This is the story of the thief and the girl he took home to his partner-in-crime.
It’s such a shame. I have a horrible tendency to root for the villain.
Month: February 2012
There’s something about the word bitch.
Slut, whore, words like that, they all tend to have a lot more accountability. A lot more agency. They seem to be a direct result of the things you choose to do and you sort of own them. My reactions to being called these words during play usually have a degree of smugness to them. It’s an accusation of being the sort of person who enjoys this stuff. And I’m confirming it.
But, bitch, I don’t know. It’s rougher. It screams ownership, subjugation. It reduces you to something animal-like, primal, something that relies on just instinct and physical cues. Simpler thoughts and more visceral reactions usually accompany being called this or having to call myself this.
I guess I should clarify that I kind of love/hate/love the word bitch.
Something personal, I suppose.
A bunch of you have expressed some concern about the Southern Gentleman and I, which is very sweet of you. First of all, I want to assure you that on a personal level we are totally fine. Go on my facebook page and there’s a bunch of silly crap flying around my wall (I think we call it a timeline now? I can’t keep up) between the two of us. Just last night my phone lights up before I go to sleep and I find a text from him saying, “I think I’m the Donaghy to your Lemon.” (Ugh, it’s true.)
The issues aren’t stuff that would completely rip everything to shreds. But I do feel like we need to step back and take a deep breath. Some of the circumstances are a little difficult. Not explosive fights difficult. Not even some sort of subtle something that starts to really hurt. But sticky stuff that you don’t really notice too much but then starts to bother you just a little bit. Stuff that just gets overcomplicated by being too physical.
So, thank you for your concern, but I can assure you things are fine.
kathryn of kitsune-kun
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
– Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit.
Some girls have all the luck.
Sometimes, I fantasize about being teased in this position. I’ll be laying on my stomach, usually reading something or waking up from a nap, and the thought will just briefly cross my mind of someone easing my pants down or my skirt up.
The panties stay on, of course. There’s an understanding that when this sort of thing happens I won’t be allowed to cum, that isn’t the purpose of it. It’s just a little reminder, if nothing else, of my availability, my vulnerability. It shows what sort of grinding, moaning mess can be reduced to in a few minutes of encountering fingers through fabric. And as soon as I’m there, they’re gone.
I’m not big on dirty pictures with too much drooling or too much smeared makeup or too much raw violence or too much leather.
I’ve got a thing for clean lines. I’ve got a thing for light colors. I’m big on the idea of just looking pretty. I’m girly. I’m particular.
There’s a time and a place for the roughness. It’s fun and it’s cathartic. But, if you can make me feel as degraded as I would covered in my own drool – through something a little less obvious, a little less primal, a little more refined – that’s talent.
I’ll admit part of me swooned when you referenced Mauss. But part of me almost felt violated.
I sometimes feel too well-known when people read the same books as I. I feel like they have a part of me that way and I, by extension, have a part of them by knowing what they’ve read. I start to associate them with the work. They become part of it
It’s not the same with movies. There’s just something about books.
But that’s the very spirit of the gift, isn’t it? You give me part of yourself and I’m indebted. I give you some of me and you’re in my debt. And you know how I feel about power exchanges.
It’s funny to remember you as you were before you existed, subtle visitor. You know how I’ve suffered getting accustomed to you.
I’m sorry, but that’s the blandest, worst-looking salad I’ve ever seen.
Seriously, creators of pornography. Take pride in your work.
Sheesh.
So, I am going to be writing more sexy prose on this tumblr than sexy memoir/personal experience. This is basically how it’s been going on here, but the personal content will be cut down.
I have decided to withdraw myself from the hookup scene for a little while. While I once found this aspect of my sexuality very freeing, it is right now not serving me the way it used to. This year has been rough for me. Some very close people to me have passed away, some issues have come up in my family, some relationships have been broken off or been strained and my academics are becoming incredibly difficult. While I am managing academically just fine, personally I have been under some duress. I do not want to be using my sexuality as a coping mechanism. It’s not healthy and it honestly ruins the experience.
Moreover, I have been debating some aspects of my relationship with the Southern Gentleman and how they are panning out. The issues are not of the nature of the material on this tumblr, so I will not be discussing them here. I am unsure if I want to continue a physical relationship with him.
However, I have left off of this tumblr the fact that I am owned. (Surpriseeee). Well, not entirely. There’s a lot of subtle hints, interactions, etc. We are not each others’ primaries, but I consider the relationship to be fairly healthy and admire him greatly as a friend and confidante. He has been incredibly supportive, flexible and kind through what has been going on. I may start to go a bit more into detail on my relationship with him on here. But, please don’t hold me to that.
With this in mind, I hope you’ll all still stick around. You’ll be getting most of the regularly broadcasted stuff, I promise. You’ve all really been supportive of me and, as I come up on the one-year anniversary of this tumblr, I am so grateful to have all of you here.
<3, Ivy