The problem, sometimes, is that I want to enjoy all of it. Even the punishment. And so it’s not really punishment at all. It’s more like a reward for being bad. So, when the moment arises that I actually get punished, I try my hardest to get out of it. I guess I’m just a brat.
Month: June 2012
I have off-handedly mentioned on here a few times my freckle. It’s kind of famous.
However, recently, it’s gotten larger and darker. To the point that it’s still kind of cute but people constantly confuse it with dirt or food or other random smudges on my face. Lately, I have been trying to hide it with makeup, something I never did before. Just because I was tired of people trying to pick it off of my face.
So, I recently went and saw a dermatologist and she was all about slicing it out to make sure it’s nothing too bad and was like, “oh, I can do it right now if you want and you’ll just be swollen for a week and blah blah also you’ll have a scar and we’re going to need to biopsy it.”
I told her to slow down and made an appointment for next week. Honestly, I’m a little sad to have to see my signature freckle go. Also, I’m a little sad about how much something that’s “probably not cancer but we need to check anyway” costs. Ugh.
We play a game, she and I. We know the places in the woods where no one goes; those are our favorite places to walk. After ten minutes or so, my pace begins to slow. She keeps going, deeper into the forest, and when she is just out of sight, I change my path. Cut off the faint trail we’ve marked. Move between the trees. And then, when enough time has passed, my hunt begins.
And when I find her, she’s mine.
Sometimes, I frighten myself when I really pull back the now vaguely socially acceptable kinky fun I engage in to find some of the things that really grip me.
Confession: My hair used to look a lot like this during my awkward phase. It’s fine. Whatever. It gave me character.
I think we ALL had the bowlcut at one point. Classic.
Accidentally hit delete on this gem, but it stands. I was a hair champion.
Sometimes, I want you to make me lovely just so you can ruin me. I want you to hold my face when you apply the makeup, reinforcing the control even in this act of service. And then I want to see it wind up on the sides of your hands, on the sheets, smeared across my face. I want the meticulous work you’ve put into me to mean nothing beyond a demonstration that I am yours to perfect and destroy.
Louis CK on raising a daughter.
ChatLouis CK: If you raise a girl with some confidence and you send her out in the world so she feels like she can do whatever she wants, she’s still going to get her face and her ass fucked but she’s going to do it on her terms.
Louis CK: She’s going to grab that dick by the base and go, “I want to suck this right now”.
Louis CK: This should be your goal as a father: That your daughter only sucks a dick that she thinks is delicious.
I can’t get into shibari. It’s fascinating and sometimes really beautiful, but I just don’t even think I have the patience for it.
I need it rough and sudden and urgent. The time it takes to get the ropework just right really detracts from that. I prefer function over form. Hands to hold me down, rope or whatever is around to replace the hands, then hands and pressure to subdue me when I try to fight.
And I want the other person to not even be able to wait to have everything tied off so perfectly before tearing me apart. After the takedown, sure, things can be adjusted. But, during that first struggle, I want to feel the urgency. And shibari is too paced, too patient for that.
Good news: All of the kittens found loving homes.
Bad news: My place with Roommate was not one of those homes.
You see, our building doesn’t allow animals, so we would have to be pretty on top of hiding the cat. So, all right, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. But, it has ignited within me such a desire to have a cat. For now, this will exist solely as catenvy, but maybe one day…
Apparently, Freelance Whales says this song is about waking up to find your lover has changed into another type of animal.
Well, that’s just about it, isn’t it?
It’s too late, now. It was too late half an hour ago, when I made you beg me to tie you up. It was too late two hours ago, when you knocked on my door and I had you take off your underwear before stepping past the threshold. That threshold was the moment, where you gave yourself over to me. When the surrender began.
But that wasn’t when it was too late for you. It was too late last week when you first suggested that we should meet up alone sometime, that you’d love to see where I live, where I work. It was too late the week before that, when we somehow managed to end up with our own corner at the party, you and me in the blackness, incubated from the world. It was too late the month before, when we were introduced. Because you saw me and you decided then and there that you were going to fuck me. But I was always going to fuck you, don’t you see?
It was too late two years ago when you first found that kink website online and didn’t just close the window immediately. It was too late when you were twenty two and someone lent you Sleeping Beauty, and you didn’t give it back when you realised it wasn’t a fairy tale. It was too late when you fell in love with your English teacher at school, and dwelt on the ruler he used to snap against the desks to get your attention. It was too late when you first masturbated to the thought of him using that ruler on you.
It’s always been too late for you, little girl. Too late to say no, too late to back out. You were always going to be here, in my ropes, in my house, under my thumb. You were always going to be mine. I just took my time getting here.
It’s too late to have any second thoughts, now. Far too late.
Rolledtrousers is now the reason I have a kinky predestination tag.