Making Up for Lost Time

There is nothing like marathon make-up sex to make it all better.  Since M’s been back, we’ve been back at it…each and every and any opportunity we can.

In the morning before work…

Those” run home for a quick lunch” Nooners…

The “we have 30 minutes before the kids get home from school” afternoon delights

Those “time for bed” at 8:30 evenings where we don’t actually go to sleep until 1:00 am

The wee hour “wake up call” where there’s no need for an alarm, beacause we never go to sleep.

And as much as I love how he takes me.  How he controls me.  The immense pleasure we share…what I really love, is how close we are becoming.  It feels like the brief hiatus ignited our devotion to one another.  I find myself more submissive.  I am more acutely aware of my service to him.  I want to give more of myself to him.

And on a side note, all of this action is great for my fitness routine.

Now if I can just get some sleep.

all the time

 

 

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Don’t Believe the 50 Shades of Hype…

Since the title of my blog is derived from the infamous book, Fifty Shades of Grey, I feel compelled to wax poetic about the upcoming movie, scheduled for release this weekend.

So here goes….

Quite frankly, I am growing tired of the hype surrounding the movie.  The question of rating.  The reference to “unusual behavior”. The constant barrage of trailers and previews.  And it all comes down to this, in my humble…submissive opinion.

It’s all a marketing ploy…

After all, while shopping for diapers, shampoo and beauty products at my favorite place, Target, I discovered that I can buy a “Fifty Shades of Grey” Starter Kit.  WHAT?  Yes..they exist.  There are different kits.  One comes with two blindfolds (I snickered to myself in the store, thinking that would be one hell of a game of blind-man’s-bluff) along with the obligatory massage oil.  The other kit has some form of sensual lubricant.  And they retail for about $20.00.  And just in time for Valentine’s Day, right?

So what’s all the hype about?  If you take away the kink, it’s just a story.  A contrived, unbelievable tale about a young, innocent woman who is seduced by a billionaire …who falls head over flogger in love with her.  Quite simply, in it’s skeletal form, it’s just a love story…complete with pages of playful email banter, tactile family dinners and grown-up sleepovers, with  explicit playrooms.  But because there is bondage.  Because there is a well-defined, consensual power-exchange, there exists this cloud of dark mystique.

Here’s another tidbit from my humble, submissive opinion:

Yes, it was the hot sex scenes that initially drew in the masses, causing a buzz louder than an archaic Hitachi Wand…but it’s the story of love that hooked the reader.  We all want to believe in it.  We all want someone who understands us.  We all want someone whose demons play well with our demons, right?  Well there you go…he’s a young executive with a troubled past, who happens to be a Dominant.  She is a wide-eyed, new college grad, who happens to be a submissive.  His need for discipline and control plays well with her need for direction and guidance.

And have you heard that one of the CEO’s from a major hardware chain sent a memo to several stores warning of a possible “run” on rope, in response to the movie.  Really?  And if that’s true, let’s hope they are giving away complementary safety cutters.  There are going to be a lot of novices out there…fired up from the movie…excited to duplicate the BDSM scenes from the dungeon.  And again, all of this just in time for Valentines Day.

Can you imagine what the conversation will be around the water cooler on Monday?  Wonder if the ladies will compare rope burns and dish about their marked bottoms…

And please know that my intention is not to be snarky…or cynical in this post.  I am shooting straight from my leather-clad hip.  It’s a book…that’s now a movie…that’s now a franchise…that will ride the wave of notoriety for as long as possible.  Ten years from now those “kits” will be yard sale fodder and we will look back at this phenomenon fondly, grinning to ourselves…sadistically.

As for me…and my Valentine.  We won’t be lining up at the movie theater.  Nor will we be lined up at the hardware store.  We are well-stocked over here with an assortment of accouterments that would make the man, Christian Grey, himself… blush.  We are not even going out in all of the Hallmark madness. We are simply celebrating each other…

Letting our demons come out to play together.

“Sister Christian”

Thought I’d lure you in with the title!  Who can resist that?

The sheer mention of the Night Ranger classic takes me back to a simpler time…when the biggest dilemma in my life revolved around which acid-wash jeans to wear to school. When my biggest inconvenience was having to fast-forward through the songs I didn’t like on my worn-out Footloose soundtrack cassette.  When my hopes and dreams were as big as my hair. It was a time when my burdens were few.

Life was good.

And Sister Christian was the song.

What a venture down memory lane…

If you will recall, I recently wrote about meeting one of my readers in person.  That may not seem like a big deal to some of you.  For me it was huge.  The fact that I write about D/s along with spirituality, attracts a mixed group of followers.  This particular reader finds herself on a similar journey within her marriage.  So we do have common ground, but within very different contexts.  She is married and engages in D/s with her husband.  Until recently finding the One, my Maestro, I went through men like I went through those acid-washed jeans in 1983…fast-forwarding to the ones I liked.  Thank God, I found Him in the midst of the chaos.  And thankfully I am finding what I seek spiritually, reconnecting with God.

I was initially nervous about meeting her in person.  Like I mentioned before, there is a safety and comfort of writing behind a computer screen…putting your deepest, in my case-darkest, thoughts out there for the world to see.  So the thought of meeting a reader, face-to-face, was a bit unsettling at first…there is nowhere to hide.  This is where the shit gets real.  And it did.

She was an absolute delight.  We met in a nearby restaurant and immediately hugged, like long-lost friends do.  The conversation was non-stop from the moment we got together.  She is a brilliant woman with several degrees, one of which is a PhD in Theology.  How fascinating.  We dished on everything from D/s…to kids…to marriage…to all of the different kinks we’ve read about on here….to spirituality….to business ventures….to health and wellness…to the Bible….to discipline…to healing spiritually…and all the way back around to the subject of D/s.

We eventually went to my house where we could have some privacy to talk in more depth.  We were standing in my kitchen when she asked about different blog characters.  I provided a bit more detail about those she asked about.

She then said, “Tell me where you have found God in all of this.”

Wow…that’s the question, isn’t it?  Where did I find God in the midst of my turbulent descent into BDSM?

My answer, “Everywhere.”  Which is so true.  As I reflected on the question, I realized that He has been everywhere. First and foremost, as my protector…I did some risky things in the beginning, scary things, things I haven’t even written on here, and through His grace, I came out of it safely.  And then He has served as my guide…helping me to discern those who were worthy, from those who weren’t.  Giving me the insight to know when to let go.  And then as a father…forgiving me of my trespasses. loving me unconditionally as I sorted all of this debauchery out.  So in a strange sort of way, God has been the prototype, the example of the ultimate Dom.  Which is completely her line of thought.  She just helped me arrive at the same place by posing the question.

You know, she helped me through a lot things.  And I don’t feel this was a coincidental meeting at all.  I feel that we were meant to meet….meant to be friends.  She is an amazing woman and I have deep respect for her.  I admire her commitment to her husband, to her family, to her faith.  I know I will learn things from her.  I realize that our meeting was yet another one of those God-moments in my life.  Despite her background in theology, her knowledge of the Bible, and her deep and unwavering belief, she was not “judgey” at all.  Like me, she is who she is and she is a real person. She is a person who understands my journey, without critical judgement.  A person convicted in her faith that didn’t try to condemn me for my unorthodox path.  And she didn’t try to convince me to drink the Kool-Aid.  There was no Kool-Aid.  All she was offering was friendship.

And because I felt a sister-like kinship with her immediately, I am sure she understands my choice for the post song.

So my dear friend…my Sister Christian, thank you for the visit.

And many thanks for the gift of your friendship.

Leftovers in the Kitchen…

I was gathering the containers of leftovers to make us a snack when I heard…

“Place your hands on the counter, like this” He pointed to two specific places on the kitchen counter.

I followed his instruction without hesitation, as there was a tone to his voice.  I placed my hands exactly where he told me.

“Good.  That’s right.  Now, don’t move them.”

The light of the open refrigerator illuminated the kitchen.  I could feel the warmth of him standing close behind me, contemplating his next move.  I could also feel the chill from the fridge on my right side.

“Bend for me and open your legs.  Remember…you must keep your hands on the counter as I instructed you.”

I arched my back and opened my legs, as he told me to.  Through my pajamas, i could feel his hand caress the insides of my open thighs, moving to the small of my back, across my backside.  He pulled my bottoms down and probed for the place he sought.

Having to keep my hands on the counter began to pose a challenge for me.  Keeping my composure became a challenge for me also, as the little ones were asleep.

He found what he sought and began his relentless pursuit of my climax.  I was overcome with pleasure and desperately tried to stay quiet, while keeping my hands in position.  I felt my legs shaking and it was all I could do to hold this position.

He pressed himself closer to my body and with his free hand, he covered my mouth.  This simple gesture sent me into a state of oblivion.  The control…the dominance…the fact that his hand could strategically muffle my increasingly loud moans and screams…all of this instantly caused me to have one of the most prolific orgasms of my existence.  Right there…in the kitchen.

And yes, the refrigerator was still open.

And no, I didn’t manage to hold the position with my hands on the counter.  Lucky for me, he didn’t object at that point.  We forgot about the leftovers and made our way to the bedroom.

I was putty in his hands at this point and with one hand on my throat and the other placed between my legs, he ravaged me again.  And again.  And again.

I regained my composure when he whispered, “Did you like that?  Ahhhh….I know you did.  You were a very good girl.  Now, I want you to please me.  Take me deep in your mouth and give your Master what he wants.”

The sound of his voice in my ear almost took me to oblivion again.  I eagerly began my service of worship. His body was my temple and I showed my true and utmost devotion to him as I explored my shrine, consuming his warm nectar.

We eventually collapsed into each others arms and woke at first light.  I slept so peacefully knowing he was there next to me.  Knowing that I belong to him.  Knowing that I am loved, protected and led by such a perfect man.  The One I searched for.  The One I waited for.

The One I prayed for.

I am forever grateful for this gift I have been given.  Thanksgiving was a different holiday for me this year.  It was more meaningful.  More authentic.  (And a bit more kinky…)

I have a feeling that everything will be different from now on.

Now that I have my Maestro.

You make me feel so divine

Your soul and mine are entwined

Before you I was blind

Patience

It has been 40 days since I have seen my Maestro. But He is coming to spend Thanksgiving with me and my family.  I cannot wait for Him to get here next week.  He has been traveling for work for a month now, spending considerable time in the Midwest.

This Southern girl can’t wait for Him to darken her door so that she may show Him proper Southern hospitality.

In the meantime, our talks have taken on a deeper significance.  There is something to be learned from long distance relationships. Although we are not in each other’s presence, the depth of our connection continues to grow.  I find myself sharing everything with Him, a new phenomenon for me.  Not keeping anything from Him.  Telling Him my thoughts…my struggles…my insecurities…and also sharing the good stuff, the silly stuff, the boring stuff and (of course) the naughty stuff.

Yesterday, in the middle of the day, via text, I shared a scenario that was on my mind.  It was a bit detailed and it was very “involved” and very naughty.  I won’t share the specifics, but use your kinky imagination.  Your very kinky and creative imagination…

Maestro replied with this:

“I like your naughty thoughts and I like where you went with this. There is no doubt in my head that this scenario will play itself out sometime in our future…There will be things that I will do to you that will make this seem tame and will pale in comparison.  But everything in its own time and place…The taking of you will be slow and sweet.  Have no doubt about that.”

I was in the grocery store when I received His reply.  In the frozen foods section.  I found myself blushing as I read it, despite the chill from the freezers surrounding both sides of me.

And I totally forgot why I had ventured down that aisle in the first place.

The Man knows how to get my attention.  From thousands of miles away.

I found myself reading the message a few times more…each time I read it, it made me more impatient to see Him.  To be in His presence.  To feel His arms around me.

Sigh….

Guess I need to be patient.  Not a strength of mine.  But I am learning…it’s part of this wonderful journey.

Said, woman, take it slow
And it’ll work itself out fine
All we need is just a little patience
Said, sugar, make it slow
And we’ll come together fine
All we need is just a little patience
Patience