outrageous flirting, redux

I’ve talked before about my smart-ass nature, and how there’s just this part of me that hopes that some day some man will have had enough of my smart mouth and either back me into a wall and kiss the living daylights out of me or pull me over his lap and give my tush a nice firm spanking.

Ran across a quote tonight from Taken in Hand (found via Spanking Blog) that seems to sum up why I can never expect this to happen:

That men are impatient is well known. From sex to shopping trips, women are often heard to complain about how little patience men exhibit.

What baffles a woman is the tolerance with which an otherwise often impatient man endures her womanly wiles. It is a curious behavior that women find to be at least as baffling – if not altogether as maddening – as the better-known penchant of males to be impatient.

The failure of a man to spank a provocative woman in a timely manner is but the reverse side of men’s impatience in that men also often give too little too late. In this regard, there is a recurring theme in which a man – almost as living out his own Greek tragedy – discovers the secret too late.

Of course, in my little fantasy, there’s a great deal that happens after the rough kiss or the spanking, and in both scenarios it has something to do with my naughty self rubbing up against something quite hard…

inspection

I love my friends. But some of them just don’t understand the whole power play thing. I think they assume that because I enjoy being submissive (er… sometimes, anyway) that it means I’m crawling around on all fours, being humiliated, generally being made to feel like a lesser person.

I know it’s not an uncommon assumption. I used to think so too, before I learned about BDSM.

So, to rebut all those people (none of whom read here, presumably – but whatever) who think that submission is degrading to the woman….

Like most women, I have my off days and my on days. Days when I look in the mirror and say “hell, yeah, I’d do me!” and other days when I avoid the mirror altogether.

But I have never felt so beautiful, so sexy, so desirable, as when I was submitting to a lover.

Let me give you an example.

Most of the lovers I’ve been with have been more prone to action than observation – in other words, once my top comes off and my breasts are revealed (I have rather large nipples, and men seem to be fascinated with them) they’re more interested in touching, and tasting, than looking.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 😉

But the first time I undressed for my very first Dom, he didn’t touch me right away. He had me stand in front of him, and he just looked at me. Ran his hands over my skin, in a very tender way, without heading straight for any of the naughty bits. Really looked at me, enjoying me with his eyes.

My first inspection. It was far different than I’d thought it would be. I didn’t feel objectified or humiliated. Embarassed, a little – it was all new to me. But…

Nobody had ever really looked at me like that before.

When he stood up, said “Beautiful”, and kissed me, I felt like a queen. The most desirable woman on earth. More valued as a woman, not less, because of my submission.

It was a lesson I’ve never forgotten.

sex shopping

Spurred by my recent thinking, I decided to visit Northbound today. Oh, it’s such a candy store in there for me. In my fantasies, I’ll go one day hand in hand with a very devious man who has money to spend there, and he’ll let me pick out the implements and restraints that make my insides clench the most. In reality, my shopping companion was content to simply watch my kid-in-a-candy-store reactions to everything leather and metal and yum.

But I digress. About the shopping. Leather skirts. Oh yum. And leather garters, yum even more. A deliciously far-too-short skirt that comes with hoops and garters. I didn’t really see any shirts that inspired but really, these things would be just as fun worn with a sexy black bra, something that pushes me up and makes a man want to bury his face in between.

And the implements. Oh, my. Let me tell you about those implements. I got to see their riding crop close up and it’s even more delicious in person. Buttery soft leather tongue. Sexy metal cap at the top of the handle.

There was a spanking bench thingy that had so many possibilities my poor little mind was spinning just looking at it. I could see myself, leaning over it, strapped in at wrist and ankle, naked bottom turned upwards, offering it for pleasure or punishment.

Their floggers were also beautiful, traditional black leather with braided handles. A few more daring and interesting ones featured a chrome dildo for a handle. Hmm. 🙂

And sexy black leather paddles. And a round wooden one made of cherry, how yummy. My naughty bits were pulsing just looking at it all.

Sadly, what’s the point of buying them for myself? I shall have to wait until I have a devious man to wield them.

Frustrated, I tripped across the street to the three-storey sex shop and picked up a new vibe (it’s a bullet that looks like a cock – albeit a small one). A short test run tonight confirms that it’s a lovely vibe, and has a couple of speeds far too intense for sober play but might just work when I’m feeling rather tipsy and a little numb.

After my lovely pulsing moaning orgasm, I found my fingers rubbing over the head of the “cock”, turning it around to run the “sweet spot” the manufacturers kindly included in the design. That part of a man’s anatomy is just perfectly shaped for a teasing thumb, rubbing over it in small circles while my fingers wrap around the shaft. Or for a tongue, flicking and stroking over it. It has always fascinated me, that great little bit where cock meets shaft. I could lick it for hours, rub it, play with it and watch his reactions.

Playing with my new little cock reminded me how very long it’s been since I’ve held something shaped like that in my hands. The metal was warm between my fingers, but unyielding, not like the supple skin of a Real Live Cock.

Whew. Warm in here, or is it just me?

I also picked up, finally, a copy of The Fashionistas on DVD. I’ve watched a couple of scenes, but not much, yet – I’ll write a report once I’ve seen it all.

the problem with halloween

The problem with Halloween is I love to dress up, but I never have time to devote to thinking about a costume until it’s almost too late to get anything good, and even if I do… well, the costs involved in the kinds of costumes I invariably imagine are prohibitive when I have less than two weeks to save.

This year, for example.

It occurred to me quite suddenly the other night that what I would really love to be for Halloween is a dominatrix. I mean, full-out, all leather dress. With boots. With an implement or two hanging from my belt. Maybe a pair of cuffs in my handbag, for those who were curious enough to ask.

I mean, why not? Halloween’s all about being something you’re not. I may not be able to carry off true domme-ability in life, but hey, for Halloween, wearing leather, looking the part, hey! I’m all for it.

Problem is, of course, that I figured this out two weeks before Halloween, and given the total cost of these items (ouch) it will take me just a little more than two weeks to save for such a purchase.

Maybe I’ll just start saving up for next year, just in case. 😉

spanking story complete!

At long last all eleven parts of Spanking (the he said/she said erotic story I co-wrote with Arcturus, if you haven’t been keeping up) have been posted to the site. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it – goodness knows we (well, I shouldn’t speak for both of us, but I) enjoyed it immensely. Enough so that I might be tempted to do something like this again. It’s difficult, but kind of fun. What would I do differently next time? Throw the other person more curves, more likely. It ended up being a pretty traditional story this time, but next time I’d love to have it be a bit more challenging.

To my old friend Actium, this means you can now start reading the story. See, didn’t I promise to not leave you hanging? 🙂

Read part eleven or to read from the top, start here.

decidedly unsexy

Argh. My apologies for not getting part nine up last night; I have had two whirlwind very cranky days, and really, even if I’d had time, the last thing on my mind has been sex.

I realize there are some of you who are now reeling in shock. I’ll give you a moment to recover.

The good news is the post office just delivered four new erotic novels to sink my teeth into. I have every intention of having some “me” time this weekend, involving a hot steamy bubble bath and a glass of chardonnay and an erotic novel and quite possibly some toys – later, when I’m out of the bath.

Anyone want to scrub my back? 🙂

Next part of Spanking is now up! Read part nine… or start at the beginning.

Saturday update: I’ve posted part ten this evening. Read part ten.

on marriage

There are days I hate thinking about marriage. My own, other people’s, particularly when I glance through the old sexless marriage post or the new one, and read the replies. Or when I read about Bush’s endorsement of Marriage Protection Week. Argh.

And then, bless all that’s sweet and sexy and lubricious in the world, I read Mark Morford, and I realize maybe we’re not all doomed. He has a lovely quote near the end of the article:

Marriage needs to be tickled until it screams. Marriage needs to be stripped down and sprayed with whipped cream and licked all over. Marriage needs to be blown apart with the dynamite of new possibility and put back together again in ten thousand different kaleidoscopic configurations, each one encouraged and celebrated and applauded, even those that don’t involve ridiculously expensive cakes and tepid church ceremonies and the bride zonked on Valium as the groom slams another scotch to calm his nerves.

This is the only way. Evolve or die, honey. Because it’s exactly when you try to force-fit love’s modern, ever-evolving mutations into archaic, increasingly bitter boxes of ideology and Right wing-approved blandness and sactimony that the culture suffers most. Legislating love is never the answer. Hey, just ask your neighborhood Catholic priest.

Lovely. Almost makes me want to get married again someday, just to join in the fun.

Part eight of Spanking is now up! Read part eight… or start at the beginning.

truth vs. fantasy

I’m allowed to have fantasies.

The fantasy is that this man is a Dom who likes girls and is looking for someone just like Vikki to settle down with and tie up once in a while. The truth is he’s probably some young boy’s leather daddy.

And besides, he lives thousands of miles away.

Doesn’t matter (she says, stubbornly). I’m still allowed to have my fantasies.

Part seven of Spanking is now up. Read part seven… or start at the beginning.

sexy dreams

Do you ever wake up disappointed?

I had such a lovely dream last night… soft slow wet kisses, softer moans. His heat and power behind me. Feeling his fingers slide down my belly to my thighs, pulling them apart, further and further. Spreading me for him. His fingers tangling between my legs. Soft wet slow brushes of just barelythere fingertips while I buried my face in his neck. Shuddering moaning and pushing against something hard knowing it’s just moments before he buries himself in me all deep and firm, filling me.

And then I woke up. Grr.

I’ve posted part six of Spanking tonight. Read part six… or start at the beginning.

hi to spankingbloggers

I noticed that SpankBoss was kind enough to link to both my recent post on spanking and the he said/she said spanking story I’ve been posting over the last several days. So, hello and welcome to visitors coming here via Spanking Blog!

(It is dangerously arousing to me to think of the number of things a man named SpankBoss might know how to do… but I digress.)

I realized today that a great deal of what I like about spanking – that I forgot to mention in my post about it – is its ritualistic nature. The schoolgirl and the headmaster. Priest and penitent. Naughty little girl and father figure. Being punished in the sexiest way imaginable for naughty, dirty, lascivious thoughts and acts by someone bigger and stronger than you.

Argh. How archetypal have I become? And this from a woman who used to identify (still do, really) as a feminist. 🙂

Moving on…

I’ve posted part five of Spanking tonight. It’s really starting to heat up now, and I hope you’re all enjoying it. Read part five… or start at the beginning.