They took her someplace where she could be herself, regardless of what that looked like.
nude
“I looked at his eyes. I was thinking: they are bluer than the sea.
But then the sea is not blue at all, is it?” – Judy Budnitz, If I Told You Once.
Sometimes, sweetness is control. There’s a condescension to it at times. Others, it just stresses the levels of authority. There’s a right and a power that comes with being in the position to treat someone sweetly in such a way. It’s to say that you can clear away the clouds with the same power with which you can bring the storm.
Sometimes, she’ll find her breakfast and a list of tasks when she wakes up. It’s never so much chores as preparation. Most times, it’s as simple as a pair of handcuffs or a collar. Others, it’s a bit more complicated. It’s a process, a set of steps up to preparing herself for a day to come.
She knows better than to do anything else but follow the list. Even when she doesn’t like its contents. Especially when she doesn’t like its contents.
The alternative is always worse. And obedience is always rewarding.
There’s a lot I write on here that has to do with people discovering each other in different ways. And, discovery is a huge part of relationships and sexuality. It’s definitely a valid thing.
But self-discovery is really equally important. And while a lot of people reading a sex blog are usually a little busy discovering themselves already (winknudge), there’s real validity to the fact that getting to know yourself is a really important part of sexuality.
You need to know what you like. You need to know where your limits are. And a really safe way to figure that out is on yourself. Because then it’s between you and your hands. And that’s an incredibly safe space.
Sometimes, when he pulls her hair, he isn’t violent about it.
It’s a reminder.
It says, “I’m here.”
He doesn’t even need to do much.
She’ll just grind his hand and then thank him like a sweet girl should.
Because he’s taught her to be grateful.
So, I’ve got a pet peeve against men who say they get nothing out of cunnilingus.
If that’s your opinion, then I suppose you don’t mind if I don’t give you blowjobs since I, according to your logical progression, get nothing out of that. What? That’s not right? You want your beejs?
Well.
First of all, men who don’t get anything out of cunnilingus aren’t doing it right. Because you’re totally in control of the pleasure she’s receiving. All those little moans and squeaks and gasps she’s making are because of you. And when, or if, she orgasms is entirely up to you. Her experience is yours to dole out.
Second, it’s just something nice to do for someone you care about. It shows they matter. It shows that them having a lovely experience matters to you. And that causes a lovely little feedback loop in which you benefit from her realization that you care about her enjoying herself.
So, yeah, you can get stuff out of cunnilingus. So either quit your yapping or stop asking for head.
Best,
Ivy
Last night, a friend made some “special” brownies. (Yeah, yeah, I know the woman in the picture is smoking, but I couldn’t find any pictures of a cutie with brownies.) Although I’ve decided to give up smoking pot this year to do my lungs a favor, I’m not opposed to the occasional brownie.
Well.
I totally forgot I had band practice, mostly because I was just not up to going. However, now full of brownie and weed (seriously, two wonderful things), I managed to actually enjoy myself because I just felt awesome and it totally took my mind off some present circumstances that have been bothering me.
And, even better, although I felt like I was being an obvious mess, apparently I held myself together enough that when I told my friend afterwards that I was high as a kite, she was shocked. So, um, here’s to handling myself in public?
And here’s to special brownies: baked therapy.
Dear Followers,
Thank you so much for your messages of support, empathy, understanding and your incredibly kind words. It means a lot to me that you’re all so sweet and caring. I feel so privileged.
Last night was a little rough for me. A long-standing little unofficial tradition the thief and I had was broken and it hit me a little hard. It’s strange not to have that feeling of belonging that had become so familiar.
In other news, I gave up alcohol for Lent. So, yeah, let the dry days begin.
<3, Ivy