November 21, 2011

The Overwhelming


Some days are dark. Sometimes the stress of everything accumulates and builds up, much like the gunk in your bathtub drain. You have to clear it out. Release the tensions held within and allow the tears that burst forth as though a damn has broken. You have to let yourself start anew. A new day, new worries. New news. No news. Something. Nothing. Everything. Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting an unknown battle and I'm losing. Everything hurts.

Why is it that I can cry when I'm by myself? I can be chatting with someone online and the tears can be streaming but if I'm face to face with someone, it is much more difficult for me to cry. Maybe it's because when you're taught that showing your emotions so clearly bother people, you tend to learn to hold them within and only let them out in the privacy of your car, your bedroom, the bathroom, wherever there are no other people that can't be bothered with your release of tensions built up within. There are those that know how to bring those tears forward and I am thankful to them. Those handful of people know who they are.

I try so very hard to do my best. I feel like there's a current pulling me away from it all; stalling me and holding me in place. I fight against my restraints to prove my self worth and yet the restraints grow more tightly until I finally just let go and accept that I may not be enough for everyone, even some people that I want so very much to be enough for. The most difficult times for me is when I'm doing my best but it simply isn't enough.

How do I ask for attention when I feel I'm intruding, when there isn't enough time. Time, time, fucking time. There aren't enough hours in the day to do what needs to be done and still be able to be with those I love. How long do I last before I find the breaking point and the well within overflows without and sweeps away everyone and everything within the tidal wave created by the bottleneck of those that don't have time? It always comes back to time.

I want a bare-handed spanking. Not one where it's a fast, hard thwack that causes a help so loud the neighbors a mile down the street can hear it. I want one that starts so soft as to be butterfly kisses upon my cheeks and gains repercussion until I'm flying and limp in someone's lap. I want someone that has the ability to give as hard as I need, when I need it, but also to have the ability to hold back when gentle is what is called for. I do love bruises, but play isn't always about leaving a mark. Sometimes it's about making your partner fly so very high and slowly come back to find themselves in the loving arms of someone who cares for them.

I used to consider myself low maintenance. I've begun to change my opinion on that. What I like, what makes me fly, seems to be changing, morphing. Or perhaps I just lost sight of it for a while. I want that feeling back. I don't want to be the girl that has to prove she can be a pain slut and can take every thwap as it is, too see what it will take for her to call yellow. I like the marks that last for days or even weeks to remind me of what happened but I also want to fly again. I want find that shattering point and be held there. I want to stay floating for a while and be allowed to come back down on my own time, no matter if it takes 30 minutes or 6 hours. Please.

November 17, 2011

Of Tardis' and Time Lords

Your hand in my hair, gripping me to you as you kiss me deeply , brings me nearly to my knees. How I have yearned to feel that once more. The strength contained in those hands is so much more than is presented upon the sight of them. Kisses trail from my lips, down my neck and shoulders, to land softly upon my arm before teeth find their mark and bite down, leaving me gasping and swaying on my feet, endorphins now rushing through my system to leave me giddy and smiling like a fool for no apparent reason other than that I've felt your touch once more.

You leave me to go back to the task at hand and I make my way out of the room trailing a wake of heat behind me hot enough to turn heads as they smell my scent on the air. Distractions find me and I regain my composure once more. Sights and sounds such as I've not seen before pass my gaze and I am stunned at the breath taking scenery before me.

The day passes and as light turns to dusk, I find you once more and we gather together as had been presuppositioned earlier would happen and suddenly rope is wrapped around me tightly, the green length of it shining brightly against my red sweater. You sway, causing me to sway with you, your body tightly pressed to mine, creating a sensory overload as the feel of the rope against my arms and the heat of your body take over me and cause me to instantly submit to your will.

Letting go of the rope, you lead me where you will, knowing I will follow. The evening turns to true night and we settle in, having a pleasant discourse with other like-minded individuals, me sitting at your feet as you stroke my hair.

Finally, everyone has decided it is time to part ways and you take my hand, advising me that we have somewhere we should be as well. Finding a suitable space, you stand against me, cradling me and whispering in my ear. Words tumble across the blackness of space in my head creating tumultuous ramblings of time and space, Tardis' and time lords, of orgasms building and the cup overflowing through your hands and onto the floor where hands intersperse with words taking me ever further until finally the wave has broken and crashed across the shore.

Time does as it always has and eventually returns me to my shell, shattered and remade anew once again. Hands help and ultimately I am brought to my feet once more swaying and grinning as silly as a maiden at her first festival.  We make our way back to the room and then I am wrapped in your arms, left to dream the dream of one who is well spent and ready to end the day comforted by one who willingly and generously offers it.