Chains

He asked me about my safe word. I made it up on the spot, then laughed. Such a ridiculous word. I couldn't hear a smile in his voice, and oh how I was listening for it. He shortened it for me, and I inner-smirked thinking that I'd never use it anyway. I don't remember the sequence, as if the blindfold made it all nonsensical. I let it all go. Forgot to think what it looks like, is this attractive, am I sexy, what is he looking at right this moment. It all disappeared in a second, and I just...was.

Then that felt hard, and soft, and good, and oh those clamps and yes, I love this, my mouth is so empty...please. Clamps again and christ that burns hot all the way through but still no safe word. Soft again, and sweet and care and don't you dare back away from me now, and then that pump and the pressure and his hand and telling me how swollen it looks, still I don't know the sequence. Inside me and all around me and twisting and how long did that last and his voice again, you may NOT. I'm so good, I'm so good, I didn't but I wanted and still I can't see, just feel.

Now it's light and there is his face and I watch while he pumps his cock in my mouth but I can't watch long because I won't be good.

This Space

...where I become so moldable. I'll never lack for an opinion, never fall short of my principles, but there is an eagerness to capitulate, to belong, to please.

I'm not perfect, nor ever claimed to be. I'm lazy, I procrastinate, don't exercise often enough, am judgmental and sometimes overly rigid.

But I am capable of learning. Of growing in the right directions. Or growing less in others, given the right motivation.

After a good bit of disenchantment, and struggling with myself for quite some time, I know where I feel at my best. My best means striving to be better. And striving to be better requires that there is someone to measure my progress.

Is this D/s? I don't think so. Is it M/s? Probably not. Is it TiH (Taken in Hand)? TPE? Does it even matter? It is none of those things, and it is all of those things. It can't be all of them, and it can't be none. It is a living, breathing, evolving place that I am content with AT THAT MOMENT. I won't be labeled or categorized for anything that I choose to do based on the circumstance or the heat of the moment. Don't read that as willfulness. It isn't. It is simply an acknowledgment that as a fairly intelligent, passionate, emotional person - my needs will never be the same from day to day. If I'm to be relegated to a role that only fits me part of the time, then know that the other times will not make either of us happy.

I am willing to bend to the will of another, when the goal is to teach and nurture, not to break or subjugate. But I'm not a project, or a game. None of this is held lightly in my mind. I will be unwavering, honest, and loyal.

As I should be.

The butt-ends of my days and ways

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.
-TS Eliot, Prufrock

I saw a play recently, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Stoppard). I'd seen it before, read it even, but it had been many years ago. I found myself amused, still, but also disturbed by the inevitability of their fate. Unintentional fools, led this way and that by unseen hands. I wondered suddenly at the metaphor to all of us. I am always struck by the change in my perception of things as I grow older (my trousers that evening were, in fact, rolled).

My resulting desire to live a little stronger was made easier by my companion for the evening, a man who is adding an unexpected kerthump to my normal pulse. I'm glad of it, though wary. Do I dare, do I dare?

Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied

During my adult life, I've experienced a sleeping orgasm twice. Both instances occurred while in bed with the object of the dream that inspired the arousal.

This is somewhat rare for women, I know. I suppose I'm lucky in that regard. It's never been difficult for me to orgasm. Quickly, repeatedly, strongly. But the sleeping variety...wow.

This most recent one was accompanied by an unusual dream. In it, my lover was no longer a physical presence, but spiritual - with the ability to possess any living creature. I told him of this dream after I recovered, but forgot to mention that the orgasm came when his spirit possessed my body. Which, I suppose, means something far more intriguing than being able to orgasm in my sleep.

Silences

People tend to fill a void. With action, or words. I'm not that way. I don't mind a comfortable, companionable silence. I don't feel the need to fill that space with endless chatter about trivialities. Most of the time. I do have my chatty cathy moments, generally due to overstimulation via caffiene.

Sometimes, though, I observe myself and my silence and wonder if it seems like disassociation or reclusiveness. I suppose that is true to an extent, I can be quite the hermit. I've always understood that my tendency towards solitude is more about enjoying myself rather than not enjoying others. Is that vanity? Or acceptance? Or enlightenment? I'm not sure, but I have been told that I seem cold and distant. I don't intend it, it is just a natural consequence of my quietude (in all definitions of the word).

I am at peace. With who I am, who I have been, who I am becoming. With my weaknesses and faults, with my strengths.

This is a nice place to be.