The Runner

You know…I think I will break tradition and write about someone different.

No gentlemen callers.

No Dom prodigies

No gangsters, outlaws, or coaches…

Today’s post is about a runner.

When I think of a runner, I think of someone disciplined.  Devoted to their sport.

Most runners are over-achievers, perfectionists. type-A personalities.

Many have established running routines.  They rarely miss a day.  They are driven by their need to run.

Although unorthodox in her methodology, this runner is no different.

She rarely misses the opportunity to run.

She’s a sprinter.  Able to run extremely fast for short spurts of time, to get ahead of the pack.  Leaving others far behind.

She’s a distance runner.  Able to run for long distances and for long periods of time…always ensuring that no one is too close to her lead.

She’s a cross-country/all terrain runner.  Able to run wherever she needs to.  Regardless of the environment, no matter how rocky, unstable, uncertain…she finds a way to run through it.

Her resolve is relentless.

But unlike the runners who run for sport, this runner is compelled.  She is addicted to the run.

For her it is an escape.

You are probably thinking…most runners do run for an escape, a break from their daily existence.

She runs to escape the things she fears most…

Not a monster…real or imaginary.

Not a person.

Not her past.

She runs to escape her future.  

She runs from what could be…

She runs from the things she perceives to be “too good to be true”

She runs from the people that make her feel something on a deeper level.

She runs from the beautiful possibility of true and everlasting love.

She runs and runs and runs.

Never looking back….

But never in sight of the finish line…

As there is none.

There is no victory in her race.  

In order to win, she must first lose

Lose control…

Lose herself in another.

To do so, she must slow down…

She must stop running.

And as I write this, she prepares for yet another run…

Her eyes locked in a gaze straight ahead

Sprinting to gain the lead….

Afraid to see what was beside her.

And I ran, I ran so far away
I just ran, I ran all night and day
I couldn’t get away



Numbers play an important role in our daily lives.

We set alarms to wake up at a specific time
There’s a number…not my favorite.  Today it was 4:15 AM

We leave at a specific time to arrive at work/school on time
Another number…perhaps one I should pay closer attention to

We buy gas for our cars
How about those numbers?  Yikes

We buy coffee, lunch, etc
Numbers that quickly add up

We pay our bills
Numbers…some bigger than we want

We celebrate birthdays
The ever-increasing number

We date interesting gents from an online dating site

What?  Wait a minute….

What are the important numbers in dating?

Aside from keeping up with the exact number of spankings I receive, numbers often play an interesting role in the dating scene.

Here are a few I like to keep track of…

How many messages are exchanged before they bring in sexual innuendo?

How many messages before they ask for a phone number?

When is the initial meeting?

Those are all significant numbers.  Some would say I have skipped important numbers like their income…how many kids they have…how many times they’ve been married.

But I say, no.  That stuff is not a priority for me, unless they have been married more than Elizabeth Taylor.  We all make mistakes.  No judgement here.

Or if they haven’t held down a job since Clinton was president.  (There’s actually a number for that…a big fat ZERO)

Here’s another number to look at when dating….

Their age.

I have been surprised to find how significant and insignificant these numbers are.

Someone may be 46 years old in human years….but have the social acumen of a nervous 14 year old.

On the other hand, he could be 26 years old…and have the presence of a seasoned CEO.

He could be 31 and carry himself with the confidence and humility of a military General.

He could have his AARP card and still have the stamina of a freshman at Florida State.

Age is relative to the person.

Relative to their life experience.

Because I have learned this firsthand on my journey, I find that I pay little attention to age when perusing the dating scene.

But I do see trends.  Just my observations…

The older, more experienced men have a tendency to skip over the niceties.  They are often the gropers on the first date.  The ones who just try too hard.  Many of these men have been married for a long period of time and they are looking for that level of familiarity.

I also find that the older crowd is less apt to embrace change.  They have done it this way and it’s the way they do it.

The younger ones are eager to learn the ways of the experienced older teacher, while bringing their own set of skills.

I have found in my limited experience that they are more attentive.  And tend to be great listeners.

Listening to learn from their elders.

They can be a bit pushy at times, but I find it easier to redirect the younger student than their older counterpart.

Maybe I am a bit twisted…

Don’t answer that…

But I have found that my favorite suitors have been a bit younger or significantly younger than me.

They seem to embrace what I am in to and do all they can to learn more…

Their quest for knowledge and understanding is sexy.

And on a side note,  they are great with tech support stuff.  If I have an iPhone issue, they are the first on the scene with a solution.  Computer issue?  No problem.  It’s great! 

And those who are my age are fun and have their benefits.  Many of them are bitter from their impending mid-life crisis, but nonetheless, I enjoy them equally.

But the young ones are intriguing…

And nothing against the older, more seasoned gents.

Sometimes I crave the freshness over the seasoning.

And we will leave it at that…

The Natural

the natural


A friend told me that if I was a serial killer, I would be a collector.  She went on to say that I would keep a token from each of those I killed.


I asked her where she got such a crazy thought.

Her reply, “I read your blog. You savor each experience.  Sharing them is like collecting a piece of it for yourself to have as a memento.”

How interesting….I love that she went there.  Great correlation.

And what a good friend to enlighten me.  (If ever I do have the inclination to off one of my suitors, I will be sure to keep a finger or some appendage to reminisce…I digress…)

Which brings me to this post.  I am struggling to write this one.  I almost don’t want to share it.

I don’t want to decide how to tag it.

How to categorize it.

How to label it.

In fact, I cannot come up with a proper blog name for Him. I cannot find a fit.

I can’t put a label on Him.

He’s different.

Surprisingly different.

(Yes, this is the man I mentioned in my last post, “All These Things…”)

We met in a very typical way, on OK Cupid.  He messaged me about my profile and his message seemed sincere.  It was not appearance-based, which was refreshing.  He seemed to connect with the words on my profile, rather than just my picture.

We began messaging about ourselves…our lives…our work…our experiences with online dating.

We had a sincere connection.  And there was a spark there.

And you know me….in proper fashion,  I decided to sabotage the whole thing, as I sometimes do…and I shared my blog with Him.

Like a select few, it did not scare Him away.

It intrigued Him.  He was not intimidated at all.

Interesting gent…

So we got over that speed bump.

But you know my track record with OKC.  Some have been great and others have seemed perfect and fizzled within the first minutes of our initial meeting.  So I was hesitant.

Will he be real?  Will he be who he seems to be?

We finally agreed to meet on a Wednesday for coffee.  But it turns out on the Monday prior to our date, I was child-free (a rare occurrence in my life) so I asked if he would like to come by my house for coffee.

He was most agreeable.

Around 4:00 pm,  I received a text.

“Here are your instructions for the evening:

1.  Wear a perfume that you like.  I will need to know the name of it, as you will be instructed to wear this each time we meet.

2.  Your safeword is “freeze”

3.  Warning words are yellow and red.  Used like a traffic light

4.  Your pet name is “little girl”

5.  You will address me as Sir.

I will arrive at 8:45.  We will begin our initial meeting in a casual/vanilla way.  I will then take control when I see fit and you will adhere to the guidelines outlined above.”

I love instructions.

But here’s the thing…He was not a seasoned Dom.  In fact, He had just really learned about the lifestyle through my blog.

He had no experience.

Obviously, a quick study.  Or maybe he’s just naturally this way?

I wanted to reply to his instruction with a “DDDAAAAYYYUUUMMM” (southern speak for Damn)

But I simply replied, “Yes Sir”

As usual, I was running behind trying to get the kids settled in at their respective places.  I messaged him and asked for a few more minutes.

He reluctantly gave me 10 additional minutes.

At exactly 8:55, he arrived at my doorstep.


Great physique, strong and in command…



Looked to me like he could have been closely related to both Tobey Maguire and Joaquin Phoenix.

He had the presence I seek.  It was oozing from his pores.

Again, I speak southern…DAMN

Just as he said, our evening began in a very causal, vanilla way.  About a half hour into our great chat, he looked at me and said,

“Are you ready to play?”

I was beyond ready.

He began the evening with some serious impact play, courtesy of my new riding crop.  He was relentless in his task.  I kept losing track of the number we were on.  He was always willing to start over…

I recall looking back at Him, thinking I may have caught the glimpse of a sadistic grin on his face.

Then things moved into a more mutual physical expression.  We were a perfect match for each other.

The intensity was reciprocal.

Like a storm, we gained momentum together.  Our energy fueled the crazy-hot, furious passion.

He whispered in my ear, the things he planned to do to me.

So hot…

He looked deep into my eyes as he was deeply inside me and then he grinned that slightly sadistic grin…

As he clutched my throat.

His stare was piercing.  The look in his eyes, combined with the pressure around my neck brought me to an entirely different level.  I was heading over my edge.

There was no turning back for either of us.

We arrived at this same place together, with his strong hands around my soft neck.


And I never mentioned breath play to him.  He instinctively went there. He knew what I liked without me having to tell him.

Isn’t that what we all really want?

Someone who gets us.  Who understands our needs without us needing to spell it out?

And as for me, I want it all.

The passion.

His Dominance over me.

My submission to Him.

Our intensity together.

The unspoken understanding between us.

And so far, I have found this with Him.

But still, I hesitate to assign Him a blog name, as I feel He will morph into many different characters.

So for now, let’s call Him….

The Natural.

That says it all…





All These Things that I Have Done…

He was curt in his instruction…

“Come here and lay across my lap”

Without hesitation, I placed myself on his lap.  I was waiting for the first smack across my backside, as I knew it was coming.

He said, “You did well getting here on time today.  I am proud of you. And you did well wearing the panties I asked you to wear.  You are such a good little girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He began rubbing my bottom with his hand.  Slowly caressing me.

“Have you always been such a good girl?  I am sure there have been times that you were bad.  I want to hear about those, little girl.  Tell me…when you were young, what bad things did you do?”

I thought for a moment…

Really?  I showed up on time.  I did as I was instructed.  And now, I have to confess my sins from my younger years?

“Sir, I was a bad teenager.  When I was 13, I had a crush on a older boy.  He asked me to undress and stand in my window as he rode by”

He was pensive in his reply, “Hmmm.  So how old was this boy?”

I knew I was in for it.  “He was 18, Sir.  I was very mature for my age.  He didn’t know how young I was.”

The caressing of my backside became more focused and direct.

“So you undressed for a MAN, when you were a mere 13 years old?” his voice was a bit louder.  His tone was direct.

“Yes, Sir, I did.  I know, I was a bad girl.”

He replied, “Yes you were a very bad little girl.  What do you think your punishment should be?”

Ok…I had this covered.  I knew I would be asked and I had my answer ready.

“How about five spankings?  That was the age difference between us.”

I knew it was a shot in the dark…five was far too low a number for him.

“I like how you are thinking,” he said, “but let’s be realistic.  You need more than that.  Add your age, his age and the difference between the two and add that together.”

Through former experiences I have learned the importance of fast mathematical computation in these scenarios.

Within seconds, I had an answer, “Thirty-six, Sir.”

I could sense that he was impressed with my quick answer.

“Very good, now take off your panties.  Get on the bed, on all fours and prepare yourself, little girl.”

Thirty-six?  Really?  I knew that really meant 72, as Sir requires balance.  I cannot count them until both sides are struck.

As I waited for my punishment, I had a moment of clarity.

Once I pay the penance for my wrongdoing, I am absolved of the sin.

It was done.  Over.  Paid in full.  Not worth another thought.

And at this moment, his punishment took on a different purpose for me.

I realized how this could help me through some of my issues.  Things I have held on to for so many years.  Things I need to let go of to move forward.

He already had an understanding of this.

He knew me already.

He knew what was best for me.

He hand was swift and focused.  Each blow seemed to increase in intensity.  I began to mentally recall my safeword, but didn’t utter it.

He could feel me approaching my limit and he began to ease up.  Then when I least expected it, he would increase the intensity.

He knew exactly what I needed.

At the end of all 72 blows, I was free.  Not that me undressing at age 13 for an older guy was worth 72 spankings, but it illustrated the point and taught me something valuable about myself.

I feel like I am back on the road to enlightenment.

And he is here to help me on my journey.

He gets me.

He’s got me.

So as I prepare for our next meeting, I will reflect on what i need to let go of…what I need to confess.

What I need to purge.

How I need to move forward from…

All these things that i have done…

Over and in, last call for sin
While everyone’s lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I’ve done
All these things that I’ve done

Pushing through…

I got through my rough patch.  Turns out, all is well with my father…it is not cancer.

My daughter sailed through her surgery.

After facing both of those situations alone, I have emerged on the other side of my anxiety…feeling stronger and more resilient.

Its a similar feeling as pushing through a limit.

I am in good place today, but I had some help getting there.

I need to thank a few friends out there for their support and help through this…

DB thanks for your focus and many thanks for those strong shoulders…

Billy the Kid, thanks for helping me keep my perspective, and making me laugh hysterically about Casio watches and pensive stares.

Henry Hill, thanks for being the voice of brutal honesty in my head, with a gangster spin…blending reality and humor like an orchestra.