunday December 16, 2007 – 10:25pm


In my shoes

Monday December 17, 2007 – 11:42am

Sometimes it is very easy for people make assumptions, based on the parts of you they know. i am not worthy of pity nor envy. Neither one is appropriate or complete.

Some look at my life convinced that i lead an enchanted existence. After all, they think to themselves, she has everything a girl could want: A husband that loves her, a beautiful family, basics of living covered without major concern, a Sir that allows her to wear His collar, a successful group, 100s of friends, blessed with love that comes easily.

What don’t you see? A husband that doesn’t meet all of my needs, or even my wants, who feels compelled to judge and condemn and complain. 100s of friends, but many of them acquaintances, not familiar with very much of me at all. An amazing Yahoo group, but one that requires more work than is obvious, even without the assumptions of “stealing members”, “censorship” and “favoritism.” With “easy” love comes easy heartache; my heart is still mending from the strains of being stretched in unmanageable ways.

What else don’t you see? A girl whose love runs deep for those around her, including those that may be “only” acquaintances, who sheds tears of happiness and of joy when sharing your news. A naive girl, who is still caught off guard, and often wounded, when people don’t do the right thing. A girl who was honored to be considered for a position with a group in which she believes; yet she feels crushed, despite that group’s noble, charitable purpose, she is unable to help her friends as much as they need.

Is there more to see? Oh yes, very much. She laughs at her children’s pathetic attempts at Knock Knock jokes. (Knock knock. Who’s there? Tree. Tree who? The tree is big and the cat got stuck in it … huh? lol) She has been known to help bring people back to life, restoring their belief in love, even as she grows her own. She is brave, willing to tackle demons, especially for those she loves. And for those she loves, she never forgets. (you’ve read this far… so you know her love…)

But, please take a moment to walk in my shoes before you presume… and please let me take my shoes off now and then; i’m tired of wearing them today and just want to go barefoot for a while.


Quiet Nights

Wednesday December 19, 2007 – 12:17am

i had another dream recently. It is more a vision, one that recurs throughout the day and night, but i feel it most as the sun goes down. i envision being able to sit by You, beneath You, to share, to listen, to laugh, to find out more about You, to find out about You, to find out about me when i am with You. i imagine being able to hear more of Your revelations of what makes You the Man You are, so i can find more ways to please You.

In the chaos of our current days (and nights), there have been so few words shared, other than the barest few. When we do have a few moments to speak, i’m caught breathless, barely able to make an intelligent exchange. i struggle, how do i find my way, my definition, without Your mark upon me? Thank You for allowing me to have some of my needs met without Your personal attendance. Though, please remember, i still crave the opportunity to serve You, and look forward to a time to do so.

Gratefully Yours, Your joy



Thursday December 20, 2007 – 09:33pm

i wish i could leave my mark behind on those i have touched in some way. i don’t want them to feel harm, to ache from what i leave behind. i simply don’t want to fade away from memory, forgotten, like our warm first nest of the womb. i wish i could leave “mine” tangibly touched somehow, with something to be looked at, to run their fingers on and over, with each bump and nub reminding them of the love and the lessons we lived.

i know i have been “pierced” and “scarred” by those to whom i have been connected. These are not always negative things. They are simply part of what forms who we are now.

For instance, i have scars from the c-sections from my two kids; the thick tissue across my midsection reminds me clearly of what i have become. i wear a piercing from one that impacted me, believed in me (and still does, thank you). i have a scratch scar across the top of my foot from the service to my first house, light, faded from the fierce pink it was when i first was marked (from a dog, but not in the way it sounds lol).

Thank you to those that have “pierced” my life.

i am scared
and i am scarred.
i am marked
and i am marred…
With each line
and skin tracing
is a mem’ry
not for erasing.
Look close now
Find the holes i carved
Letting in,
Feeding souls starved.

(c) joy, 2007

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