“Love, I realized, is something your spine memorized,” Lorrie Moore, Anagrams.
nude
I never made it to the beach this summer.
Cue the forlorn sighing.
“I was taught that at the heart of all people, all things, lay raw self-interest. Sure, you could dress a person up nice, put pretty words in his mouth, but underneath the silk tie and pressed shirt was an animal. A territorial, hungry animal anxious to satisfy his own needs,“ Megan Mayhew Bergman, Birds of a Lesser Paradise.
Like a Brisket, Part One
So, Craftsmate and I met up with his kinky friend from high school who now goes to a different Ivy than us just in time for lunch. I had found out that morning that the girl from Ivy University who was supposed to be joining us was going to be a few hours late and that fact made me a little anxious. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Craftsmate or his friend, but I figured it was a little awkward to sort of be sandwiched between two people who’ve read my blog with no neutral party.
“So, is pizza okay by you?” Craftsmate’s friend, who I’ll call Penthouse (and assure you all, on his behalf, that we all had a ton of trouble coming up with a nickname for and I promise it’s less urban elite than it sounds, really), asked.
I laughed. “Have you not read my blog?” I figured I should at least hit the awkward on the head early in the afternoon. Acknowledge the facts and move on. I had already dispelled most of the discomfort with Craftsmate through this method.
“Seriously,” Craftsmate chimed in, “she’s big on pizza.”
“I don’t read it as a food blog!” Penthouse exclaimed. "Besides, if it were a food blog, it would be about two foods.“
New editorial story in Gypsé Eyes Magazine by Wolf189 (@wolfphoto)
I appreciate people who still try hard to put together a well designed print magazine together.
. (cover shot is not mine)
Seeing images and reading stories of really full and complete submission surprisingly disturbs me. If I see things like shaved heads, permanent pieces of metal, horribly degrading tattoos, basically symbols of total surrender: I shut down. I can’t get into it at all.
I guess a big part of it is the fact that I have been that person without having undergone that sort of physical modification. Although it is not the case in the last year and a half, I have totally lost myself in relationships of this nature with people in the past. And while I have gotten smarter and stronger, there is a sort of residual dump that every so often some trash comes out of to bother me.
So I see those images and it rouses some feelings in me. It reminds me that I don’t want to live my life in a cage or give up my ambitions for some sort of 24/7 arrangement. And while it never got that far, there were boundaries that were definitely pushed both within and outside of the BDSM context. As this is something incredibly hard to express in a photograph and in erotica, I suppose it instead manifests itself for me in the more physical displays of complete surrender.
This one not so much.
So, I now have the wee bittiest crush on Kayden Kross.
Which actually means I have a gigantic crush on Kayden Kross and I want to ride away into the sunset with her on her beautiful horse.
Whatever.
She’ll claim she just fell asleep that way. But you could hear that telltale contrived breathing of feigned sleep the second you walked into the room. You could see the stiffness in her limbs. You could see the twitch of a smile repressed as she heard you cross to the side of the bed. And, of course, if you were still in doubt, there’s always the pouring that will ensue when you apologize, tell her to go back to sleep, and turn to leave the room.
During yoga tonight, before we released our hips, the instructor mentioned that people store a lot of pressure and emotions in there.
And so, of course, I release and out comes one of the loudest cracks I’ve ever heard my body make.
Nice job being stressed in the summer, self.
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.
Someone fairly close to me went ahead and hooked up with the Southern Gentleman. I know I don’t control him. I know he’s not mine. He hooks up a lot and that’s not my problem with the situation.
My problem is she has the money and the means to fly down to his home and visit him now that school is out and he’s home. And that, while I don’t want to get into the particulars on here, she is doing it to spite me. Which really, really hurts.
It only hurt more when I confronted him about it and, I admit, crossed a line. We’re not together, but it’s different when it comes to this girl. But, when I got judgmental, he snapped and told me it was “none of my damn business” and to not “pry if I was going to be critical”.
He apologized and I apologized, but I’m still very upset. Because I want to have a thick skin about everything but then something like this makes me so fragile. For a lot of reasons, some of which I don’t feel prepared at all to face.