Owning Me


Eyes locked, magnetic

Connecting, jute tied deliberately

Leather percussion, transporting

Conducting, fingers dancing

Flesh on flesh, igniting

Thrusting, gripping hips, penetrating

Warm lips, wet, whispering

Tangling, fist gripping tresses

Begging, curls over face, swaying

Wanting more of you

Prickly, jute unyielding

Mind inward, focusing

Captivating, soul alive

Body on fire, detonating

Raging, pleading, clenching

Carnal consciousness

Beckoned responses

Eager, pulsating, obeying

Powerful, loving commands

Guiding, owning me

His Toy

Pulling me into him, legs locking behind mine, his chest cradles me in, and his arm drapes over me so his hand can cup my breast, just as it was 21 years ago. Except this night, my head is hazy with exhaustion and I’m glowing in him. I’ve just lived this boundary pushing, trust expanding, spiritual experience that is far from what we looked like 21 years ago, but which is our ‘normal’ now. Yet that ‘normalcy’ in no way diminishes the wonder and awe I feel, every time.

I’m lying there in his arms, awe struck. The way he looks at me, the way he directs me, and the words he says to me and about me, leave me humming. 

It’s not so complicated – he asks and I do (within our limits, of course). Things I never imagined I’d like, or even love, I do. I want to, NEED to. His desires only fuel my freedom. I am me..I am his.

The best part is – it’s not just my freedom that’s been unlocked, it’s his too. He feels free to express all his desires…because I belong to him. I get to live and experience and BE whatever he wishes.

Last night, as he locked us together and nuzzled his cheek into mine, he said, “Thank you for being my toy.” I think my heart skipped a few beats.


I Choose to See

Some days it’s so easy to feel the weight. It’s not just sitting upon my shoulders, it’s a iron anvil dropped on my chest. It’s spoiled and sour, rumbling and curdling in the pit of my belly. It’s a revolving avalanche of thoughts and feelings taking up all the space in my head and stretching my heart too tight.

Some days the world just seems to work against me. Just as the comfort of this life begins to settle in, the world stirs the pot with ten ladles, all at once. Both cars break down, the A/C goes out, business is down and money is tight, vacation is scheduled and the truck it still broken, my body is rebelling, the washer breaks, the scale tells me I’ve gained a few pounds, the oven breaks, business is down again, I can’t sleep, school starts soon (high school for one!) and the new gymnastics schedule is impossible to accommodate. Amidst it all, one of the people I love most in this world screams for me. PRESENT me.

I realize in a split second, none of that shit in the pot really matters to me. I realize, again, that I carry all that weight by choice. I am the anvil, the spoiled sourness, the one who fuels the avalanche and overfills my heart. I allow it all to feel like overwhelming weight which sometimes distracts me from seeing what really matters.

I choose to see. I don’t have all the answers and I’m scared silly, but I SEE.

Long Road to Happy

I’ve written before about how our relationship changes have effected the entire family. There’s been such a far-reaching, positive impact in the way we communicate and interact, all of us. For that I am so grateful. 

But I’ve also expressed concerns about my oldest daughter. This journey has been a very long one for me and she has been witness to it all. She’s experienced all those old ways I use to operate, ways which I know instilled guilt and confusion, which had a negative impact, of that I’m certain. I lived a distracted life and had no idea how to accept my own imperfections….and I see her doing those same things. She’s more open than ever, but still has a long way to go, and she’s so hard on herself. So very hard. 

Today, I learned something that absolutely breaks my heart for her. She needs me (us) now, more than ever. It’s not going to be easy to tackle the issue. I do believe we are equipped to handle it all better than ever, but today, my heart hurts and I feel like I failed her. 

Simultaneous Storms

Walls of white wet canvas
Violent serenade of rain surrounds us
Blackness all that eyes do see
Two silhouettes feeling nature’s music, free
Arms encase me, following your command
From your lips unto my hands
Violet vibration hums inside
Outside Magenta buzzes and glides
Storm clouds brew within us too
Needful rumble felt in every curve and thew
Agonizingly teasing, fast-fast-slow
Over and over your answer is, “No”
Eager leg lifted up and over yours
Talented fingers have me begging for more
“That’s my girl,” as viscous need builds
Storms eye focused, bodies thrilled
Face to face our silhouettes lay
Flashes of lightening strobe and play
Lighting your powerful, hungry eyes
Every ounce of me complies
“Please, Sir,” I plead again
“Yes,” you reply amidst thunderous din
Crashing waves of passionate release
Quiet and still on the outside, I please
“Good girl,” whispered in my ear
Encapsulating arms pulling me nearer
In the pitter patter of drops and strumming breeze
Kneeling, I honor upon my knees
To outer storm’s symphony we close our eyes
Storm inside quieted, our lullaby

Save That For Private…

M and I were sitting at the picnic table yesterday and in front of him layed a wooden spoon. He picked it up, looked at me with a grin and raised his eyebrows. He told me some of the lovely things he’s going to do to my ass when we get home, then he cracked my ass with that spoon, once sort of lightly and another really hard. When others were around! Then he asked me if it hurt, to which I responded, “Yes,” with a grin. His mom giggled and said, “Hey now, save that for private.” Ha!! M couldn’t decide whether to be amused or disturbed. I thought it was funny as hell!

Amongst the Crowd

The sun is shining brightly, the lake is calm and cool, and the billowy, tree-lined mountains are gorgeous. We are at the annual week long family camping trip, nestled in the Allegheny mountains. It’s something we look forward to, every year.

Yesterday evening, we were all sitting around the fire, listening to music with family and friends, and a song comes on….it’s Pink Floyd, one of the songs M most always plays when he does these amazingly breathtaking things to me…..and my body immediately remembers. I’m unable to sit still, my cheeks warm and I feel a little flushed, my breath a bit ragged. I’m grinning and I don’t even know I’m grinning. With all the bustle and chatter around me, I unknowingly stare at the fire, my brain beginning it’s replay reel – that song, M and his magic, remembering all those delicious things at his hand. Wow.

Lifting my eyes from the fire, I see M looking at me, grinning….I’m looking at M….and we know. It’s just the two of us, our own little secret. Except, it’s not all that secret, this love we have. Anyone around us can plainly see just how and how much we love. But, those sacred things are ours, they belong only to us. Passing between us, that one look connecting our truest selves, even amongst the crowd.

Makes Me Blush…

On our long trip in the vehicle today, M said something to me about our experience last night (which was fucking amazing!!), a compliment of sorts, one that stirred something in me, this newer feeling which amazes me each and every time.

M has told me so many times how much he loves witnessing, being a part of, and even helping to facilitate my true sexual freedom over time, but today he specifically complimented my execution of a particular act that has been one I used to feel very self conscious about. Explaining how erotic and sexy it is that I do so with confidence, maybe even show off a little for him (I totally do), he shifted in his seat and the look on his face as he spoke….ooof. And as he spoke, I blushed! This man made me blush! Where the fuck does that come from?

So often now M will say things to me, such as how much he loves watching or experiencing me do this or that and how sexy it is, how sexy my confidence is, or how amazing my ability is in a particular situation….and now I blush! I grin, uncontrollably, ear to ear, and with a small voice I express my gratitude. All the while, this butterfly feeling swirls away in my belly, my cheeks get hot, I’m acutely aware of every molecule in my body humming, and I fidget. It’s not embarrassment, at all. It’s a feeling that has evolved over time, a breathtaking, soul affirming feeling.

In the past, those sorts of comments and compliments from him were not always well received. I dismissed them (didn’t feel worthy) and even became upset internally, because they made me feel so exposed. Embarrassed, even as I wanted so badly to revel in it. But now, this newer feeling is unbelievable – it’s a combination my genuine acceptance of his adoration, a growing confidence in myself, and unrestrained trust in him (because I KNOW what he says is truly how he feels). It’s a feeling that he’s undoubtedly aroused by me and he truly desires me.  And there’s this giddy girl inside me who absolutely basks in his affection, in knowing I’ve pleased him…that same girl whose insides do backflips when she hears ‘good girl’ or ‘that’s my girl’ from him, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.

My blushing cheeks tell him, without doubt,  I belong to him, that my heart and soul are FREE. Free to feel and express and accept. Because of him.

Two As One

“Are you okay?,” he asks as he rests her back onto her knees, his finger lightly brushing a stray strand of hair from her face after setting the soft brown suede and thick purple floggers to the side. Listening for her answer, his finger continues its path down her cheek, it’s roughness quite gentle against her delicate skin, tracing the line of her jaw and traveling slowly downward along the length of her neck, stopping to dip into the crevice just behind her collarbone. With a pinch between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezes and caresses its length, beginning near her shoulder and ending at the circular reservoir at her throat.

“Yes, Sir,” she replies, but her voice is unsteady. Willing her eyes to keep his gaze, her body deceives her, unable to mask the swell of emotion within her….because there is no more mask. She can no longer hide from him. When she speaks, her eyes fall slightly from his, her ragged breath sounding almost like a whimper.

Continuing its trace downward, his finger grazes her skin like a well traveled route on the map of her flesh, leaving her skin only briefly as it makes its way over the rope. As it does, the slight pressure on the rope causes her to be acutely aware of its spiny texture pressing further into her skin. In an instant, goosebumps begin to form, a shivering ripple over her flesh, a reminder of those heavenly vibrations combined with his intimate touch as the rope was applied not long before, and only compounded by the recent floggy deliciousness on her back and bottom. Flooded with a tidal wave of arousal, it’s as if each individual goosebump is a silent scream, her body fiercely crying out to him. Begging for him. When she feels his finger begin circling inward around her entire breast to its center, giving her nipple an abrupt and firm pinch and tug, her whimper is clearly audible. Again, her eyes fall downward.

“No, there’s no being embarrassed, look at me,” he lovingly commands, tipping her chin upward with a finger underneath.

Kneeling before him, bound by him not only by rope, she cannot bear to look him in the eyes. Consumed with need, she’s overwhelmed in him, her body trembling and quaking. Never has she been in such a heightened state of arousal and responsiveness, so acutely aware of her existence as HIS, so profoundly yearning for him, waiting and anticipating what is to come. This feeling, it’s the most exposed she has ever felt, so much so that she’s almost embarrassed in her dire state of need for him. Her barest self, her surrendered soul calling out to him. Needing him and completely at his mercy.

But…her need is not a craving for release which has overcome her…it’s the need for more….more of him. She desperately needs to give him more of herself. And more and more, until he has taken all he wants and needs, until there’s nothing more of her to give. Until it feels as if he’s wholly consumed her, held wide open his chest and she’s crawled inside, exhausted in him. Two as one, the way they were meant to be.

At his request, her eyes obey, how could they not? She trusts him with all that she is. They tell him, he knows. And again, he begins….