Hidden In Plain Sight

‘I wanted so very desperately to please you,’ she said.

‘And I tried so humiliatingly hard.’

‘But it was never enough.’ ‘I could never be enough.’

‘So I gave up.’

‘We can’t have a D/s relationship… but I still need a Master.’

‘Without a Sun to revolve around, I am lost.’

‘You want me in your life. You want something from me. Something I have never figured out because it seems you like so little about me. Except my heart and my loyalty. And perhaps the fact I was willing to give it to you so freely, with such little in exchange.’

‘You’ve made me strong.’

‘You’ve made me realise I can walk through this world alone.’

‘But you’ve also made me realise that I don’t want to be with someone who teaches me I can walk alone.’

‘I want to be with someone who teaches me I don’t have to.’

I’ve not written anything fun in quite some time, so figured it time to share again. Hope you enjoy ?:

‘Bend over,’ He says.

‘Straighten your back. Stick your ass out.’

‘Mmmm, yes… just like that.’

‘Your ass looks great like this.’

A little wiggle, happiness at His praise, spills out of my body.

‘Stay still!’ He says firmly.

I do. Immediately feeling that familiar tingle at the sternness in His voice.

I stay there, listening intently, awaiting further instruction. It doesn’t come. He simply goes back to what He was doing.

So I settle in and concentrate on maintaining this posture. Every posture seems easy at first. Until it has to be held. But I know this one well. It is my caning stance.
So many thoughts try to race through my mind, wondering where this is going, images pushing for a chance to have centre stage. I slow everything down and simply wait. Waiting is what I do best. That delicious elixir of anticipation, working its way through my body.

As always, I don’t need to reach between my legs to know what’s happening there. But I do like to. That delight in finding the ways in which my body displays its ripeness are always like opening that first birthday present.

But I don’t move.

Instead I listen.

He’s gaming. There’s something so disturbingly satisfying in being put on display and then ignored for something so mundane. He certainly knows how to push all my buttons. Sometimes I wonder if He actually knows how well He targets them, or if it’s simply dumb luck. I kind of like not knowing. Is He conscious of the power He has over my body?

Suddenly I realise He’s behind me. He pushes Himself against me, and then steps back and runs His hands over my ass cheeks.

Mmmm those hands.

I try not to melt like goo under His touch. It takes all my concentration to stay still as His hands explore. Around, up, down, between my thighs. Careful to never give me what I want. What I crave.

He pushes against me again, grabbing my hips. That tease! I’m aching to feel Him inside me… and He knows it.

‘Mmmmm, good girl,’ He says with a growl. Oh, that growl. Gets me every time. The low simmering of desire, combined with that controlled need and urgency. It always ignites the primal urge in me. Wanting Him to claim what’s His, and drive Himself into me without thought.

I soften back into Him. Silently pleading. “Please, Sir. Please enter me. Please fuck my brains to oblivion.” But I say nothing. My body speaking for itself. Internally I say a little prayer that it’s speaking loud enough!

He pulls His cock out and rubs it over my ass, before guiding Himself into me. Hallelujah. (He has been known to end more than one session right there and then, leaving me wanting and needy. So I never know how much He will give me). My body gratefully leans back into Him, trying to savour every thrust, encouraging Him deeper and deeper.

Grabbing my hair, and without stopping, He directs me towards the kitchen bench where He pushes me forward over it and wraps Himself around me. Pounding.
Splayed over the bench, my hands reach out for traction, as my breasts dance around against the countertop at just the right angle for my nipples to lightly graze with each movement. Mmmm, the delicious feeling spreads through my whole body as I try to maintain my foothold.

He releases my hair and orders me to turn around, drop to my knees, and suck my juices from Him. I do, immediately. Again, that internal jolt of pleasure at how well He finds my buttons. I suck and lick with fervour, lost into the moment. His delicious cock the centre of the universe.

But He’s not done. Grabbing my hair again, He pulls me to my feet, bends me over the countertop again, and begins preparing to enter my ass. I reach around and spread myself wide, helping, filled with excitement. That first moment of entry is unlike anything. I almost purrrrrrr.

‘Get on your knees,’ He orders. I do. Face up, mouth open, tongue out. Just as He likes. His groans as hot cum spurts onto my face and tongue, bring a deep satisfaction. I watch and listen and taste and drip. An uncontrollable smile beginning to form at the edges of my mouth.

He looks down at me as I gaze adoringly up at Him. A gentle finger traces down the side of my face as He whispers, ‘Good girl. Now clean me up.’

Back when tiger’s smoked (my new favourite term for “once upon a time”… yes, it’s actually a legitimate saying lol), there was a phrase I came across in a book.

‘Kina palirra.’

In the culture of this particular Aboriginal community (“tribe”), the term ‘I love you’ is seen to be possessive and is therefore not used. Instead, kina palirra is used. It translates roughly as,

‘You are here. That is enough.’

From the moment I read these words, my heart said, ‘yes! this is truth.’ This is the type of expression of “love” that feels right for me.

When I got married, it was my intention to get those words tattooed on my hand… the hand that would hold his hand throughout our life together. However, it never happened. I was told the hand can’t be tattooed, and then over time couldn’t decide where else I wanted to place it, so it became a distant thought.

After my marriage ended, the thought continued that someday I’d get it done to honour our marriage (he is a wonderful man and although our journey didn’t continue together, that part of my life will always be special to me).

But, it never happened.

When I met my ex-Sir, I began contemplating it again as a representation of U/us. However, again, it didn’t happen.

When things ended between us, my ex-Sir gave me some money for my birthday, to spend on treating myself. I was a bit lost on what to use it for because I’m not really one to “pamper” myself in ways that cost money lol. But the idea came to me, and with such a resounding ’Yes!’ I was finally going to get that damn tattoo!

But this time… for me.

It was such a mind blowing realisation and shift in perception. That tattoo has been meant for me all along… waiting patiently until I could accept for myself that I am here, and that is enough ?

So, here it is (on my hand ?):

Sometimes things have a funny way of coming into being. More and more I’m learning to simply let go and trust in the process. 

Happy New Year, everyone. 
May you too realise that you are here, and that is enough ? 

Rarely do I pass up a fun challenge. Thank you, Pure ?

yes… I have a retro pink bathroom, and I love it! ?

The rest? Well, that’s pretty self explanatory ? 

It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is showing your weak, ugly self.
And what is even harder is sharing your most beautiful parts, and asking someone to hold them safe.

It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is finding someone who makes you want to become brave, and risk taking off your armour.
And what is even harder is realising that they weren’t the right one, despite what your heart told you.

How can a heart be wrong?

It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is learning to fight your battles without creating casualties of you both, trying to become a soft place for the other to land should they need.
And what is even harder is owning all your failures, including overlooking how unhappy they were.

How can we miss seeing the person closest to us?

It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is picking up your pieces and moving on, trying to gather up everything as to not leave any traces.
And what is even harder is knowing that they’ll always have pieces of you, just another story added to the pile.

It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is realising that no matter how much you hope, some people only have the capacity for easy.
And what is even harder is accepting that’s not you.

“I use love to gaslight myself,” I said.

“I’m such a fool.”

‘Of course,’ she said, placing her hands gently over her heart.

‘We all want love. And we have all learned to do whatever we need to do to find that love.’

‘Instead of rejecting that part of yourself, just hold her close and tell her “of course”.’

? We all need wise women in our lives. If you don’t have one just now… this share is for you ?

Shame is something I have recently been exploring within myself. Where it comes from, what triggers it, how it has impacted my life.

There was a belief behind this… a drive. If I could overcome feeling shame I’d be free. Free from caring about judgement.

It occurred to me this morning whilst reading a book from one of my favourite authors, that perhaps we never overcome shame… and perhaps we don’t need to. Maybe it’s in the acceptance of the discomfort of the shame that comes up when we truly bare ourselves to another, that we find peace. Maybe it’s the shame itself that indicates that we truly are being vulnerable. That uncomfortable feeling of being exposed.

Just some thoughts.

Let’s hear it for the Men who face their demons.

Let’s hear it for the Men who can sit with discomfort. 

Let’s hear it for the Men who’ve let go of FOMO. 

Let’s hear it for the Men who want to do the work… 

I see you. Thank you ? 

When we are young, it’s the illusion of perfection that we fall in love with. 
As we age, it’s the humanness that we fall in love with- the poignant stories of overcoming, the depthful vulnerability of aging, the struggles that grew us in karmic stature, the way a soul shaped itself to accommodate its circumstances. 
With less energy to hold up our armor, we are revealed and, in the revealing, we call out to each other’s hearts.
Where before wounds turned us off, they are now revealed as proof that God exists.
Where we once saw imperfect scars, we now see evidence of a life fully lived.

~Jeff Brown~