Katastrophe incarnate

Lady isn’t exactly a meaningless title for me, it’s all down to how I was raised. But I suppose I’m getting a bit ahead. Let’s examine this a bit closer shall we? 

   I was raised to behave a certain way, and while I shed most of the ridiculous aspects, and I’d hope fight the problematic ones, certain remnants have stuck. From the time I could crawl a series of beloved female relatives have taught me to behave as a Lady should. How to speak, how to walk, how to present myself, and even how to defend myself and those needing my help. How to show myself to be worthy of respect and how to determine when others are worthy of the same. 

  Manners therefore are important to me. The energy I’m initially presented with determines exactly what I’m giving back. I can be playful and flirtatious, sweet and nurturing, gracious and kind. When presented with courtesy I can return it and ensure the other party knows they have my rapt attention. 

  But there is another side, as well. A side brought out by disrespect, by childish testing, and some mistaken belief I wouldn’t dare. I have the ability to turn off the kindness, to retract that gentility, and leave the offending party a gibbering mess, grasping the remains of their pitiful self as if I couldn’t return and begin the chaos anew. 

I of course don’t enjoy being the villainous lady anymore than I have to, but honestly. How far should I be pushed before reminding people the name isn’t accidental. I can be as cruel as I can be kind. What possesses some to test that is beyond me. 

What brought this on today, when I’ve had such a lovely few days? An utterly disgusting encounter with a foolish woman while doing my errands this morning. A woman I’ve never met before attempting to preach at me because I obviously need religious intervention in my life. A woman who chose to speak to me like a child, despite appearing to be very nearly my age. A woman who very well may be picking her jaw up from the pavement still once I informed her I’d sooner entrust my soul to Lucifer than have to see the likes of her in “paradise”. 

   What a way to ruin a perfectly lovely morning. 

Yesterday was fun. 

An understatement, of course, but suitable to lead into my thoughts. If one thought of it as a game, my darling partner achieved his victory twice yesterday. Hours of attention just to show me what I mean to him. Yes he achieved his goal, twice. 

Today finds me deliciously sore, a dozen or so little bites and bruises constant reminders of his attentions. His neck and shoulders sporting marks all their own, one at his clavicle nearly the shade of my favorite lipstick. 

I never expected to wake this morning to his hands reaching for me again, and yet I was tugged close. I was sure he’d be exhausted, and yet in the still sleepy haze of predawn I found his attention back on my body, on bringing me pleasures so gentle, so careful. 
Once he was absolutely sure I was sated, he rolled out of bed to make my coffee. Our usual routine. 
  I asked what he’d dreamed of, to be informed he hadn’t dreamed at all. He wanted to make sure I knew he’d never have his fill of me. 13 years together and his appetite still isn’t assuaged. 

Well it’s here, today is my birthday. 32 years on this Earth, and I have to say, so far it’s been a good one. 
I didn’t wake to dreadful news, or a UDP, or anyone making demands of my time. A rare thing for me. 
 I came awake slowly, gently pulled from dreams fueled by the activities alluded to in my last post. Having been together so long, he’s well aware of my moods, my needs, and when I may just need to tie him to the bed and have my wicked way with him.
      The carved posts of our bed lend themselves so well to this practice and it was well past the witching hour when I untied him last night. 
I woke to nimble hands and long fingers caressing my curves. Teasing me gently awake, soft touches to secret places, worshiping with more reverence than seen in any temple or church. 
  Is there any better way to wake? If so I don’t know it, and I’ll be dubious until proof is delivered, if it even exists. Following the first gentle round, he worked in earnest until I thought I’d never catch my breath. Every position I favor, every angle he’s learned over the past 13 years. Several hours focused entirely on my pleasure.

   Lazing in bed afterwards I asked what brought all that enthusiasm on. We had played a long time even for us the last night, usually he’d be sore today, favoring hot showers, sweet teas and maybe some gentle cuddles. 

“Birthday spankings didn’t seem appropriate, so I thought it’d be fun to try for birthday orgasms instead.” 

Happy Birthday to me indeed. 

I’ve been on this site for a couple months, thought of trying the blog thing a few times, but never felt like the right time. 
  Guess that’s changed a bit. I woke up today with a thought and I felt like sharing. Who knows when I’ll decide to share again, but here we are. 
  I’m mentally gearing up for my birthday tomorrow, complicated feelings abound. But I will get past that and come away another year older, hopefully a little wiser, and definitely a little calmer. My partner is doing his level best to keep my mind occupied that’s for sure. He can always tell when I need a distraction and this is no exception. 
  Obedience has its place in our dynamic of course, but a little defiance followed up with an appropriate consequence? Well life would be ever so dull without a taste of chaos here and there, wouldn’t it?