Kinky

2011-01-12T20:26:00.001-08:00

The King's Speech.

2011-01-11T14:17:00.000-08:00

i got a wonderful treat. My Master and i went to see The Kings Speech. It’s not a movie that i would have gone to see on my own, i was aware of the plot of the movie, that it’s about a man who is going to HAVE to be King who has a stutter and for him to give a speech, he has to go through an experience. Still, i never got excited about Colin Firth before, i’ve seen Love Actually and aside from Laura Linney i couldn’t have cared less about any of the characters or actors since then, sorry, but in the Kings Speech his performance really moved me. i am still thinking about Bertie the character he plays today.

i have always liked Geoffrey Rush who plays Bertie’s sort of therapist in the movie, since Shine where he played a brilliant pianist who had all sorts of crap to put up with ( i must watch that movie again and blub like a baby)…well many times in The Kings Speech i could have actually cried, i‘ve seen movies with characters who stutter, tv shows, there‘s always a story but the way that Bertie had been bullied into speaking but he couldn’t, the quietness and then you also get that glimpse of the storm within in Firth’s performance, the way he‘s lost hope in himself and the inspiration that you can get from seeing someone manage a stutter which is something that really affects people‘s lives and perhaps i‘m not wrong in saying this but makes men who have it feel less of a man? The scene where he gets to finally speak over loud music..this isn’t a spoiler unless you’re an idiot..he doesn’t know he spoke fluently over the loud music, he actually spoke from bloody Shakespeare,!, because he has no faith in himself, i get the feeling he hates himself quite bit because he‘s been bullied all his life and felt worthless and hated because of his stutter. It’s so ridiculous and makes me angry to think how people won’t give you a chance just because you have an obstacle in your life, they should be helping you not the other way around!

The whole movie was so inspiring, so wonderful and had me on the edge of my seat. Sure, there’s no twist but this is a movie with such intelligent direction that every step of the journey has you attentively watching and listening.

i remember i went to see The Social Network some time ago and came out thinking God that boy (Zuckerberg) is a loser, clever but the character portrayed on screen was a self destructive tosser and one note. i have met one or two people at who seem like this, i never had the chance to get to know them better to see what they are really like, they don't let you in at all.

When i saw the Kings Speech and saw this man who’s far from perfect, he’s a snob, he has really bad temper tantrums and behaves like a little boy sometimes..there was just something about Firth’s no fuss performance that made me happy. Afterwards i learned from Master that his character died not long after, and i was sad to hear that.

i really hope that Colin Firth wins best actor at especially the Oscars and that Tom Hooper the director of this movie wins best director, i will actually be rooting for them both, i haven’t cared about awards and all that for quite some time!

You can find trailer for this wonderful movie on youtube, won't let me link, it’s not an impressive trailer which is such a shame because the one for Social Network was a piece of work but it’s funny, that movie was merely okay, The Kings Speech like Firth’s performance unfussy and kind of quiet was brilliant!

The poster for the movie is spot on! And reminds me of one my all time favourites, another classy movie Quiz Show about the scandal behind a Professor from a well respected and educated family who goes on a quiz show and gets the answers given to him through his ear (wonderful tagline of 50 million people watched but no one saw a thing. Love it!)

Also, the movie has Jennifer Ehle (i wasn’t even that big a fan of Pride and Prejudice..er yeah right i was obsessed with the BBC dramatisation!) ..it must have been a weird moment for youtube video making fan girls to see her briefly with Colin Firth after that whole chemistry thing between them in P and P and Guy Pearce who i didn’t recognise straight away, yes he’s put weight on and looks better for it, most importantly gave an impressive performance with a good British accent.

i also went away from the movie sort of intrigued by Wallis Simpson. i find her a little fascinating, all that's written about her, i find that part of me doesn't think she was misunderstood, that she was controlling of her husband at least and at the same time i think the media were quick to jump on her every association and move and word as it to say, see she IS a witch and a bitch! i remember reading about Marie Antoinette and again when i saw the movie with Kirsten Dunst part of me thought yes she was this misunderstood GIRL trying to do her best and she happened to like parties and the other thought is that really her? Sometimes i wonder how exactly history is documented..i find i can't trust it and afterall an adaptation of history via a movie or tv show contains an adaptation of a character so who was this person really?

And in a world that still celebrates scandal be it all to do with the size of someone's bottom implants, why can't there be more about personalities and not who's got their tits and arse out in a sex tape? Where have all the personalities gone?

i don't normally do this, but i have to have this perfume.

2011-01-10T04:33:00.001-08:00

i got a lovely Boudoir perfume (Vivienne Westwood) for Christmas..the bottle, the box is so girly and just nice to have in my room. Problem is i can't smell anything after 10 seconds of spraying it on. It's NICE but i went into a store to buy some plasters like you do and sprayed another tester on me, something i sprayed on about ten years ago and at the time thought i LOVE this. Well it turns out i still LOVE this scent. Unfortunately, i have to buy it. It's still on my jumper and i have been sniffing it like crazy. My birthday is not that far away but i don't think i can wait. i don't really do things like this, i have blogged about scents before and i am a scent person but i don't buy things just because i lovee them, prior to my big lottery win coming up by 2050 surely?

They sell you all sorts of crap on tv and i would say even the picture for this perfume that i "have to have" in case you missed it on the pic it's Opium Yves Saint Laurent.. is a bit far fetched. Having said that, i am buying the perfume..(provided they accept my voucher) & i'll probably start crawling about on carpets afterwards murmuring endearments.

A beautiful quote.

2011-01-09T12:12:00.000-08:00

"Aerodynamically the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly, but the bumblebee doesn't know that so it goes on flying anyway."

Opening yourself up to joy.

2011-01-09T09:20:00.000-08:00

picture taken from the wonderful http://lissamatthews.tumblr.com/

i am very happy that the new season of possibly my favourite show in the world ever is starting tomorrow. GLEE. i have been teased with previews, gossip & celebrity cameos since last November and now the time has come for me to catch up with my American friends. i am super, super excited over the fact Kurt gets to go to a new school especially after the drama he is to go through the start of this season. Get this..he gets to go a school that has a zero tolerance policy towards bullying which if it turns out to be true and different to all schools which claim they have such a policy, then i will literally have tears in my eyes because it will be like watching a dream come true. GO KURT!

i was sent an email by Smashwords press who asked me as a customer to review Kitty Thomas' Guilty Pleasures. i have posted the review on their site as well as Amazon. "Guilty Pleasures is a book that i love because of the love story. It's about a husband and wife who have reached a stage in their marriage where their sex life is very unfullfilling, almost non existent. However, sparks still fly between Vivian and her husband, the issue is that they fly in what society would call very politically incorrect situations. Vivian goes through therapy and an education, we read about Dominants plural, submissives, parts of the BDSM scene as well as taboos and parts of BDSM which i will come to in a minute. There is much about role play in mainstream sex, go to a shop and buy a nurse's outfit but what about fullfillment of "fetishes?" What about actual Domination? Where a woman, a girl as termed in BDSM, is disciplined and sometimes punished with a cane, a whip and a hand..what if she enjoys it all and what if she orgasms after she is forced to? Kitty Thomas' books are about fullfillment of sexuality and sexuality can't be acted or lied about. i enjoyed her first book Comfort Food and Guilty Pleasures is no less of a book. i found a lot of strength in Guilty Pleasures, in all the characters and most lovingly in Vivian's husband. Some people talk about twists but for me it really does come down to that cliche, that it's all about the journey. It's the fact that someone won't give up, they choose not to very clearly, their endurance, strength of character and love, that is the reason i will keep coming back to this book. Also, Vivian is a decent character, there's a situation where another woman stares her down and Vivian stands up for herself with diplomacy, quickness and intelligence, it's heroines like this, it doesn't matter if they are BBW, trophy wives, whatever appearance the author chooses to give them, that make me root for them. i look forward to Kitty's next book, she is a wonderful author."

Improvements and infidelity.

2011-01-07T10:30:00.000-08:00

Pride and prejudice.

i like having rules. i was thinking about comfort food, this time food and not the book by Kitty Thomas (reference!) and come to think of it i do comfort eat. Not in quantity but the types of food and when i comfort eat, it's wotsits and i'm sorry to on the odd occasion, macdonalds. i decided no more snacks for me. No chips when i have a sandwich outside. And no "treating" myself to a macdonalds once a while because it's not much of a treat for your body. Sure, it's not going to kill you unless you eat it every day in which case i can imagine the damage from something not nutritious at all, but that's it, it's not nurititious, i have no need for this food. It's fast, i always have the same thing so i don't need to decide what i want, i love the taste and it fills me up but i like having my stomach rumble, it improves the taste of the evening meal!

At the moment, i am having to meet someone half way with regards to food, for example there's a lot of microwaveable popcorn but i can't be finishing it off just because it's been bought in quantity for a bargain. i'm serious, this is actually an almost situation! Which means it will be wasted but i am consciously treating my body this year and my face. i intend to have night care regime (if you please) for mosturising, all of one minute,!, i intend to put foot cream even daily even though my feet aren't in sandals and i intend to eat nutritious food.

i also want to make my wardrobe more luxurious, and mine is affordable, i'm more Warehouse than Reiss, my clothes are all about the skirts, dresses, relaxed but fitted and flattering, not layering, just simple with a few eye catching items.

It is VERY difficult shopping for skirts. Dresses are far easier but i intend to utilise the tops that can go with skirts, why should i buy a black dress when i have a black top and a black skirt?

i like to have some sort of set coat for the season but i don't like restricting myself to a uniform although i can see that happening due to limitations in what is available out there after the manic sales that are over and the fact that i'm petite, skirts are too big around my middle and seem to take a size 6-12 depending on the brand!

i'm also stepping up on my heels, no more mid heels. i am looking for some black high stilletos that are sexy. i want to be as feminine as i can be, because inside i know i am and i've never really thought about my clothes or shoes portraying that but i can really appreciate high heels now, i love just looking at them in shops and i love the feel of stockings.

There also comes a time when you have to say bye to lingerie that's faded or the fact you have a few too many high legs. No one but my Master sees me in my lingerie but i want to wear sets, nice colours ALL the time. Set myself a standard. So, rules they are important to me. It's not about keeping up appearances, it's about keeping, well as trite as it sounds, me.

i was reading a bit about infidelity. It's funny, i'm sure last year after Christmas suddenly articles about the topic started appearing on the net. i don't want to say there are too many rules, i think civilisation is important, i don't want to go back to the times of racism and homophobia just because there was less political correctness back then. Infidelity is WAY different to polygamy or polyamoury, infidelity is cheating, it's betrayal, it's not just morally wrong, it is wrong period. When someone commits infidelity, and i like that phrase commits because it implies a crime and to me although it is a crime to a far smaller extent than others, it's a crime, no matter how unhappy this person is, i can not stand this idea of them being "pushed" towards infidelity, i don't believe in that, i think a person SHOULD wait for say the divorce papers to come through, so i have absolutely no tolerance to those who cheat, and the people they cheat with. i'm not talking extreme situations and i certainly wouldn't publicly mock them or show my "disgust" but i lose a lot if not all respect for them and start seeing them a different way.

Next time i see yet another female celeb talking about her weight..

2011-01-06T11:19:00.000-08:00

i'm going to run her over and steal all her money. No, i'm going to say keep your neurosis to yourself. it's different to a regular woman talking about her weight, someone not in the public eye, but when a famous women does it in a magazine, i only want to curse the media.

The thing is it's boring. i'm only entertained if say Jlo grow an extra boob, i'm not particularly bothered about how much she weighs unlike the media with whom the weight of any female celebrity is an over obsession.

i just think it's ridiculous when you find five articles about female celebrities that are to do with weight out of ten in one day.

i don't believe that esteem comes from some actress far away in Hollywood because she will get skinny anyway and then start once again talking about..yes you guessed it, her weight.

All the media do is pit women against each other and put us down. Honestly the last magazine i read was a man's one, at least they are entertaining, none of this Heat -she's fat no she's skinny no SHE is fat and SHE is just so skinny she can't be a real woman -codswallop!

Disappointed in this crap- who is going to take anti bullying seriously?

2011-01-04T12:24:00.000-08:00

Yes i'm one of those "idealistic" people who think all bullying must stop immediately. Why? Because lives are lost- seriously what bigger wake up call do you need? Someone who goes to school and has to put up with taunts, being invisible, stares, laughs in every class is hardly a drama queen when they don't know what else to do but do SOMETHING so the pain stops. Teachers can only do so much and some do little. More support is needed, so that people are encouraged and not just thinking this is some lost cause and people thinking oh bullying has been happening since the dawn of time and my favourite, "that's just the way it is."

i know we have some woman asking people not to bully her son for wearing dresses and she wrote a book about her son the princess,!, i mean come on this goes beyond the issue of conformity and some men wanting to be women into the ridiculous, ridiculous because girls can dress like boys as that involves wearing trousers or suits and not growing a beard and shaving their hair. Wearing a red or pink dress is fine when you're grown up but when you are going to school and actually growing up, surely it's better to be aware of dressing up but not to be put bang in the middle for other children to pick on and expect they should change their mentality and if this kid dressing up is crying because he can't wear a dress, that sounds like tantrums rather than depression to me.

Gone with the wind, esteem & a few tid bits.

2011-01-03T11:38:00.000-08:00

i'm sort of looking forward to watching Gone With The Wind, i feel like i know it as i've been reading a lot about it last few days. i'm disappointed it hasn't been on tv, surely the past holidays would have been an excellent time especially since it's a looong film! The appeal of the movie has been summarised in what i have read- survival. i'm interested in the character Scarlett O Hara, not so much into Rhett Butler. And i love the epic-ness of it, it's not a small movie is it, it's a politically incorrect old school movie with a bodice ripping type poster and from what i read an unhappy romantic ending- Brief Encounter, Ghost World, Ryan's Daughter, ET (i know no romance- they say) i like to see realism in movies and endings and read it in books. i like escapism, sunsets, sweeping staircases, a little fantasy if they want but not endings that have cars flying in the sky.

i'm also curious about the rape..was it force or was it rape? i doubt i would get information from the movie about it so i may have to track down the book.

i watched Love Actually yesterday, i've seen it a few times before and it's probably the worst movie i have seen. Because i know Richard Curtis has done better- Four Weddings was fresh and a little biting whereas LA was inspid and took itself far too seriously. It reminds me a little of a few moments of some European movies- which are far, far better. Does someone have to talk about existentialism and philosophy for me to enjoy a movie? No way! But LA never works for me and i just cringe and laugh at it. It's a different experience than the movie The Others at least it's entertaining whereas The Others was so boring and overrated and i've pretty much seen that movie before.

Anyway, if you're in England, then Seceretary is on Thursday night!

Esteem is something that takes years sometimes, i have learned to stay at my level and not lower it and how important it is to be the adult in a situation. i can only be a better person then these people and not care about their prejudices and problems, i have to come find approval in myself and not them. This has all been helped by my submission to my Master. It has made me stronger and unashamed to be myself. i could have typed this but for the submission part a year ago and it's far from the first time i have blogged about esteem but i feel more empowered than ever..for everytime someone tries to crush me, i get such a powerful thought that more than keeps me going, it makes me happy, it's like i have been stripped and the true me is coming through the fog.

i survived.

2011-01-02T11:01:00.000-08:00

i am so glad and relieved and happy to be back to almost normality, after tomorrow, the only holidays are the weekends! Am i crazy? No, you wouldn't understand.

& randomly, the good thing about x factor is the covers of songs make me want to listen to the original. It's the opposite with Glee but that's a whole other batch of things that go in a batch, kettle of fish etc etc

Some time ago it was Alexandra Burke singing Hallelujah that made me obsessed with Jeff Buckley's version which i just love it's both modern and soulful. This time it's Biffy Clyro's Many of Horror which Matt Cardle form X factor covered as We Collide.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gYXzDctTfk (not Cardle's cover)

And just for good times http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfUYuIVbFg0 (nothing to do with the above)

i'm trying to muster up some excitement over the fact we're in a New Year, i can't because i know sort of what to expect, that's not a bad thing, in theory it's nice to see a clean slate, in practice it's just life isn't it. What a programme like Glee touches on is the many sucky things about life but for it's few moments and times..which you have to treasure and not take for granted.

i also quite like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOCCq0gjvrE. Has anyone seen the trailer for Blue Valentine? (almost said velvet there) it's my movie for 2011, yup even at this early stage.

Like what i assume crack to be like.

2011-01-01T13:24:00.000-08:00

i was watching Mary Poppins for the tenth time (i love everything about the movie, especially "Feed the Birds!") and seriously they could never remake it with the same George Banks. And Mrs Banks. i googled "Mary Poppins sexist" because i thought i would have a good laugh at how these old fashioned characters offend people and my how it's good things have changed. Here's what i got,

"How she destroys the self-esteem of little girls everywhere: "Surely, not Mrs. Banks!" you're thinking. "She was a suffragette. She belongs on the list of The 7 Least Sexist Disney Characters!" And you'd be right about the suffragette bit. In Britain, women with a hankering to vote went to lengths just short of terrorism for that right. Mrs. Banks come home filled with joy and excitement about women chaining themselves to the Prime Minister's carriage, and then leads the household staff in a chorus of Sister Suffragettes, including the unforgettable line, "Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group they're rather stupid."

Unfortunately, as soon as the song ends, her husband comes home, and all that "no longer meek and mild subservients" stuff goes right out the window. She shoves away all the sashes (because she knows "how the cause infuriates Mr. Banks") before the husband waltzes in the door, oblivious to everything except the way she looks.
MRS. BANKS: Dear, it's about the children -!
MR. BANKS: Yes, yes, yes. [Turns around and walks away]
...
MRS. BANKS: They're missing, George!
MR. BANKS: Splendid, splendid.
He goes on to sing that he treats his "subjects ... servants ... children, wife, with a firm but gentle hand. Noblesse oblige." Meanwhile, his wife looks like she is about to cry. Maybe Mrs. Banks isn't the sexist character here. Maybe it's Mr. Banks. At least she attempts to make him acknowledge the sentience of his children. But she's still way too complicit in this thing. Mr. Banks lays heaps of blame on her, and she accepts that everything is her fault and all but apologizes for being a terrible, incompetent person. If her husband straight-up slapped her, she'd probably thank him for teaching her a lesson.

Unfortunate moral: Everything that goes wrong in your marriage is the woman's fault.

What would have made it better: If Winifred Banks stopped being a simpering ninny and told her husband to suck her left one once in a while.
MRS. BANKS: It's about the children, George - !
MR. BANKS: Yes, yes, yes.
MRS. BANKS: DID YOU HEAR WHAT I JUST FUCKING SAID?"

http://lasoubrette.blogspot.com/2009/01/6-most-sexist-disnney-characters.html

Yes i think swearing is an oh so empowering way to make your point to the man who at that time, let's face it, basically is responsible for the roof over your head.

The link above has more sexist Disney characters including the favourites Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Little Mermaid. Snow White being a good cook destroys "the self esteem of little girls everywhere" (i would have thought peer pressure, dictating and bitchiness does that), Sleeping Beauty is passive, Little Mermaid puts her man before her family.

i understand and completely support and believe in a woman's choice which means i also support that some women's choice is her home, looks and love. Women have more choices now and yet they also have to deal with the tut tuts..did she really give up her her job for him? i know women have fought and fought and fought and will still fight for their rights but for me these rights also include freedom and that means actual freedom not just the freedom granted by A section of society, be it men or be it other women. And with regards to men, it shouldn't come as a shock that not all women are forced to stay at home, they may actually want to and they may actually be doing it for a man. Now acknowledging the truth, THAT is empowering to me.

"If her husband straight-up slapped her, she'd probably thank him for teaching her a lesson." Learning fast *laughs*

The truth behind heroine hair.

2010-12-30T11:10:00.000-08:00

i have been growing my hair out for months, it's something i have blogged about before. i'm doing it for my Master and i also would like to feel it touch my shoulders.

The reason i blog about hair is that i am interested in how other women achieve a lot better hair do than i can ever get even with a blow dry, (i let mine dry naturally and then cool dry it with my hair dryer for minimal damage?), a vent brush, a round brush and rollers. After 5 minutes,it goes flat again though it's an improvement to how it looks when it naturally dries apart from the one good hair day i have a month. Literally that's correct! i have very thick hair but that means it weights itself down, it's not volumised and fluffy in the right places thick hair. Darn it.

i have avoided putting any products in my hair as i'm told i definitely don't want to weigh it down more than it naturally is already. And i'm given different information every time i look up keeping hair in good condition or tips to encourage growth.

Hair and nails are two things i can never quite achieve the look i want to achieve with, unless i visit a salon every three times a week. Last time i asked for a tidy up and not a cut, it cost me 15 pounds without a wash or a blow dry, just a dry cutting off split ends. In most places where i live a manicure costs 20 pounds. i want to look good but i'm not willing to pay this much unless it's once a while, i draw the line!

Then there's things like lingerie, clothes and sorting your shoes out when they get scuffed to mention but a few. It takes time, effort, patience, going back and forth and a lot of money to look like a heroine let alone Angelina Jolie not that i want to look like her as i'm me and no one else.

i personally would love to have long thick glossy hair, doesn't matter if it's wavy or Nicole Scherzinger (she's so lucky!) straight not because i want what i don't have but that i have always wanted that.

And long nails..but they chip really easily! They break so i have to keep them short..i have three broken nails and they're short!

So i am far from the heroine in romantic novels and shows and movies and the truth behind heroine hair is a REALLY good trustworthy stylist. As for nails, i guess i should just be happy with good teeth.

MSN has shown a few before and after hair do's, some comments are complaints about women chopping their hair off and that the ladies looked better before. And that they shouldn't interfere with mother nature..well, no one wakes up looking like pic 2

i have posted my own little analysis below. Full steam ahead!

pic 1 Taylor Swift- looks better after!

pic 2 Scarlett Johansson- looks better after which i know men will disagree with, i don't mean that bitterly, i can just imagine them disagreeing. i actually LOVE her new look on her. There's an idea that women love it when other women cut their hair because they're less competition, that idea was made up by pigs. Moving on..

pic 3- i think Rihanna looks sexy with her tall lithe body and a mop of hair on top and that colour is vibrant and daring and her make up brings her natural beauty out more.

pic 4- Drew Barrymore. Looks better before. An example of longer hair length which i think maybe due to hair extensions not suiting everyone. i prefer the soft volume of the before to the lankness of the after.

pic 5 Emma Watson, looks better before. Was she "following the herd" before or after? And who else is tired of that expression?

pic 6 Hayden Panetieere. Looks better before, but after would look cute as an updo.

pic 7 Jessica Stroup. Looks better after.

Sense a theme? A good stylist. They know what suits a woman. Whilst i strongly and firmly believe in looking good for a man, tough if you find that offensive, i also think women should be able to express their femininity differently should they or a man want them to and that no one can accuse Audrey Tatou of not looking as feminine with her short hair as with her long hair.

Suckox.

2010-12-26T10:12:00.000-08:00

S'cuse the title.

I've had a few things that I wanted to blog about and one of them includes botox. I personally find it very very creepy. I find it creepy that people want to look younger, as a woman I'm so used to hearing, well doesn't every woman want to look younger? No! I'm happy to grow older, okay if I had skin dangling down I would consider a procedure but I look my age, I take care of my skin but I don't have that many products and I don't obsess. If someone said have botox I guarantee you'd never get a spot ever again, I have to admit I may then consider it only if I don't look in any way frozen! Not even a little bit, 1 percent frozen! I HATE that. It's robotic, clone like and that's why I findit creepy and actually think it should be banned. It's ordering with a firm loud voice and finger point (YES I'm making the Hitler comparision!) YOU MUST LOOK A CERTAIN WAY.

‘I have a bit of Botox now and then because I’ve developed two frown lines between my eyebrows.’

Oh my God?

"I have had Botox. I was constantly frowning in the sun. I noticed crow’s feet and that’s when I had it. I don’t know a single person who has not had something done.’

Wear sunglasses? And again, what's the problem with crow's feet?

I'd love to see a celeb who hasn't had it done, I never believe those who say they don't, it's so obvious and they tend to say an awful lot whilst they're pictured looking frozen in time.

I think people can do what they want provided it's not harmful and I think robotic and clone like seeking is, "perfection" they're calling it. The procedure, the injection, whatever may not be harmful in itself but the concept is. What's next, botoxed babies? Don't be surprised, it could happen.

The other thing I wanted to blog about was burlesque. I happen to find it quite glamorous and exciting. I'm not one of those people who frown on stripping but strippers themselves have to have a certain look and I don't agree with stuff like Playboy that promotes a clone type of one look whereas burlesque whilst I'm sure the dancers are not averse to tummy tucks and boob lifts and defnitely not fake eye lashes and hair, it seems more fun and yes empowering.

Plus I love the nipple tassle things, it's a playful tease and I personally think stripping can be quite sensual (with all my experience of course- joke, thought I'd better stress the fact I'm making a joke!) but I like the idea of say Dita Von Teese in a glass, it's just playful, cute. Of course it offends people, you can't call it an art! It's just stripping! It's SOOO sexist. But I can see the art in it and I also know that if you have a scantilly clad woman a man will look, it's a fact of life so you can call it whatever you want, it's not going to go away and neither is a woman's sexuality and a woman's sexuality does depend on men. If that's politically incorrect, I say sex was never supposed to be politically correct anyway and it's more fun when that is acknowledged.

Nearly Happy New Year!

Have a peaceful holiday everyone xxx

2010-12-25T02:30:00.000-08:00

Picture taken from http://lissamatthews.tumblr.com/

Scent.

2010-12-21T13:58:00.000-08:00

You've heard of the words, coming home? When I smell certain scents they remind me of a place where I am happy, content, at peace and at home.

When I used to come back from holiday it was mostly really cold and snowing here in England and I remember what we called the utility room in our house which we had to walk through all the time, it had a very specific smell and at the time I used to think, oh great I'm home..but I've always remembered that smell and now I enjoy the memory and I want to be around that smell again just for a minute.

When someone close to me used to come to our house to stay for months, I was always happy and I remember when she opened her handbag, there was a specific smell..she made our house more homely.

Today I was just looking through a wardrobe and I picked up a scarf which reminded me of the smell of my Master. It comforts me, it makes me happy and it excites me. This scent was like Him, it wasn't Him but I'm thankful for it.

Scent is specific. It's unique. Artificial scents whether perfume, sometimes fabric conditioner or anything man made man, when they are mixed in with one's natural scent, the natural scent can't be beaten, you can still smell it.

Maybe scent isn't reliable but it beats visuals and noise for me. It's pure coming home and there's no better feeling than that at all.

When I watched the movie Scent of A Woman, I used to think really he's not thinking about her (any woman's) scent over eyeing up her legs or whatever though with all his "hoo ahing!" he's probably mad enough to be the one person who finds scent so powerful, however it's no lie, a person's scent is as important as their beauty, their scent is part of their beauty and allure.

There's no picture good enough as the feeling I got when I smelled that scarf today. But this picture which I found on http://lissamatthews.tumblr.com/ does sum something up.

And I like this song! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7tiT4BL09g

Christmas number ones, pictures and nine and half weeks.

2010-12-12T15:42:00.000-08:00

It's a pretty nonsensical post even for me because it's a quick one.

I do have views on the Christmas number one song- I would like Katy Perry's Teenage Dream (because they covered it in Glee to huge love from me) to be a contender as it's a fun song and I'd like Christmas to be as fun as possible instead of " a time of reflection." This isn't happening and yeah I know she has a new song out called Fire boobs or whatever and Teen Dream was yonks ago. Something that may be a possibility is Ewan Macgregor's version of Your Song which I much prefer to the Ellie Goulding's version played over and over and over and yes over and over and over again advertising John F. Lewis.

So I watched Nine and A Half Weeks. The cheesy Kim Basinger/smiley Miley Rourke movie and I've been thinking about it. I didn't expect to like it, I'd seen the "food scene" on 100 sexy movie moments lists probably a hundred times- yes I watch those, leave me alone. However, I got to see a man who really in my opinion didn't know what he was doing and was intentionally and unintentionally on a destruct mission to me. There were elements of BDSM but he was not a Dominant. He was not a good Dominant and by good, I mean someone who knows himself-Mickey Rourke's character did not know himself. The ending confirmed that for me. And I liked the ending. I'm still on the fence about Kim B's character being submissive in her sexuality, I don't agree that all women are- or maybe a certain aspect in me doesn't agree, regardless, I think that Rourke could no way dominate her. He could only break her..and break her completely, with no new formation, no metamorphisis. I better sleep soon, I'm talking shit.

The best part of the movie is where he tells her the days are hers but he will look after her during the nights with him, he will feed her, he will brush her hair, I think he picks out her clothing but he doesn't truly own her- it's a shallow ownership and it's a romantic myth that some readers of BDSM and erotica buy into. A handsome man owning you. A sense of being young again. Listen, I want reality. I do not want fantasy. I read books for the insights into character but I don't need the author to make up some movie star look a like falling in love with a) an attractive but misunderstood woman or b) the "frumpy" secretary/librarian. Know what I mean? I don't need the fairytale, I just want to know more about how she feels say having her clothes chosen for her. What's going through her mind. You don't get that in blogs, or in articles, you get that in a story with a plot, thought out personalities, someone drawing back in their own experiences or really imagining and going with their gut on what it would be like to be in a situation.

Another thing I liked about Nine and A Half Weeks was the strain in the friendship between Kim B's character, Elizabeth actually,!, and her best friend, it starts off as stereotypical "hot blonde" (she is gorgeous but enough with attractive and blonde going together like two peas in a pod) and her funny jokemaking best friend. Yuck. Then in one scene I get an insight into the best friend's character. She's at a dinner table and she tried to get someone's attention, wears a sexy dress and then Kim B speaks and all eyes are on her with her hair and dress very very casual and the friend gives up. It's real. It's a truth yet to be universally acknowledged that all "ugly" and by that I mean normal people are as primary without conditions and limitations a character than the more model-y ones.

Nine And A Half Weeks A Memoir Of A Love Affair.

2010-12-06T14:07:00.000-08:00

"Nine and a Half Weeks is a true story so unusual, so passionate, and so extreme in its psychology and sexuality that it will take your breath away.

Elizabeth McNeill was an executive for a large corporation when she began an affair with a man she met casually. Their sexual excitement depended on a pattern of domination and humiliation, and as their relationship progressed they played out ever more dangerous and elaborate variations on that pattern of sadomasochism. By the end, Elizabeth had relinquished all control over her body -- and her mind.

With a cool detachment that makes the experiences and sensations she describes all the more frightening in their intensity, Elizabeth McNeill deftly unfolds her story and invites you into the mesmerizing and dangerous world of Nine and a Half Weeks -- a world you won't soon forget."

http://www.amazon.com/Nine-Half-Weeks-Memoir-Affair/dp/0060746394

Bring it on.

“The worst part was when she’s tied to the table leg while he eats.”

“The worst part was when he makes her crawl around on her hands and knees.”

“The worst part was when she was hanging to the wall.”

“The worst part was when she robs the man at knifepoint.” (Does he make her do this?)

“The worst thing was what it left her with – lasting dissatisfaction with sex which, for her, never again reaches that fever pitch.”

“Amazing that in the whole nine and a half weeks, with all that sex, they only came at the same time once.” (Get real).

“The worst part was when he made her masturbate in front of him.”

“The best bit is when he changes her tampons.”

Quotes are from http://www.646bc.co.uk/html/nine_and_a_half_weeks.html

Like I say, bring it on.

Oh yeah lots of people like Glee, lots of different people like Glee

2010-12-05T10:44:00.000-08:00

There's about 500 pages of Glee in places where you wouldn't expect. I'm awaiting to see Glee on X Factor and I just heard their version of Teenage Dream today. I've made a list of ten Glee videos that I really like, including Teenage Dream which I love.

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/12/glees-version-of-teenage-dream-is.html

Guilty Pleasures by Kitty Thomas.

2010-12-05T08:02:00.001-08:00

As you know I'm the hugest fan of Ms Thomas' Comfort Food, so I want to post the excerpt for her next book which I have taken from her blog http://kittythomas.wordpress.com/

"Vivian Delaney leads a life of privilege, but behind closed doors she feels isolated and trapped in a gilded cage. Unable to achieve sexual pleasure with her husband, she finds herself in the capable hands of Anton, a massage therapist intent on awakening her to her full sexual potential. By any means necessary.

As their secret meetings progress, she falls farther down a rabbit hole where the line between rape and illicit affair grows increasingly blurred. Anton will accept nothing short of her complete surrender as he molds and shapes her to be sold to the highest bidder."

The book will be out soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Kitty has posted a BEAUTIFUL cover http://kittythomas.wordpress.com/2010/12/05/guilty-pleasures-cover-art/

Bondage and books.

2010-12-04T11:33:00.000-08:00

For the cakes, use your imagination x

I have a book recommendation as well. I'm not going to do a review but basically Stripped Bare by Lena Matthews was one of the first books that got to me. Over the years I have discovered authors that are on my must buy list but when I read the excerpt of SB, I remember waiting a month before the book came out and getting very excited on the day of its release, I was there buying it as soon as it came out!

The book is about posession and ownership. Back then BDSM was S and M to me, it was whips and leather and those things in itself didn't excite me but posession and ownership always have.

Another thing that Stripped Bare is about is body acceptance and esteem related to appearance. Missy the heroine is plus size but body acceptance is hardly limited to plus size. It seems a big issue amongst a lot of women even those you think, okay yeah right she can't have issues with that body. And when I read this book, it was passionate about body acceptance.

The book that I bought had a really cute cover, a heroine with glasses, hair pulled back and a lovely smile. The new book cover is sexy but I have to say I miss the old one, it's what drew me to the book but I can imagine the heroine evolving into the woman on the new cover. Or that is her in the bedroom or simply when she is with the hero.

I also had read a different excerpt in which the hero commands the heroine to "come for him" right now in his office...

Anything can happen when jokers are wild.

When visiting an adult bookstore for a bachelor party, Professor Brody Kincaid is shocked to see his former student Missy Haddan working at the counter. He’s had his eyes on Missy since she’d been his student several months ago and has been waiting for the perfect time to approach her. Fate has just slipped her into his path. Her warm personality and full-figured beauty holds him captivated, and he is determined to have her no matter what the cost.

Missy sees all kinds at her job, but never expects to see her former professor. She knows he’s out of her league, but when Brody offers to teach her to play poker, Missy can’t resist the temptation to learn, or her desire for him.

Their simple games goes further then even she could have imagined. When the ante is upped and her heart is on the line, Missy is willing to risk it all on a game of chance, but anything could happen when jokers are wild.

Copyright© 2007 Lena Matthews
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

It wasn’t like her to be so free with her body, not that Brody had given her much say in the matter. He came, he saw, he conquered. Okay, so she came, but he had definitely conquered. She had been such an easy target. He had just swooped down and pounced, and all of her free will had vanished. Not that he’d done anything she hadn’t wanted, it was just that he was so overpowering.

Brody’s sexual prowess far outweighed the meager bump and grind she had experienced in her past. And after Tony, her ex, she was a little gun-shy. Which, mingled with her regular shy personality, left her feeling like an invisible mound of mush. There was no way Brody could ever be interested in her. The cute, great guy only fell for the homely, fat chicks in bad TV movies.

The door swinging open wildly sent the bell into an epileptic seizure. Glancing up, she watched in surprise as Brody strolled into the store. In form-fitting blue jeans and a gray short-sleeved shirt, he appeared as if she conjured him out of her fantasy. Every time she watched him move, she heard hot jazz music playing in the back of her head. As if she was mentally playing a song for him to strip to. The thought of him naked and shaking his moneymaker made her blush from the sheer vision of him.

“I would say a penny for your thoughts, but the way you’re blushing, I’d be willing to pay a hell of a lot more,” he teased, strolling up to her. His stormy blue-gray eyes twinkled in merriment.

Blushing brighter, Missy cringed at his knowing laugh and wished the ground would just open up and swallow her whole. The scent of his cologne drifted up to her and doused her senses with a direct hit of pheromones. The aroma, rich and spicy and with a hint of his own unique scent, soared around her, forcing Missy to grip the feather duster to prevent herself from attacking him and dragging him to the floor.

“You know stalking is illegal in the state of California,” she quipped, once she was able to gather her ability to think.

Grinning, Brody replied, “Well, if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad…”

“Comparing me to a mountain won’t get you far, Muhammad.”

“Sounds to me like someone is trying to call herself fat in a roundabout way.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she denied. “But if I wanted to, I would.”

“I wouldn’t advise it if I were you,” Brody threatened softly. His commanding tone caught her off guard, as did her urge to obey him. Something about his presence stilled her automatic response sensors.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking around the counter. Missy wanted to put as much distance between them as she could.

“I came to see you,” he answered, leaning against the counter. “We have some unfinished business, you and I.”

“Look, this afternoon I wasn’t myself.”

“So who was it that squeezed my fingers like a vise-grip in my office this afternoon?”

Missy’s eyes widened. She flushed, feeling the heat spread up from her breasts to her cheeks. Looking over his shoulder, Missy glanced around to see if any of the few customers who were nearby heard him.

Leaning forward, she whispered hotly, “Don’t talk about that here.”

“I can’t talk about sex in a sex shop?”

“We didn’t have sex and no, you can’t. This is my place of employment.”

“My purpose isn’t to embarrass you, Missy,” he chided softly, “but to try to get to know you better.”

“Know me better?” she questioned in shock. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I beg to differ, little one. I know enough.”

“Because I took your class?”

“No, because I tasted you.” Running his hands over the counter, he brushed the tips of his fingers against the soft flesh of her arm. “I want more than a taste now; I want the whole damn meal.”

Pulling back her arm, she looked at Brody, not quite sure what to say. There was no use trying to act blasé with him. She could no more pull off the seductress act than he could act like a choirboy. Missy was way out of her element, and she knew it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, reaching over the counter for her hand. Pulling it forward, he caressed her palm as if he was trying to calm a skittish mare. “What are you afraid of?”

“You,” she said stiffly. “You’re going run all over me.”

“That’s not my intention.”

“But you’ll do it anyway. I’m not equipped to handle you.”

“What do you mean?” Brody tilted his head and smiled gently at her.

“You’re going to try to turn this into a sex thing.”

“And that would be bad, why?”

“Because look at you and look at me.”

“I am looking, Missy.”

Frustrated, she yanked her hand away and stepped back from the counter. “No, look at me, Brody.”

“I am looking,” he said firmly. “And I like what I see.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“What’s confusing about me wanting to get to know you better?” Brody asked, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“You’re going too fast.”

“I’ll slow down.”

Missy tried to read his intent with a slight frown on her face. He appeared to be sincere, but she couldn’t be sure. She was still waiting for her bullshit meter to start going off. When something appeared to be too good to be true, it was normally because it was.

“Really.” He laughed at her disbelieving stare. “We can start off as friends.”

“Well, I normally don’t let my friends finger me in their offices.”

“Where do you let them finger you?”

“I didn’t mean…” She flushed, feeling foolish and embarrassed. “I don’t let them finger me at all.”

“Damn,” Brody teased. “And here I was looking forward to the benefits of being your friend.”

Jane Eyre. More than a good gothic wood land fuck book. Not that there is anything wrong with those.

2010-12-04T08:23:00.000-08:00

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/12/jane-eyre.html

Proactive.

2010-12-04T04:54:00.001-08:00

I'm not going to post so much now I think, taking a break from writing even more so, maybe just a few odd notes about Owned and Owner and some piccies from the tumblr site I loves.

Today I was reminded of something that I'm passionate about which is anti bullying. From the start, I had too much self respect to think it's okay for someone to have so little. I had to think long and hard before and when I went into BDSM, before and when I became a submissive, about abuse. About BDSM and spanking, whipping, objectification and abuse of a human. And I still maintain that in Owned and Owner she is dehumanised, some would say she is abused but I don't believe she is bullied. So far, maybe I might on a later read. I wonder though about being bullied by someone who isn't just a bully to you, there's more in a relationship of some sort between you. If you have ever seen the movie Dead Poets Society and you think about Neal and his Dad, no doubt his father manipulates him, I would say he bullies him but he does love him. So we can talk about definitions and right and wrong but the fact is I may not jump to conclusions straight away. All I can say is bullying should not happen and we should help those being bullied.

A while ago I posted this, I'm glad I did and I'm happy with what I wrote. I wonder sometimes how I can help? Is all I can do give money because I'm happy to make donations and keep up with progress but I have a passion to actually see someone change, education and knowledge making their intolerance and ignorance break.

How many posts have I read about bullying where the person starts off, I was a weird kid. What are the bullies then? What are people who pick on someone and show no humanity towards them? They're normal? Their behaviour is acceptable? In my opinion, it's these people who are weird. They're not being assertive or proactive by them thinking they are "putting someone in their place" and "acknowledging social status." They're not showing survival of the strongest or fittest.

And if they happen to be popular..whether in school, at work, in a club, that doesn't make them a proactive and good person straight away and if people find them proactive and good, they lose any of those qualities in bullying someone whether it's "just one" person. So they may be great to other people but if they're making someone else's life hard, then they're not great at all.

No more excuses.

No more this is just the way it is.

Bullying doesn't make people stronger. The people who are bullied work their damned hardest to make themselves stronger.

It's not tough love.

It may make for some drama on Glee but in reality, people lose lives and if someone is "only" being kicked a few times or called names, things which are referred to as "minor" it is still bullying. You know when you are just gently teasing someone and you ought to know the difference between that and seeing your actions and or words have caused them harm. Even the most seemingly self confident person.

No one "deserves" to be bullied. It's an ego trip for the bully perhaps and if so it's the weirdest most delusional trip. Being a bully is not a qualification or something to be proud of. "Oh I used to bully the boys at my school." What a magnificent way to assert yourself, making people call you a bitch or afraid of you.

Know what bullying is. It's not standing up for yourself. It's not giving your opinion. It's putting someone down.

No one is perfect. I was called a hyprocrite and the girl who called me that knew what I went through on a daily basis. I was being bullied in 3/5 classes in the day every day, I was also bullied at lunch, teachers didn't know where to look. I didn't deserve the bullying but that doesn't mean I haven't been guilty of saying things about people. The difference and it's a huge difference, is that I didn't make toilet and animal sounds every time that person entered the room, whereas I got those melodic sounds for no reason when I came into the room in every class the bullies were there. I was picked on for every detail and I noticed that whilst the bullies disliked my appearance from the start, they started picking on it after some time and also the voice, the words, it goes on and on, they got everything. To this day I can't make proper eye contact with someone, it's either too much or too little and I can't look around a room without my heart banging in my chest. I never had that problem before being bullied and I got that problem from having every little thing scrutinised by the bullies. It was a hobby for them to torment me, it was like stalking, and torment is something I could never be accused of towards anyone. I'm not justifying my words about people by the way but thinking that I deserve what I got and not knowing when it's become extreme, is something I will never forgive that girl who called me hypocrite for. If I ever meet her in this lifetime, I will treat her the same as those bullies and it's not some revenge act I get delight out of.

& some Snow White fun.

2010-12-01T03:18:00.000-08:00

Because it's snowing and I need cheering up and maybe you all do too x

2010-12-01T02:49:00.000-08:00

"The sight of a bound woman is terrifically, almost unbearably erotic to me, even if only bound in play. It’s been that way ever since I can remember, even before I knew what sex was!"

http://tieduptight.tumblr.com/post/1713614619

I may start writing another story in the future, which I'd like to make into a sort of Man Woman or Boy Girl simple idea, set in the present. I work best when I have clear ideas for characters as opposed to actions, I may combine this story with my unfinished ones like Hogtied and Sold and take away the auction and kidnap part as a starting point. I'll see.

Excerpt,

He never noticed her much before but occasionally saw her glance his way, but she would avert her gaze. During the next few days, he started to look her way and she would never look back, in fact she kept her gaze down. When studying her, he discovered that she had one of the prettiest faces he'd seen and that there was no part of her small body that he wanted to leave free. He wanted to tear her open.

I love this quote a lot.

2010-11-24T15:07:00.001-08:00

"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous." Into The Wild.

Maybe to some it's a romantic idea but I find it curious.

Owned and Owner by Anneke Jacob.

2010-11-24T13:38:00.000-08:00

Now, this book is very simple in its theme actually. The plot is that a woman goes to another planet because she wants to be a slave. She chooses slavery. The thing about this woman on her own planet, is she is isolated and like Maia in As She's Told, also written by Anneke Jacob, who felt her body was not her own, the legs moving like she had to force them, she leaves her family, her sister, and goes into full time 24/7 slavery. But unlike Maia, it's more extreme, she doesn't have contact with her family once a slave, I've not read any contact.

Her Owner, I remember his name clearly it's Garid but I don't remember the woman's name because it's mentioned only very early on in the book and then probably never- (I looked it up again, her name is Etrin) so her Owner is a man who basically wants pure submission and he wants it all the time. He wants to own all the time. He lives on a planet where being attracted to a woman is like being attracted to a man, it's not the norm and women from the other planets, there are no non slave women on his, are objects and would be pets to him and his men. The owned is to be his slave all the time but in such a way that she, his pet woman is living the way he wants also.

The key words are pet woman. I'm reading the book very slowly, I'm not finished with it yet, I intend to read it twice as I want to have some understanding of what I am reading.

The slave, the owned woman is a pet human. She is on a leash, poos like an animal and used as a pony.

The book is a little disturbing, to me, because it is total dehumanisation. She wants to touch his face but she won't and it would seem from later in the book she can't unless he says and she doesn't speak for a long time. She describes reacting and acting like she's in an animal state.

If she does anything wrong, anything that is not as she is told then she is punished and it's punishment she won't forget. However I don't actually find that disturbing despite the fact it makes me wince because of the pain element. The Owner -and the other men who punish her and the other pet humans that are in the book, know what they are doing in terms of the physical and they seem to have a grasp on the pets' mentally. With regards to HER mentally, we as a reader get to read her thoughts, I get that she needs the punishment they give and to me, it is fair. With regards to other pet humans, we get their Owners telling us about them a little.

The author has mentioned about Garid, making him more open in her revised copy of this book. I'd like to read that but I'm happy with the Garid in the book. You see, he gets what he wants and Etrin has got what she wants and what she needs. Yes, some of it is conditioning, I mean in the sense how could she possibly know that she needs such and such exactly when she hasn't experienced it, she's fantasised about it sure, but conditioning is a part of BDSM and there is a line between conditioning and brain washing. Abuse where it is beat, beat beat, I'll slap you if you move, cruelty. Owned and Owner is not about that. It's about doing EXACTLY as you are told to be owned. If you don't do as you're told, you will be punished. This is ONE dynamic, not the general rule for ownership, Master slave, Dom sub, BDSM.

Like I say the theme of the book is very simple.

Something that I have been thinking about, relating it to myself is the power being totally on the Owner's end. There is a power transfer, the owned is giving Him all the power over her but there's less digging into her psyche here compared to other books and movies. Garid does ask Etrin a few questions but it's straight up action from the start. He may already know enough but there is little if no conversation between them especially later on. Now, that's of course because she becomes his pet human and that's the deal that is to happen and it's about submission through actions but He expects those actions and I suppose when his pet human is left to sleep in her cage or on the floor, that's when she is given time to think about her actions, emotions, thoughts.

And there is the orgasm control. She doesn't get to orgasm very often which could be seen as cruelty, neglect, I don't think it's those but I think it's about control and dehumanisation. She is a pet woman, his pet woman, she is not a woman anymore. Her orgams are his totally, they are not hers. Like I say she doesn't get to orgasm very often but if she had it her way, she is aroused and in touch with her sexuality enough and without control enough to orgasm very often.

The book is really about a pet human's discipline and life. And to me it's unfair to say "what life." It's not a life we all desire or agree with but I feel strongly about the each to their own philosophy when it comes to this. It's not a book that you are going to think oh that's nice, it will provoke a strong reaction. I think the author wrote a story and that's just what this is. Of course there is pony girl training but Owned and Owner will be a story for me and something to remind me just how lucky I am to have found a Dominant that matches the submissive that I am.

Owned and Owner is about two people, different to my life and situation, finding each other. The book is also escapism although I am someone who is reading it to understand more about BDSM. Not about my BDSM but themes in this book.

As She's Told, the author's previous book is such a strong book and Owned and Owner has similar themes of pet, no games, 24/7 but it's a different type of book.

I will do another post on this later once I've read the book again and I'll be blabbering on about sharing of the pet women with other men.

It's like Oprah meets Deepthroat on here isn't it.

2010-11-21T13:49:00.000-08:00

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/11/kelly-osbourne-on-piers-morgan-weight.html

Two excerpts, a blurb & some pics from Pink Flamingo Publications.

2010-11-21T10:29:00.000-08:00

"Eden cannot contain her unquenchable desire and her need to submit... even when its to a man she despises, the Master she's trying desperately to leave.

Jacob stared in the window at Eden Rose from the patio outside her back door. Her apartment was easily accessible from the street, up the fire escape.

Midnight, Eden was at the piano playing music, looking melancholy. A bottle of scotch sat on the edge of the baby grand, a shot glass beside it. One hand played a melody while the other held her head in her hand. She hummed as she played, words beginning to trip through her brain, but not yet put on paper. She was strangely methodical in her manner of writing music, though it was a method only she understood. It didn’t matter that anyone else did, only that she was getting attention in the music world for what inspired her.

When Jacob slipped into the room through the unlocked door, Eden was so immersed in her work that she didn’t hear the silent footfalls of his approach. Not until he was at her back and she jumped feeling his hands clutching her shoulders did she realize the intruder was there.

“Jacob, no!” she shrieked, but then his hand was over her mouth. She tried to bite his fingers, but he slapped her face and then clamped his hand back over her lips with a bone-crushing tightness.

“Don’t say a word,” he whispered. “Not one word.” To ensure her obedience, he pulled a ball-gag from his pocket and opening her mouth with his fingers pressed it inside. The strap was fixed behind her head. She was at his mercy.

He extinguished the single lamp in the room as he dragged her from the piano bench, her arms flailing as she tried to pull away. But with his large hands and strong grip, the fight was useless. Stripping her of her robe, it was easy work to have her wrists bound behind her. Jacob knew where to find the leather straps and harness, the playthings that would raise her body heat. Pushing her toward her bedroom, he chuckled knowing he had her won. She wasn’t resisting at all. Eden was so easy.

“You think you can get away from me, bitch,” he chortled in her ear as he undid the wrist cuffs from behind and then fastened them to the rod swinging over head. “You are so naïve and foolish.”

He slapped her ass with his hand, then buckled the collar around her neck tightly so she could feel the constriction in her throat. She had to gasp for air.

“Relax, slut, you’ve got a long and welcome night. That Femdom uptown doesn’t hold a candle to me. Why she didn’t even leave marks.”

Eden was sinking into him, intoxicated by words. Dizzy from the constraints, she let the surging in her abdomen turn erotic, her hips undulating against his hand.

“That’s it,” he purred. Pressing his palm over her pubis, he held it tightly in his fist and pulled down. She squirmed and cried with the shot of pain. Fingers in her vagina teased the syrupy concoction of sweat and juice.

A clamp came down on one nipple and the pain sparked. She jerked and he slapped her face. A second clamp on the second nipple, more pain, another jerk and slap. Preordained, ritualized, but yes, very welcome. She didn’t want to tolerate the abuse but the jolts were too severe for her sex to ignore. The wild rush was as sweet as words of love, and she let her head fall back as he began with the whip and crop, one in each hand. She was traveling light-years in seconds, joyriding through a wave of delicious heat and pain. It was exhilarating pain turning her insides out as he turned her outsides into raw, scorched flesh.

The multi-taloned leather whip flailed on her breasts and belly, sensation streaming like ocean swells crashing as breakers on hard sand. The crop cut. He was erratic and sporadic, mocking her as he stalked her quivering body, going eye to eye with her so she could see the vile expression of triumph on his face. The laughter, the scorn, the jubilance of his sadistic mien shot right through her. When she closed her eyes, he slapped her face.

“Don’t do that again. You’ll see me, bitch, and remember who I am. How I’m the champion of your greatest cause—this perpetual sex machine. He gripped her cunt and shook it hard, then fixed a clamp over her clit so she screamed a muffled scream into the gag.

From behind, he let the whip fly fast and hard, not a second between the strikes. On her back, then to her ass, so they were heated and hot. Then the crop again, that horrifying one with the thin end and the little tied tail that bit viciously into roughed-up skin. She’d feel a trickle of blood down her thigh before he finished. A terrifying reason to rejoice.

She was losing it by the time he burnished her thighs and lay into that tenderness creating another horror. Her mind simply vanished and there was nothing but pain, and then nothingness, and then nothing at all … she’d disappeared without a trace … gone … flown away and lost forever.

Eden came back to the room with the feel of Jacob’s hand between her thighs, his fingers pressing her to climax … a long mellow jolt and sensation afterward … softly swooping here and there.

“I’m so good to you, darling Eden. You treat me like shit trying to fend me off. You suppose you’re going to tell your attorney about this little caper? About how easily you give in to me? You going to try and change your name again? Try to hide, maybe? If I didn’t think you were so scrumptious for my own needs, I’d find you pathetic.”

He was undoing her from the bar overhead, but he left her hands manacled together at the wrists. Removing the gag, he pushed her to the floor and pressed her head against the wood with the heel of his boot.

“You look good like that, whore, don’t you?”

She didn’t reply.

“Don’t you?” he pressed harder, angrily.

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

“And you’re mine, isn’t that so?”

“Forever and always, sir,” she replied without thinking.

“I will always own you,” he swore.

She did not reply.

“I WILL ALWAYS OWN YOU!” He let the crop rip against her upturned bruised butt, the narrow end landing in her ass crack.

“Ah, nooooo!”

“Say it bitch!”

“You’ll always own me, sir,” she spit out loud and clear.

“That’s better. Now suck my dick.”

He helped her to her knees, and pulled her toward a chair where he sat back and she remained between his open thighs. Her hands couldn’t play with him easily, but her lips could and they covered the erect stalk. With his hand at the back of her head, he pressed her down on the organ and fucked her mouth. It made her gag, but he made her relax. Opening wide for him, her lips and tongue worked hard bringing him off. Pulling her head back, he shot on her face, on lips and hair and down her chin. The smile on his lips was reminiscent of times before when he was ecstatically jubilant mastering her.

“You fire Adam Cady tomorrow,” he said looking down at her. “Tell him it was a mistake. Don’t tell him you belong to me, just tell him you patched things up. That you love me and that you always will. You understand that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go to bed.”

“What about the collar and cuffs?” she asked.

“Wear them to bed. Be glad I don’t chain you to the headboard all night.” He threw her a key to the cuffs. “In case I’m not back to let you go,” he chortled.

Jacob picked her up as he rose from the chair and gave her a mean swat on the behind as she padded off toward the bedroom.

“You won’t spend the night?” she asked him peeking out.

“No, I won’t spend the night. You don’t deserve me.” He was about to leave. “But you will. You’ll be moving into the brownstone with me for a little corrective training. So I can get you back to being the gentle submissive who’s never heard the word rebellion.”

“I want to stay here, Jacob,” she pleaded with him.

“But you won’t. I think I already have someone that will sublease the place. He stared around at her beloved walls. “You did a nice job fixing it up. Too bad you couldn’t behave yourself. Still, some of these things should bring a decent price.”

“You’re going to sell it all?”

“Yes. Like I did before. You’re not going to need it for a long time. And I can’t be bothered with your ballast.”

Melanie remembered her Aunt Daisy serving tea to her garden club, in the once elegant backyard. In her memories, she remembered her Aunt as an older woman, well past the youthful romantic she liked to imagine—the young woman that used to wear the flowing flowered dresses that were packed in her trunks.

Leaning forward in the chair, Melanie pulled her favorite trunk closer to her, and jiggled the familiar latch until it at last gave way. Opening the creaky lid, she gazed admiringly at the dresses inside. Melanie was about to pull out her favorite, when she noticed that the inner lid looked strangely cockeyed. Tapping on the upholstered piece of wood with her hand, she tried to push it back into place; but instead, it suddenly gave way, spilling the contents of a secret compartment onto the dresses below. Melanie’s eyes widened as she discovered a packet of letters and a book. They appeared to her like buried treasure, suddenly unearthed from a different time. The letters had been written on some fine tissue paper stationery, and now tied with a faded blue ribbon, she thought them too fragile to touch, let alone open. The book, on the other hand, was bound with a leather cover, and appeared in good condition. While the inside had yellowed some at the edges, and the paper crackled softly when she turned the pges; it seemed resilient enough to withstand some inspection.

Opening to the first page Melanie read:

Daisy Markham—1939

The words were neatly printed with a fountain pen. A quick look revealed that this was a diary filled beginning to end with Aunt Daisy’s flowing penmanship. From the center of the book dropped a photograph, a black and white on hard cardboard backing, with two young faces staring back at Melanie like ghosts. Melanie recognized Aunt Daisy’s soft blonde curls, neatly tied back with a ribbon. Behind her was a young dashing man with dark eyes and curly black hair, his arms wrapped around her then svelte female frame.

Aunt Daisy’s sailor, Melanie immediately thought, seeing the neat uniform the young man wore. Melanie had heard of her Aunt’s beau, only in whispers and half phrases, the man who’d claimed her heart, and whose mysterious disappearance had haunted her family history for years thereafter. Melanie had only known that her Aunt’s beau had been a sailor; and though she’d gone on to marry another man, she’d secretly pined for the sailor until the day of her death. Melanie often imagined Aunt Daisy thinking of him, when in later years, she found her Aunt gazing off into no where with a winsome smile on her face.

Cautiously turning back to the front page of the diary, Melanie’s hands were actually trembling, thinking of what Aunt Daisy might reveal about her life before Uncle John. Perhaps this book would explain what was behind the hushed gossip about her scandalous past. Melanie felt a little guilty reading the personal words, but then who could it possibly hurt with Aunt Daisy, Uncle John and no doubt the young sailor, long dead.

Excited about what she might discover, Melanie began to read.

I hesitate to even write these things, but I am compelled to do something with the private thoughts I have, especially those I hold of my dear Joseph.

“Ah yes!” Melanie exclaimed aloud. The sailor’s name was Joseph!

How strangely different our friendship is from anything I’ve ever known, or even heard of. Even the magazines I get from the East Coast do not tell of such things, but when I think of the bliss I have with Joey, I cannot imagine life to be any other way. He’s able to make claims on me in ways I never believed possible. Not that I’m such an experienced woman, I am older than so many friends who rushed off to marry after high school. Those high school boys were so silly, with their anxious eyes and easy grins. Oh yes! Some made me blush, especially Victor Hodges, but he’ll never be anything but a farm-boy. I can’t imagine dusting off farm dirt from my shoes all my life!

Joseph is different than all of them, so calm and reasoned. He makes me feel like a woman, like a real woman, not a giddy school girl from a small town—which I fear is exactly what I am. He makes me shiver so when I’m with him.

That first dance, he was the only man I could even look at. He stared at me from across the room. I was laughing so hard at Gracie’s joke, when his eyes caught mine. He made me stop laughing with just that once glance. His broad shoulders, that curly dark hair and his olive skin. It’s because he’s Italian. I’ve never known an Italian man before. He says his parents were born in Italy, that’s so romantic in itself. He’ll take me there some day to ride on the gondolas in Venice. I think of him like a movie star, that’s how different he is from the other boys I know. He’s so worldly, coming from New York; to me that’s like coming from a foreign country.

I felt so foolish when I fell down in my fit of laughter. I really just stumbled over Gracie; but then Joseph was there offering me his hand, as I looked up at him through my giggles. He was so serious, almost like I was a naughty girl having done something terribly wrong.

But then he smiled at me, and I thought the whole wide world was opening. Joseph is always like that, one moment almost threatening, the next surrounding me in his broad arms and smiles. It makes me blush to say how I feel when he holds me. There’s a knot in my stomach, and a sensation that seems very carnal.

But I’m digressing to avoid why I’m really writing. I know I have to tell someone and these blank pages are the only listener I have. It’s such a strange story, I still don’t know what to make of it. I thought that writing it down this way would help me make sense out of this tale.

I suppose this came about with Joseph, because I’m so often stubborn and pigheaded. And of course, I have such a temper, it’s often gotten me in trouble. Daddy’s always said, I would be one miserable handful to any man that would have me.

Anyway, it all started yesterday when Joseph picked me up at the dress shop at 5:00, as he always does. My day had been a hectic one, and I was already out of sorts; though I didn’t realize how much so, until Joseph told me that we were going to his Uncle Zito’s house before we had dinner.

“Oh, please, no,” I whined at him. I couldn’t bear the thought of an evening in that smelly old apartment, with Uncle Zito and his pipe, and his loud voice blaring some stupid thing in my ear.

“Daisy?” Joseph looked at me surprised. I’d never countered him on anything, I’ve never had reason to.

“I don’t want to see your Uncle Zito,” I said, trying not to sound too angry with him.

“Oh? Why not?” he asked.

“I’m just so tired, couldn’t we just have dinner?”

“It won’t take but a minute,” Joseph said, and taking me by the hand we walked in silence the three blocks to his uncle’s apartment.

By the time the “minute” turned into an hour I was fuming. As we were out the door and on the way to the restaurant, I heard Joseph whisper something about not being such a whining brat.

“I am not!” I said, indignantly.

“Oh?” he said, looking at me with one fixed eye. Sometimes Daisy Markham, you act more like a twelve year old than a grown woman.”

Melanie shivered reading those words, as they reminded her of Tony’s accusations about her.

Joseph led me to a small diner just down the street, while I smoldered in my incensed state the whole way. In the restaurant I refused to talk to him, and that only made him look at me all the more irritated.

“Would you settle down, so we can enjoy our dinner,” Joseph said.

“What do you mean settle down, I’m just fine.” There was a very deliberate snarl in my voice. Sometimes I’m so foolish, the little things that bother me end up being so small.

Joseph looked at me as if he didn’t know what to say, he was appalled that I was acting this way with him. Usually my childish moods vanish in a few minutes, but this one was lingering on dangerously.

“Would you please talk to me?” he finally said, when my bristling silence had bothered him enough.

“If you don’t like the way I am,” I said, “then I’ll leave.” I grabbed my purse and started toward the door.

“Oh no you don’t!” Joseph said, pulling me back. “We just ordered dinner. You’re not going anywhere.”

“You think you can treat me like a child,” I said. I was very angry, and my raised voice was beginning to draw attention to our argument.

Joseph flashed those dark eyes at me, and I should have realized how upset he was then, but I HAD to stamp my foot, and pull away from him. I walked out leaving him with two uneaten dinners to pay for. I can see now why he was so upset. Then, I thought I was perfectly justified in my attitude.

When Joseph caught up with me, he grabbed my hand and held it tightly, so there was no way I would get away. He didn’t say a single word, all the way home, but when we got to my bungalow his next measures stopped me cold.

Following me into the house, he stood for some seconds in the midst of the living room.

“Do you have a hairbrush, Daisy?” he asked. His question took me completely by surprise.

I told him yes. Of course I have a hairbrush.

“Go get it,” he said. The tone of voice was so demanding, but I was still too naive to realize what he planned to do with it. I ran off to my room and retrieved my hairbrush, thinking that Joseph simply wanted to brush his hair. But when I handed the black lacquer brush to him, he took it in his hand and walked toward the dining room where he pulled out one of the dining room chairs.

“Come here,” he ordered me.

I was flustered, as it dawned on me what he had in mind. I felt just like a little kid again, as well I should, the way I was acting.

Joseph didn’t wait for me to respond, but closed the several steps between us and pulled me by the arm toward the dining room chair. I’m sure I shrieked out loud, but I remember now so little of what happened. I do remember that Joseph was more serious than I’d ever seen him.

“You behave like a brat with me, I’ll treat you like one,” he said.

I was trembling all over; but it was so strange, I didn’t have the courage to offer a protest. I was simply stunned. No one, not even my father has ever stood up to me this way. I still don’t know what to make of it.

“What are you going to do,” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

“Spank you,” he said quite calmly. His cold strength was so compelling I couldn’t do anything but submit, as he sat down and pulled me over his lap. He immediately administered several hearty smacks across my rear end, the hairbrush giving quite a good sharp smack.

I was so shocked, I didn’t utter a word until the second half dozen smacks. Then with my wits about me, I began to wail like the dickens, kicking and screaming with all my might.

“Joseph, you have to stop this!” I cried.

“I certainly do not!” he insisted. He let that brush land harder still.

“Stop it now!” I tried again.

“Hush!” he blared at me, as he continued to lay the horrible thing on my bottom.

I quieted at least for a moment, though I continued to try wiggling away from him. That only made Joseph spank me harder. And with his free arm clamping itself about my waist, my furious struggles were all the more pointless.

The brush came down with such fury that I thought he’d never stop. Before long, my bottom seemed to burn, each new smack just adding to the ever growing warmth in my rear. I was so humiliated, I was no doubt blushing, though neither of us would know that right then, since my face was nearly on the floor.

I couldn’t believe how much this hurt. I imagined my poor bottom glowing rosy red under my skirt.

“Joseph, please,” I wailed, very loudly.

“If you don’t be quiet my love, I’ll pull up your skirt and get a little closer to your bare skin!” he informed me.

That quieted me altogether, I couldn’t imagine anything more horrible, or more improper; though I have to admit that there was a certain fascination with the possibility.

The hairbrush continued with an amazing steadiness, until I thought I could stand no more. And just as I was about to squeal loudly again, Joseph stopped.

“Now,” he said, as he pushed me back to my feet. I was about to run bawling to my bedroom, but his voice leapt out at me and hauled me back.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” he said, very sternly.

I shrank back, embarrassed to let him see my tears and my red nose, rubbing my poor wounded rear. It still felt mighty sore, though the burn was beginning to subside, leaving me with the most lovely warm feeling on my punished rear cheeks.

“Don’t you ever pull a silly stunt like that again. Do you understand?”

“Stunt?” I questioned him foolishly.

“Making a scene in the restaurant, and walking out on dinner,” he reminded me. “You’re much too old to act like that.”

He was completely right, I know, but there was just enough defiance left in me to scowl at him nastily.

“I’d better get an apology Daisy, or I’ll start again.” He waved the hairbrush in his hand. I knew he wasn’t kidding.

“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “You were right.” I believed every word I said, and I hoped he heard the sincerity in my voice. I guess I was still so stunned by the whole thing, that I couldn’t believe it had happened. Even today, I still don’t know exactly what to make of the amazing incident, or my dear Joseph, but strange as it seems, it’s only made me love him all the more.

After my apology, Joseph came to me and put his arms about me and held me. I didn’t say a word, and neither did he. Explanations were unnecessary, as if the treatment was normal and perfectly appropriate for a courtship like ours.

When he finally spoke, he was as loving and tender as he’d always been. All the horrible irritation and anger had vanished, and I could only remember the sweet things about our time together.

I cooked him scrambled eggs and potatoes, and he said it was the best meal he’d ever had. I don’t know if he was telling the truth or not, but it didn’t seem like honesty was quite as important right then, as the quality of affection we had for each other. And mine, as bizarre as it may seem, has risen by leaps and bounds, in this short time.

The Milk Bitch Trilogy by Frances Gaines Bennett

During lunch at a DC power restaurant, the striking brunette journalist Gina can't take her eyes off a ruggedly handsome man on the other side of the dining room. An advance on him is rebuffed by the maitre'd, but that doesn't stop Gina from trading a night of sex with the restaurant owner for information on her mystery man. Before that night is over Gina will be drugged and later wake up in a warehouse, where sees shocking scenes of young women being examined, sold, crated and wheeled away. She listens in horror as her mystery man, Ward, and a powerful Sheikh make a deal that will turn Gina into Ward's property.

Though Gina finally lands safely back at home, her world has been upended...even her sister and good friend are in the clutches of this slave trade... and some of the powerful in Washington are in on this shocking commerce in women. Gina is now at Ward's beck and call as he tortures, ass rapes and humiliatingly degrades her in acts that bring her to intensely powerful orgasms.

She'll be subjected to a systematic program of sexual breeding and forced lactation. In a diabolical research lab, under the direction of Dr. Roland, her breasts are ballooned to an extraordinary degree, an activity that becomes highly orgasmic for the slavishly submitting Gina. To perfect the alternations, she's left at the doctor's farm where she and the other girls are kept in stalls like cattle. Once Gina returns to DC, her bulbous milk-filled breasts become the object of much attention. She's routinely milked and fed special diets that will alter her milk in order to please the men to whom she's given. Her transformation from DC journalist to Ward's Milk Bitch is now complete.

More brutal subjugation follows, as Gina's story continues in Milk Bitch Lost. She's taken to the Sheikh's home where Ward shows off her special milking talents and arranges to transform other females who will serve the Sheikh in the same manner. While there, Gina is kidnapped by Amani, a powerful priest with mystical powers, and a complicated plot must be devised to save her. Finally in book three, Milk Bitch Pawn, Gina is back in the US where she's again forced into more dehumanizing scenes of abject submission, and becomes a integral part of her 'Daddy' Ward's scheme to blackmail a former US Vice President and his son.

The stories of Gina and her fellow milk bitch slaves are told in a beautifully written masterpiece of S&M perversion, with graphic depictions woven though suspenseful plots that will keep readers turning pages until the very end. While content centers on sexual submission and lactation, also included are body modification, suspension and Shibari bondage, stringent corsetting, slave autions, pain, punishment, whipping, pony girls, piercing, piss drinking and slave auctions.

Today when I miss someone, I find this helps.

2010-11-21T03:57:00.000-08:00

"There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

"A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked."

For me, its about looking at the bigger picture. It's easy for me to think in one way. Oh I have to wait till this happens in the day before I can do that otherwise if this doesn't happen it has no purpose and shouldn't be allowed to start. The fact is, that's true but I'm not going to look at the day as some kind of chore when I should be enjoying things that happen in it and not overlooking them. Not enjoying them nearly as much as enjoying the thingS that I miss because of the person that I miss.

I understand that I am very lucky to have this person in my life and I have to remember that. It didn't just happen to me today, it wasn't an onset of emotions, it was ongoing since yesterday. I won't post more than this or less, just thought I would articulate something that means a lot onto a space where it's about saying what's on your mind.

Favourite Things blah.

2010-11-21T03:25:00.001-08:00

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/11/ugh-oprah.html

If someone could pay me for each post, I'd buy myself a hot tub

2010-11-20T13:39:00.001-08:00

to save myself from boredom. It's not even ten yet. I have done everything and more in the last few hours. I am tired but refuse to sleep early on a Saturday night. It's !!Saturday!! night and I'm thinking about watching fucking Love Story on youtube.

Anyway I always have an opinion about something or other and of course I have one on the very trivial People's Sexiest Man Alive. Whenever I think of that title I'm reminded of a Mills and Boon romance with a really cheesy smiling guy on the cover holding a rose and looking slimy. However, I did enjoy that book in particular when he shacked up with his plain Jane seceretary, you have to hand it to Mills and Boon for subtlety and then he says to her if she ever leaves him again, he'll spank her. Oh I would have loved to have read Sexiest Man Alive 2; Secretary gets spanked (that's what it was called..) where she's giving him a blow job, he's fully clothed, she's very naked, and he writes something important and she has her mouth full of boss man's cock.

I need something to calm me down here, oh yeah..

Ryan Reynolds? He's the Sexiest Man Alive? Doesn't he shave his chest? No, kidding he has some hair there -I think -I can't even be bothered to look properly but he sort of looks as though he may shave his chesticles or have considered it at one point whilst fluffing his boyish hair. Look, honestly I have no beef with him, I don't know him, I liked the trailer for The Proposal, I could watch it again, but he (looks as though he would )shave his chest.

I know he has abs but he (looks as though he would) shave his chest.

Which brings me onto Zac Efron. He reminds me a little facially of Leonard Whiting from Romeo and Juliet, a good looking man for sure. The thing is his face is almost beautiful and even though he was in High School Musical, I actually think he could be quite raunchy, not that Ryan -shave chest today grow hair out tomorrow- Reynolds (see how bored I am!!)couldn't be a beast in bed too, but like Efron, he's unthreatening despite the level of body fitness going on there. Well maybe these two are threatening to men but nothing about them when I wasn't submitting to my Dominant made me go oh hello.

Then there's the classic man who doesn't shower. I remember when I had a sad little mini crush on Ethan Hawke but one of the things that turned me off about him was that Troy Dyer look. Troy Dyer had grease in his hair. He wanted to look dirty or was just dirty anyway but that didn't make him manly to me, it just made him someone trying to relive his teenage years. Whilst being a pouty little bitch about "Lainey" and oh yeah, like, the whole world.

And so whilst Johnny Depp is a wonderful actor and a witty man, I couldn't ever muster up excitement over wanting to kiss him because I always thought I might leftovers from a cigarette in my mouth.

And this Chris Pine? Really?

Someone posted about how they think these men are effeminate and non threatening and I remember the hype over Leonardo Di Caprio who has an angelic type of face, a bit of Bottecilli going on there, but he is someone who in his teen heart throb werewolf prime would be described as effeminate and unthreatening. What are womens or girls fascination with men who resemble women a bit? I never understood that although having said that I appreciate nice lips, (probably because I know they're going to be fun to kiss) and my Dominant has those.

I know People and to be honest all magazines are full of promotion. Ryan Reynolds has a new movie coming out, already out probably and Brad Pitt is a family man now with no sudden movie, Johnny Depp has The Tourist with Madame Jolie so it's all what's hot, what's not. I was reading something interesting about the Marie Claire article a woman wrote, she hates fat people so much to which most women I included replied what a bitch, and an author made a very interesting point that it's just about promotion. It's going to get a reaction and everytime, Marie Claire in this case is being promoted.

Odd things.

2010-11-20T09:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I just want to shake things up a little. I have a thing about writing something that touches upon something that is very touching and in my dreams soul searing. Whatever. So, I have an odd habit I'd like to share.

You know in Silence of the Lambs, when that Hannibal Lecter character, no no it's not what you think, is listening to classical music whilst eating a dead person's body or some stuff like that, I like to listen to music like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CjbxW0ljtE whilst reading a book like American Psycho. (I say reading, you say googling excerpts from books). And it's not to make it more palatable, the music or the book, it's probably because of the contrasts between the two but mostly I reckon it's really because I enjoy both. I think these lines from AP are gorgeous and I also happen to think the music is too so it's like combining my two great likes and making a monstor that gives me pleasure.

". ..there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusonary, and thought I could hide my cold gaze and you cans hake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable" I simply am not there. "

I just thought I would post something that's a little light hearted for once. However, as I am posting this, I have this bee in my bonnett. Is slavery or submission only palatable to people including those with some grasp of BDSM if it's about love? And, do people have a problem with a woman being objectified unless it's done with love?

And another one http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Af372EQLck

Whilst reading, An excerpt from Owned and Owner

"I sat on my bed, waiting.

“I am going to men to be owned, to be owned, to be owned...” The words drummed softly but insistently through my head. Some part of me was amused at this need for drama. Still, I had to find a way to convince myself. There had been years of fantasies, some of them so intense they felt much more real than this. ‘This’ was a small locked room, hanging in space, waiting. Not much different from the cell I‘d lived in for months, or for that matter from my room at home. So although my rational side - such as it was - told me I was really on my way, there was some level on which I simply didn‘t believe it. I didn‘t believe that the world outside of me was finally going to match what had been going on so violently inside my head all those years. I wasn‘t sure exactly what I was going to, which didn‘t help. All I had was some official information, meant to put me off, and the pictures they had shown me briefly, six weeks before.

I could have cried when they took them away. If only I could have had them all to myself for a day or two! Instead I had to look at them with that dour, grey woman standing over me, muttering her disgust. I sat there trying to conceal my excitement, feeling almost paralyzed by the throbbing between my legs, pressing myself helplessly against the hard bench while trying to seem casual about my movements, my hands trembling as I turned over the pages.

I suppose they were hoping I‘d be appalled. As soon as I‘d glanced at them without a word, the woman snatched them away, not looking at me as she marched out, locking the door behind her with a clang. She wasn‘t stupid. I‘d proved myself once again to be beyond the pale. My shame made me long for the punishments I‘d seen in the pictures.

I sat on my bed trying to remember details in those pictures. What did the man look like who held the leash? The woman‘s expression - I‘d not had time to read it. The surroundings, were they familiar or strange? What was I in for? What had I done?

The judge had been grey, but not dour; a perceptive woman. That judicial eye had pierced my sullen armour more than once. Sullenness was my defence, at least in the psychological sense. (In the legal sense, I had none.) I‘d had such an attitude toward authority figures that all of them - mothers, aunts, teachers - had given up in despair. I raised attitude to an art form. I raised a lot of blood pressure, too. There had to be no chinks to my inner life. It was so habitual that the effort to drop it was wrenching, when that ultimate moment came in the courtroom.

Half the Reodir region seemed to have jammed itself into the long, low room, with its faint smell of ammonia, lurking beneath the sourbean odour of all the bodies and their breath. I refused to turn my head, but the intense half-hush of the crowd pressed palpably on every nerve I owned. The silence imposed by the judge‘s appearance was more ominous still.

“You have been determined to be incorrigibly irresponsible toward yourself and your community,” the judge pronounced. “I cannot recall a worse case. You have made nothing but bad use of the privileges this society accords its members. At every opportunity you have demonstrated that you cannot be trusted with citizenship status. You know your three options: rehabilitation, exile or slavery on Henth. What is your decision?”

For a long moment the words wouldn‘t come. They hung suspended in a tight, strangling web of silence. After a life of concealment, three words were going to show everyone my dreadful colours.

For months I‘d been rehearsing my response to prevent myself from losing my nerve at the last moment. I‘d planned to say the words by rote, without letting myself think or give them meaning. But my answer had to be forced through a constricted throat, and was addressed in a hoarse whisper to the table in front of me.

“Slavery on Henth.”

There was a sharp murmur behind me in the courtroom. No one had chosen the Third Option from my community in living memory. After a few moments the initial disbelief gave way to a roar of indignation. I clenched my sweating hands together, eyes fixed in front of me, my back to the crowd, trying not to cower. This was even worse than I had imagined. I was afraid they were going to lynch me.

“Etrin Aboia, let me be sure the court is not mistaken. State your choice again clearly and fully.” I swallowed with difficulty, and looked down at my hands. They were clenched together, but the thumbs made a small upward gesture, as if to tell me to get on with it.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my head and made my hunched shoulders drop. A kind of desperate calm came over me. For once I was going to say the truth about myself and not be ashamed. I made myself meet the judge‘s eye. The room went quiet.

I thought, this is it. Do it right, Etrin.

The words that emerged rang clear, across the court and back to me again, to echo around inside my skull. “I, Etrin Aboia, choose the Third Option, slavery on Henth, as punishment for my crimes of irresponsibility.” The voice sounded like it knew what it was talking about, and I was grateful. I could see by her expression that the judge, at least, knew the truth.

Still, I had to wait the required twenty-nine days before my choice was considered final. Twenty-nine days of hell.

At first I was elated at my emergence. I felt buoyant, without that leaden weight of constant concealment. I actually thought it might be possible to be who I was and say so. But my family was let in to plead with me, and their horrified reactions shut me down pretty fast. I went from glee to defiance, through to anger and resentment, then down into guilt. Soon I had to reassume my sullen armour, my only protection against their outpourings of grief and fear and anger, and my intense shame. By then I felt horribly naked and exposed, like a calibspod out of its shell, and I did my pathetic best to get my shell back on in a hurry.

Radiating disapproval, the authorities made sure I knew exactly what the Third Option meant. Although I heard some interesting details that I hadn‘t been able to pick up earlier, details which scared me more than ever, I didn‘t change my mind. The warder brought the photographs, then took them away again. Doctors made me go through another battery of tests to assess my sanity, very short with me for fooling them the last time. Sorry, sorry, sorry. They kept commenting on my intelligence, as if that mattered.

My family would have tried round-the-clock brainwashing techniques if they‘d been allowed. The ten hours they had each day were bad enough. They were losing me forever, and I should have been gratified that they found this so awful, in spite of everything I‘d put them through. But at the time I attributed it to their embarrassment over my appalling choice. Then of course I could reject them for their conformity to public opinion - a gibe that led to such a fight that the warders had to intervene.

Secretly, I suppose I wanted someone to understand and acknowledge my choice, someone to accept me as I was. Laughable when you think about it. Pathetically unrealistic, and far more than I deserved. I was bound to be disappointed on this one, because it was impossible for me to tell them just how long I had felt this way (forever), and how much I needed to go to Henth (indescribable). They thought it was just one of my self-destructive whims. The finality of it terrified them. Understandable; it terrified me, too.

I spent a lot of time with my arms crossed over my chest, glaring at the ceiling while they railed and pleaded. If even one of them had sat down and listened, I might have been able to tell them the truth. At last, driven to desperation, I grabbed one of my sisters by the shoulders and shouted in her face, “I‘m doing what I must; let me be!” Too little, too late. It didn‘t help. No one really heard me. They didn‘t leave me alone until the very last minute of the very last day.

At first the solitude on the spaceship was an unbelievable relief. I could put the guilt away and bask in the elation, having survived the ordeal. But the wait soon became boring, imprisoned alone in my little cabin, and at the same time brutal in the urgency of my waiting for the end of it. Finally, after those months in custody on Raniz, there was no peephole in the door, and no one demanding my attention. They brought me my food three times a day, that was all. I had nothing to read or screen. All I could do was think, try to imagine what was ahead, and relieve the pulsing demands between my legs, brought on by the memory of those photographs, and by the knowledge of what I had accomplished. The fear made my belly tighten with surges of excitement, the fear of what they would do to me, of whether I could stand it.

I spent hours looking at my body in the mirror. Was it pretty enough? I had no way of knowing what men would like in a woman. My body felt oddly detached from me, as if it wasn‘t mine at all. It occurred to me with a thrill of fear that soon it really wouldn‘t be mine, in honest truth.

I watched my hands hypnotically stroking the full, pointed breasts, the slender ribcage, the smooth buttocks. I ran my palms over the silky skin of my inner thighs, and my breath came faster. My eyes closed, and I thought of whips. I had never been whipped, or even slapped. Opening my eyes, I examined my face. Pale skin, reddish curls to my shoulders, the grey eyes shadowed and fearful. I was smaller than average, and I knew men were tall. Helpless, I‘d be helpless. The word made my belly contract with arousal.

There was nothing I could do about it now. Still, now that I didn‘t have to convince anyone else, I could admit to myself that I was well and truly terrified.

I was going to men to be owned...

All my life I had known that what I needed was not where I was. Just where it was located wasn‘t clear to me for a long time, but I knew, in a gut level, primitive way, right from the beginning, that something was missing from what I saw around me. Maybe it was the fact that unlike us, animals came in male and female, but I think it was more than that. There was something - actually, the absence of something - a gap, a chasm. Something indefinable, because I had nothing to go on. Everyone else seemed to feel complete and whole. I felt an ache of loss, and I didn‘t know what was gone, a yearning for I knew not what. It kept me separate and alone; it turned me silent.

I began to hear about a planet full of monsters somewhere, that used to have some mysterious and awful connection with us. Then the lesson in history class that focused the monsters into something even more fascinating: Men. I‘d always had vague fantasies, ‘stories’ I told myself each night before I fell asleep, or whenever I played alone. I knew enough to keep these to myself, that they were shameful. The new information fitted into the fantasies like a ship into its octagonal mooring - perfectly. Suddenly my imaginings had the right kind of hand on the whip, the right kind of body controlling and invading my own. My longings, now with an object, became the most agonizing of needs, but at least they were clear to me. And my need for secrecy became more urgent than ever.

I was an adolescent, desperately isolated by the split between the inner life I was living, and the ordinary one I walked each day, when I heard about the Third Option.

Just a library hour, like so many before and after. Classmates’ whispers all round; dull research on my scratched and clouded screen. A project for Community Ethics and Law had me scrolling through dry legal texts, not written or intended for children.

And there, in half a line in small print, at the bottom of an account of an embezzlement case, was the outcome: slavery on Henth.

I stared at the words, and stared at them, and everything else in my universe tipped and slid away into the void. Those three words were a seismic event, a watershed between Etrin before and after.

I found myself starting to misbehave.

My outward life ceased to be so ordinary. First my high marks in school went to dust, and I stopped being where I was expected to be. Then I started taking things apart, usually literally.

At first it was excruciating, doing something other than what was expected. I had been an inhibited, compliant child, so upset by disapproval that my tough womb-mother had shaken her head over me. After a while I got better at it, began guiltily to enjoy the turmoil I caused. I had never really belonged to these people, that is what I felt, so why should I care if I hurt them? Sometimes I hated them for not being what I wanted so fervently. I made damned sure that no one could get close enough to make the task ahead of me any harder. The shame I felt for hurting people fed right into my need.

After each incident I wished so hard for punishment, for someone to hold me immobile and hurt me. What was the matter with them? How far were they going to let me go? Why were they giving me all this freedom? I hated it. And the harder I pushed the limits of that freedom, the more disturbing the possible outcomes became.

Still, I didn‘t always know that I would follow the plan all the way through. I had a million ways to get off the path to Henth if I wanted to. Right up to the end of the twenty-ninth day... All through those years I told myself I could back out at any time, become responsible, that this was just a game I was playing. A game of tension and risk, toying with the unthinkable. Change was too much to hope for; this life on Raniz, hopeless as it was, was the one I had. How could I imagine that I could accomplish anything different?

Only at night, in the dark, with the belts tightened around my naked body, the rope pulled into my vulva and tied front and back, my hands stroking, pulling, my inadequate female hands punishing, did I know, deep in my very center, that I would put myself into a man‘s hands - a real man‘s. I would not turn back."

Just keeps coming out with them.

2010-11-20T08:07:00.000-08:00

Seriously I love this website. I seriously love it. The writing, the simple background, the pictures, oh yes the pictures. http://lissamatthews.tumblr.com/

Kitty Thomas posted a few things about heroines and women's judgement. http://kittythomas.wordpress.com/

I know we all have opinions and we SHOULD be able to air them in a way that's not trashy but some people are such prudes and they assume the judge role. Prudes come in all guises, bad girls the so called rebels are my particular pet hate.

Of course then you have people who just don't get it, racists, homophobes and they jump on freedom of speech like it's a bandwagon for their ignorant bullshit.

However, when it comes to heroines in books, I know that I have in the past and still do have a problem with the bad girl type heroines. That suprised you I know. To start with I have a problem with them. Then when they evolve, mature, grow up I'm their biggest fan. I don't like them initially because I've always been kind of the opposite, well no in fact I would say I am the opposite to these heroines not necessarily evolved, matured and grown up but just different in my actions. I was either misunderstood or mocked by bad girls and "rebels" in the past. So they just come across as immature despite some of them having experiences and baggage, a little ignorant and a little narrowminded.

Kitty was talking about women's opinions on too stupid to live heroines. Like why oh why she do that? The fact is, give me vulnerability, humanity for the good or worse, I want to see it and I want to read about it because it exists and to some extent something in that heroine exists in me also. So she may do things that are irrational, illogical but that's human. And I want to read that. I really need to read that. It's a little like when someone says why did that character commit suicide it was so unlike them! My analogies need work I know that was terrible. But, I have to look at that person and say stop analysing! Stop analysing to the extent you have a fit when you can't figure someone out.

The other thing is I don't imagine I'm the heroine. I just won't fantasise like that as a rule. I fantasise about certain situations but I always picture the heroine and hero together, it's THEIR story. I can relate to their characters sometimes more and sometimes less and I think Jeremy from Comfort Object is real just so I can have words with him, yes scary, his language got me hot I admit but I never thought I was Nell for one minute. SHE is Jeremy's, not moi. Of course different people function differently but yeah the whole I'm the heroine thing is not for me. I wouldn't mind reading her lines though.

And as for women judging others, heroines, other women, I have to say that maybe in another time and place, there could be such a thing as sisterhood. As for the saying women are their own worst enemies, men don't get away scot free. I love a man but I don't care for them as a whole, I don't hate them, they're interesting and weird and most of them make me laugh with them or at them but there's a reason I'm an introvert. When I'm with people who are listening and prepared to put their ego and judgement aside, oh yes I believe that everyone has an ego but some people's bore me,!, then I can let loose otherwise I remain introverted not for fear of judgement as they don't register very high with me but because their prejudices, judgement and ego are unnecessary. And some men have this in spades and have been very free and snide with their opinions in the past behind my back and towards me.

Fine Friday fun.

2010-11-19T06:36:00.000-08:00

If I cared enough about Kate Middleton and got excited about celebrity and the Royal Family in the same way I'm led to believe everyone else does, then I would entertain the thought of writing some sort of kinky royal family's new daughter/wife fiction with rather a lot of stockings, open mouths, exposed bottoms and misued hoover cables!

I kept sleep off last night despite being very tired just getting to the end of As She'd Told, reading it properly and not missing Maia's progress.

I want to buy Owned and Owner by the same author, in my opinion from what I see so far it takes slavery further than As She's Told, but I'm going to have a read of some excerpts. When I read some reviews of Owned and Owner, I went back to one that comes from an author whom I admire a lot. Initially, when I read her review and I know what happens in O & O, I thanked her for writing what she did, I don't know if she's changed her mind about O & O but to some extent, she's gone or coming back to it. The thing is when I read As She's Told the first time, I thought it was something that wasn't going to arouse me. Well, last night that was so not the case.

As I'm on my own journey and experiencing new things and emotions, I just want to read books that go more and more kinky. Well not to the horrofic extent but then some people would class a woman being treated like a dog horrific. The thing is like I said she's had slave fantasies her entire life and from her first meeting with her future Dominant Anders, he makes it clear just what he wants from her.

At the same time, whilst Maia is going through what some have said dehumanisation and degradation, Anders says to her that he's never going to make her into something he hates. When I read that book, I understood. Anders doesn't hate women. He's not a psychopath. He does not want to destroy Maia to nothing, he wants to OWN her. When owning her, he wants to COMPLETELY own her. In books and in fantasy, that is doable. It will get a reaction because it's done, it's really done. Short of her being made to bark, in reality the fears that I would have from never going to the toilet like a normal person again to being very much under Sir's thumb- electronically tagged, watched on cameras, are addressed by the story and Maia's responses. The book goes to some scary areas because yes she is dehumanised. She's not speaking for some time. She's also getting what she wants and needs and I think it's not damage when someone isn't harmed and someone isn't harmed when their brain and body become better. Maia doesn't fit into society even more now, she is "unhealthy." She is completely Ander's. Completely. And it's scary. My heart beats faster just thinking about this. It's a scary path. Did I mention it's scary.

And I can relate so much to that. But I wouldn't be improving with people, in my writing, reading, chores and work if I didn't have my submission to Sir and initially I was scared, wracked with nerves and out of my depth.

Maia has to defend herself when it comes to one woman whom she meets at an event and Anders lets her do her work. He doesn't baby her. He doesn't think she's incapable. He gives her that chance, that thing of stepping back and watching and listening.

There are so many things that I understand about As She's Told including when it comes to what submission means to a Dominant, it hit a few things home. I read books about submission from her point of of view and when I read about His, it's something new for me.

Maia's submission and slavery is not for everyone. For example, Anders doesn't keep the fact she's his slave secret. She's in a cage and made to service his friends and brother and become bisexual. The bisexuality is an obstacle she has to overcome and then the story has a big theme of conditioning, which cynics term as brainwashing (which I have so many problems with), Maia welcomes touch like anything, I can imagine her like an eager dog actually when she gets it whatever it is.

As we know, everyone has their dynamic but I liked that I was reading something about complete ownership and what comes with that. It's also a brilliantly written book because it's articulate and the descriptions are just beautiful, and I'm more of a conversation person normally!

I look forward to Owned and Owner. I know it's seen as the more disturbing book by this author. And it has an exotic theme and storyline less, traditional than As She's Told which I'm neither praising nor criticising.

"A story of unconditional slavery..

(this is what got my interest before I read As She's Told)

"told from inside a woman’s bound and naked skin.

Far in the future exists a world of men, a planet where the only women are rare and exotic pets. These few women, convicted of crimes, have chosen their punishment: slavery on Henth. The few men who buy them know what they are getting: eager submissives, willing to accept the status of animals in order to be owned by men. Etrin is a young woman who makes this choice; Garid is the man who buys her. Their story is one of dominance and submission taken as far as the imagination can go.

Long prior to the time of the book, Henth’s colonizers split along gender lines, and the women removed themselves to a separate planet. The two societies have almost lost sight and memory of each other, except for the rare occasions when a woman chooses slavery on Henth over the alternative punishment on her home planet. Driven by a deep need for submission, Etrin pushes her misbehaviour year after year, knowing that she’ll eventually be sent to Henth.

When finally convicted and sentenced for her crimes, the bound Etrin is overwhelmed by her first contact with the men on the planet Henth. Soon transferred to the care of animal handlers, she’s caged for transport along with the other exotic pets, and prepared for the auction that will determine her new owner. Once Garid purchases his new pet, Etrin goes through stages of acceptance and the relinquishment of self as she faces the strict demands required of her. Meanwhile, Garid, driven and possessive, establishes a sense of ownership strong enough that he is finally able to share her. Readers learn of Etrin’s struggles in the form of first-person introspection, and Garid’s as he talks with his friend Therin, another dominant."

As She’s Told.

2010-11-18T06:59:00.000-08:00

Contains long excerpts and possible typos as typed in front of a tv at 11pm.

So this one of those books that I am intrigued by. It’s been a slow read for me, I bought it months ago and every now and then I read a little. Again, I don’t think I can relate that much to the characters and after reading hundreds of books and spending five years and money on Erotica, I’m excited, inspired but I can just never relate to someone in the way someone else says, that’s me and so I feel a bit isolated, especially when I read a book it’s when I’m away from my Dominant.

Maia is a woman who wants and needs to be owned. She’s isolated from the world, it’s all just surfaces and she doesn’t seem to want to control her body, like she wants and needs someone to do that for her, not just someone, someone to OWN her, to tell her what to do, to make her his so that he’s controlling her body. You know, it takes the strongest submissive to give control of their body to their Dominant like that. It’s not laziness, especially as we go on in the book it’s absolutely the opposite of laziness.

There’s something about writing a heroine that makes me want to keep her as real to me as possible, appearance wise also. However, sometimes I think like when people make virtual images of themselves, part of it’s about a change from their usual selves and partly it’s about their idea of “bettering” themselves. I know no one looks in the mirror and high fives pimples but it’s human and the image of beauty has become so robotic. Victoria’s Secret models have tumbling waves but so much processing has gone on there, their waves are bigger than their faces. Anyway, Maia basically reads as though she has a short, slender body and an exotic beauty which is non processed and more to do with a wide variety of ethnicity.

There’s an instant attraction between Anders the hero and Maia’s soon to be Dominant and herself. They have initially met online and the other was the only person they could relate to.

And then Maia and Anders talk about needs. She talks about helplessness and imprisonment and he talks about violence in the world and pain with consent.

He says he wants a “real human chattel.”

He tells her he’s not into a scene, he wants a woman to own, all the time, a slave, not vanilla with some kinks, she has no need to be used as a human toilet, she doesn’t even care for being kidnapped. Anders says he will treat like an animal or worse, beatings, control, humiliation but he’d take the greatest care not to damage her. This I have quoted from the book because I think the way it’s written and the way Maia responds, it’s like all she has been looking for her whole life just came true, I think it’s beautiful. She’s had slave fantasies since she was young.

She says she wants to give her control to him. To me, that’s like saying here it is, this is my path, this is me. I love it.

Anders has big hands and is a foot and a half taller than Maia. This adds an eroticism to the deep intensity of what they have just confided in each other.

And they sleep together very soon. Of course the sex is like some poetry (I was always a messy, clumsy sex kind of girl) but I will forgive the sentiment because he describes her as the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and it’s nice to read a mixture of traditional old school romance and what is going to become the biggest ascent into slavery I have read so far.

“I can’t imagine I’d be very good at – well, at equality, you
see. With you.” Says Maia to Anders. I don’t care much for political correctness in the bedroom, in fact in some dynamics it has no place. And from their agreement over dinner, starts Maia’s journey.

As she’s sitting mostly naked at his feet he has her tell him everything about her past and sexual experiences. By page 21,as she’s taken like a slave, like Chattel, fucked, he tells her “you’re mine.”

Something that I love about As She’s Told is Maia and Ander’s beliefs about the world. They both have views, an education, experience, they talk about feminism, political science, parents, blending in with the crowd, not blending in with the crowd.

Maia’s early submission is full throttle on Anders demand but it’s realistic with her and his feelings and thoughts clear to the reader. I could relate to trying to get a grip on the situation. This situation is new for Maia and it’s very intense.

In addition to sex, Anders also controls Maia in her studies, setting her tasks. At the same time, Anders tells her it’s too soon to call him Master and takes her through it all step by step, like he says to her at the start, in addition to giving her the push she needs. And punishment. Punishment which she remembers and is going to better her, she was disorganised and lazy she admits in the past when it came to her work and now she won’t forget to type her notes on time and Anders thinks, soon he will work more on her posture.

As a reader you get an insight into Ander’s psyche as well, when Maia obeys him, when she does as she’s told, Anneke Jacobs, I have to say brilliant author of this book, writes, “The pure beauty of it made an intensely pleasurable ache in Anders, like a surpassingly perfect chord, or the most gorgeous of sunsets. This woman slipped into obedience like a seal into water. He watched from the doorway, watched the body inside the dress, the submissive being inside the body.There were fibres within his own body shaking loose,unfolding and reaching out for places not yet explored. As if all his life he had been confined to one small space inside his body, and was only now stretching himself to fit the full extent of his frame.”

They both, Anders and Maia get to be.

Maia also gets to be a “Hunhund.” A female dog, not in the bitch sense but an animal. “Up on the bed, hands and knees. We’re going to find out just what makes you come, my little hunhund. And what doesn’t.”

And in case we need reminding this book is called As She’s Told. Her need is to do as she’s told. So it’s actually her needs as well as his that are being met when the focus changes from what makes her cum, to her serving her Sir and this means also mistakes but learning from them, sometimes a gradual process.

“You know,” he said, “if you look at all this from some kind of normal perspective, what the hell am I doing? Look at me. I need to know her every move, don’t trust her for a minute, don’t let her use her own body as she likes. I want to know who she’s with and where she goes. That kind of thing’s usually the unlovely lead-up to a restraining order. How would anyone know I’m not some crazy stalker?”

And he hadn’t even included holding her down and beating her.

“Oh, bullshit,” said Val.

“I was like this with Janice. Sometimes. It was what broke us up in the long run. I never could be satisfied with the level of control she was willing to give me.”

“Maia’s not Janice. As you are perfectly aware.”

Anders went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “And you know, most other doms seem to behappy with power that’s basically psychological. Promises, negotiations, a dominant/submissivequid pro quo. Some blow jobs and a St. Andrew’s cross whipping on Saturday night. That feels like nothing but games to me, but is it?”

Val rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t go by me, I love games.”

Evidently his question had been rhetorical. “Or am I missing something? Am I just lacking the – the what? The subtlety and sophistication, to appreciate dominance by force of will,hardware optional?”

“For fuck’s sake, Thygesen. Whatever turns your crank. If you want to chain your woman to the wall, do it.”

“Thanks, I probably will.” Anders edged the truck around a corner onto Queen and sworeagain, finding himself in traffic that was at a complete standstill. He threw up his hands in resignation, folded long arms over the steering wheel and stared through the windshield for a while before he spoke again. “I have to admit, it’s been fun controlling Maia without restraints.

More fun than I expected. It’s challenging, seeing how far I can go that way, watching the pattern develop.”

“Oh. So you might have a bit of class after all? Not just a simple-minded thug?”

“Nah, I’m simple enough. Lately I keep flashing on hardware, nothing but hardware, and her in it. I play with the possibilities whenever I’m doing something routine; you know, driving, laying tiles, waiting in line to pay for something. And Home Depot’s a killer, all that stuff usable in ways it wasn’t intended for.”

Val cracked up. “We spend half our lives in hardware stores! You’re obviously in the right line of work.” She laughed at him until his face fell back into its preoccupied lines, and then she
stopped. “You’re not a stalker, you know. You’re not abusing her.”

“I know.”

“You’ve got the girl’s consent. More than consent. She’s begging to be taken over.”

He was silent for a while. “You know what I used to do? Read about real abusers in the paper. Books, too. So I could watch for the edge. So I could be sure I wasn’t one of them.”

The book goes between discussions like this sometimes from Anders to friends to Anders and Maia and the sex and submission. On the next page, Maia is wanking her cunt on the gear stick of Ander’s car because he wants her to come like the bad girl she was the night before, coming because he knows she really needs to, Maia I have a feeling is like a dog in heat when she has the need, but Anders and herself know she isn’t deserving of a proper wank.

Although Maia is Anders to do with he will, she’s got to overcome conditioning, all those years, so it’s going to take time. You’d think Maia, you’d have learned not do your laundry two days late and make another excuse to Anders for skipping class by now…

I can feel the moment where she realises she’s basically in deep dog shit.

(Don‘t take that too literally).

And I can feel her humiliation and sadness through her punishment. And also the relief that comes from him not being angry at her anymore, simply because she doesn’t want him to feel angry.

“She turned her face away. “What I need – sir, all I need is to know is – are you
still angry at me?”

He reached out and took her gently by the ear. “No, I’m not angry any more.” She turned her head to touch her cheek to his hand. “But that doesn’t mean everything goes back to the way it was. I’ve learned more about how your naughty little mind works. I’m going to move faster to restrict what you do, since I trust you less.”

She hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He took her face in both hands and kissed away its distress, kissed and licked the delicate, salty skin beneath her eyes. Then he gave her some orders for the next day, and sent her inside.”

“I lay in bed that night on my stomach, hugging the pillow, with sleep as distant and
theoretical as an alien lifeform. It wasn’t the physical result of the punishment that kept meawake; well, hardly at all. It was the fear still possessing me: the mounting, searing pain, my helplessness to avoid the blows. Anders’ angry, implacable voice still resounded in my head,making me cringe against the pillow. I actually held the pillow over my ears to shut it out, uselessly of course. And those long periods in corners, humiliating me down to nothing. My guilt was only barely assuaged by the punishment. I had to keep reminding myself that Anders wasn’t angry with me any more. And he was already stepping up restrictions, which was probably a
good thing; less chance for me to get into trouble.

I identified one feeling braiding through my subconscious: a thread of relief. He’d tied me down and beaten me, and I had survived it. More important, my desire had survived it; after that experience I wanted more than ever to belong to him. Fantasy is one thing, reality something else, as JulieB had said during that first conversation (the weblog of which I had saved and repeatedly read). Despite my early assurances, I hadn’t known for sure that I really could take it.

Or even, after the first blow, almost welcome it. Now it seemed to me that I did know.

I forced myself to be honest; there was no “almost’ about it. I had welcomed it, had in fact needed it. I was finding out what a fear junky I was. Fear, pain, humiliation: you name it, my body took it in through every pore and nerve and orifice and begged for more.

The beating had been one more giant step toward being owned, choiceless. A state I still wanted passionately, more than any specific piece of bondage or discipline.

Though I certainly wanted those, waited with breathless impatience for whatever he would do to me next. Still, the actions and the hardware were only the outward manifestation – intensely arousing, cunt swimming window dressing – for the underlying relationship, in which the seesaw of power tipped only one way.

There was another thread, thin and fragile-seeming, but still unbroken: the freedom to walk away. Here I was all by myself, with nothing but a waist chain and a sore ass to keep me in line. It felt a bit like standing at the edge of a precipice and reminding yourself that you really don’t want to jump. In that situation a guard rail is good, a chain link fence is even better.”

….

“I oscillated between longing urgently for more restrictions and chafing against the ones I had. It was frustrating not being able to goof off sometimes, browse in shops, read a book. I liked buying things on impulse – books I’d read that I’d always wanted to own, clothes I admired but could do without. But I wasn’t allowed. I chafed, and had sneaky teenaged rebellious thoughts. But less and less as time went by. I remembered that it was Anders who didn’t allow it. And what he wanted had become the central pin upon which I turned. I began to curl up within his boundaries, like a child in loving arms.”

I know of women who are submissive who want a Master, who want 24/7 and say they want it, determined they want this. I wonder if they know just how under His thumb they are going to be. Anders has to be sure of Maia and of what they have. “I really will control you, Maia,” he said at last. “I’m not talking metaphorically. I’m talking micromanagement. What’s happened so far is nothing compared to living with me 24/7.”

She pulled herself closer to him. “Sir, what should I – what do you expect me –”

He shook her slightly. “You should stick to the subject. Wicked girl.” He kissed her head.

“I’ll expect you to do what I tell you to do, of course. Learn to serve me, exactly as I want.

Accept what I inflict on you. Be what I make you.”

“Please, sir, I do want to move in.”

“Wait. I appreciate that you want to make the decision without needing to know the
details. But I’m not consulting you, I’m warning you. Do you understand?”

…

“Maia, if you move in with me, I’m going to keep you like an animal on a very short tether. You’ll have no autonomy at all in that house.

Not much outside of it. Remember, there’ll be constant restraints, rules, humiliations,
punishments. All the time, do you understand? You’re not going to draw a free breath.”

She was trembling beneath his arm. He held her more firmly and kept her moving.

“Following rules doesn’t mean you’ll know what’s coming, either. I’ll be arbitrary, and
sometimes I’ll be cruel.” He could hear her breathing. “I’ll still look after you, Maia.

That won’t change. I’ll still take great care, not to damage you. But you have to understand. This is for real.

You’ll be a belonging, a piece of property. I’ll do whatever I like with you. We agreed to play no games, and I won’t play them.”

She stumbled to a stop, and he faced her, holding her by the arms. He could almost see the heat radiating from her. Her head hung, and her body heaved with each breath. Slowly she raised her head, and looked at him with unfocused eyes, in the grip of profound, helpless arousal.

“Please…,” she breathed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, and he sat down and pulled her into his lap. Loving her, and his luck.

They sat there in silence for several minutes, rocking a little while she calmed down.

Then he boosted her off his lap, pulled off his knapsack and found a good spot beneath a tree. Laying out a little lunch, grilled vegetables and cheese on thick bread, he said, “That wasn’t the final decision, you know. I expect you to go home and think about this. When you’re not blinded by lust.”

Maia moves in. she’s now allowed to wear clothes as he tells her in his house, she is now to call him Master. There are rules about tv, even a stereo, she is dressed up so her waist is smaller than ever before, Maia is not good in the kitchen but Anders introduces her to tasks slowly, and although he likes to cook, I know that he is easy on Maia when it comes to that because he has to be. So many decisions for Dominants, aww.

And also when Maia moves in, she is told to pee in the chamber pot.

“I need to pee.”

“Then you can use the chamber pot. There.” He pointed at a squat white covered enamel bowl by the wall, in the shadow of a small table. On the table was a tissue box.

Oh, god. I’d seen the thing but it hadn’t entered in. The tray was lifted off my hands. I
could feel my face burning at the thought of squatting over that pot in plain view. The word “but…” was at my lips, but I bit it off; a conditioned reflex by now. By this time I knew that there was absolutely no percentage in questioning his orders, or in anything at all other than instant obedience. My hands went to the floor and I crept slowly up to the thing. Positioning myself over it was an agony of awkwardness, the ankle chain helping not at all. And then I couldn’t let it go for ages. I was almost in tears by the time I finally managed it.

I covered the pot and crept back to him, head down, unable to meet his eye. He gently pulled my head against his side. “It’ll get easier, girl. You’ll see.” I buried my face in his shirt, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Before long you’ll be completely housetrained.”

As a reader, I’m not complaining, oh my God she is just like his pet, I don’t even ask if this is humiliation or what. Because, I knew from the start, it was made very clear that this is what they both want and need.

And then Anders has Maia eating out of a dish on the floor. Like a dog. Like a female dog. A hunhund. I have nothing but admiration for Maia and Anders for going after what they want. I would put in the excerpt, clearly I’m fond of those but I’ll leave it as a gem for if you buy this book. It’s a testament to how Annek Jacobs writes, her characters and words very human and her circumstances ordinary and the emotions and articulation of them extraordinary.

This is how far I have got to. I intend to come back one day and edit this. I know what happens in the end and out of sheer curiosity I read that part and a little before, but I’m still working my way through the journey. It’s a 300 page book almost, if I had to choose a book to take away with me on holiday, it would be this and Story of O. I’m on a mini vacation of sorts writing this, now I’m back to business but I’ll have Maia with me regardless of my own journey.

The further a book wants to take things, I’ll go with it if it speaks to me and is a good a book. As She’s Told is what I need and want from a book.

My Dominant gave me a quote.

2010-11-14T13:57:00.000-08:00

It's a pretty self explanatory, no nonsense, beautiful quote.

"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, god, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don't mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding." -Anais Nin

The picture is taken from a website I found after googling the quote. I'd heard of it before, smiled when reading it but it means more now.

Facebook.

2010-11-14T09:13:00.000-08:00

So I was reading an article called Generation Why and it was about the perils, the EVILS of facebook. I have not read one article ESPECIALLY since the movie Social Network came out that isn't normal quite frankly. I go on facebook because it's fun. So is tennis, walking, sex, tea but I like variety in my life. I can go to clubs and bars and I can talk to someone in my building and sometimes I just want to go one one site that allows me to see what other people have to say. It is okay to be curious! And they're not some victim of lack of privacy, they're putting up what they want. They have the option of delete and blocking..and the concept of ignoring. It's true that some people spend too much time on the internet but people spend too much time in bars or out shopping and the Mark Zuckerberg portrayed in Facebook was more comfortable around figures and codes than people and he had issues, there were people like this on imdb gale hansen board (name and shame -laughs) who decided that myself and a few others were superficial and shitty people and they knew better, a little like Mark in the movie.

I met some good friends on the internet. You get a space and time and minimal interruptions. Facebook is one site that allows you to connect with people and limit your profile and privacy as much and little as you want. It's got different functions as well as being a platform and if people want to send me a farmville request, hey guess what I just ignore it. No one is holding a gun to my head, facebook doesn't own me, as much as I enjoy reading conspiracy theories, how I'm just a product, how I've been reduced to such and such, I know that I have not and if you're so vulnerable as to fall "victim" to facebook, unless you've actually despite your best efforts been stalked and hacked, I wonder how you can live life.

Here's the dramatic and paranoid article. http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/nov/25/generation-why/?page=1

Girls like me.

2010-11-13T13:17:00.000-08:00

I know it's awfully lonely to be as special and unique as I am. *grins* However, I would on occasion like to read, yes that word again, about a girl more like me. It's nice to create something yourself but I never fit any heroines that I've read about even in books I adore. I once came across a secondary character in a book that was a little like me and I couldn't care less that she was secondary or that the hero stuck his nose up at her, she was there. I am what you would call weird. I don't mean weird in an endearing way. I piss people off unintentionally and intentionally too when they're super lucky. I'm not talkative unless I really let go but mostly I say what I need to in five minutes, stat, and I'm not an outwardly fun loving girl. I don't think many people fit into a category but I have had people say that they can't figure me out. Like I've said before, that's not my problem, it's theirs.

I'm what you would call a good girl in many ways but I'm also messy and I say things without thinking at times. I'm also a little bit of show off.

I've been like this forever. People who know me say I haven't changed. I get a few traits of mine from my dad and I will keep on saying this unless proved wrong, it is different for men. He will get a different reaction for the same facial expression or something else.

I also know what it's like to put down for having extra weight and on the other end to be put down for being petite. I can't relate to heroines with soft creamy curves and neither those with tight midriffs.

Sometimes it's fun to read a book about a wallflower librarian, I like those, but sometimes I want to read about someone who makes quite a few people say, oh I wouldn't have thought that about you, someone who will be judged but never and I mean never, even at the end of the wallflower "phase," understood alas!

Submission.

2010-11-13T08:18:00.000-08:00

It's such a broad topic. It means different things to different submissives and Dominants but sometimes they can agree on one basis of it. I'm still looking for more non con Erotica about a submissive woman and a Dominant man. I want to read something that I can relate to a little more because whilst I understand the very universal elements of love that is in most Erotica, sometimes I want to read something where the hero and heroine are not in love with each other. And if you're reading this wondering how that could make sense then you're on a completely different wavelength to me. For me, I've never gone looking for love in websites, or for companionship but I am all for someone who does that. Taking charge of your life, choosing your own fate not waiting, is something that I am a big, big fan of. At the same time I also believe in a natural course. I'm not a big fan of ignoring nature or trying to change it, unless it saves someone's life.

Something pushed me into going into BDSM. I read a book and like a lot of readers I couldn't stop thinking about it. It also confirmed what I had been wondering about myself for a year, there is a basic element of my submission that can be summed up in four words, which will remain private to readers, sorry! (I'm sure you'll still be able to sleep at night).

Love..I would like to say it's something that happens naturally. I mean it's a feeling. It's also more than that, it's all these things like patience, kindness, like that line perhaps I heard it from a friend who is Christian, but I completely agree, love is patient, love is kind, it is not selfish. I used to think it was, well it can very well not be.

I understand that in BDSM, love can happen naturally but I also know of people who care for their play partners and even find them appealing and exciting on so many different levels but they're not in love with them..sometimes they're also involved in vanilla relationships. BDSM is so broad and yet in Erotica, it's one theme. Different plots around one theme. Love.

Secretary, a popular BDSM movie,!, was a love story.

I've seen Story of O and The Image (a man gets involved in a BDSM dynamic between a Mistress and her female slave). I liked Story of O for the details into submission and I liked the Image because it was about power play. For me, the movie of The Image, well there are probably people and to be honest this is a pet hate of mine who would say oh he was in love with her. Why? Because that's why he's doing what he is doing. Like love would be the only reason. For me, The Image was more about power play and if love was there, it developed after what we saw in the movie. I know Story of O was about love.

I once read a book that I've mentioned twice before, Story of Zoe. Now when I think about it it's like a gorgeous reference to Story of O because it's about a woman's journey into submission. She becomes submissive to her Professor. At the end of the book, she sees him and he's with another woman. It's almost going in two directions and one is the easiest one take; the reader thinks the Prof is like other men towards Zoe, she's fine as a dirty little secret but not "good enough" to be his girlfriend and the other direction is one I am now going in, we see that Zoe is his sub plain and simple and from the start to the end, that didn't change. Perhaps she wants more, perhaps he played around but also perhaps he wanted to keep his BDSM relationship understandably private. Afterall, it was about his need and hers and so attaining a status of being someone's girlfriend was irrelevant to their relationship. Perhaps he didn't not know what he wanted. Perhaps he actually 100 percent knew what he wanted. Perhaps Zoe was starting to fall in love with him and perhaps he was not starting to fall in love with Zoe.

Then there was a book about a woman who goes to a milk farm and gets used as a cow. She wasn't in love with anyone not because they treated like a cow because like it or not, she wanted to be treated like one, her need was to produce milk and be used as a sexual object and animal for the farmers. There wasn't anything "wrong with her." She could well develop feelings for them or at least one of them. She wasn't any less human than anyone else, she had a kink that's all and the book goes there.

So I would purely and simple to read a tale about submission. It can be a little foreign like the woman who becomes like a cow or it can be more like Zoe, but it doesn't always have to be about mutual love. I believe in love. I also believe in romance. I think romance is in a lot of things. It's romantic to take a walk in Autumn leaves or to see the sun make water shine so brightly it almost blinds you, it's there to different extents, in different ways.

I like Mills and Boon too. But how many M and B books are out there compared to the Story of Zoe, you know. Not all women want a formula.

Hello perverts. smiles

2010-11-12T09:54:00.000-08:00

Just look at that picture. And those words. Perfect. So, I hear it's coming out Monday at Total E-bound. One of the authors is Charlotte Stein whose Things That Make Me made me quite happy. I enjoy her writing, her style, her wit. It's sexy, funny and real. What's wonderful in Erotica is there are authors who have these different styles and they're all as intense. Once I buy "Master Me" (squeak) I will post an excerpt and review! Because I know you need my opinion before you buy something, that's just how it works, it's okay. I understand.

Have an erotic weekend
xx

No third part of Sold just yet but I do have an Annabel Joseph book for you.

2010-11-10T06:54:00.001-08:00

I read the excerpt weeks ago because I loved Comfort Object, Firebird and Deep In The Woods by this author. She always writes heroines that end up my favourite. When I read the excerpt of Fortune, the heroine wasn't Prosper or Sophie or Nell and it's not for that reason that I didn't buy the book straight away. I simply didn't like the Kat from the Fortune excerpt, I thought I've seen her before and she's a brat and I don't like bratty behaviour, I know also that my Dominant does not either, every BDSM relationship does have its dynamic though.

Yesterday,I needed a stimulating read. So I bought Fortune and when I got to page 40I had my notes and blog up. I wrote two paragraphs about Kat. Then I told myself to shup and read the rest of the book and once I did, I found myself loving the story and loving Kat.

See we wouldn't be people if we all didn't have things others can't relate to or think that's rude, it's these differences that make us exciting. And then there were things, that the author wrote that had I her articulation, I could have written. Things I just nodded to, yes I completely get that, you nailed it, etc etc. When I got to the end of the book, I wished that I knew Kat and Ryan. Like I wish I knew Nell and Jeremy (because also I'd like to be having words with Jeremy), Sophie and Dave and Prosper and......Jackson..I admit I had to look his name up because I mostly just think of him as messy haired, STRICT teacher who makes the image of tights on male ballet dancers look not too bad.

In the blog rant I discarded, I started ranting about giving away your body willingly to someone you met only very recently in a noisy club. Of course, the book is about the difference between giving your body away and truly giving your body to your Dominant, being your Dominant's submissive, slut, sexual slave, HIS. The hardships that Kat has, the journey she goes through make her someone who is a universal character, as a woman I can understand. Sure, I'm different to her, I found myself thinking that in fact maybe I'm not that different that maybe I COULD have been her, it's not like I have to relate to her to find her appealing but I COULD relate to her because I know what it is to submit and no matter the differences in every bdsm relationship, which there are and we have to remember not to stay stuck in our own little world, to see what's around us also.

I'll leave you with three excerpts that I have chosen from Fortune and a description of the book. I highly recommend it to you.

I noticed also on the link to purchase the book, there's one review in which I have to marvel at how the reader could possibly think Ryan treats Kat as a "blow up doll". She is used, that's an element of submission to submit so you can be used, but Ryan of all people asking her, checking with her, being careful and controlling himself, hardly treats her as a blow up doll.

From http://www.jasminejade.com/pc-8785-8-fortune.aspx

Kat doesn’t know whether or how to end her six-night-a-week party habit, not to mention her unhealthy addiction to meaningless sex. Then an accident lands her in the hospital. She wakes to find a menagerie of origami figures—and a gorgeous neurosurgeon—beside her bed. The complexity of the paper creations is nothing compared to the complexity of dark-eyed, authoritative Ryan, who seems determined to give her life some direction. Trouble is, Kat’s just as determined to resist his efforts to tame her wild side.

With persistence, Ryan draws Kat into his world of dominance and submission, where quiet commands and lengths of rope awaken needs and desires she never knew she possessed. But Ryan’s intimate, erotic shibari sessions frighten Kat as much as they excite her, for each simple knot requires infinite trust and inspires complicated emotions.

Then a family crisis tests their love and threatens to snap the fragile ties that bind them. Will fortune ever smile on this unlikely couple, or will fate tear them apart?

Excerpts from the book,

"That was really wrong of you," she told him on the way to his house after dinner.

"What was really wrong?"

"Leading them on like that. Feeding them those bullshit lines about kids and family. I can’t believe my mother at least, couldn’t see through you."

He glanced over at her, then back at the road. "It’s not bullshit. I didn’t tell one lie to your mother or father. I told you, Kat. I never lie."

"Well," she said, feeling sulky at the reprimand in his tone. "You were trying to manipulate them. You manipulate people. I’ve seen you do it. You manipulate me." He made a soft sound, a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Do you deny it?"

"I manipulate you every chance I get, doll."

"Ugh. Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because I want to. Get used to it, doll. And you’re no stranger to manipulation, if you’re going to be pointing fingers."

She fell silent, watching the tree-lined sidewalks out the window, the tiny Cambridge house gardens. Little disciplined managed plots of color maintained in a crowded Boston suburb. She thought she would be disciplined and maintained that way by Ryan.

He would try to make her thrive where she didn’t naturally belong. And her mother and father were one hundred percent behind him—as Ryan had forecast, Elena practically packed her bags and carried them out to Ryan’s car. She felt anxious, scared. Excited. Ryan looked over at her and stroked her thigh softly for just a moment.

"You’re going to spend tonight without any clothes. When we get home, they come off and you stay naked until tomorrow morning when you go to work. Understood?"

"Um…"

"Yes Sir."

"Yes Sir. But um…may I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Is that every night? Or just tonight?"

"It’s whenever I say so."

Kat looked down in her lap, at her hands clasped there. "Oh. What if I get cold?"

"You won’t get cold."

The way he said it left no mystery behind the meaning. When they got to his house, he took her inside and had her strip in the foyer. He took her clothes down the hall, into the room that was "hers". He returned and approached her in silence with that intent look that always rattled her a little, made her want to hide herself. He put his hands on her, pressing on the small of her back so she had to stand up straighter. He pushed back her shoulders so her breasts were thrust forward.

"Don’t slouch. Stand up straight and present yourself to me."

"For…for what?"

"For my pleasure." His curt words made some wild drumbeat commence between her legs. Her stomach flipped over and fluttered, although she tried to remain outwardly cool. Inside she was anything but. Her pussy was already growing wet and ready for him. He pulled at her arms. "Let them fall naturally at your side. Stand straight and open to me."

Breathe in, breathe out. He put his thumb under her chin, tipped her head up and straight. He looked into her eyes with that dark gaze that burned and searched her expression. She stared back, knowing it was expected. What did he see? Why did she imagine he saw more than she even knew of herself? He put his hands on her neck and rested them there, not moving her or controlling her. She straightened unconsciously, then licked her lips.

scrutinized her, tipped her shoulders back just one more iota. The positioning felt unnatural but he seemed to want that. "I’m going to bring your things in and put them in your room. You’re going to stand there and you’re not going to move. Not one inch. When I’m done bringing your things in, I’m going to take you in the bedroom and hurt you. Then I’m going to fuck you and put you to bed for the night. Any questions?"

"Are you going to put a collar on me?" she asked, trying to sound flippant.

"Not yet." His voice didn’t sound flippant at all. "Someday. When I think you’re up for it." He chucked her under the chin. "Baby steps. Now…" He stepped back and

She had trouble finding her voice. "No," she finally managed. He gave her a dire look. "No Sir," she corrected quickly.

With one last sweeping inspection of her body, he turned and went out the door. Kat found herself alone with her thoughts, standing naked and still at the behest of her Master. She was acutely aware of the heaviness of her breasts, the rise and fall of her chest, the vulnerability of her bared ass cheeks as the cool air blew across them. The mounting heat at the apex of her thighs.

He made several trips, pausing each time to inspect her on entering. Her face burned from the scrutiny. The third time, before he headed back to the car, he took her wrists and pulled her hands up. "Lace your fingers at the back of your neck. Elbows out. Stand up straight." She swallowed and did as he asked. He wasn’t happy with her efforts. He pushed her elbows back until her breasts were forced even farther forward. Then, silently, he went around behind her and drove his knee between her legs. He began to spread them open, using his leather shoes to push her bare feet a distance apart on the floor.

She was strangled with lust and yet terrified. Cool air rushed up into her exposed center. She was terrified he would touch her and yet terrified he wouldn’t. He didn’t touch her, though, or say another word, just gave her another fathomless stare and turned away to make another trip to the car.

It felt like hours that she stood there, but the clock said ten minutes. He brought the last of her things in and then returned to take her arm, pulling her from her rigid stance. "You can unpack tomorrow."

He didn’t wait for any answer to that and she didn’t attempt one. In his bedroom he arranged her again. She was already quicker at it. Shoulders back, hips straight, ankles together, arms at her side. He gave a small nod, acknowledging her progress, however minor. When she was positioned to his liking he turned away and undressed, taking his time. He took off his tie, hung it on the tie rack. Undid his belt, hung it on another rack. Folded his pants and shirt and put them in a pile for the dry cleaners. She watched his muscles as he worked, as he leaned and reached and strode to the closet. So much leashed power.

It seemed inconceivable that this man spent his days performing neurosurgery, dealing in fine increments too small to be detected by the human eye. So much steadiness, so much finesse must have been required, and yet there was a wildness in him she could barely comprehend.

When he was fully undressed, he crossed in front of her to his bureau and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was filled with neatly coiled and tied-off bunches of rope of several thicknesses and colors. She watched as he sorted through them thoughtfully.

"Are you planning to hang me?"

He turned. "That would kind of defeat the purpose." He looked back in the drawer, drew out some rope, twisted it between his fingers as if testing the weight and softness. He stood and came to her, unraveling the bundle. "Kat, have you ever heard of shibari?"

"Is that some kind of power drink?" He took one nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching a sharp warning. "Uh…um…some kinky rope thing?" she guessed again.

"Shibari is another word for Japanese rope bondage. And it’s not just kinky stuff. It’s an art form." He gestured back toward the drawer. "As you may have guessed from my collection, I’m pretty into it." He lifted the frayed edge of the rope he held, drew it across the tender nipple he’d just pinched. She shivered at the ticklish sensation. "I’m going to tie you up, Kat."

"Um, okay. For how long?"

"For as long as I want."

"Somehow I knew you were going to say that."

"Hush, you little brat." He made her kneel, then pressed her forward until her forehead touched the carpet. "Give me your hands." She reached them back and he took them, cinching them together wrist-to-wrist with the rope. He ran the dangling tails around her waist and crossed them at the front, then pulled them back up again.

As he worked, she rested her cheek on the floor and gazed over at the jumble of paper cranes still scattered on the floor. She thought she should pick them up. At least someone should. All that careful, intricate work. Behind her back, the same fingers that had folded the cranes whispered across her skin, punctuated sometimes by the touch of soft, scratchy rope. He got up at one point and moved back across the room. She heard a drawer opening and closing but she couldn’t turn her head up high enough to see what he returned with. He put whatever it was on the small desk against the wall and knelt down again. She was still, compliant. She was curious about what the hell was going on. She felt the rope almost like a blanket on her back, a crisscrossing pattern. She felt a little tug and then rope being tied around her ankles.

That finished, he stood a couple paces in front of her and said, "Come here."

She started to move, rousing the usual muscles into action. She thought the rope behind her was loose enough to allow motion, but her legs stopped still. Her torso lurched, arrested. He caught her shoulders before she did a faceplant into the rug.

"Jesus," she snapped. "What the fuck?"

"Try again. Slowly. Come here. Think about how you’ll have to move."

Kat felt sudden tears burn behind her eyes. She felt humiliated, helpless. "I can’t move at all. You tied me up."

"I’ve hampered you, but you can still move."

"I don’t want to do this anymore." She hunkered over, resting her head on the floor. She hated the tremor in her voice.

He squatted down in front of her, patted the side of her hair as if she were a child or a pet. She wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. "Don’t be a quitter, Kat. And don’t overreact right now. How are you feeling?"

She pulled at the bonds, at her arms and legs hobbled and no longer under her control. "I feel restricted. Trapped."

"Good. That’s how I meant you to feel." He kept petting her, stroking her hair. "You’re trapped but I’ve got you. You’re okay. Do you understand? Now try it again." He stood in front of her again, a towering pillar to her supplication. "Move. Come here."

She moved more slowly, more carefully this time. He made an encouraging sound. She discovered that if she inched each knee forward and distributed her weight carefully, she could move forward without falling or tipping on her side. As she moved forward, he moved back. With painstaking progress she inched across his bedroom.

"Good girl," he said finally. "Stop. Remind me what I said I was going to do to you here in the bedroom."

"I was kind of hoping you were going to fuck me, but I’m not sure how you’d accomplish that with this—owww!" A slice of liquid fire lanced across her buttocks, and then another.

It took a moment for it to register that was doing it. There was a disconnect before she understood that he had brought back some implement from those drawers and was using it on her now. It took another moment for her to understand that she also had no power to get away, to evade any further blows. By the third stroke, the throbbing scary pain had her scrambling for an answer, any answer to make it stop. "Oww! Umm…ahh…"

"What did I say? Weren’t you listening?"

God, she needed to listen better. She thought back, thought hard.

When I’m done bringing your things in, I’m going to take you in the bedroom and hurt you. "You—you said you were going to hurt me."

"Very good."

"Which you’re kind of doing right now—ouch!" She gasped and tensed at the sudden stinging pain, cursing her sassy mouth. She clamped her lips shut, drawing her legs in more tightly.

"Finished?"

"Yes Sir." She heard him put the implement back down on the desk, a minute sound that still registered in the form of relief. He knelt beside her with something new in his hands, a small chain. "Can I—please—can I just ask a question?" she pleaded.

"Yes."

"What was that? That you hit me with?"

Excerpt 2,

Kat looked down with a rueful smile. "Yeah. Ryan’s so good at everything. Sometimes it makes me feel so…"

"Hopeless? Helpless? Pointless?"

"Yeah," said Kat in amazement. "Exactly."

"I used to feel the same way with Dave. It took me a long time to understand that he liked me just the way I was. Maybe it’s a submissive thing, always wanting to be better for your Dominant. To live up to his expectations. When really, usually, their main desire is just for you to feel loved."

Sophie’s words made so much sense and Kat was anxious to really talk to Sophie about these matters, about Dominance and submission and relationships while she had her ear. "How long did it take? I mean, for you to really feel at ease with each other? For everything to feel…sorted out?"

"Sorted out?" Sophie laughed lightly, a sweet musical sound. "You know, we still have to sort things out. Regularly. Having Hunter really threw a wrench in things. Not that we don’t both love him to tears, but life has ups and downs. So do D/s relationships. What really matters is what’s in here," she said, touching her chest.

Kat sighed. "My father says that exact same thing. But sometimes it seems so much more complicated."

"It is. It’s definitely complicated. I guess all I’m saying is that as long as the love is there, and the will to be together, everything else works itself out."

Kat and Sophie noticed the quiet and stillness at the same time. They turned to find two pairs of eyes watching them—one dark, one light.

"Look," said Ryan. "A subby bonding moment."

"We’re discussing what’s more important," Sophie joked without missing a beat, "girth or length."

"Lucky for Kat, she has both," Ryan said, pulling Kat down to the floor.

Dave guffawed, moving up to sit beside Sophie. "I think we both know who has the King Dong here."

Sophie shook her head at Kat. "See? It always degenerates into this. Every time.
They actually measured last time and they’re nearly identical. Yes, they measured. Sad, I know."

Ryan laughed, rolling over so Kat was trapped under him. "She made us measure ’cause we wouldn’t stop talking about it." Kat looked up into his dark, laughing eyes. It was so fun, so novel to see him like this—boyish, silly, at ease with his oldest friend.

tried to school her expression, tried to hide the jumble of her feelings, but as always he saw right through her. "Are you having fun, Kat?" he asked. She nodded and bit her lip. His thigh moved over hers to rest on her pelvis, pinning her to the floor.

"Would you like to have more fun?"

She very much wanted to have more fun, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to admit it out loud. She flicked a glance over at Sophie and Dave. They were watching from the sofa, their expressions equivocal and friendly. It was pretty clear to Kat that the decision was hers, that they were waiting for her to agree and say yes or demur and say no. She knew either way they would accept it. It was Kat who couldn’t quite accept it yet.

"Answer me, Kat." Before her eyes, the boyfriend transformed, by degrees, into the Dominant. The face rearranged into more severe lines and the voice grew slightly deeper. "Would you like to have more fun? It’s totally up to you."

She only paused a moment before she answered. "Yes, I would like to have more fun, she said quietly. "Yes Sir."

It was actually Sophie who undressed her when they went into the bedroom. Well, Sophie undressed first while Kat watched..."

*Tease!*

Excerpt 3,

"What?" She sounded defensive.

"What are you upset about? You didn’t like playing with Dave and Sophie?"

She shrugged. "I liked that part." He met her eyes.

Then what?"

She swallowed, bit her lip. He thought he saw her throat work a little. Was she going to cry? His hands stilled on the rope.

"Please talk to me," he said. "For once, just say what’s on your mind."

"I was just talking to Sophie…yesterday…" Again her lips trembled.

"About what?"

"She said you loved me. She said she knew it."

He smiled softly. Any other girl would have been gooey over it. Kat looked about ready to spit. "Of course I love you," he said.

"Surely you knew that. I’ve never said it because…because of how you are. Because I knew it would upset you. But you had to know."

"I don’t know what I know."

He touched her cheek softly and her eyes closed. "You always say that. But I think you do know."

She started to struggle then. Her hips twisted and her arms pulled in their weblike rope bonds. "Please untie me."

"No."

"If we were like them, with a baby, all married and stuff," she said angrily, "then you couldn’t do this anymore. This stuff you love so much. You couldn’t get naked and tie me in knots—"

"It wouldn’t matter."

"And fuck me whenever you want and…and have your friends come over and—"

"Kat. It wouldn’t matter. I would be happy just to be with you, just to love you. I love you." He leaned over her where she twisted on the floor. "What’s really wrong? What are you really upset about?"

"It’s just…I’m just…" She came to rest from her struggles, her chest heaving in her exertions. The rope slid across her taut nipples. "I’m afraid I’ll die without ever really knowing what I want. Without knowing who I am."

"Who are you then? Someone different than the girl I know? Tell me then, if you’re someone else. Who are you? What are you like?"

"I don’t know. That’s the problem. I’m just like my father. I’ve been pretending to be someone else for so long, I’ve completely lost who I am. I’ve played all these roles that aren’t really me for so long," she wailed, looking up at him.

"What do you mean? What kind of roles?"

"I don’t know. Wayward daughter. Mean sister. Club girl. Submissive. Slut."

"You mean you aren’t really a slut?"

She responded to his joke with a gaze like poison. "Untie me."

"I’m kidding, Kat."

"Let me go. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to talk about this."

"I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re going to talk." He held the edge of the rope hard in his fist, mid-tie, not letting her unravel the progress he’d made so far, not letting her get away. "Why do you play all those roles if it makes you unhappy?" he asked.

"I don’t know."

"Think about it. To fulfill people’s expectations? To hide?"

"I don’t know! Untie me. Please!"

"Okay, answer me one thing first. Are you playing a role right now? Drama queen?" His voice sounded harder, angrier than he wanted it to. She looked up at him and burst into tears.

"Please untie me."

Ryan relented, starting to untie the knots with shaking fingers. "You know," he said in a harsh tone. "Kat…you know…"

"What is it, Kat? Talk to me."

Just lost the third long part of my story SOLD.

2010-11-07T11:55:00.000-08:00

I type on the actual blog because I like it and I normally highlight my text and copy it. Well this time...

I've lost all the juice so I am going to do part three tomorrow. I intend to do one part each day.

This is annoying, even my draft that the blog saved has only got a quarter of what I typed. I tend to type from the gut. Anyway, I went on my blog news and found some juicy pics that may make me muster up a little smile. They are from

http://lissamatthews.tumblr.com/rss

I also have a good discussion from Kitty Thomas' blog. It's better now cos I added my two cents, lol. http://kittythomas.wordpress.com/2010/11/07/who-has-the-power/#comment-805

She talks about power in Dom sub relationships. I've read and heard before that the sub truly has the power. I agreed with her post when she disagrees with that.

I'm not a powerful iron lady day to day and I'm not a pushover day to day, I'm in between, "the woman next door," and the only reason I love the fact that in sex a submissive is powerless, is it's truly sexy to me. It does nothing for my mind, my mind couldn't care less about wrong and right, and rebellion against that, it's my body that reacts.

I posted this review of Story of O the movie on Amazon UK.

2010-11-07T08:20:00.000-08:00

It'll be there next week sometime. They sent me one of those emails, review your recent products. I was going to say something about their meaning of the word recent as I saw it was purchased 10/06/2010 but then I realised that date must mean 6th of October so 06/10 as we in the UK say. It's Amazon UK but they're still obviously as American as anything.

Even when I'm outside, I find this movie a perfect expression of a part of what's inside of me.

I gave it three stars out of five on amazon.

The movie is about a woman called O who is on a journey to please her lover Rene. Her journey is one of sexual slavery, objectification, freedom, emotional and physical bonds, ties and training. O later meets Sir Stephen, someone who will become a really big part of her life.

I've seen this four times and I'd watch again. Maybe not every day even if Story of O is one of my favourite books but this is a nice, quality movie version. The best parts are the music, not the pop songs or an attempt at those which are cringeworthy (thankfully there's only one when they show O being a professional photographer, in which the actress is talented but she's given cliche lines and it's a bit cheesy). The instrumental is quite lovely. It also fits the cinematography and pretty colours of the movie.

I think the movie is also what you take from it. It's not particularly erotic, for example when O is whipped whilst I like that you can see she's not laughing like some maniac and so fitting in with some people's views of BDSM, she's actually reacting to the whipping like a "normal person" but I'd have liked to have seen more sensuality. Afterall this is a sensual story. It is a story about love too and there is intensity, perhaps more I feel between O and Sir Stephen. I liked Sir Stephen in this, even if at one point the narrator tells us that he whips O to the point of unconciousness (for her) but there is a quality to the actor. I didn't realise it was young Udo Keir who played RENE, so I looked at him a bit different the next time. Initially I found him a boring pretty eyed young man, with not nearly as much charisma as Sir Stephen.

And when O is touched, it's not erotic at all. It comes off just as pain and tolerance and we're led to believe she does enjoy it because the point of Story of O is she a willing and complete sexual slave to those Rene and later on Sir Stephen want her to be. Even the part where she is making love to Jacqueline wasn't that sensual, perhaps because it had no drama unlike what we have seen O experience at the Chateu- where she undergoes some of her training to be a sexual slave.

So it's a pretty looking movie, a nice one, I don't feel it adds anything to the book by any means but it's not a bad adaptation. It's quite classy, with the instrumental music that will stay in your head and the movie does have in particular one beautiful image which I love, O on the boat by moonlight wearing an owl mask and arriving at a party Sir Stephen's property and slave. She looks stunning.

I'm unsure about the ending of the movie. The dvd does have extra features which include an interview with the director but they ask about the beginning of the movie. Not the end. This movie presents Story of O as a story of love. The trailer included on the dvd, calls it a heartwrenching tale of love. I suppose O wouldn't be O without her love for Rene so it is a love story.

Spoilers.

Sometimes I think the ending of the movie is there to imply a sequel to O, that that is its main purpose. Hm..But, still the movie is one adaptation of the book. The book is something else, it's in a higher league I feel, doesn't matter how much you take from the movie.

SOLD continued.

2010-11-06T15:47:00.000-07:00

I heard some switches and the light in the sitting area came on. As my buyer returned to me still kneeling I thought that he may kick me or inspect my hand bag, either of those. If I was doing this out of any anger or frustration, it would have made things easier for me, I could have got up, even if I couldn't escape. But it was my curiousity to be perverted, to have someone pull my strings as if I were a flimsy puppett, a doll, that made me stay rooted to the ground, to his carpet, on my knees.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked softly.

I looked up a little ready to mutter something about being a mere annoyance with no conclusion or end to my sentence, instead I managed to get a glimpse of his face. He must have been bending down. Because he was smiling, I smiled too.

"Do you know about submission?"

"Yes." I answered my buyer. "I know about BDSM. Domination and submission."

"What else do you know?"

"I know about spanking. Whipping. Beating. But I don't know what turns me on other than the idea of being owned."

"Like an animal?"

Like a sexual animal. I felt fresh cream in my cunt. "I..don't know."

"Like a dog?" He tilted my face up to him.

I shook my head. I wasn't into barking or anything like that.

"This sounds stupid but I read about a woman who went to a farm and was used as a cow. To produce milk for the farmers. From her breasts. Part of me found that erotic. It was like her breasts were just objects for the men to use."

"Did she come?"

"Yes." I understood he meant cum.

"Stand up."

I did as my buyer asked.

"Take everything you are wearing off."

"Yes." I obeyed. I took my skirt off and I unwrapped the scarf from around my breasts.

I saw him look me over.

"What do you think about your body? Do you find yourself attractive?"

"I think I look okay." I said fairly and truthfully.

"You're a pretty girl. You have a nice body. If you were put in a position where you were to submit to me, every part of you would be mine and that includes your body. I want your body to be in the best condition it can be. You're not to put on any weight."

Mine. Owned. Mine. Owned. I was not to put on any weight because I was..his property.

"Yes." I said softly.

"Turn around."

I obeyed, presenting my arse to him.

I wanted him to touch me. I would have melted right then and there.

"Turn around facing me." I did. "I have bought you tonight. That makes you my slave for tonight. That would mean you are to obey all my orders. I want you to think about whether you agree to this whilst you are kneeling down. I want you kneeling with your hands behind your head and your body straight. You're not to slouch. If you are to be my slave, I will punish you for slouching. Do you understand, girl?"

"Yes."

SOLD.

2010-11-05T16:44:00.001-07:00

You may have seen this one before.

I love the concept as a story so I decided to edit what I had written, the original is still on my blog under the older posts.

"Here's what happens. You don't speak till I let you."The man who made the highest bid growled these words into my ear as he dragged me down the steps. His arm was around my waist, I caught some people’s gazes but I didn’t make an effort to smile at them. I was too scared. I nearly toppled down the steps but he caught me. His body was large over mine. Dominant.

My top and skirt were a mess. Someone told me to dress edgy. I didn’t own anything edgy so I turned up in a black skirt and cream sweater. When I got to the auction, this woman looked me up and down, sniffed and handed me a very short black skirt. I was told to discard my sweater, wear the thigh skimming short skirt and wrap my scarf around by breasts.

"What were you doing here?” My “buyer” asked me. Our eyes met for the first time as he opened the car door for me. I had a reason but I focused on getting in the passenger seat.

So, I found this place where women are sold off at an auction. Like slavery. And I willingly signed up. I purposely looked for such a place. You were here too.

I didn‘t say this, instead I kept my mouth shut as he started the engine and we drove away from the building. From the outside, it looked like a warehouse. Inside, there was a stage for prospective slaves, lit well and I could even see every face in the audience.

The drive was quiet, the engine a low noise. I had a thing about always being comfortable in cars. I felt safe. Contained. When my buyer pulled into a driveway, I could feel my heart beat pick up. I waited for him to open my door from the outside. As I got out, I felt the cold air hit my face and trepidation fill my body.

"Come."

I walked behind him, following him to the main door. He made a motion for me to go in first. I walked into the dark and he turned on the light. He told me to take my shoes off and pointed to a sitting area.
.
I waited for him to say something but he just sat on the couch watching me. The room was dark and there was only the light from the hallway.

“Kneel here.” He said softly. Patting the ground with his foot.

I didn’t understand but I did it. When I did, he asked me "What would you have done tonight?"

I really didn’t know what to say.

"You acted like a whore."

"Yes." I finally said. "I wanted to be bought."

"You don't mind if a random guy sucks your breasts?"

I started to become aroused at the sucking, breasts part, I loved getting my nipples being sucked. But I just looked at his face.

I was breathing quite heavily then. I was sweating.

"Some men are into rough sex. Do you understand what I am saying?"

I nodded my head yes, looking at his feet.

Maybe I liked it rough. Or maybe I wanted to be forced to like it.

“I didn’t want to wait for some man to admit he has a crush on me. I wanted to do something about it..sex. I have taken some precautions. Safety, hygiene.” And I had those precautions with me.

He got up from the couch. I just kept on kneeling. I could see out the corner of my eye, that he was standing there, perhaps looking at me, perhaps looking at my body. But I wasn’t embarrassed, far from it. My bottom must have been sticking out my skirt, I had pins and needles in my feet, my breasts were still tied up in the scarf only because someone else did it. I could feel my nipples poke through. I had no under wear on, I never had no underwear on, when I took my panties off I sometimes saw cream from my cunt and I smelled it.

I love my Dom.

2010-11-03T14:12:00.001-07:00

I know some may have a problem with my writing this. My Dom doesn't know I have written this on here. I haven't done it to get a reaction out of him but I wonder what his reaction may be. He knows I love him.

I think I wanted to write this on here because he has changed my life. I would say that definitely qualifies as a blog entry.

I don't want to go too much into detail on here, I don't want an entry spilling the details, I just wanted to write that I love him,

HIS.

Most normal people would be getting drunk right about now.

2010-10-31T15:56:00.000-07:00

There's not even a movie I can summon the patience to watch. Texas Chainsaw Massacre doesn't scare me. There was a novelty to it, I got it the first time, I have no wish to see it again. It's pretty boring. "Halloween" is boring, the music and her screeching just takes away any scare factor. These are all good movies, I just don't have it in me to be scared by them. Creeped out, not scared. I tried Martin, because of the association between vampirism and rape, in particular in Martin's case but I don't like the quality of that film. Even if I watched these movies with a friend or relative, we'd just have a laugh, neither of us would be scared.

Don't get me started on The Excorsist. It's too hilarious. I think it was either the book to this or The Devil's Advocate..actually probably both that got me startled at night, good I wanted that, but have you ever seen the movie Devil's Advocate? Keanu Reeves? Are you having a laugh? And I keep waiting for Al Pacino to burst out with hoo ah!

But I did get creeped out tonight and I'll not complain there isn't enough provocation in that sense. I got sent an email which made me nauseous. It was teen girls complete with crooked teeth and braces topless. It was so so disgusting. The photos also looked fake, and they just looked so creepy and odd, creeply smiles, creepy eyes and creepy stuck from someone else's bodies. Ew. It's the first time I've ever seen something like this and it's going to haunt me, but not in a good horror movie way, in a bloody gee thanks a lot for sending me some shit which you should have just kept to yourself you DISGUSTING PAEDOPHILE way.

My ideal Halloween would be to have someone around to visit a graveyard with me. Yes. True. It'd be pitch dark and we'd have a bottle of alcohol and just be freezing and talking.

The place where I live, there's no houses. So there's no trick or treating. It's just pub brawls and I don't feel like even going anywhere near that area when I'm on my own. I want silence. Silence is the best. I have it now. And that's probably why I'm kind of smiling writing this. It adds to my never mind graveyard, even the corner of a field fantasy under a tree. Drunk. Fucked. Without consent. Slapped. Spanked. Twisted. All orchestrated by Master.

"When the rape fantasy becomes a reality." This woman angered me.

2010-10-30T16:05:00.000-07:00

http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-girl-talk-when-rape-fantasy-becomes-reality/

"Two weeks ago, my gentle and loving boyfriend of three months held me down and forced me to have sex with him against my will, and then told me I had asked for it. And technically, he was right.

Jacob and I had only been dating about a month and a half when I intimated that I had a rape fantasy. Over the years, I’d had my share of experience with role-playing and rough sex. I vividly recall a male friend of mine in college telling me that I had a distinct air of “sexual prey” about me, and me thinking that this was a huge compliment. Being dominated and playing the innocent who secretly wasn’t had been my currency and had guided the sexual dynamic I forged with partners for the last 10 years. But only for the last few months had I allowed myself to entertain what I considered to be the final frontier— a simulated rape.

The problem, of course, was that since we’d never discussed it, his decision to enact it without any prior dialogue, without my consent, robbed me of the control that would’ve made it a rape fantasy rather than an out-and-out rape.

Growing up as I did in an era where the phrase “no means no” was seared into my brain from grade school on, I was nervous about revealing my dirty secret to Jacob, worried I’d scare off my relatively naïve partner or make him think I was sick. I was relieved and excited when he told me he would be into trying it out. From there, the content of our emails, texts and video chats became decidedly faux-rapey, as I told him how I wanted him to hold me down, force my legs apart and screw me even as I begged him to stop. It was foreplay, and it got me incredibly hot. In my mind, it was still very much in the realm of fantasy, and I was secure in knowing that if and when I decided to take things to the next level—i.e., act out the fantasy—the inevitable and, for me, dreaded conversation involving safe words and boundaries (things I’d always associated with schoolmarms and humorless girls who’d read too much Third Wave feminism) would have to happen.

I never got the chance to have that conversation before things went horribly wrong. To celebrate Jacob’s birthday, I’d booked us a room in a fancy hotel, where we’d proceeded to make very quick work of every surface in the first few hours of our stay. Late that night, we returned home from a tame evening out, both totally sober. We’d been arguing intermittently and there was a strange vibe between us when I flounced onto the overstuffed bed in my underwear, pouting petulantly. As he crawled on top of me, I rather sternly informed him that I didn’t want to have sex with him. To my horror, he got a menacing look on his face and ignored my protests. I knew after a few misguided attempts to block him from entering me that he thought what was happening was drastically different from what I knew to be taking place. To him, this was the fantasy I’d been talking about. To me, it was not. The problem, of course, was that since we’d never discussed it, his decision to enact it without any prior dialogue, without my consent, robbed me of the control that would’ve made it a rape fantasy rather than an out-and-out rape.

As the knowledge of what was happening dawned on me and the seconds crawled by, I made the decision to lay as mute and motionless as possible, to drive home the point that it wasn’t, in fact, what I wanted and I wasn’t enjoying what he was doing. I was worried that fighting back would only make him think I was play-acting all the more, and I didn’t feel imperiled enough to try to hurt him in the service of getting him to stop. When it was over, I lay there, shaken. When I finally sat up, I whispered to Jacob that what happened wasn’t what he thought happened. And it was then that what might feasibly have been dealt with as simply an unfortunate miscommunication (a very unfortunate one) took on the weight of an irrevocable transgression. Horrified at the suggestion that he’d misread my signals and overtaken me, Jacob began to lash out. He insisted that I was to blame, that I’d made him into a monster and led him down the road to ruin by suggesting the fantasy in the first place. He furiously maintained that despite what I said, I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve uttered the magic words that would’ve made him know I was serious, that I wanted him to stop, that this was not, in fact, my fantasy. But because I didn’t, I was, as he eloquently put it, asking for it.

If this had happened to any one of my friends, indeed any woman I know, I’d have been the first to rail against any sort of “blame the victim” stance. But knowing what I know about my own reticence to set concrete limits, not out of laziness but out of sheer spite for what I’d always thought was a lame, overwrought, touchy-feely set of principles, I can’t assuage myself fully from blame.

In the days and hours and weeks since that night in the hotel room, I fought hard to make Jacob understand that I didn’t blame him entirely for what happened. I knew I’d failed to explain my boundaries to him, but the incident itself wasn’t what had upset me as much as his single-minded belief that I and I alone was responsible for the f**k-up. His lack of compassion and empathy proved to me that he wasn’t the sort of person I could rely on when things got, as it were, rough. Maybe with the right person, the relationship could’ve recovered from such a catastrophic misunderstanding. But I’ll never know. I’ll never let such a catastrophic misunderstanding happen again."

I think why it infuriates me, why this woman Anouk infuriates me, is what she has written. It's part fairytale and then part recounting of a disaster. I feel like I've been given half the story when all the story is needed. I also find it difficult to not judge someone who looks down on safewords to the extent she does. Granted not every sexual relationship has a safe word but she looks down on them so flippantly with a sentence like, "involving safe words and boundaries (things I’d always associated with schoolmarms and humorless girls who’d read too much Third Wave feminism)."

She comes across as the kind of woman I actually hate; using your sexuality as a currency. She comes across as fake, "I vividly recall a male friend of mine in college telling me that I had a distinct air of “sexual prey” about me, and me thinking that this was a huge compliment. Being dominated and playing the innocent who secretly wasn’t had been my currency and had guided the sexual dynamic I forged with partners for the last 10 years."

What happened to her was rape no doubt from what she describes later on.

It's also the worst case scenerio of a woman who's too into role play, not naive or innocent, but actually someone who had her own play turned visciously on her.

I think Jacob reacted from guilt and I think he was very, very nervous about this whole thing. I'm not justifying his actions. I could well be wrong about him also. The fact is he raped her and he shows no remorse. I also think he's going to be messed up forever.

Some comments are about our culture. Blame the victim. And related to that, some are about this "We’d been arguing intermittently and there was a strange vibe between us when I flounced onto the overstuffed bed in my underwear, pouting petulantly." I understand people's judgement about this but to me it's not about what she is or isn't wearing or actually even her behaviour, she was edgy and we can all act dumb when we're edgy but it's about the fact that like I say we're looking at her as a human being and so far we're seeing someone who's been through a hell but also someone that some commentators and myself have problems with as a person. She's putting herself out there and we're judging. In my opinion this was rape, this was wrong, it hurt her a lot and despite my judgement, these three things remain facts. I have sympathy for her.

"Sit on your hands, Rosie"

2010-10-30T09:02:00.000-07:00

I am glad to post about Lissa Matthews newest book, Cracklin Rosie. Her blog is http://lissamatthews.com/blog/ and she posts snippets of her books on there beforehand as well. She's one of my favourite authors, everytime I read her book I send her a message.

Her books are so intense, they have a lot of emotional depth as well as erotica. They also have a lyricism and the people are very real and not at all quaint. My favourite part of Lissa's newest, is Decker our hero not giving up. He absolutely claims our heroine, Rosie, she's pretty much his from the start and she's a real woman who needs a real man. I know people have a problem with that word, real. By real, I mean someone without frills and has dimensions that we're allowed to see. I've read books where the heroine has resistance to the hero but this one is better because it's real and it doesn't go into cariacture.

Lissa writing speaks for itself so I wil leave you with a blurb, two excerpts and a link. Happy Halloween for tomorrow!

"Blurb:

A tool for every job. A belt for every occasion…

Blue Jeans and Hard Hats, Book 2

Food is Rosie’s life, and life is good. She loves it, makes it, serves it in her diner, writes about it in her blog, and she’s happy. At least until a storm puts a rather large tree limb through her roof, and a sex-in-a-tool-belt roofer on top of her cabin.

But that’s not where she wants him. No, she wants him behind her with a strip of leather in his hand. That’s what makes her edgy—vulnerability is not her style. Except the more prickly she gets with him, the more he turns on the charm.

Decker arrives in Blue Ridge, Georgia, with nothing on his mind but a job and some new scenery. His legendary patience is tested from the first moment he meets sharp-tongued Rosie. She’s got hips that sway, non-stop curves and a mouth that needs to be filled with things that are much sweeter than vinegar.

A few singe-worthy kisses, and Decker uncovers passions that will likely earn her every red stripe she’s begging for. And Rosie discovers Decker’s got a hunger burning deep inside to give her anything and everything she needs. Maybe even…forever.

Warning: Between the sheets of this book you’ll find a twist on a decadent southern dessert, sweet rose wine, picnic table sexiness, truck sex, a man who knows how to give a spanking and a woman who knows how to bend over a hot yummy lap.

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm!

I hope y’all enjoy this book. It’s a little longer than Sweet Caroline. It’s a little darker, as some have put it. There’s a little bit of power play going on, but as in all my books, it’s subtle. I like subtle.

Rosie is feisty. Decker is hot. They are firecrackers together."

"“You want me to get his order?”

Rosie glanced at Decker who was staring at her. Evidently, Caroline had picked up on Rosie wanting more than to live vicariously through her and Buck, too. She shifted her gaze back to Betsy, her partner at the counter this morning. “No, I’ll get to him. Eventually.”

Problem wasn’t her getting to him. Problem was him getting to her. And the longer he remained in Blue Ridge, the more he got to her. She’d just admitted to wanting him, just told him she couldn’t sleep because of him. She shouldn’t be admitting things like that. She knew deep down it wasn’t going to deter him, either. Hell no, it was only to make him more determined.

“You sure? I don’t mind. Thinkin’ I might like to get more than his order.”

Rosie would be irritated if it was anyone else, but Betsy was pushing sixty-five. She winked at the other waitress. “Go for it then, Bets. He might be into cougars.”

Betsy laughed. “You bad girl. That man is young enough to be my son. Sadly, I don’t think he comes in here to see me. I believe he’s only got eyes for you.”

Yes, Rosie knew that to be true. He did. And it sucked. He was still staring at her, too, smiling. She didn’t know his friend Buck all that well, but at the moment, she wanted to kill him for asking Decker to come and work on her house. Which in turn would lead to her wanting to kill Caroline because Rosie had no doubt the other woman had mentioned it to Buck. Yeah, mass murder all around.

“He’s a good one.”

Rosie snorted. “How do you know that?”

“I can just tell. You know, my Bert proposed to me three days after we met. The heart knows.”

“So your heart knows that the roofer is what? A good man?”

“Yes. But more importantly, your heart knows it, too.”

“Things don’t happen like that anymore, Bets.”

“Oh, girl, please. The heart is the same. The feelings are the same. The details may be different, but in the end the heart knows. He’s one of the good ones. He’s one of the few worthy ones. Now, are you gonna go get his order or…?

“I’m going. I’m going. You drive a hard bargain. You know that?”

“That’s my job. You’re the granddaughter I never had. Now scoot and stop giving that young man such a hard time.”

Rosie stuck her tongue out at the grandmother she never had and made her way to the other end of the counter. It just wasn’t as easy as Betsy made it sound. Rosie wished it were, but… She shook her head and glared at Decker. “You want the usual? To go?”

“Nope. I’m not in a hurry this morning.”

Of course not. “Well, we’re pretty busy, so how about I get it all bagged up for you anyway and you can give up your seat for another customer. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“You’re not being very hospitable, Rosie. Might have to talk to your manager.”

It’s not that she didn’t want him around. It’s that she wanted him around too much. It threw her off her game. She didn’t know how to handle a man’s interest like his. Hell, she didn’t know how to handle her own interest in him. She was thirty-seven years old and had never come across a man as potent as him—straight sun-streaked brown hair to his collar, black-rimmed glasses with skulls on the frames, dark chocolate eyes, and tattoos. He had tattoos up and down his back. She’d seen him once without his shirt and stared and drooled like a damn fool. He was gorgeous. At least to her. Most people in town gave him a wide berth until he smiled at them. Then they warmed up, shaking his hand, talking to him, making him feel welcome and at home in their little community. She didn’t want him feeling at home here. She wanted him to go home, back to wherever he came from.

And speaking of that damned smile of his. It was very disarming and melted every woman, even ones older than Betsy, into a puddle. He had eyes for only one woman though.

Why couldn’t he have been one of those overweight, beer-bellied, crack-showing blue-collar guys? It would have made life lately so much easier.

“I am the manager.”

Then there was the megawatt grin. His teeth were pearly white in his tan face, straight and beautiful. Could teeth be beautiful?

“Well, isn’t that fortunate for you? Not to mention, I never said I was anything close to a gentleman.”

He hadn’t, but she knew he was. He opened doors for little old ladies. He shook hands with little old men. He smiled, made small talk with people, and she knew he’d give his last dollar to anyone that might need it. He had that bad-boy look yes, but he was a gentleman through and through. It sucked. Why couldn’t he be a jerk? “Seriously, Decker, what can I get you? We are busy, and I just…I don’t like you.”

“So you were lying out at the truck?”

“No I wasn’t lying. I don’t lie.” At least not to anyone but herself. “I said I wanted you. I said nothing at all about liking you.”

“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart as though he really was wounded. “If I believed you that would sting. But, lucky for you, I don’t and my feelings are tougher than that. I can withstand the abuse. Especially now that I know the truth.”

Of course he could take it. She’d been dishing it out to him since he arrived at her cabin and he’d been smiling all the while. There was no way she’d be able to win with him. She was going to lose her heart and in the end, she was the one that would bear the wound. “What do you want from me?”

“For starters, how about dinner? A little kindness maybe? And some conversation.”

“That’s it?” She knew that wasn’t it. She didn’t want that to be it. She wanted there to be so much more.

“Well, I said for starters.”"

Available to buy at http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/cracklin-rosie

K's excerpt,

"She sat across from him, tense, nervous, fiddling with the menu, the napkin, the edge of the table. She checked the salt and pepper shakers, the half-full ketchup bottle and frowned. She looked around then immediately looked back down when she noticed people looking in their direction.

“Sit on your hands, Rosie.”

“What?” Her wide blue gaze snapped up to his face.

“Sit on your hands. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t calm down and relax. So, I’ll say it one more time before I come and do it for you. Sit on your hands. One under each cheek.”
Decker didn’t think she would do it but after a few minutes of her looking all around and her teeth worrying her bottom lip, she rocked on the seat as she slid one hand then the other under her bottom.

Her face was bright red, and she was staring a hole right through the middle of his chest. “Rosie, look at me.”

“I am.”

She was. Literal little brat. “Look at my face.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, she did as he asked. There was heat mixed with uncertainty mixed with that ever-present sliver of defiance. He was growing to love that part of her. It made her need for spankings and sexual teasing all the more fun, and watching her walls crumble and fall when she began pleading for the orgasms… Yeah, he was growing to love all those things about her.

“Tell me something you enjoy about owning the diner and don’t look away from my face.”

“The freedom of not working for anyone else.”

That was easy enough. “How so?”

“Well… When I was in culinary school, I had to work to pay rent and such and since I’d worked in the diner all my life, I worked in a restaurant. They were open twenty-four hours so my schedule was pretty flexible around school. I hated being at the whim of someone else though. Working here was different because I was practically running the place during high school, but working down in Atlanta, having someone to report to, having to follow their rules, and their schedules and not having any say about anything... I just hated it. I knew then I would want my own business. I didn’t know it was going to be the diner, but I knew I’d want to work for myself.”

“Why don’t you spank yourself?”

The question caught her completely off guard exactly as he’d intended. Those blue orbs widened again and she was speechless, her mouth opening and closing with nothing coming from between her lips. Betsy, their waitress, chose just that moment to bring their plates. The older woman was boisterous and kind and at the diner as much as Rosie was. She was always giving him an appraising eye, too, flirting with him. He liked it and flirted right back with her, even though she was old enough to be his grandmother. He wanted Rosie to see him as a guy, as a fun guy. He didn’t want her to see him as a threat to her world and if he could win Betsy over, well, maybe she’d put in a good, encouraging word for him.

The woman’s gaze shifted back and forth between Decker and Rosie, twinkling the whole time. She was full of mischief and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she knew his feelings and intentions with Rosie and was firmly in his corner. “Is there anything else I can get you two?”

“I’m set,” Decker beamed, looked down at his plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and fried okra. “Though more tea might be good. Oh and I’m gonna want dessert.”

“Sugar, you can have anything your little heart desires.”

“Don’t encourage him, Bets.”

“Oh hush, now. I don’t know why I shouldn’t. He’s perfectly harmless.”

“Harmless, my ass.”

Decker smirked at the glowering look Rosie gave both he and Betsy. “I think we’re good here for a bit, Betsy.”

“You just holler if that changes.”

She moved on to the other customers at other tables in their section, and Decker turned his attention back to his date. “Chicken and dumplings? I don’t think I’ve ever had that.”

“Seriously? Never?”

“Nope. Mind if I snag a bite?”

“Can I move my hands from under my ass?”

“Yep. I’m proud of you by the way for keeping them there and for asking to remove them.”

“Yeah well…I’m going to wash them now.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“I just bet you will.”

She slid out of the booth and as she started to walk by, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Kiss me.”

“What? Here?”

“Yes, here. Kiss me.”

“Decker…”

“I’m not letting you go until you do.” She looked around. The nervousness was back, and she was thrown off kilter. He both loved it and felt bad about it, but she needed to get over this hesitation about them being in public together. “Kiss me, Rosie.”

“Oh all right,” she sighed. She leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“No. Not good enough.”

She sighed again and when he tugged on her arm, she leaned in again and kissed him for real this time. It was eerily similar to the kiss he’d given her here in the diner a few days before. There was no tongue, but there was heat and intent and he could live with that. “Good girl,” he whispered against her lips. “Go wash your hands. Dinner’s getting cold.”"

Controversy.

2010-10-29T07:59:00.000-07:00

That's a pretty controversial book cover. It's definitely a child. Not a child dressing up but a child as a child and then to read a book where the man is obsessed with this child, Lolita, we're on dangerous territory. I've seen a movie adaptation of Lolita, I've read a little from the book. The books I admire are Anneke Jacob's As She's Told, not just when I'm feeling naughty, books that push because they're written by people who are talented, not just vomiting out sentences for shock value like that Marie Claire bitch (google it).

Only last week there was a photoshoot of two young women from Glee which caused controversy. And it only took a shot of one placing her hand on the other's clothed arse to have some people shouting. I'm completely against homophobia. To me, you can call it outrage at two "young girls" (the actresses are both in their twenties) but I say if you have a problem with one woman's hand on the other's arse, you're a homophobe, the kind who thinks it's not appropriate to have any kind of homosexuality on tv before watershed. Well excuse them for not being straight fine upstanding citizens in your eyes. What will upset your high standards next? Perhaps the fact it's okay to have Natalie Portman in a movie where she's how old, five,?, holding a gun but it's sensationalist to see her kiss another woman when she's nearly 30 now probably.

The rest of the Glee photoshoot had jock with a heart Finn in the middle of the colourful, candy, yes Lolita esque type of photoshoot. But someone said there is a difference between the Lolita thing and paedophilia and a difference between a woman dressing up in knee high socks and a young girl..and a man who isn't a closet paedophile should be able to differentiate. I have newfound respect when I read the late Kurt Cobain replied to the record company when they asked him to erase the privates of the baby in the water on Nevermind, to put a sticker over the privates saying that if this offends you must be a closet paedophile.

And, the jock from Glee was fully clothed whereas the women weren't and apparently it's equality between the sexes when the men are undressed too. Uh huh.

There's not one erotica book I have read which doesn't have an element of taboo. Sex, desire, and why limit it to fantasy if it's between two consenting adults, I'll come on to the adult word in a minute, is not politically correct. I would much rather read a book that pushes me than one which is merely just arousing.

Have you heard about a movie called Great Balls of Fire? Dennis Quaid plays Jerry Lee Lewis who did that famous song, you'll know when you hear those words, and Winona Ryder plays the young girl he marries. She was his "first cousin once removed" but the point I am making is she was 15 and it caused a scandal. He was 23. That're pretty huge right there, enough to make people shriek but had he been 33, it would have added shriek. I don't know their relationship, perhaps she was like the character Lolita, perhaps she was even the opposite. Whether I think this is right or wrong depends on things which I don't know about those two.

But I know Lolita from the book and movie. I know the first time the man Humbert sees her and what he describes. I know he uses the words nymphets and childlike. And I know some people will cry over what they haven't yet read. Right. Wrong. This is freedom of expression. Vladimir Nobokov had written a book about obsession and his beautiful articulation drew me in. So I don't particularly care about right and wrong in a book. And, if Nobokov was more like Humbert than we'll ever know, then I won't defend him but I won't demand society shouldn't know about Lolita. It's one of those books that sort of makes me even more alive.

Don't worry, I don't get women either.

2010-10-28T07:56:00.001-07:00

On the one hand some women say they want variation in models but those same women will turn their noses up and block their minds and say why are they sticking HER in our face and she's not got the face to model. It's not even rude, it's intolerant and forget about fair/unfair, they just will never be happy.

Look if some one bothers you that much, just don't look. Yet, you insist on looking again and just continuing to show yourself up.

For the record, I'm 5ft 2, clearly not a model and I don't have aspirations to be but I don't get intimidated by 6ft women in magazines who have different bone structures, hair and what have you to me because I believe I'm as beautiful as they are, I'm just not a model, that's all it is. I don't need a magazine to tell me I'm doing okay looks wise, I believe in myself enough, If I pick up a magazine once in a while, it's for the pretty pictures and I can see they are just that and pretty to me is broad. Disabled. Plus size. Black. Petite. Sharp chin. Round chin. It's all out there and it should be out there and why should it not be out there in magazines too?

And I know some women and men can only look up to or admire certain characteristics, it doesn't bother me, it's their thing.

Pretty by Kate Mikkai

2010-10-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

Pretty

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother “What will I be? Will I be pretty? ” Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill of fluorescent floodlight of worry.

“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty? But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dry add: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long, and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting my poor mother.

“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist.” “You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! ” “You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were six, otherwise your nose would have been fine! ”

Don’t worry; we will get it all fixed she would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that as if it were a cabbage she might buy. But, this is not about her. Not her fault she, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable appearance.

By sixteen I was pickled by ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs, laying in a hospital bed. Face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.

Belly gorged on two pints of my own blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist, like my body screaming at me from the inside out “What did you let them do to you? ” All the while, this never ending chorus groaning on and on like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood.

“Will I be pretty? ” Will I be pretty like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.

And now I have not seen my own face in ten years. I have not seen my own face in ten years, but this is not about me! This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl thirty stores in six malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how to wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those two pretty syllables.

This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? , ” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer no.

The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters. You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing, but you will never be merely “pretty.”

Katie Makkai

You really have to look up her video where shes performing this on youtube. It's BRILLIANT. I got this from Kitty Thomas' wordpress blog. Kitty also write an honest post about "pretty." I like that word. Pretty is a pretty word. It sounds pretty. When someone calls you pretty, it's nice and when someone special calls you pretty, it's beautiful. It's just the value placed on it by yes, you will always hear this word from me, society. Like Kitty writes and like Kate is making a point, you can trawl stores looking for the perfect cocktail dress and you can to the grocery store and you're supposed to be on show. You are on show, people can see you but sexuality comes from inside. If you're going out to fetch a pint of milk without make up or you got caught in the rain, you should NEVER feel inferior about yourself.

BAD!

2010-10-24T15:12:00.000-07:00

I would love to keep this blog a hot bed of sexual excitement, however look at this http://www.amazon.co.uk/Secretary-Various/dp/B00006L3OV/ref=sr_1_3?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1287958218&sr=1-3

FORTY NINE POUNDS FOR A NEW CD?!

I know this is a cult movie...

And I'd pay for a used cd but I wouldn't pay 18 pounds for it. You can get two hardcover books for that price.

Let's just say I'm currently writing this listening to the "Main Title" in its entireity and it's not from the cd nor amazon sample. I think the pricing is absolutely ridiculous and nauseating. These people are dicks.

I have, however, the comfort of this to get me through; http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Return-to-the-Chateau/Pauline-Reage/e/9780345394651/?itm=3&USRI=return+to+the+chateu

Well, for Christmas (at three quarters the price listed on BN I may add!) along with my beloved Comfort Food hardcover.

(& did you notice the "Yes, Sir" book?)

Hogtied and helpless. A story I am writing, more added.

2010-10-23T16:00:00.001-07:00

I thought it best to post the story from the start each time I add more to it. Rather than having a link to the previous part of the story. That way, we may just have wandered into some sort of organised system here. Oh look bang on midnight.

This story is dedicated to Sir.

I woke up suspended 6ft in air. I couldn’t move. When I looked up, I saw the sky swirling around me. I had a sudden chest pain, I was petrified, but I couldn’t speak. I was in a strange place. I had been kidnapped, my hands and feet were tied up, my mouth was gagged. As of this moment, I was being carried over a stranger’s shoulder.

I smelled something unfamiliar which made me feel sick though the cloth in my mouth. I puked up all over the stranger’s shoulder. I felt something big manhandle my weak, queasy body, and I was now like a jelly in someone’s arms, someone who was strange, being held over a sink. My head was shoved towards water. It was running and it was cold. It was relief.

I felt my face being touched, underneath my mouth, I could now make out that male fingers were wiping me. I breathed in and in that moment felt a jolt. Still tied, I was plonked onto a kitchen chair. How I didn’t fall, I don’t know. Something harsh gripped my hair. My head was being pulled up by my hair. I heard a scraping sound. My eyes were forced to make contact with a strange man sitting opposite me.

I was..angry? Angry should have been the correct feeling. I ANGRILY studied his face. The stupidity of it was that I hoped to get an answer. Why are you doing this to me? How much at your mercy am I?

The gag around my mouth was loosened. I kept looking at the stranger. My lips felt swollen. I swallowed. If I could move, I would have fetched myself a drink of water. Ice cold water is what I needed. Craved. But I was tied up everywhere but my mouth. When I looked down, my legs were tied to my knees, to my cunt, to my breasts, to my neck and to my fists. I could shake my head so the cloth gag was loose.

“Get it over with” was on my lips as my body was shoved on the table. Instead I could only yelp with pain. I felt a sharp smack on my bottom. ANGRILY, I knew that I was COMPLETELY at his mercy.

I thought there was going to be a knife. Either death or freedom from my binds. Instead, I felt tighter. I started hyperventilating. I felt a hand on my face. I pressed into it. Mercy. NO. He slapped my cheek. My head turned to one side out of surprise and pain. I started to cry and my breath came out thick and fast. My head was pulled upward again. Lips touched mine. He was going to kiss me. Please. NO. I got spit in my mouth. I lifted my eyes towards him. I felt like a whore.

It dawned on me that I was going to be treated like a whore. I was going to get raped. I was going to have his cock fucking the consent away, my cunt to be a whore for his cock. I listened out to any small sound, grasping at it, it was a clue as to what was going to happen to me next. I had almost lost my life once, drowning but I never became afraid of water. But I was afraid of being unsupported and balancing at a height and I know that that contributed to only a few meagre attempts that I made to struggle in my binds and attempt to throw my body off the table. I wasn‘t so afraid that I would rather get raped than throw my helpless, tied body off and feel that short fall to the ground. Whatever was going on in my head I couldn’t explain, instead I just listened.

The anticipation chilled me. I had forgotten about my heat beating violently. There was nothing at this moment I could control.

“Smell.” I lifted my eyes up to my a finger. I smelled it. I had no choice. “This is what I smell like.” He leaned down so I could see his lips.

I could cry. I could fake cry. Surely I could fake cry when my life was in danger. He was turning this into some delicious sex fantasy to him and I felt that he was going to take his time to enjoy it, that there was some sensuality in this for him. I wanted to know what was to happen. I wanted to say, just tell me what is going to happen next. So that I could know and be prepared. I’d take the smack, the sudden hit to my face. But my mind was also wanting to block some of this out by distancing myself as an observer. It’s stupid but I looked at the ceiling lights above me, I knew that I liked the room, humour linked to danger.

This Christmas, Comfort Food.

2010-10-23T12:25:00.000-07:00

I'm very happy that Kitty Thomas' Comfort Food is now available to buy in hardcover. It will be the ONLY kinky book I own in hard cover. It's available from Amazon and Barnes and Noble (BN are doing it cheaper). As I'm not in America and have to wait about a fortnight before I get it, as something that would make me happy as a sort of conquest is that I will ask this person who says they are not getting me anything to do with sex at all ever (!) as a present, to buy the book that changed my life for Christmas. And when I get it, I can just imagine being a little fetishy over the cover, you know trying to bend it a little, smell it..

I've signed up to Kitty Thomas' newsletters and she says that her next book Guilty Pleasures is going to be available in December. Comfort Food created a bit of a storm, it got people talking, it provoked and it also in its non conventional extremely intense way woo-ed people. So I am looking forward to Guilty Pleasures in December!

Teaser book descrip of Comfort Food

BOOK DESCRIPTION: Emily Vargas has been taken captive. As part of his conditioning methods, her captor refuses to speak to her, knowing how much she craves human contact. He's far too beautiful to be a monster. Combined with his lack of violence toward her, this has her walking a fine line at the edge of sanity. Told in the first person from Emily's perspective, Comfort Food explores what happens when all expectations of pleasure and pain are turned upside down, as whips become comfort and chicken soup becomes punishment. DISCLAIMER: This is not a story about consensual BDSM. This is a story about "actual" slavery. If reading an erotic story without safewords makes you uncomfortable, this is not the book for you. This is a work of fiction, and the author does not endorse or condone any behavior done to another human being without their consent. REVIEWS: " . . . dark, provocative, and glaringly honest . . ." H. Turley, Reader "Disturbing, twisted, and just plain weird . . . " Amy, GoodReads Reviewer " . . . an intelligently written, well-researched and very erotic exploration of the extremity of power dynamics . . . It's refreshing to read someone brave enough to tackle erotic themes that are truly taboo and seldom published." - Remittance Girl, Reader and author of "Gaijin" and other erotic novellas "They are a match made in a twisted sort of hell. I don't, as a rule, like erotica, but I'm likely to check out Ms. Thomas' future work just to see how far she can push the envelope." - A Taste For Ebooks, Review Blog

Amazon.

It's a mad world this internet. I love it but..

2010-10-23T08:46:00.000-07:00

Don't say in comments what you wouldn't to someone's face.

It's very simple. Being very aware of internet bullying campaigns, youtube, facebook, there are people who are absolutely viscious. Fair enough you don't like something or someone but to use language like I would run her over and kick her (actually where they said they would kick her- I'm not going to print, it's too degrading but you can guess), I don't care how annoying their appearance or persona is, how are YOU even human? Having a blog, you can take things further, you can write paragraphs and talk about things on YOUR space but the internet also acts a great shield, the abuser suffers no real remorse for their actions.

Do you think sisterhood exists? Is it exclusive to some?

2010-10-21T05:24:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking just leave the question as it is. My own opinion is that whilst I'm obviously human, I care about things that other people care about, I find it's really about how you take any treatment given to you and I find rising above it, NOT ignoring helps. If I write I have felt excluded it will come across as nothing but a VICTIM stamp and a plea for attention. So I won't go there. The reason I ask the question is just I feel and I see around me, hypocrisy, judgement and basically non sisterhood between women. I've always despised the bitchy nature that seems to be associated with women, fact is I think men are equally as guilty. I don't hate other women, I don't hate men, I don't feel it necessary to even place my trust in them as a whole, in general, I'm not cynical about them, I think people generalise and underestimate too much- but that's just it I think women underestimate others. Not just me. I mean in general. There's too much judgement I feel. I wish it was like childhood in a way, you know when you were 3 and you sat and played with anyone, I wish that innocence wasn't replaced by cynicism because I really don't think it's been replaced by knowledge.

There's an exclusion which is more so in some races and so called cultures, there's a lot of stupidity too, like skin colours in your own race. How light you are or how dark.

The jealousy argument is void as I don't think that it's a reason for being a fuck to someone. Like I say I mean this in general. I am cryptic when I need to be but if I have to say something, I will go ahead and say it, I'm not afraid of dropping names because I'd say the same thing to their face. Sad thing is the cliche of looking your "enemy" in the eyes isn't true..you only get more animosity. But that's a whole other post, probably entitled "Is respect completely dead?"

And I wonder just how much judgement comes with support? Can support between women be unconditional?

"Today I found something beautiful and decided to break it."

2010-10-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

"I wanted to see it shatter in my hand and crumble at my feet. Her name is Emily Vargas. She's bright and educated and stunning. Articulate. She'll want someone to talk to her."

Comfort Food by Kitty Thomas.

I like that but not this

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ey09JR0cRh0

I'd like to add a few more words to this post, an explanation maybe if I feel I need to, in the future.

Worth a read.

2010-10-20T12:11:00.001-07:00

The first link is for something I read about bullying. I found it to be relatively non apologetic, as opposed to some accounts which quite frankly anger me. Why are YOU calling yourself a "weird kid" when the bully is the weird kid and they're a sociopath, I don't care what age they. Bullying is not acceptable and the bullshit continues about it being tough love, the norm and a way of working out your social status. Stop already. It's WEIRD, STRANGE, MAD to pick on someone.

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/10/heres-what-i-read-about-bullying.html

The second link has my own thoughts. http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-read-something-today-about-bullying.html

I'm not the real author of Kinky.

2010-10-19T12:52:00.000-07:00

*snort* Sorry, here's some links to my other blog.

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/10/movie-time.html

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/10/hair.html

I happen to quite like Mondays.

2010-10-18T07:05:00.001-07:00

Something good always happens.

I started looking at Black Lace Publishing yesterday. I once read something about this woman in the country, maybe Wild in the Country,?!, and then something about a woman who was boss of all these men. I still remember "Wild In The Country," there's two men, one who's semi game keeper from Lady Chatterley's Lover without the social conscious and the other man was more enigmatic but she wasn't as sexually attracted to him at first, he was polite, posh, not as animalistic- or obviously animalistic. Anyway, I wish I kept the book, you can tell when something is written by a british author provided they don't sell out, Victoria Blisse, Charlotte Stein, these authors have a way with words.

Too bad about the aftertaste of yesterday's post eh.

I promise I won't do this again.

2010-10-17T11:25:00.000-07:00

It's deeply unsettling but also when you detach your stomach from the rest of your body, actually very funny so I thought I would share.

"Cherie was an incredible strength during those months. She knew her own life was about to change and for her it was equally frightening, in some ways even more so [...]

However, that night she cradled me in her arms and soothed me; told me what I needed to be told; strengthened me; made me feel that what I was about to do was right. I had no doubt that I had to go for it, but I needed the reassurance and, above all, the emotional ballast.

In many ways, I am very emotionally self-sufficient; in some ways, too much so. I make emotional commitment because it comes naturally to me. But I fear it also; fear the loss of control and the fact that the consequences of caring can be painful; fear the dependence; perhaps fear learning the lesson, from love that goes wrong, that human nature is frail and unreliable after all.

On that night of 12 May 1994, I needed that love Cherie gave me, selfishly. I devoured it to give me strength, I was an animal following my instinct, knowing I would need every ounce of emotional power and resilience to cope with what lay ahead. I was exhilarated, afraid and determined, in roughly equal quantities."

From Tony Blair's memoir A Journey, published by Hutchinson

So this is from an article which wasnt that great a read in my opinion. I feel it's only telling a quarter of the story and as usual we're going around in circles. http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/oct/16/sex-disappearing-from-novels

Dear Tallie. A letter of longing from Captain Boa.

2010-10-16T09:50:00.000-07:00

But a little intro first. Captain Boa, Ry as only Tallie is allowed to call him (as I want it that way) is one of my favourite characters from books never mind certain sections of books, Erotica. The book is called At Her Captain's Command. Boa is half variant and half human, test tube born. He's not a unicorn nor does he dazzle in the sunlight, he's a freak of nature by means of his birth. He's on this planet, I mean I forget what it's called and he can't get over Tallie Rosseau's feminity, Tallie also harbouring the feelings meaning horniness over Cap Boa. They eventually have to do something mega dangerous as part of their work but in their isolated, harsh environment, they create an explosion of fire together by having animal sex.

"Did you get the instructions about the right way of doing the zip of your flight suit over those stupendously large breasts of yours? I hope that they don't accidentally fall out again whilst I have to push you out of the plane when we go on our next mega dangerous part of our job part..I'm glad you've stopped screaming and yelling when you jump out the plane, that you're going to die because you're not going to die Tallie, your parachute has never failed you and your boobs yet. I have to say you looked like a mad bird with constipation issues the last I was forced to push you but what part of this is the fourth time I tell you to jump out did you not understand? I know you are not built for combat my delicious little computer hacker so it's okay I will protect you/i.e. push you out of planes for as long as we are stuck on this dead end probably flat as opposed to round planet of ours."

Aww!

So I have put an excerpt, blurb and publishers details for this book and you'll see what I mean about cum slut. (Not).

"Her Captain's Command: Done in the first person, for him and for her, this is an erotic tale of eventual submission and darkly tangled lust and love. Set on a distant planet, in the midst of harsh survival, a man and a woman test the boundaries of need. When they believe there is no other chance."

"Yeah right, you are not questioning a thing, because your Captain eyed your boobs," I mutter under my breath. Then, I grab the pack with the MAXY stuff in it. "Get real!"

But I figure that is as close to the truth as I’m going admit to myself on this one, as I leave my quarters and hope to hell he really did like my boobs. They were quite spectacular in that wet tee shirt.

"I’m going to what?" I hiss four hours later, looking at Captain Boa’s toughly grim expression.

"That’s what I said, Private Rousseau. The team is going to parachute out of this heap and you’re going to buddy up with me, since you’ve never dropped before. Now, get up here so I can hook you up!"

All around me in the cargo Skitter, the other six men of "the team" are putting on their parachutes. I’d been really nervous wondering what the heck was going on, but Captain Boa’s silence and his intense stares kept me quiet. In the interim of four hours, and with no briefing as promised, I was imagining many things, but never this. I have this terribly awful feeling we’re going into a war zone, and suddenly, I feel as though Captain Boa has betrayed me.

He steps closer to me and lowers his voice beneath the noise in the cargo hold. "Are you thinking of disobeying an order, private?" he asks me coldly.

This is my life, damn it, and I find myself brave enough to look up at him. "No, but I’ve never been in combat before, you should know that!"

The Captain grabs the hooks on my flight suit and hauls me toward him to begin hooking me up to him. "I do," he answers grimly. "That is why, Private Rousseau." He tugs on a hook and jostles me closer. I’m nearly hugging him! "You are going to do exactly, and I mean, exactly everything I say, the minute I say it! This is not going to be orders, private. This is going to be reaction on your part. Do not think. If I tell you to hit the dirt. Do it! Do not think if I tell you to go left, right, or stop. Just do it! If I tell you, to stay in place, a nuclear blast is not going to uproot you!"

I’m mesmerized by Captain Boa’s fierceness as he looks down at me. We are so close. We’ve never been this close before. Not even when he grabbed me in the hall. He has to feel me shaking. I can see his concern and that nearly undoes me. His vivid blue eyes are sharp with it.

"It’s a go! Drop one!" The intercom blares around us.

"Hook your hands in my belt here, Rousseau!" Captain Boa shouts over the noise.

"But, I–!"

"Go!"

I’m screaming! Captain Boa gave me no chance. He just pushed both of us out the flight hatchway, and then he wrapped his arms around my head. My screams are muffled in his throat as a huge wind flings us bodily over and over! The air sucks at my breath and I can’t breathe anymore, then suddenly everything goes black.

(Bless).

At Her Captain's Command comes in an ebook with two other stories which to be honest I haven't paid much attention to. http://www.allurebooks.com/erotic-future.htm

Weekend naughty read for you all.

2010-10-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

I haven't bought a book for weeks but this one I just bought and read. It's by one of my favourite authors and people, Amarinda Jones. The ebook is called Bad Girl and that title and cover are seductive as it is, what made me go ahead and buy it so late in my evening, was the excerpt. It's a hot, sex tease of an excerpt, full of wicked words and explicit actions, a sexy woman and a man who we have an inkling wants more than just to fuck her, he wants to posess, own her and have her as his.

What I loved about the book is that I got to read about a strong heroine who had many thoughts and emotions at this stage in their relationship and that Amarinda writes so beautifully that you can see her dimensions and never think, oh I can't relate to this, no matter that you think the heroine is different to you or the fact that the story is not your story, Ms Jones is a great writer and the book gave me that feeling when you read good Erotica; you're excited, you're interested but you're also INTO it. I had planned to read an Annabelle Joseph book or At Her Captain's Command ("cum slut."Fuck yes.I'll explain the injoke later) but this one by Amarinda, I'm going to have another read again tonight after reading it once already. It's very, very GOOD.

The book also contains a stupendously hot alley scene, words like cunt and suck are mentioned, and oh well, maybe another time, eh. *smile*

Blurb:
For six months Kealea and Christopher have been lovers, while consensually enjoying multiple partners. For a while it worked for Kealea. She wanted no commitment, and she craved the excitement and thrill of being taken by each new lover. But it’s not enough. She wants forever with Christopher. How can she make him realize there’s so much more to be enjoyed than wild sex?

Christopher shares Kealea’s desires, but he’s not sure how to change what they have into what they both crave. What if everything changes? Sex has always been easy, but loving could unleash consequences neither of them can handle. What is he to do? When another man shows interest in Kealea, Christopher knows he must make a move, or lose the woman he loves…for good.

Be Warned: multiple partners, menage sex, anal sex, bondage, public exhibition.

Adult Excerpt: (be warned)

“You’re a bad girl. I saw what you did.”

“I can do what I like.” Kealea drew in a shallow breath as she fought the restrictive feeling of being trapped by rope. She was naked and it wasn’t the first time Christopher tied her up. She was on her hands and knees, her forearms roped to her upper thighs. With her head bowed down in submission, her ass was exposed and vulnerable to whatever he chose to do.

She jumped as Christopher smacked her bare flesh—hard.

Kealea squinted, willing herself not to moan. Christopher knew she loved being spanked. It was both a joy and a punishment for her. There was something so raw and primal that appealed to her, being in this wicked position. The heat of his palm, the sound of the slap and the sting of his hand sent a wild rush of excitement coursing through her veins. The punishment was fighting the urge to enjoy it.

Smack! Smack!

Kealea bit her lower lip. She knew what this was about. He was jealous, and lately it was a common occurrence. But that wasn’t her problem. Either Christopher should declare he wanted Kealea for himself or let her go on choosing those men that amused her without questioning her actions. Knowing he didn’t believe in monogamy was fine. She had always known what their relationship would be like, and entered it with both eyes open. Christopher slept with whomever he pleased and Kealea did the same. They had a mutual understanding, but lately a tension lurked between them she couldn’t shake.

I’ll be damned if I’ll be held accountable for my actions when he’s doing the same or worse. “You don’t own me.”

Christopher’s hand strayed in between her butt cheeks. “Don’t I, baby?”

“No—we’re free agents.” They had been for six months. While they always came back to the other, both of them indulged in liaisons. On the whole, Kealea enjoyed her diverse sexual encounters. But of late, she wanted more. Maybe he finally understands. Maybe that moment with Hutch pushed him into realization. Maybe…

“Nothing is free.” His finger touched her anus. Kealea closed her eyes. Her legs were so tightly bound, the pressure of his finger invading her small opening was intense. Hot. Perfect. Keep pushing. That’s what Christopher liked to do. He enjoyed pushing her past her comfort zone and making her come like no other man could.

“You knew I was watching you.” He dropped down on his haunches.

Yes, she did. Kealea knew what Christopher was like. She squirmed and raised her ass to meet his hand. “You and I…” Kealea hesitated. What was the right word to explain their relationship?

Christopher continued working his finger inside her. “Yes, what?”

“We’re complicated.” Yeah, that was it. “And messy and bad.” So bad it was good.

Christopher leaned over her body and whispered in her ear. “But you like being bad.”

Yes. His hot, hard, naked body teased her flesh. Kealea wanted his body slammed down on her not hovering above. “I want more.”

“What?”

If he had to ask now, Kealea knew he didn’t get her at all. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Christopher’s voice was soft and low in her ear. “How little we know each other, baby.” He then removed his hand and lifted up from her. “You have to pay a penalty.”

Kealea shivered. He gave the best punishments. “For what?”

“For being a bad girl.” He slapped her ass one last time. “Daniel, come in here.”

Her head jerked up. “I don’t want anyone but you.” Couldn’t he see the reasons behind why she acted the way he did?

“Liar.” Christopher’s smile was thin and tight.

He was right of course. By himself, Christopher was sexually amazing. With another, it added the cherry.

“Please Chris…” Kealea wasn’t sure what she was begging for. More? Less? Faster?

“You should have thought of that before you fucked the other man.” His hand came down on her ass two more times. “You’re a bad girl.”

Oh yes. Kealea awaited her punishment.

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/bad-girl.html

It really is like noise sometimes.

2010-10-15T09:29:00.001-07:00

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/10/too-much-self-importance.html

Oh you wicked dream.

2010-10-14T10:13:00.001-07:00

Mostly my dreams are strange and random. Not epic, just very weird, very much a mix of things. I don't analyse them for that reason but I had a dream last night which involved Slow Burn and Lulu. It was implied that I sold copies. Doesn't it sound like I am some egotistical ambitious first time author who REALLY wants her book to sell? At least just one copy! (Maybe I don't get informed if my book sells a copy).

I didn't think I would sell more than one copy when I self published last week. And I'm not so naive as to think one person is going to read the book and spread the word on the internet. I didn't write Comfort Food, my book is not as good, hey I know what I wrote, but when I sent out invitations to my page on facebook (I know, I know) which I did to promote the book, and I got people liking the page, I know some of it is out of the fact I am a facebook friend and these people are happy for me, but I wonder what it's going to take for someone to click on the links on that page and click buy.

I'm perfectly happy in being honest about my feelings on this. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a slap in the face to have a book out there just not selling, but it defeats the purpose. You see, I want someone to read my book. I write as a hobby but I don't self publish as a hobby. To be frank, far from it.

I loved seeing my book in a simple book format, the cover of the book is very basic and not a cover I would chosen, it was an automated cover but just seeing my story all put together and to be read like a book, I was a little proud of the work and time I put in.

I'm still going to write, I'm still proud of what I wrote and what I write now, the differences and the improvements I have yet to accomplish because I know my strengths and weaknesses but I have had people compliment my writing and saying I SHOULD publish, in particular Slow burn, to which I have always said meh and now I know there is not much point in publishing, sure I haven't given up on the fact Slow Burn may sell one copy by this time next year, and even the fact that it may one day build a reputation..but I'm also cynical. A bit bitter. Mills and Boon, big companies, they have a formula, I was once hoping to publish under them because I bought my Erotica from them and I feel proud of what they did for me.. but I felt there were too many guidelines. I had to tweak my work too much. And I know typing that on here means I will never get to publish for them but I'm not in this to make money. As naive and idealistic as that sounds, I'm not about making money. And I can add that I just want to change things but in the world we live in, people will just laugh at that. That's fine but I will always be honest and I believe in submitting my thoughts onto this blog, I don't have a problem in the world knowing things about me, especially when it comes to a minor heartbreak I'm going through at the moment, as trite as it sounds.

It's the fact that when I write, I want to be read, you know? And it seems like it's okay to have it up free on my blog which makes my blog feel cheap, you can compliment me on a post or send me a message but you can't buy my book, that sort of thing, that's what is running through my mind.

I will keep writing because part of the reason I don't want to change my books to fit in with the guidelines of some publishing companies is that I don't believe in the stories they are selling and I don't believe in giving the readers what they want. I believe in putting something out there that's inside you- and then going from there. That's my main motivation for writing and since I started, it's been about just being honest, not selling out or buying into one idea or selling it- one hero, the stereotypical hero- not that that's not someone else's truth but the vast majority of books are about a Fabio- still. To me, it actually makes me ashamed to be a woman. Really. I'm being serious. And I wanted to change that. But see, the hope I have in doing that is rapidly diminishing day by day, and part of that is because I haven't sold a copy of my book, and yes I know it's early days, I've been through that on this post but also because when authors who have been around for longer than me and have publishing contracts with companies, it makes me feel the big divide between me and them. Not that they are "better" than me, more worthy than me, I don't have self esteem issues, although they are better writers, their work reads as a better written story, again in the past when I have tried to be honest, it comes across as "deprication", no it's me being honest, but because it feels like I'm being drowned out and it's about the companies and the power and the reputations.

Story of O. And questions regarding Return to the Chateau, of the non did Pauline Reage write this variety.

2010-10-13T07:52:00.001-07:00

Yes she wrote Return and I wrote O to piss my mother off.

So there we have it.

One thing that I can't get out of my mind, is when O is on the boat to a party, wearing an Owl mask with that beautiful music and the moonlight and wind on her body covered by a simple garment. O looks so free, so graceful, so submissive. I must have mentioned the word free a few times whenever I talk about O, or even submission in general, I suppose by free I mean non repressed, not oppressed. I can't speak about whether she is free because she is no longer human as quoted from someone and also because she is a sexual slave now and she has disengaged from herself. I need to go back to the book and this post is about a few of my thoughts regarding the movie Histoire De O.

Critics talk about glamourising. Movies glamourise guns and they glamourise drugs. Things that are not supposed to be glamourised. But they also glamourise prostituion and sex. O is not about prostitution no matter what a critic will say,and like I have said before no one in their sane mind watches Pretty Woman and then joins a hooker agency.

But there is no reason BDSM should remain seedy. Or "wrong." As if it is like shooting someone or taking heroine. Or even infedility. So if BDSM is glamourised, so be it. For me the movie has moments of beauty and a style that is glamourous no doubt but certainly we see O's pain when she is whipped. When she shakes her head, that comes across as real. I don't feel it is selling BDSM, but the ending of the movie, taking it further than where O is at Sir Stephen's total command and will at the party in her owl mask, and contuining on to her talking to Sir Stephen about Jacqueline's induction at the Chateau ..it goes back to the love theme. I quote from someone else, in love are we, any of us, the Dominant or the submissive ever free?

And it seems like O is more palatable if it is a love story. She is doing this for Rene and then Sir Stephen. She wouldn't just become a sexual slave "just like that," it must be for love! But I'm not going to take issue with the author's idea and with the film maker's ending or even the reason the story of O came into existence.

I enjoyed the movie but for Jacqueline. I think the actress who played Jac has probably the most exquisite bone structure and facial features that I have seen on screen but she was dull. Now perhaps she is like that in the book but I watched this movie called The Image which is based on a somewhat classic BDSM book and the young woman there is a model, a pretty object and a submissive, but the actress who played her was quite good. I just couldn't care less about Jac. One thing I liked was the fact she was no questions asked submissive and I took that in that way rather than the fact that her face just couldn't show us any emotions if it tried. Sorry to sound bitchy but come on O is a little in love with Jac..I as the audience shouldn't be left to wonder how the heck this could possibly be, it would be like falling in love with your favourite Barbie. There's no depth and O I could relate to despite what the critics of the story say, as a woman of depth.

My favourite parts of the movie are the ending I'm on the fence about even though adaptations should have their freedom and the beginning of the movie. The two beginnings. O's journey to total submission and obeying her lover Rene. The beginning and end mark the two points in her journey so far where O has evolved into a sexual slave.

There's a philosophy, another one, that total posession is to give away because you know you can do that, that O is Rene's property, he possesses her completely so he can give her away..to Sir Stephen. Baring in mind, Stephen is no stranger to Rene.

So no more questioning motives, why is O doing this, why is Rene doing this, who is Sir Stephen beyond the older male and Dominant figure, what is the story of O really about...I watched a movie about a woman's journey into becoming a sexual slave. I don't know how accurate it is but I know it wasn't inaccurate and that the actress who played O had grace and charisma. And there was style mixed with substance. It's not like the book, the book is grittier but it wasn't a stupid movie. I liked it as much as The Image because it wasn't The Secretary, because O and The Image is about submission in terms of slavery, in terms of slavery over love in the sense they are both not conventional stories and I'm bored of The Secretary and I'm bored with even the lesser conventional love stories. I'm no cynic and I believe in love, I will fall in love fully I know it, but I'm worried about the importance people place on it, as if we have no worth without it, but that's for another time.

Now, I am interested and curious about Return of Chateau. I have read reviews which say it's more disengaged, the author of O can not have written this! But, I am all the more curious to read a book which is about sexual slavery. Perhaps O is not written well...perhaps the author thinks she has no personality because she is a sexual slave..oh that just makes me more curious because I really have to read it and see a journey of a sexual slave. How has O changed in her personality? And I want to believe that what has been written is that O has changed in her personality but the world has misunderstood a strong sexual slave girl for an disinterested, bored left over of a character. I want to believe someone wrote a sequel in which they gave an account of sexual slavery, full with imperfect characters except the character of O, who knows who she is and will carry on in her mission and the world unless they live it will continue to relate abuse to sexual slavery and unworthiness. As for Sir Stephen, does he leave O? And is this the book that has the "other ending" to O? Where she kills herself seeing as she is no longer Sir Stephen's slave.

Now I'm taking a step back. My book Slow burn is available from Amazon Kindle

2010-10-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

My job is done now.

Here are the links if you are interested. You should be able to get a preview/excerpt/sample on amazon if you click on send sample. IF not there is a link to an excerpt on Lulu and on my facebook page and on this blog. I'm very sorry there is no image for this book. I did try my best as you know.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0046A9MFE

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0046A9MFE

Thank you for your interest and that's me done with regards to Slow Burn. I have material for a sequel but I will only publish that if there is enough interest in this book. I can rest my eyes a bit now!

Vampires cheer me up.

2010-10-12T08:04:00.000-07:00

I should make myself a tshirt that says that.

In between having a strange bug virus and looking at amazon first thing in the morning thinking oh I don't have the strength just now (regarding my book) I've been in need of something other than Story of O. (I'll come back to that another time).

I want to watch a Hammer Horror movie. I want to see Christopher Lee and his numerous nymph vampirises. I want to see red, red blood and sharp teeth poking out of a mouth just after Lee says something in a dead posh voice!

There was a time I could watch such a movie or even.. Countess Dracula. There was a softness and sensuality even in the harshness and the women had personality in their looks, some had pencil thin eyebrows, nearly all had heaving bosoms and big hair and they were a million times better and than the all too knowing imitators today. I could sense the vulnerability and I could sense the evil in them.

Just before I went to sleep yesterday,I was listening to that song Flightless Bird American Mouth. I always feel how fittingly it is used in Twilight and how fitting it is to the characters Bella and Edward. It's atmospheric, powerful and playful all at the same time. Twilight takes care of some of my need for sensual vampires. I'm not into The Vampire Diaries although I will give True Blood a chance, I at least like the kooky vibe to it.

"No one will surrender tonight. But I won't give in. I know what I want."

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.

What a stupid lamb.

What a sick masochistic lion."

Bella is the fragile human and Edward the dominant vampire. There are so many metaphors and subtext in Twilight that never fail to make me smile. The conversation about the lion and the lamb. The knowledge that Edward could easily destroy Bella. In fact, in Twilight it just so happens Bella's blood is the most potent to Edward. He has to struggle against that all the time, suppress his need to just break her. And no doubt he could break her. When I read their first sex scene in the Twilight series, I literally went back again and again to where the bed Edward fucks Bella in is destroyed, the wood, the pillows, the quilt, the sheets, unusable again; Edward is suppressing his violent need to fuck Bella to the extent she's no longer human. Hmm, it's delicious. I don't know about love, but Stephanie Meyer has managed to more than sneak in posession and its power to even the superficial, shallow youth today.

Excerpt from Slow Burn.

2010-10-11T09:45:00.000-07:00

Available to buy for two quid from http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/slow-burn/12994621

Excerpt from Slow Burn

Mel walked through the corridor hearing whispers of “oh my god that new police man” and “he’s fit“, snorting to herself. The girls in their twenties at this college became 14 year olds for any idiot in trousers.

“What do you think Melinda?” Sarah got right in her face and laughed. “Would he tempt the sweet innocent little virgin here?” She crooned mockingly.

“Not after you get your grubby paws on him. And my name is M E L A N I E.” She spoke each letter clearly and loudly treating Sarah like the idiot she was.

Sarah laughed. It was a dumb imitation of a witches cackle. But then again dumb imitation was all Sarah was. Mel ignored her and straightened her body.

“Virgin” What a joke. If anyone really knew what she was like..if anyone took the time to get to know her they’d be shocked. She…oh but she couldn’t get into that now.

The Headmaster came out of his room. He was talking with another guy..oh hello..

“Melanie..a word please.”

Shit what now! Why the fuck was everyone so against her? She kept to herself but was always in some sort of trouble.

“Hi” It was the police man person.

It took her a substantial effort not to say it back. She looked ..by accident..straight into his eyes. They were big and grey..just stunning. She felt her pulse speed up but she ignored him. Not even giving him a smile. It’s not like he perved over her but she wouldn’t be a bimbo. Not now anyway.

“Take a seat.” The Head said to her. He was such a prissy thing. He was a tall guy, quite broad too and he knew some of the girls liked his build but she hated him. You know it stopped being cool to soak up female attention like a pathetic bitch quite a long while ago. But then judging by his hair he was still living in the 80’s.

She was surprised to see police guy come back in this room. He brought a chair with him.

“I’m Detective Stevens” He extended his hand towards her. Closing her fingers around his hand, he shook it gently and she did the same to his. He was firm, gentle, strong. Fucking best handshake ever.

“Melanie Hawes.” She caught his gaze on her. She could imagine him being pretty popular. He had charm. It wasn’t in your face..he just seemed.. nice.

She saw him sit down. He had quite a sturdy body, his uniform was neatly put together but he still looked cool. He had curlyish brown hair, his features somehow strong and gentle at the same time. Well, she wasn’t a poet..I suppose you could say he was kind of “hot.”

She looked at his badges as the Head asked her something about fitting in.

They had this conversation twice now. Yes SHE really should do more to fit in blah blah blah.

She looked at the prude..some men faked being sexy and some were just naturally sexy. Detective Stevens ..she could tell he was just in touch with his sexuality. She just knew.

“We’ve been asking other students this,” Detective Sexy smiled at her, “Melanie, where were you last Friday after your last class?”

Say my name against my neck as you screw me against the wall. Yeah she really did think that. It almost made her giggle. Fucking giggle.

“Melanie?” So he was persistent. She would have to use firm and gentle again.. and throw in intelligent to describe his voice.

“Ermm“ Let’s see “I went to the library after Chemistry class and I must have been there till ..6 I would say..then I..went to my locker..and then I went home.” She didn’t exactly know why she drew that sentence out that much.

“I’ve been hearing rumours to the contrary” She heard Head Master Weird-Fuck move his chair forward.

Have you indeed?

“Yes Sir?” She kept her tone professional.

“You were seen walking the corridor just after 7.”

“Just after 7?”

“7-15 to be precise.”

Oh screw him. And not in that way either.

“The doors close at 7.”

“No.” The idiot said condescendingly.

“Yes they do. “ She said passionately. “I had to wait for my ride outside once bang on 7.”

“Not on a Friday.”

Fuck.

She was confused. How could this happen? “Seen walking in the corridor at 7” ??

“Could you leave us two?” It was the Detective. He said it to the Headmaster. She would have smirked had this not been serious.

She looked straight ahead at the Detective who was watching the Head walk out. She saw he was being professional, wanting to keep this private. She saw every flicker of his eye..as the door handle clicked..he only now looked at her.

She didn’t feel angry with him. Nor uncomfortable. But she was confused.

“I’m sorry about this.” He said to her. Sorry? Was this normally how Detectives spoke?

“Are you going to lock me up?” Shit. Why the fuck did she say that?!

He laughed.

“Not even if you’re guilty…and that won’t be my job” He winked at her. It wasn’t sleazy from him, just friendly.

He got up. She saw him lift his chair slightly. He walked towards her side of the desk carrying his chair. She saw the veins in his forearm. She saw he actually wasn’t that tall. That must have been why she looked into his eyes as she walked past him earlier.

“When you finished Chemistry did you go to the library straight away?” He asked her.

“Yes.”

“And you stayed in the library for how long again?”

“I would say until 6.”

“You wear a watch?”

“Yes.”

“May I see?”

She stretched her arm out. His fingers stayed on her wrist slightly as he saw the face of her watch.

“Thank you.” He said as he moved his fingers away.

Rest your arm she thought.

“After the library,” He cleared his throat “where did you go?”

“I went to my locker.”

Fuck. She had the full force of his gaze on her face. Why was she feeling hot and wet from just this?

She looked at him and blushed. It was just a reaction she guessed. And Holy God almighty he blushed too. It wasn’t just the top of his cheeks. It didn’t make him look any less manly but it did make her start breathing heavily.

She didn’t know how to breathe when he asked her “What did you do at your locker?”

“I collected my books for the weekend. Mathematics and Physics.” Normally her memory was pathetic but all this adrenaline or whatever rushing through was making her mind work like a miracle.

“Say that again.”

“Ssorry?”

His eyes went to her lips. “I couldn’t quite get you the first time. Say it again.”

But her voice wasn’t that breathy..considering the circumstances.

“I collected my Mathematics and Physics books for the weekend.”

She heard his breath hitch because for some reason she had actually moved her chair towards him.

“Melanie, what did you do next?” His voice was lower. It was.

“I closed the door of my locker” She meant to sound cheeky. “I turned my key” She leaned forward. “I waited until it made a click.”

“Then?” He wasn’t phased. And it was spoken against her face. His lips almost touched hers.

“Then..” When she moved her lips she could have taken his. She could have leaned further forward..”I dropped my books..I bent down. To pick my books up.”

“What did you do after you picked your books up?”

Damn.

“I..walked along the corridor. I walked to the door. I left the building.” She whispered.

“Did you see the time?”

“No. Sir. But it would have only been till up to quarter past 6 at the most.”

“Call me Michael.”

Damn. Cute name but he didn’t pick up on the “Sir” either.

“That will be all Melanie.” He leaned forward even more ..almost as if he meant to kiss the top of her head.

She didn’t kiss him as she wanted to. She just wanted to kiss him, it was inexplicable really. She wanted to do a whole lot fucking more to him but he was a stubborn one. He would have to make the first move. She would have to change her panties every time at this rate, so hot wet and sticky was she from his interrogation.

But he sat watching her, not even moving. She got up and saw his gaze go up her body. He really could have just kissed any part of it that he wished. Any. Especially..

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She felt like some Goddess with him looking at her so earnestly like that.

“Tomorrow? Why?” Her voice sounded a little ragged.

“It’s standard procedure. “He then got up and she saw him straighten his clothes. No matter how cool and comfortable he was, he had some trouble tying to be professional she thought.

She could have complained. So she did. “Why is it standard procedure? Or is it just for me?”

He stopped straightening his shirt.

“I just need to know more details. From everyone. We’ve ran out of time today. You should get to your next class anyway.”

She looked him over. Liar. But she didn’t say anything. Instead she smiled the sweetest smile she could, “What time tomorrow?”

“You’ll be informed.”

She walked up to him. His eyes literally sparked. Dumb word but it was a fucking spark.

“Tomorrow then, Michael.” God this felt good. Fuck reality, she would play bad girl to his detective. She walked out the door, to put it bluntly she needed to touch herself imagining his eyes on her but she wouldn’t go to the bathroom. She WOULD go to class.

Buying Slow Burn on e book whether on computer or kindle

2010-10-11T09:13:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing,

If you go on Lulu publishing and do a search for Slow burn (or Slow Burn) Pallavi Agarwal under ebooks you will get my book. I only have a copy and paste link and am unable to upload any click and buy tab here on my blog or a clickable link.

http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/slow-burn/12994621

Although the price of the book is now 2 uk pounds - it may still come up as 2.99 on the search, which is incorrect.

I have tried my utmost best to put a preview on there but it's just not happening and why should you buy the book if you don't have an excerpt? I have contacted the publishers and am waiting a response. Meanwhile, I have put a link on my product on lulu to a blog post where you can read a preview for Slowburn. (The post above this one).

I have a facebook page, search pallavi agarwal new erotica author and there is a preview, image, proper price, everything there. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pallavi-Agarwal-new-Erotica-writer/160033077360005

Either tomorrow or day after, if you go on amazon, if you go on the kindle section, and do the same search, amazon uk or international, you should be able to buy Slow Burn for 3 US dollars and the appropriate UK price (they calculate according to the US price). I have tried to put an image but no luck there. I will try again and then send amazon an email. I will put up the link only once it's available to buy with or without the image. You're just going to have to imagine a sexy man and woman for now!

It was very easy to upload my ebook but it took me hours daily on both sites to try and get the small details such as excerpt and image and when it doesn't happen , one wonders if one should just bang on a Big Company's door and risk "you must tone this down" or editing to lose what you like. It's been a headache with no benefits so far, initially I was happy my book was out there, now I know no one has bought it even though they said they would and my facebook page has had some interest (I sent out invites lol)and I started with this book as I had received messages saying I am amazing/they can't stop thinking about the book.

However does self publishing work?

I do so love it when thoughts are provoked.

2010-10-11T06:33:00.000-07:00

"The pressure put on men to be initiators, yet avoid seeming creepy or aggressive leads to an unpleasant double bind. After all, the same gross cultural pressures that make women into objects force men into instigators; how many women do you know who proposed to their husbands? So how can a man express hi...s sexual needs without being tarred as a creep? After all, the point of promoting sex-positive attitudes is for everyone to be able to be open about their needs and desires, right?"

Unfortunately it's a big bummer that I can't read the whole article due to a tech hitch but this has been taken from literotica. I got an update from these people. I actually posted them a story but I don't think in the 5 years that have gone by it's been published on Lit. *throws rattle* Or it has and my username was something so casually perverted, I can't remember it and therefore searching for the story (the title being something very casually perverted) would be too much for me.

Now, there are some men, and I have seen this, who will look at young girls in a short skirts and just look, I have actually watched them looking and they continue to be on their little mission.

I'm not saying that as soon as we reach 18, hey it's okay, we're women, we know it all, pretty much this is a developing thing and there are girls who are mature for their age, genuinly not just putting on an act, but there is something in me that says, okay under 18 with a man say in his twenties even, a little creepy. That's probably the societal conditioning in me and yet I won't glare at such a couple and act all wronged for the whole of womankind, afterall individuals are indviduals.

"There she is; short skirt on nice legs, tight blouse and a pretty bra, "fuck me" heels and a smile. She's dancing around in the room, with a real wiggle.

She looks great.

But when a chap "rises to the bait" of this provocatively-dressed female, he can be accused of all manner of things unpleasant, sometimes in Court, and it is often quoted that what the female wears has nothing to do with it. He thinks she's giving "Come and get me" signals. She says "No it ain't".
This causes no end of confusion and has led to some weird trials in the UK."

If I were to put on a short skirt, tight blouse and wear a pretty bra and I did it just for me and with no intention of attracting male attention, just for argument's sake, it's incredibly naive of me to assume that no man wouldn't be just a bit more into me. Like it or not, intentional or not, you put your body on display in some sort of way and I mean that as a compliment and not as some grandma tut tutting, then you're going to get male attention to an extent. Men are going to want to look at you and thinking about you in sexual situations. They're probably going to want to feel you up sooner or later. Of course if a man just walks up to you and starts to pinch your arse, he is a creep. Why? There are boundaries.

Some men will say wearing a short skirt and a tight blouse means you should expect to be raped, as if you have comitted the crime whereas obviously it's only the man who has raped you who has comitted the crime.

There is a strong line and you know when that line has been crossed but a real creep doesn't care about that at any point. No remorse. No nothing.

Then, there's a desire from some women to have a man in their lives who is alpha and dominant. People say in fiction these men are heroes whereas in reality, they are creeps. But are they? I think about certain things I have read in fiction, and put myself in that situation, imagining it. I would feel the same as the heroine, angry. But in the story the man shows plenty of humanity, there is actually no rape. So, the men are alpha and dominant and their actions are left of center, not conventional but they are not creepy men.

It's become a thing to just call a man who eyes up a woman in a short skirt, oh "creep," "pervert." But you have to wonder when another man walks past the same woman, if he hasn't noticed as much of the woman's legs as the men beforehand.

There's also this thing of look but don't touch. I'm not big into sticking your tits in someone's face and then shoving em away and say uh uh uh. That's a total sex tease. That doesn't justify rape. Nothing justifies rape but in society, it seems we can have a naked woman on a magazine with gigantic boobs and sticking out her arse doggy style and it's okay to "express your sexuality" by reading a magazine, but that's all you should do? I'm also not big into saying ooh yeah I just sang a song called Hit Me Baby or Don't Cha (lol; sp!) and I feel so empowered.

There is a way to talk to women, not these mythical creatures as it turns out, but human beings also with a sex drive, also with wants, needs, different sides, personalities amomgst us, flesh and blood, feelings and thoughts, submissive, dominant or neither much, all of us are different, which does not require manipulation, an act of any sort.

I believe men and women SHOULD be honest about their sexuality though it's fucking hard to be so sometimes, and they can be if they develop a sense of humour but most of all have some manners. You don't have to feel like you're too nice for women. Just don't bother with the women and if it seems most women aren't into you, it's not your time. Write. Live. Do something but don't become bitter and start calling women bitches or sluts.

I'm going to go through this criticism of Story of O bit by bit

2010-10-10T05:53:00.001-07:00

Because when submissive women are called passive and bdsm is likened to some "matryric" abuse and flagellation, then i have a lot to say.

"Woman as Victim:
Story of O

The Story of O, by Pauline Reage, incorporates, along with all literary pornography, principles and characters already isolated in my discussion of children's fairy tales. The female as a figure of innocence and evil enters the adult world--the brutal world of genitalia. The female manifests in her adult form--cunt. She emerges defined by the hole between her legs. In addition, Story of O is more than simple pornography. It claims to define epistemologically what a woman is, what she needs, her processes of thinking and feeling, her proper place. It links men and women in an erotic dance of some magnitude: the sado-masochistic complexion of O is not trivial--it is formulated as a cosmic principle which articulates, absolutely, the feminine."

O already has a cunt, the story is about the fullfillment of her cunt. I will talk more later about this.

I agree the complexion of O is not trivial and that's why I am writing this. Whereas the critic is writing from one side, I hope to bring another side.

"Also, O is particularly compelling for me because I once believed it to be what its defenders claim--the mystical revelation of the true, eternal, and sacral destiny of women."

I personally although I know there will be women into bdsm who are from a different point of view, do not care for the anything mystical. Whether Story of O is a mystical revelation, is beyond me. I simply read it as a story of one woman's journey and although I am a fan, I'm not O and my journey will be quite different because no other woman but O herself is O. All women in O although they are slaves, they are all different personalities, none of that disappears so I don't believe Story of O to be any comment on women's destiny of any sort. To me that would reading too much into it.

"The book was absorbed as a pulsating, erotic, secular Christianity (the joy in pure suffering, woman as Christ figure)."

Oh please. I remember in the movie Dead Poets Society, the character Neal wears a wreath on his head and some people said oh he's a matyr, a Jesus figure. No he wore a wreath because we just saw him in a play where his character wears a wreath and he loved acting as much as living and wanted to hold onto that. I know some people get joy in pure suffering but what if some people do not get joy from THAT? When O suffers, that's part of her bdsm journey, it's not because her motivation was to suffer. Again, I think this is reading too much into it. The story reads as a journey, I don't even get how you can see the author making a comment about O as a Christ figure.

"I experienced O with the same infantile abandon as the NEWSWEEK reviewer who wrote: "What lifts this fascinating book above mere perversity is its movement toward the transcendence of the self through a gift of the self . . . to give the body, to allow it to be ravaged, exploited, and totally possessed can be an act of consequence, if it is done with love for the sake of love." 1 Any clear-headed appraisal of O will show the situation, O's condition, her behavior, and most importantly her attitude toward her oppressor as a logical scenario incorporating Judeo-Christian values of service and self-sacrifice and universal notions of womanhood, a logical scenario demonstrating the psychology of submission and self-hatred found in all oppressed peoples. O is a book of astounding political significance."

If a book is "merely" perverted, why can't that just be the case? If we are not allowed to even write out our perversions, which are not politically correct, there are many grey areas, then that's sad.

The book is about love but I also believe it's also about conditioning. Love is a feeling but being captive and possessed can lead to feelings for the captor and the Dominant and Master. You give your body to them, you're sharing your soul with them. I actually don't believe you're giving away your soul to them. I don't think the Dominant is the oppressor, I think they're the opposite of that word unless they are a bully and there's a line between acts of bdsm and bullying which a true Dominant will understand fully no matter their emotions and hardships as human beings themselves.

Self hatred? Picture this. A woman with passions in her life and in love with her boyfriend. Same woman decides to explore bdsm. Boyfriend is not an abuser. Simple as that.

It's not about saying hurt me. Whip me because you want to treat me like SHIT. It's about saying I will take on anything for you. I will explore the whipping because I want to know. I want to know more than the sexuality I am experiencing at the moment. I don't understand it some times but I believe in experience, exploration, knowledge. I also believe in giving myself fully not as some form of dead meat to be sacrificed because I'm a human with a living, beating heart but because I believe in giving my body to my Dominant fully.

"This is, then, the story of O: O is taken by her lover Rene to Roissy and cloistered there; she is fucked, sucked, raped, whipped, humiliated, and tortured on a regular and continuing basis--she is programmed to be an erotic slave, Rene's personal whore; after being properly trained she is sent home with her lover; her lover gives her to Sir Stephen, his half-brother; she is fucked, sucked, raped, whipped, humiliated, and tortured on a regular and continuing basis; she is ordered to become the lover of Jacqueline and to recruit her for Roissy, which she does; she is sent to Anne-Marie to be branded with Sir Stephen's mark and to have rings with his insignia inserted in her cunt; she serves as an erotic model for Jacqueline's younger sister Natalie who is infatuated with her; she is taken to a party masked as an owl, led on a leash by Natalie, and there plundered, despoiled, raped, gangbanged; realizing that there is nothing else left for Sir Stephen to do with her or to her, fearing that he will abandon her, she asks his permission to kill herself and receives it. Q.E.D., pornography is never big on plot."

O is asked if she wants this, she's also warned, she's asked are you sure. She says yes. Of course if she is hell bent on self destruction, she would say yes but you have to differentiate between a victim bent on self destruction and a woman who WANTS bdsm. O is going to cry at the whippings and say no when they're hurting her, what would you expect her do? Laugh like she's posessed, brain washed? Again, bdsm is not brainwashing and the condiotioning element is not brainwashing. O is not saying yes, whip me harder because like I say it's not about "hurt me please."

O is a sexual slave, not an abused junkie, a sexual slave who has given her body to be possessed by as Dominants and Masters see fit. She's not a woman who is walking down a dark alley metaphorically and literally. And she's not pushed to a wall and raped by a gang and if she happens to enjoy it that makes her more of a dirty slut to those men. She is taken because she is a slave. Her enjoyment comes from the fullfillment of her purpose, what she signed up for; to become a sexual slave.

And when Sir Stephen is to leave her, and he is her Master, as a slave, she WILL ask for consent to her death. It's not ultimate sacrifice, it's ultimate posession and now that Sir Stephen is leaving her, she is not posessed by him and therefore no more. This is a philisophy of bdsm and O is a book which is fiction and fantasy but anyone in the real world training to be a slave will know why O asks for consent to her death, it's as I have explained. This does not mean it's happening now as we speak all around and neither does it mean that men want to kill women.

I thought you said Story of O is more than pornography? You can't just call it pornographic when it suits you.

"Of course, like most summaries, the above is somewhat sketchy. I have not mentioned the quantities of cock that O sucks, or the anal assaults that she sustains, or the various rapes and tortures perpetrated on her by minor characters in the book, or the varieties of whips used, or described her clothing or the different kinds of nipple rouge, or the many ways in which she is chained, or the shapes and colors of the welts on her body."

Well you have just done it and in a very trivial way. Sure, if O sucks 100 cocks, then she sucks 100 cocks talking about it in any way doesn't change that but in the book it's not written like that nor was I counting the number of cocks. She is pleasuring the men.

At Roissy, the place where is she training to be a sexual slave, there are numerous men so of course she is to suck their cocks and the minor characters in the book have different personalities and the tortures are applied to them fittingly in the sense of if they have done something wrong or they are to be whipped as part of their training.

I will describe her clothing it is graceful, flowing and easy access. The clothing of a submissive and a slave girl.

Why so many different whips? They all have different strengths, stings, lengths.

O is chained in different ways as as her Dominant, Master sees fit. It's not about mutilation. It's about being bound and yes there will be helplessness in that. Vulnerability is not evil in my opinion. There is a line in bdsm between praying on vulnerability like a bully and testing the woman, pushing her.

"From the course of O's story emerges a clear mythological figure: she is woman, and to name her O, zero, emptiness, says it all."

If so, it's because she's being remade. Remade into a slave. She's not going to be punished for say a passion for photography, she's going to be punished if she doesn't follow her training obediently. Differentiate between losing one's personality and sexual slavery.

"Her ideal state is one of complete passivity,"

I disagree completely. We're talking about O.

And a true Dominant doesn't want a plastic blow up doll. They want a woman of complexities and a woman who can completely submit. O is that type of woman.

"..nothingness, a submission so absolute that she transcends human form (in becoming an owl)."

I thought that was about having wings and being a creature of the night?

"Only the hole between her legs is left to define her, and the symbol of that hole must surely be O."

Yes. O is her cunt. O is a cunt. She is her woman genetalia. But she's her Master's cunt.

"Much, however, even in the rarefied environs of pornography, necessarily interferes with the attainment of utter passivity. Given a body which takes up space, has needs, makes demands, is connected, even symbolically, to a personal history which is a sequence of likes, dislikes, skills, opinions, one is formed, shaped--one exists at the very least as positive space. And since in addition as a woman one is born guilty and carnal, personifying the sins of Eve and Pandora, the wickedness of Jezebel and Lucretia Borgia, O's transcendence of the species is truly phenomenal."

I think this is running with one argument. If you want to believe that about the book, if I can'r read into it like that but you can then that makes us different as people and readers and I won't criticise that but I think this argument is sort of running with one theory really and not having time for other sides. Some will say yeah but, K, isn't that what arguments kind of are.

"The thesis of O is simple. Woman is cunt, lustful, wanton. She must be punished, tamed, debased."

Punished for being lustful or wanton? Tamed and debased for having a high sex drive? Or, exploring her lusts and desires and wants? And punished, tamed when she is not obedient in the training she signed up for as being a slave girl. That's how I see it.

"She gives the gift of herself, her body, her well-being, her life, to her lover. This is as it should be--natural and good. It ends necessarily in her annihilation, which is also natural and good, as well as beautiful, because she fulfills her destiny:

As long as I am beaten and ravished on your behalf, I am naught but the thought of you, the desire of you, the obsession of you. That, I believe, is what you wanted. Well, I love you, and that is what I want too.

Then let him take her, if only to wound her! O hated herself for her own desire, and loathed Sir Stephen for the self-control he was displaying. She wanted him to love her, there, the truth was out: she wanted him to be chafing under the urge to touch her lips and penetrate her body, to devastate her if need be. . . . 3
. . . Yet he was certain that she was guilty and, without really wanting to, Rene was punishing her for a sin he knew nothing about (since it remained completely internal), although Sir Stephen had immediately detected it: her wantonness. 4
. . . no pleasure, no joy, no figment of her imagination could ever compete with the happiness she felt at the way he used her with such utter freedom, at the notion that he could do anything with her, that there was no limit, no restriction in the manner with which, on her body, he might search for pleasure. 5
O is totally possessed. That means that she is an object, with no control over her own mobility, capable of no assertion of personality. Her body is a body, in the same way that a pencil is a pencil, a bucket is a bucket, or, as Gertrude Stein pointedly said, a rose is a rose. It also means that O's energy, or power, as a woman, as Woman, is absorbed. Possession here denotes a biological transference of power which brings with it a commensurate spiritual strength to the possessor. O does more than offer herself; she is herself the offering. To offer herself would be prosaic Christian self-sacrifice, but as the offering she is the vehicle of the miraculous--she incorporates the divine.
Here sacrifice has its ancient, primal meaning: that which was given at the beginning becomes the gift. The first fruits of the harvest were dedicated to and consumed by the vegetation spirit which provided them. The destruction of the victim in human or animal sacrifice or the consumption of the offering was the very definition of the sacrifice--death was necessary because the victim was or represented the life-giving substance, the vital energy source, which had to be liberated, which only death could liberate. An actual death, the sacrifice per se, not only liberated benevolent energy but also ensured a propagation and increase of life energy (concretely expressed as fertility) by a sort of magical ecology, a recycling of basic energy, or raw power. O's victimization is the confirmation of her power, a power which is transcendental and which has as its essence the sacred processes of life, death, and regeneration.

But the full significance of possession, both mystically and mythologically, is not yet clear. In mystic experience communion (wrongly called possession sometimes) has meant the dissolution of the ego, the entry into ecstasy, union with and illumination of the godhead. The experience of communion has been the province of the mystic, prophet, or visionary, those who were able to alchemize their energy into pure spirit and this spirit into a state of grace. Possession, rightly defined, is the perversion of the mystic experience; it is by its very nature demonic because its goal is power, its means are violence and oppression. It spills the blood of its victim and in doing so estranges itself from life-giving union. O's lover thinks that she gives herself freely but if she did not, he would take her anyway. Their relationship is the incarnation of demonic possession:

Thus he would possess her as a god possesses his creatures, whom he lays hold of in the guise of a monster or bird, of an invisible spirit or a state of ecstasy. He did not wish to leave her. The more he surrendered her, the more he would hold her dear. The fact that he gave her was to him a proof, and ought to be for her as well, that she belonged to him: one can only give what belongs to you. He gave her only to reclaim her immediately, to reclaim her enriched in his eyes, like some common object which had been used for some divine purpose and has thus been consecrated. For a long time he had wanted to prostitute her, and he was delighted to feel that the pleasure he was deriving was even greater than he had hoped, and that it bound him to her all the more so because, through it, she would be more humiliated and ravished. Since she loved him, she could not help loving whatever derived from him. 6
A precise corollary of possession is prostitution. The prostitute, the woman as object, is defined by the usage to which the possessor puts her. Her subjugation is the signet of his power. Prostitution means for the woman the carnal annihilation of will and choice, but for the man it once again signifies an increase in power, pure and simple. To call the power of the possessor, which he demonstrates by playing superpimp, divine, or to confuse it with ecstasy or communion, is to grossly misunderstand. "All the mouths that had probed her mouth, all the hands that had seized her breasts and belly, all the members that had been thrust into her had so perfectly provided the living proof that she was worthy of being prostituted and had, so to speak, sanctified her." 7 Of course, it is not O who is sanctified, but Rene, or Sir Stephen, or the others, through her.
O's prostitution is a vicious caricature of old-world religious prostitution. The ancient sacral prostitution of the Hebrews, Greeks, Indians, et al., was the ritual expression of respect and veneration for the powers of fertility and generation. The priestesses/prostitutes of the temple were literal personifications of the life energy of the earth goddess, and transferred that energy to those who participated in her rites. The cosmic principles, articulated as divine male and divine female, were ritually united in the temple because clearly only through their continuing and repeated union could the fertility of the earth and the well-being of a people be ensured. Sacred prostitution was "nothing less than an act of communion with god (or godhead) and was as remote from sensuality as the Christian act of communion is remote from gluttony." 8 O and all of the women at Roissy are distinguished by their sterility and bear no resemblance whatsoever to any known goddess. No mention is ever made of conception or menstruation, and procreation is never a consequence of fucking. O's fertility has been rendered O. There is nothing sacred about O's prostitution.

O's degradation is occasioned by the male need for and fear of initiation into manhood. Initiation rites generally include a period of absolute solitude, isolation, followed by tests of physical courage, mental endurance, often through torture and physical mutilation, resulting in a permanent scar or tattoo which marks the successful initiate. The process of initiation is designed to reveal the values, rites, and rules of manhood and confers on the initiate the responsibilities and privileges of manhood. What occurs at Roissy is a clear perversion of real initiation. Rene and the others mutilate O's body, but they are themselves untouched. Her body substitutes for their bodies. O is marked with the scars which they should bear. She undergoes their ordeal for them, endures the solitude and isolation, the torture, the mutilation. In trying to become gods, they have bypassed the necessary rigors of becoming men. The fact that the tortures must be repeated endlessly, not only on O but on large numbers of women who are forced as well as persuaded, demonstrates that the men of Roissy never in fact become men, are never initiates, never achieve the security of realized manhood.

What would be the sign of the initiate, the final mark or scar, manifests in the case of O as an ultimate expression of sadism. The rings through O's cunt with Sir Stephen's name and heraldry, and the brand on her ass, are permanent wedding rings rightly placed. They mark her as an owned object and in no way symbolize the passage into maturity and freedom. The same might be said of the conventional wedding ring.

O, in her never-ending role as surrogate everything, also is the direct sexual link between Sir Stephen and Rene. That the two men love each other and fuck each other through O is made clear by the fact that Sir Stephen uses O anally most of the time. The consequences of misdirecting sexual energy are awesome indeed.

But what is most extraordinary about Story of O is the mind-boggling literary style of Pauline Reage, its author. O is wanton yet pure, Sir Stephen is cruel yet kind, Rene is brutal yet gentle, a wall is black yet white. Everything is what it is, what it isn't, and its direct opposite. That technique, which is so skillfully executed, might help to account for the compelling irrationality of Story of O. For those women who are convinced yet doubtful, attracted yet repelled, there is this schema for self-protection: the double-double think that the author engages in is very easy to deal with if we just realize that we only have to double-double unthink it.

To sum up, Story of O is a story of psychic cannibalism, demonic possession, a story which posits men and women as being at opposite poles of the universe--the survival of one dependent on the absolute destruction of the other. It asks, like many stories, who is the most powerful, and it answers: men are, literally over women's dead bodies."

Self hatred and wounding on O's part is because she loves Rene so why is she able to get pleasure from another man? It's because the man is training O and thus treating her is his sexual slave, her body to get pleasure when HE says and wants, that's what giving your body away fully, having it possessed is about.

The book is yes about posession and power exchange but I don't believe it's about evil or abuse although there is evil and abuse in the book but that is not the main concept of O. The main concept- bdsm. Sir Stephen and Rene are neither the perfect heroes nor the conventional ones, O is not conventional Erotica. Does bdsm only have room for perfect men as Dominants or Masters? No, but it does allow them to evolve into perfect Doms and Masters.

Implying Story of O is some kind of wicked candy luring women is the kind of bullshit where you just can't believe in anything you don't understand. Yes it is provacative and controversial but I see things in the story and in bdsm that once I read about them, talk about them, live them I grasp an understanding.

O is NOT a prostitute. She is not prostituiting herself and neither is she giving her cunt away for a price, though there is a price to pay in a lot of things, she's not asking for her death when she signs up at Roissy.

The critic is going with her argument and running with it and talking about matyrs, demons and religion. I don't agree with this side. So I will leave this at my final point, addressing freedom and objectivity. Freedom for O comes from choosing to submit to Rene. She is also attracted to Jaquline and through her training, gets the courage and method to explore that,to be able to be powerful enough to explore it. O's freedom comes from exploring sexuality through her Dominant's terms which are also her terms. There are things new to her and when she is branded and the initialof her Master, as someone who is going through bdsm, I know what is like to feel something AFTER you feel the pain. When I hit myself on a table, I don't smile later on. When I submit to Sir, I know what has gone on, I know what I have given, what Sir has taken, I know why, I know how he sees me, we're in constant communication, I have full knowledge. I have been taken somewhere. I could be in chains and I am free.

Blondes only?

2010-10-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

It's only a marketing ploy.

I don't know why I bother clicking on those superficial side headlines you get on MSN. I suppose this one was right next to a picture of Glee (although not the same headline). Anyway, this one was "Blonde only Maldives"

They're using this marketing strategy to have a blonde only resort, staff are blonde, even pilots on the flights are blondes. The thing is with the blonde only. Of course, it's a bit of fun but at the same time it's probably getting males to part with their money so they can just be on an island surrounded by "hotness." But, it's not even sexist. It's not even intolerant. It's just further pushes sensuality, attractiveness, allure, perhaps even beauty and an easy sexuality to women who are blonde.

They say the male staff will be blonde too but I've not seen women grab a man's butt the way a man will grab a a woman's butt when he sees her blonde hair swish past him.

I'm not about competing with each other, I have dark hair but I don't think dark hair is the most beautiful. I think blonde hair is pretty but I can't imagine turning my head just because someone has blonde hair. It's not that rare, half the time it's been enhanced totally, I appreciate there's a femininity to blonde hair which is associated with being submissive, not passive, or stupid or all the things modern society associates with the word submissive but it's again just pushing that proper definition of that word which is a quality towards blonde hair.

I grew up in two countries, one where blonde hair has the element of being associated with fair skin with in turn is associated with beauty and the other where blonde hair is associated with beauty period. I think the first, where it's associated with fair skin is a dangerous concept, worrying not because it is "unfair" but because of the fact your skin should be a certain colour.

But there's no angry point to my post. I'm not going to read a headline which has come from a COMPANY who have something to sell and want money, that's how it works, we all know that, and start talking about racism or intolerance. However, perhaps it is time pretty women came in all skin tones and hair colours.

Not purging my soul, just being honest.

2010-10-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/2010/10/panic.html

What the cat dragged in.

2010-10-06T09:44:00.000-07:00

I think it should be available to buy like right now, if not I will as Lulu to get their asses in gear. Here is the link

http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/slow-burn/12994365

If you're following any of the links to my other blog

2010-10-06T08:25:00.000-07:00

they may not work because I have updated my other blog, previously entitled diary of mad woman. It is now,!, http://wickedwitchofwest.blogspot.com/

All the posts are still there of course, just the links may be kaput.

So necessity has forced me to order Story of O on dvd. That's Histoire De O and not Story of O Untold Pleasures which looks too like every other softcore movie I used to watch on channel 5 (good times) with a bit of pain added in. Histoire is not available in shops, no, it has to be ordered off the internet and will arrive in a brown paper bag called Pervert.

Last night I watched Belle De Jour. I liked it. It's a classy movie with a classy movie star (Catherine De Neuve). It didn't tie up but it was a break from Secretary. I know that movie too well now. First time, I got that thrill of watching her get spanked. The thrill that goes to your fingertips. And I love Lee's tranformation and Mr Grey's interactions with her but I prefer movies like The Image and Belle De Jour and Nine Songs.

Belle De Jour like Secretary is a love story but I like the darker elements, she goes into prostituion (and only idiots think prostitution is glamourised. Heard the Pretty Woman argument- first of all Richard Gere is overrated, haha, and secondly it's A MOVIE *big eye roll*).

In Belle Du Jour we have her wanting to feel pain. She fantasises over being whipped. My favourite part of the movie is when I hear the bells. The carriage stops and Belle is in the forest, tied to a true and hurt. In theory, the idea is romantic. In practice, on one of the times this happens, Belle's husband hugs her and that's romantic.

I would have to watch it again to try and understand more just how much this secret life of hers is fantasy and how much it is a love story. A theory is that Belle, her alter ego name, does not have sex with her husband because she wants pain and vanilla sex would be blah through the motions occasional oh that's actually okay sex and she wouldn't be aroused and she doesn't want to do that to him. So she has to have this second life in which she goes into prostituition and fantasises over being whipped.

I saw 9 songs that Michael Winterbottom movie today. I really don't see the problem with showing sex in how they show it in this movie. Their relationship is told through sex and music and so how can the sex just be this Hollywood -woman writhing on the sheets- affair? Sex is dirty, stick, messy, different at times and changing. How can anyone change if only their hair, if that, gets messed up, you know?! I don't get a big kick of seeing someone else's cum quite frankly, I'm not in a relationship with that Kieran guy or Margo Stilley from Songs so their cum is of little importance to me, but that's what you get in sex, and I get over any prudishness and say thank God they're showing sex honestly.

I've figured out what is taking me time in terms of my writing, continuing my Hogtied story.

2010-10-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

I can understand when people need to isolate themselves from outside, cut themselves off from the world to write their book. I don't know if I am one of those people, I don't have enough experience and I want to be able to just be me regardless. Sometimes, it gets busy outside and I lose myself a little. Though that's happening less nowadays. Significantly less, definitely.

I use music to ..ground me. I've made a list of five things and if you have things in your life that ground you, or that you have a need for, then please feel free to post yours.

1. Music. It varies from month to month. Last month and those before,I was huge into Glee.I still am but now I am loving Flightless Bird American Mouth and Billy Joel's Piano Man in particular. There's also something about Down Town by Petula Clark that I really like. I think the lyrics are greatness. All three of these songs are linked to other passions in my life, Flightless Bird to Twilight (critics shut up and let us fan "girls" scream, what is it to you?). Piano Man- Glee. When the two characters remember old days, drunkenly! Down Town- movies. It's used in Girl Interrupted but I get a real classic movie vibe from this song. Other songs I love are the oldies, Cry To Me by Solomon Burke (by the way I'm not a big Dirty Dancing fan but I like their moves), Wonderful World by Sam Cooke. And some good team GIRL music; Rihanna, Beyonce.

2. The cold weather and the long, dark nights. Really. It's getting nearer and nearer to winter. Bonfire night is coming up, longer nights, not snowing yet. I feel summer has been long and now I'm ready for change. Well the change that has come up quite suddenly..and I'm embracing it. Plus Christmas is quite nice.

3. Provocative movies. Story of O, Belle De Jour, Night Porter. I watched a movie called The Image which is adapted from a book about a sadomasochistic relationship between two women and when a man enters it. Suprisingly good despite the 70s music and slightly laughable narration. And, most importantly, I had only seen Secretary prior to Night Porter and The Image..I wanted something edgier, darker. I really want to see Belle De Jour as much for the fact it seems like a gorgeously made movie.I want to watch a horror movie, something like the classic Omen, I love the dilemma that the dad has about having to kill his son. And I also want to watch the movie The Lovers. Something sensual. Also, tell me, do I want to see the original Thomas Crown Affair? I like the way the women looked in these movies and you don't have to be a tall blonde to look soft and feminine. They presented themselves well and thought about what they were wearing but weren't afraid to be themselves. Nowadays I see too many people emulating just one look; tanned.

4. Great writing. In song lyrics, movie and tv scripts, books and bdsm erotica. I think Story of O is almost exquisitely written. Comfort Food as you know I think has a beautiful intensity drawing in so many readers who have different ideas, takes greatness to do that, and Comfort Object by Annabelle Joseph is so insightful, I read her other book Firebird and I really like the heroine in that. I can't believe some readers were saying Jeremy was evil and Nell a push over in Comfort Object, surely if you're making that kind of statement you should read the book properly at least once! I can't fathom how they got to their opinions even though I know we all process things differently.

5. Truth. I'd rather know who my true friends are than be in the false air kissing society. Of course that can be fun in a frivolous sort of way but only one night in the week please.

Everyone's a critic.

2010-09-30T12:32:00.000-07:00

http://diaryofmadwoman-k.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-like-noise.html

All about how I seem to be wanting to push myself in all areas of life.

2010-09-28T07:47:00.000-07:00

http://diaryofmadwoman-k.blogspot.com/2010/09/work-hard-play-hard.html

I promise when we get to the sixth link I will have something to actually post on here

2010-09-23T07:57:00.000-07:00

and not just another link

http://diaryofmadwoman-k.blogspot.com/2010/09/leap-year-scathing-review.html

Don't look at society, just look at yourself. (oh very bad).

2010-09-23T04:33:00.000-07:00

http://diaryofmadwoman-k.blogspot.com/2010/09/body-talk.html

Books!

2010-09-22T09:29:00.000-07:00

http://diaryofmadwoman-k.blogspot.com/2010/09/thought-this-was-quite-fun-and.html

My other blog.

2010-09-21T13:23:00.001-07:00

http://diaryofmadwoman-k.blogspot.com/2010/09/well-hello.html

Hogtied and helpless.

2010-09-18T08:52:00.001-07:00

I'd like to dedicate this story to my Sir.

I intend to have it finished soon so you'll see more of it as the days go on.

Thank you to the people who take the time to read my blog and who have told me about it the past year. I appreciate it. Enjoy and this is not for the faint hearted.I wrote it because I had to, it was in me. If it offends you, don't read anymore, simple as that.

I woke up suspended 6ft in air. I couldn’t move. When I looked up, I saw the sky swirling around me. I had a sudden chest pain, I was petrified, but I couldn’t speak. I was in a strange place. I had been kidnapped, my hands and feet were tied up, my mouth was gagged. As of this moment, I was being carried over a stranger’s shoulder.

I smelled something unfamiliar which made me feel sick though the cloth in my mouth. I puked up all over the stranger’s shoulder. I felt something big manhandle my weak, queasy body, and I was now like a jelly in someone’s arms, someone who was strange, being held over a sink. My head was shoved towards water. It was running and it was cold. It was relief.

I felt my face being touched, underneath my mouth, I could now make out that male fingers were wiping me. I breathed in and in that moment felt a jolt. Still tied, I was plonked onto a kitchen chair. How I didn’t fall, I don’t know. Something harsh gripped my hair. My head was being pulled up by my hair. I heard a scraping sound. My eyes were forced to make contact with a strange man sitting opposite me.

I was..angry? Angry should have been the correct feeling. I ANGRILY studied his face. The stupidity of it was that I hoped to get an answer. Why are you doing this to me? How much at your mercy am I?

The gag around my mouth was loosened. I kept looking at the stranger. My lips felt swollen. I swallowed. If I could move, I would have fetched myself a drink of water. Ice cold water is what I needed. Craved. But I was tied up everywhere but my mouth. When I looked down, my legs were tied to my knees, to my cunt, to my breasts, to my neck and to my fists. I could shake my head so the cloth gag was loose.

“Get it over with” was on my lips as my body was shoved on the table. Instead I could only yelp with pain. I felt a sharp smack on my bottom. ANGRILY, I knew that I was COMPLETELY at his mercy.

I thought there was going to be a knife. Either death or freedom from my binds. Instead, I felt tighter. I started hyperventilating. I felt a hand on my face. I pressed into it. Mercy. NO. He slapped my cheek. My head turned to one side out of surprise and pain. I started to cry and my breath came out thick and fast. My head was pulled upward again. Lips touched mine. He was going to kiss me. Please. NO. I got spit in my mouth. I lifted my eyes towards him. I felt like a whore.

It dawned on me that I was going to be treated like a whore. I was going to get raped. I was going to have his cock fucking the consent away, my cunt to be a whore for his cock.

Hallo. Update on my Kerouac project.

2010-09-06T13:58:00.000-07:00

The intentions behind the documentary are to illustrate Kerouac's origins and how it affected his mature lit like On The Road of which there is a movie adaptation in production. Francis Ford Coppolla is producing the movie which stars Kristen Stewart, Sam Riley, Garrett Hedlund and Viggo Mortensen. It would be interesting to see how they interpret one of Jack Kerouac's masterpieces and in making our documentary it would give audiences the chance to also know the man behind all this.

http://www.indiegogo.com/Home-Ill-Never-Be-Jack-Kerouac-and-Lowell

I finally got chance to post a Comfort Food review on amazon UK

2010-09-05T05:21:00.000-07:00

I consider this a way of saying thank you to the world of Erotica and the authors. Here's what I wrote about a book you may have heard me mention..

Comfort Food by Kitty Thomas is a book I came across one evening and when I finished it, I had tears in my eyes. Yes it did have a big impact on me, not only because it hit something personal (when I say it changed my life, that's not a over statement) but the author has written something raw, real and absorbing with strong characters. Not in your face characters, and none of this book is in your face, it could be but it's intelligent and anyone can access it and just find it interesting if not erotic.

I personally find the book erotic, not because I have a kidnap fantasy, that's something I don't even know about myself yet but because of the strength of the bond between Emily the heroine and the man in this book. And something we humans relate to -inner strength, society conditioning, relationships and any kind of sexuality, "norms", right, wrong.

I find the book refreshing and I will always come back to it no matter what happens in my life. In summary, Emily is kidnapped by a man who is a stranger, she is kept in a cell by him and she has no idea what is going on, why, what she says is what we think, why is he doing this? We see something happen between Emily and this man and although what he does is morally wrong and the action itself would probably fit the definition of evil, he has his reasons, it's not a justification because nothing about this book is preachy and nothing is fake. There's no role play, which don't get me wrong is erotic but this is a book about slavery.

p.s. I gave it 5 stars!

I want to go into the wild, to be as real, down to earth, in touch with my raw side as much as I can possibly can be.

2010-08-29T13:23:00.000-07:00

It's quite an odd sentence to write, this, but some books go directly into my blood stream. They go beyond love, and into fascination. I read Into The Wild on Friday on the way to see my Dom. I bought another book as well but it was Into The Wild that whilst had nothing to do with the purpose of my trip (even if you really analyse it you will find that some things can't be linked and explained so easily) that had that ..WOAH factor. It got to me bad. I've read it twice again since.

The harshness of nature, the force of nature, we've heard the terms and descriptions but this book really slams it home. I didn't know about the man in the books' journey, his name is the quite lovely sounding Chris McCandless, I found something out that shocked me. Of course it's not surpising but the JOURNEY..I have always admired people who march to the beat of their own drum. That's not about being a selfish fuck. It's about living your life the way you want and NEED as much as you can. It's very simple to type that but my God going after one thing requires so much inner strength when the time comes that really it's one of the hardest things you could do no matter how much you want and need it.

I'm not into imitation or escape. I just don't want to live my vanilla life, the life outside my submissive life, when I have been given chances, without really living it. I have decided in my spare time to get as much outdoors training as I can. It's again easy to type. It won't be easy to go through with. I know the obstacles. The lack of support from peers at the start, the money, the insomnia, heights, rocks...dare I say mountains. I want to go into the wild, one day like Chris but before then to be in nature, the thing that is real. I want to as down to earth as I can be, as in touch with my raw side as I can possibly be alive.

I don't want to be anyone else but I can really, deeply relate to Chris McCandless. Sometimes in books that go into my blood, that I love, adore, am fascinated by, I mostly do NOT relate to the people in them but Chris hit home.