These Are Not My People

I’m going to be super random so forgive me if you’re new here.  Do you like Batman?  I don’t mean the men that have played Batman (Keaton, Bale, Clooney, Kilmer) in recent history.  If you do then you have probably seen all the movies and discussed their good points and bad points.  As I was reading Fetlife again tonight I have had a conclusion reinforced for me.  I know that some of my folks are there and if we could just hook up we’d have a grand old time.  The problem is there are all the other folks in the way with all of their “interestingness.”  Yeah I know that isn’t a word but it’s a fit for what I’m seeing.

Folks complaining about their inability to complain without having threads closed.  Folks imposing their weirdness on unsuspecting inboxes.  Folks irritated about the current state of BDSM and looking to assign blame to all manner of malcontents or in general folks they don’t agree with.  Folks who can’t seem to tolerate even a bit of dissension if it flies in the face of their carefully laid daydream.  A reemergence of the One True Way crew.  I rarely have extreme opinions that I’m not willing to at least hear someone else out on before I move on with my day.  It’s getting harder to stumble through the morass of not my people for the fleeting moments of that little group of aliens are clearly my people and are waiting on me to come home–or at least the portion of the planet people like us can fully kick it in.

To be clear this is not just an online/Fetlife issue.  As I look around offline there’s a lot of the same things happening.  I have noticed myself withdrawing from all of the noise again, which I seem to need to do more often than I used to, just so I don’t snap at the sheer volume of stupidity.  Off tangent a commercial from a new Oprah Winfrey project just went off with her voice asking–what do you believe?  I believe that O is the anti-Christ.  Really how does a poor black woman from the country become one of the most powerful humans on the planet?  How does someone whose name was misspelled on her birth certificate, per her folklore, gain so much clout that she creates her own financial impact?  Something ain’t right y’all I’m just saying.

Back to my point.  My people are just as sheltered or hidden as I am.  They peek their heads out to give me hope that I am not Leela from Futurama and I’m the last of my clan.  I’m super tired of looking for them though.  I’m going to wave at those that look promising and give a nod to those that seem to need it when I recognize my people.  But I’m super done with trying to hunt them down.  Be sure to knock and I’ll show you the signal.  Can’t have my people locked outside when we got snacks inside.

At what cost?

So last night I planned on going to bed earlyish for me but when I logged off I couldn’t sleep.  My mind started churning about 50 million things as it is want to do in the middle of the night.  But this was all propelled by what I was doing right before I logged off.  I was tired but not sleepy so I tried to do what normally works, masturbate and pass out after a nice hard orgasm.  Yeah that didn’t work really.  Primarily because I’ve been horny as hell the last few days which isn’t totally abnormal for me but as a result I’ve been getting off a lot the last few days.  Off tangent: my new toy is flipping amazing and has been part of the impetus of all these orgasms.  Anyway, as the orgasm sleeping pill didn’t work I started pondering the woman I had been watching on screen as I joined her in orgasm–Sinnamon Love.  Now for those of you that don’t watch much porn (ROFLMAO no idea how you got here but still) she was a prolific Black porn star for quite a while.  Definitely during the time frame I was consuming most of my porn.  She wasn’t my first female porn star crush, that was most definitely Dominique Simone, but she was one of my longest because she didn’t seem to be anything but natural and enjoying her scenes.  Not to mention she was also one of the first women I saw doing fetish work of any kind that made something stir in me so yeah she definitely left an imprint.  I’m not sure if you have tried to watch much of the new porn that is being made but it’s like new rap/hip hop music to me.  Yes it resembles things that I like but the players are all wrong and it doesn’t do a damn thing for me 99 percent of the time.  I’m sure you’re wondering what I was pondering at 2 in the morning but it was really how while she’s shifted out of performing and into a different reality she seems just as genuine but most of all happy in her skin.  She’s a writer, blogger, sex educator, wife, mother and grandmother—her grandson is adorable.  I was think of her from when I saw her first to now and how much has changed for her and myself.

I won’t pretend to know her life but it impressed upon me something that I have been debating in my own life.  When you put yourself out there then no one can destroy your life for you.  She had been in a career where we all saw her naked and appreciated her energy and sexuality—as well as some potentially condemning her to hell for it—repeatedly for years.  She discussed being a submissive to her partner and dominating others.  She’s been open about her life in ways that I have yet to do with the world.  I know I’ve said it before that it’s related to my job and profession being super conservative.  It’s also partially related to the fact that I continue to find work in small conservative towns in small conservative states.  But it’s mostly tied up with wanting to be accepted and understood and knowing that those who aren’t in the know mostly wouldn’t do either of those things.  I doubt my brother would care but his wife is odd and that could impact my relationship with him.  My mother didn’t know you could spike a watermelon so being tied up and bound for fun is probably out of her wheelhouse.  My dad probably wouldn’t have cared but he’s not here.  The only people currently in my life that know are a few of my male friends and other people in the lifestyle.  The rest know about my former hoe glory days–okay may not former but they don’t know what I do now–and while never judgmental with me overtly I know most of them wouldn’t have gone there even if they had been afforded the same opportunities to overindulge in pretty male flesh.

So what is the cost of acceptance and can I afford to pay it?  I keep struggling with that.  Is it worth my job and the few friends I allow into my circle?  Financially I’ve done nothing that would make me secure enough to live more than a few months if I was fired because I was outed.  I have to support someone other than me so I have to be more cautious in that respect.  I don’t see my friends constantly but I appreciate their love and support more than I state here.  This is the only area of my life that I don’t do my normal thing.  I’m an advocate and supporter of the underserved and underrepresented.  I am all about empowerment and being the face/mentor/model what have you that someone needs so that they can also take their place at the table.  But when it comes to this I am not now in a place that I can risk it and am not sure that I ever will be and that makes me sad.  I get there are trade offs and costs associated with any and every part of our lives.  But in all the other ways I can be empowered in other avenues in my life my sexuality and relationship choices are judged, evaluated and typically means I will be ostracized if I am fully authentic.  I know I’m not the only one that has this struggle but clearly it’s been dancing around in my head for a while because it kept me up last night.

What are your costs for being yourself?  Can you afford to cover them?

It’s Late and I Am…

I am awake when I should be sleeping.  It happens a lot though so I’m not totally surprised.  I am listening to the rain which normally makes me sleepy and/or horny and I am neither.  I am annoyed that the event I knew I could get to, because others had been canceled and another was/is badly timed, has been moved to a time frame I’ll never be able to attend.  And I’ve been waiting like several dozen others for the last month for a refund to be processed because the organizers just don’t seem very capable of doing anything quickly or with any level of transparency at the moment.  I am a tiny bit jealous of the kinky couples who are curled up with one another right now.  Not because they are able to do something kinky at their leisure but I tend to sleep better when I sleep with someone I care about.  I am wondering when and if I need to bite my tongue.  I am waiting for that thunderstruck moment that just says enough already silly little girl it’s time right now.  I am frustrated that I haven’t been to the gym this week.  I am glad that my boobs haven’t deserted me as I’ve lost weight.  I am confused perpetually by what I want versus what I need versus just being overwhelmed by emotion.  I am glad that Rugrats on cause otherwise I’d be watching crappy tv.  I am finally starting to yawn.  I am going to try to go to sleep and dream of something ridiculous that I would probably never do because I’d be too embarrassed to ask or engage if I was asked.

I am signing off now….

Exposure: On Coming to Terms with My Broken Bits

This is probably not going to be a normal post.  It may be more raw and guttural than you were expecting.  So if you need something smutty, click on the writing tab at the top.  If you need something funny or lighter then look for the life is good tag on the right side and click there.  Otherwise buckle in while this rambles on for a bit without a clear plan.

I am or have been struggling a bit as of late.  I have felt fractured.  When I have to focus on work and concentrate on grown up life I am capable and competent and it’s great until I’m tired and needy and horny and just need to be centered.  I used to be able to center myself quite easily.  I was blessed with a packed Rolodex (for you young folks think of the address book on your telephone) of willing partners that would be happy to engage in a mutual exploitation fest with me for a few hours or few days until we were both sated and could head back to our respective lives.  I’ve discussed before why I can’t do that now.  But in case you’ve missed that discussion the thing that I got from my earlier fuckfests was endorphin rush on steroids and a little bit of a psychological hit that I had somehow been used or denigrated.  The fact that I did it to myself mostly by selecting people that would make me feel as such was not lost on me and is why it never had the same kind of impact as being submissive does.  Even if I could be happy with just the rush, and I can’t to be clear, my playmates are no longer 15 minutes away from my front door and I can’t fuck them until six am and still be functional the rest of the day even if they were.  Plus and this is the bigger issue, I need to submit.  I can have sex without being your submissive but without some breath play or some pain of some sort it’s only going to curb the physical need not the psychological one.  Add in a dash of being the guardian of my mother and I’ve got lots of energy pent up that can’t be relieved or directed in the right way most of the time.

You haven’t heard me talk much about Mr. Wolf or the Dutchman here.  That has been deliberate.  I am pretty sure I did the same thing when I was struggling to figure out what to do with Good Nyte as well.  When I’m confused I keep it close to the vest.  That doesn’t help with the confusion but I don’t want to cause anyone any undue distress while I engage in a bit of verbal diarrhea.  I can say this without being confused, I care about both of them in totally different ways and for totally different reasons.  Both are important to me and I am grateful that they are in my life.  I’m not sure I’m adding anything of value to their experience but without them both I would have likely let the site go dark last summer when it was time to renew this domain name yet again.  I am a submissive.  It is the core and central part of my being.  But I seem to suck massive monkey balls at being a submissive in a relationship.  I thought previously maybe it was because I was trying to have the white picket fence thing with my Dom and maybe that just wasn’t realistic.  I get stir crazy, irritable and hunger for someone that challenges me in a way that the life in the burbs cannot.  Since we don’t have a Stepford Dom machine and I can’t do some gene splicing my brain is now hinting strongly that maybe single is my mission with play partners or protectors of some sort.  I don’t know but I don’t seem to be crystal clear about my role or fit anymore.

And that is because I feel inherently broken in ways I can’t fully explain.  I am not one of those girls that ever said bring me a great guy and I’ll be excited.  I need a great guy with a dark side who might do something so humiliating to me that I never want to venture out in public again.  I want the power differential to be clear and ever present and the warm fuzzy moments are then icing on the cake.  I’ve known I was twisted for a long time but now I’m feeling it even more as there is literally no reason for me to be confused about what to do but there is because in my brain things are not quite right.  I’m not sure if I as red is ever comfortable being adored.  red the submissive, the slut, the follower of orders, the receptacle of pain and bodily fluids loves being cherished but when I’m not in that space it’s uncomfortable.  I took a quiz on FB the other day about what kind of man I needed.  I was pretty sure sadistic teddy bear wouldn’t be on the list but I figured I needed a laugh.  I got one but not for the right reasons.  It came up that I needed an artist, someone with a romantic heart who frequently performed grand gestures and told me often how much he loved me.  If you could see my face now and then I’m sure you’d bust up laughing cause just no.  Sappy doesn’t make me happy.  I don’t enjoy constant reaffirmations that you love or adore me.  If we’re fully clothed make an inappropriate joke, smack me on the ass, say something only I will catch as being pervy and tell me I’m cute.  I will light up and be a happy girl.  Tell me how much you want to be with me and how you see our future and it’s not that I’m looking for the closest exit but I don’t trust you.You must want something because you are putting on a hard sell and I don’t like it.  If we’re unclothed and you’re inside of me on any level tell me whatever you want.  Naked I lap up the adulation.  It feeds my desire to serve you.  I want to be the best everything you’ve ever experienced and that stroking makes me enthralled and enraptured and is the closest thing to me believing you mean that when I have to armor up and put on the grown up clothes again.

I know that makes no sense.  I am fully aware of it.  I’ve mentioned it before but I trust your lust.  Your love, I’ve seen that be fleeting and misdirected as soon as someone else needs you more, adores you more, or makes you think you’re 10 feet tall comes along.  I used to think I’d always be a stepmother because I wasn’t sure I’d trust a man enough to breed with him but I had no issues taking care of children he already had.  I’m starting to believe I’ll always be a mistress or a third or a backup wife.  Which honestly I’m okay with because I don’t know if I can handle the energy of being up front.  Mistress isn’t the favorite spot in the rotation for me lol but it’s amazing with the right person and when I’m aware I’m playing the role—don’t hide shit damn it.  The lifestyle is pretty flexible in what we explore but I know mistress isn’t always appreciated.  She’s helping him hide something from his wife.  That’s true, it is, I can’t deny that.  I also can’t deny him if it’s the right him so forgive me if I go exploring.  Again with the brokenness.  What woman wants to be a mistress but doesn’t want it for shiny things or to get him away from his wife?  I just want to be happy and if he can make me happy then I’ll probably be there until he can’t make me happy.  I’m sorry but at the same time I’m not.  I should feel worse about being in that position.  My father cheated on my mother, my older brother’s mother, as well as his third and fourth wives as best I can tell.  Save the third one it didn’t work out so well for those relationships.  But I don’t want to keep the husband at least not at my house or in my life forever.  Nor do I want him at my place for holidays, birthdays and the like.  I want to enjoy his desire for the moments I can get them. Yeah the more that I think about it I’m good and fucked up.  Marry a man that adores me or be another man’s mistress?  My ring finger is not itchy or desperate for adornment.

I’ve thought about going to therapy but my job and my area would make that awkward.  Don’t really want to drive an hour away to be seen and that still may not prevent blow back.  Besides I’m not sure what it would do beyond make it plain that I have issues that I’m okay with on one level.  Actually on all levels.  I like to be hurt in ways that are deeply painful and all at once beautiful.  I never feel more beautiful then when I’m being fucked hard while feeling my breath being cut off and hearing some variation of praise being punctuated with the word cunt.  I used to despise that word so much but now it’s like good girl when it enters my ear canals.  I want to be kept guessing in some ways but always secure that my service is both wanted and appreciated.  I want to desire him more than I desire anything else in the world.  Just as I trust your lust know that mine is always directly connected to the depth of my service.  Fucked up girl parade on aisle three ladies and gentlemen.  Poor aisle three–does anything good ever happen there?

Creepy Commercial Makes Me Think

So I know you have probably gotten tired of all the anti-smoking commercials.  There are so many of them out there and they are on constantly.  But one that I originally heard on my way to bed threw me for a bit of a loop because it sounded like a submissive signing over control to their dominant partner.  If you have never seen said commercial here’s the text:

“I, Amanda Green, at the point in my life when I’m not a kid anymore. Now that I finally have freedom to define who I am. I hereby agree to be bound by you. To let you decide how I spend my money. To let you set my boundaries. And to come running the instant you snap your fingers. With this contract, I relinquish part of my freedom to you.”

I listened it to a few times over the next few weeks after seeing it originally and kept thinking about it so I figured it was trying to tell me something.  And I guess it was.  In no particular order this is what has come up for me upon thinking about her actual statements totally out of context to the cigarette cause yeah I’ve never smoked anything expect candy cigarettes and they were kinda nasty.

  • Well first my name isn’t Amanda Green but it’s not really relevant to all of this, just call me red.  And well red isn’t a kid anymore but the last few years is when I legitimately stopped feeling like I was a kid.  I still felt immature and not quite a grown up and unable to really say that yes adulthood was in my face and in full effect.  That wouldn’t be so bad but I’m a wee bit older than our commercial ingenue.  I have lived and left what I was hoping would be full and fruitful relationships both vanilla and D/s alike.  A million and one plans have come and gone in the meantime because I only saw some things with certain folks and after waiting for one promise to be kept well past any rational point I gave up on baby dream this past fall in favor of taking care of my health.  So yes chronologically I’ve moved well beyond Ms. Green I am just feeling within the last few years like I’m fully in my skin and loving it 98.9 percent of the time.
  • In terms of my submission, with all of the recognition and realizations I have come to realize I want the responsibility of trying to date like the rest of the world does less and less.  I want to find the man strong enough to make me desire to follow him.  That’s a weird thing about me.  The more you demand submission from me, in big or small ways, the less likely I am to surrender.  Wait until I come to you.  Wait until my resolve looks weak or to be wavering.  Wait until I look like I’m on the verge of tears at the thought of you not being in my life on any level anymore.  At that point I will be just like Ms. Green and be happy to sign my power and control over to you.  I really really don’t want it to begin with.  I want to be a 50s Housewife redux for the right person.  I’m just not going to fold for the wrong scenario though.
  • Ok she lost me on the money thing.  You may be flipping adorable but my money stays in my pocket.
  • I have watched my boundaries on things I thought were hard limits slip with people who can overwhelm me mentally.  Not in an abusive or manipulative way but with the knowledge and understanding that they see me, all of me, and see when my breath quickens and my pulse races and know that my body is opening up to their control.  I want those boundaries pushed and those that are meant to do so will crumble quickly.  Those that aren’t will be respected and we’ll move on to new and exciting adventures.
  • I can’t come running every time one snaps their fingers but when I can I promise I’m one of the most attentive little girls you’ll ever meet.  I enjoy the pressure to perform and the need to please.  I enjoy being literally put in my place and locked into my submission.  I enjoy being able to completely let go of my will, of my other roles, of every thing that is not my dominant and His wishes for me.  That would be the ultimate peak in my journey thus far.  It hasn’t happened enough or with enough frequency for me to say more than the few times it has happened I finally felt whole and complete.
  • Contracts are so formal lol but I may be so inclined to sign one if the right situation presented itself.  Right now I just want to know what is needed of me and where I can best serve and perform and I am a happy girl.

Now having broken down a commercial and how it made me consider my submission I can also say that I have considered packing up my submissive gear and heart and saying no mas.  Over the last year it has become more evident that the contrasting parts of me are going to make it difficult to have one person steer and guide them.   I feel like I’m going to overburden any person that tries cause those needs and wants are on such different poles that he would likely feel disturbed trying to keep me in check.  I still want the comfort and contentment that comes from serving but my super realistic side keeps saying get real girl.  So that’s where I am now.  Trying to sort out real.

I hear music….

I hear music and I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m making this pronouncement. As I go about my day and I think about my life and the things that must be get done, I hear music and it makes me think of you. Some of it makes me smile and other things make me wistful and other things make me want to molest you. But I hear music and then there is you.

Sam Hunt‘s deep voice comes oozing out of my speakers and I sing along off key in a full voice thinking of what it is I need from you at that moment and different choruses resonate with me as I stop at the red light and hope no one sees me enacting my own concert in the front seat.

I don’t wanna steal your freedom
I don’t wanna change your mind
I don’t have to make you love me
I just wanna take your time

He fades away and another Sam replaces his voice. Mr. Smith croons out words that I adore and mourn simultaneously. I wanna lay by your side as you stay with me but I know I’m not the only one even if no one can love you like I can and neither one of us will see the signs of what is going on. My lips are left in a slight curl as he leaves my head and heart clear and empty and full and longing.

Michael makes me giggle uncontrollably and I am glad that it’s a good day and that on some level I may not have embraced all of you yet. Sara tries to remind me that love is still fully possible and I just need to choose better. And maybe I should but I stumble and fall and wish to be as fearless as I try to inspire others to be.

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I don’t know where the brave version of me went but she probably is hiding because she’s more worried about how the words cut now. Honesty is almost always the best policy I agree but the hurt in a lover’s eyes is a weight I never enjoy carrying. And screw the hurt that could come back to me if I let you into that space where you can devastate my peace and calm. And just as my resolve is starting to fade and I realize I’m just a fractured little girl looking for a pair of big strong arms to envelope me and hide me from the darkness something totally inappropriate comes on and makes me smile. Feelings, yes we all have them but not all of them rush over me in such a way to remind me that yes I hear music and if you could dance to the soundtrack in my brain I may never walk straight, be alone, want for anything but a good meal and your hand as it caresses my head.

But where does he think you are tonight?
Does he know your nasty side?
(Look at her, look at her oh)

If you want me take me home and let me use you
I know he doesn’t satisfy you like I do
And does he know that there’s nobody quite like you
So let me tell you all the things he never told you

I hear music. All day, all night. I know you can’t spend the night due to my life and your life but all I do is imagine what it would be like having you for breakfast. Gladys creeps in and becomes an anthem for three minutes but I’m not your one and only because I always meet you after another has arrived. So when you press your lips to mine the next time remember this girl can be a bit of fool when she follows her heart but she adores you in ways that she can’t begin to say. But the music can.

Can I talk 2 U?
Tell U what U mean 2 me
Every time U wander
I’ll be your eyes so U can see
I wanna show U things
That I show no other, I wanna be
More than, more than your mother
More than your brother
I wanna be (like no) like no other
If U need me, I’ll never leave
I know, that U know, without U there is no me
There is no me
Without U there is no sea
There is no shore
Love is 2 weak 2 define how much I adore
U, child
U, child
The last words U hear
The last words U hear

(until the end of time)
I’ll be there for you, baby
(until the end of time)

Been a little while, missed you guys

Life has been a whirlwind this summer. At this point I have worked a ton more than I planned, my vacations to Amsterdam (AMAZING) and Toronto (not as much but still good for different reasons lol) have been checked off the list, I have five passport stamps thanks to a canceled flight lol, and for the first time in what feels like a millennia I remembered what it felt like to be kinda slutty. That probably won’t sound like it should be in that list but this latest round of my evolution has brought me back to a place of bad behavior that makes everyone else very very happy.

I spent a little bit of time with the Dutchman while I was in Amsterdam and a few days with Mr. Wolf in Toronto. Combining the two of them into one body may kill me but that would be such a wonderful way to die. It’s amazing to feel my will be taken from me. Prior to July it had been quite some time since I had been used and manipulated and lusted after openly. I asked to be fucked in front of the ridiculously amazing view in my hotel room and got more than I bargained for in that regard. The same was true in Toronto even though I didn’t have a specific request or a great view lol. The intense play just had to wait until after a major commitment was completed. I’m glad that was the case though because I wouldn’t have been able to sleep or sit on my ass comfortably had it been constant.

What I learned in both situations is I actively crave being a bit a of a slut. My body has a visceral reaction to being treated like a whore. And the head space that I slip into is just this side of euphoria. I imagine it’s similar to what the ambrosia on Olympus used to do to those who ate it. My mind is both clear and gone. There is no clarity except to please and receive pleasure. I love that place. If you could bottle it up for me to use on a rainy day I’d love you forever, I promise. The other thing that came from these trips which were slightly under a month apart is that I used to flit from bed to bed at will. One person was great at oral and toying with my clit until I exploded. Another was a ridiculous pleasure to ride and could fuck my ass so well that I would orgasm from that alone. Yet another was hung like a very well endowed horse and moved my internal organs around so I had fuck him twice in the same week so that everything would be in the right place. Fuck I miss his ass lol. Beyond their varying skill sets I greatly enjoyed the knowledge that my skin had to be plied and pulled and had fluids piled upon it by man after man after man.

In the last ten years I haven’t done much of that. I’ve been a good slutty girl for one person and one alone. I don’t think it impacted the relationships negatively. I was happy with those folks and enjoyed being their slut a great deal. I just kind of missed being A slut apparently. So feeling both of them inside of me, mauling at my skin and hurting me so close together has been a stellar moment in my slutty history. We’ll see who and what else is out there yet to experience.

New Books, New Ideas, Itty Bitty Rant

So I have been in reading mode again. I finished Conquer Me which I may have mentioned but if not then I highly recommend it in terms of processing submission and what it means to walk in these shoes. Kacie Cunningham did a great job and it helped me reach out to people in my life in a way that I would not have prior to reading it. She was also able to discuss something for me in well phrase it for me so that I could better explain it and process it. I won’t lift her words here but really there are few and far between books on submission that resonate with me. I’ve tried a few others and they were horrible, I just read one actually and I’ll get to that shortly, or were so out of my depth, realm, understanding or desire that it was just hard for me to take anything of value from them. This was different, not as soul stirring as Diary of a Submissive was for me but it wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to make you think about submission and your role and how you go about getting what you want and need from a partner as well as maintaining your own well being. Well maybe that wasn’t the purpose but it’s what I took from it and for that I thank Kacie, her editors, friends and Master for encouraging her to write this and bringing it to fruition. I bought it sometime last year as I was looking for some more material to help me grow in my submission. I guess we read things when we need to see them and this was a very welcome thought changer, thought creator, thought stimulator etc. So as is often the case when I finish reading one good book I go in search of a new one.

And because as I was thinking about it there were not a lot of good books or even books available on the experience of BDSM from minorities, particularly Black women as I am one and have been looking for these stories, I deliberately went in search of Kink writings from that mindset. Don’t get me wrong there’s fiction of almost every combination but there is limited, or at least I have been unable to find it, real life accounts of discussion of kink or bdsm from an ethnic minority perspective. I kept digging around. Lots of defunct blogs. A few good tumblr pages–interesting but not a book or guide or the like. I searched about eight different ways and stumbled on one book that came out in May so yeah recent is good. Except it wasn’t good. It was the opposite of good. Between the typos and lack of content and random photos of famous Black women I was very very happy that I had not paid for the book–yeah for Kindle Unlimited. I hate to mention the title at all because I don’t want to knock her hustle. She’s at least got something out in the marketplace. However, I may have just been too advanced for her target audience and want you to read for yourself. Gloria Coleman wrote Kinky Kinkster A Submissive Guide to Understanding Black BDSM culture. It’s very very basic so if you consider yourself aware of the introductory topics and roles in BDSM this is not the book for you. If you don’t and you want some help without signing up for a fetish social networking site then have at it. It’s like 3 bucks so it won’t bankrupt you but it will not inform any of those but the very new.

That made me start thinking about my own story. Was it worth writing? Could I legitimately work on it and get it out there? Would anyone give a rat’s ass if I did? Not a clue and I have made no decision on writing it. I feel like we need a non fictional voice in the gap of information out there. I’m finding myself wanting to do that with my work so it may be spilling over into this life as well. I know others are out there. They live out in the open constantly and I envy them more than you know. But for those of us that need the anonymity to maintain our non D/s lives I don’t know those stories. I don’t hear them being touted out and about. And to be clear unless you are writing in one vein it’s unlikely that BDSM stories will hit mainstream publishing with much force because just like the people who are living D/s on display the rest of the world sees them as too out there and not giving them all the warm and fuzzy moments of a twisted love story.

I am processing way too much in addition to what I’ve already shared. So I’m going to check out now and get back to letting my brain float off.


This isn’t really a rant but it may come across that way so I apologize in advance if it does. Before I get into that though, I will say that my trip to Amsterdam was amazing. The city is so pretty and it felt great to not be on any schedule whatsoever. I ate good food, saw things so beautiful that it made me dread coming home and had a view that was out of this world. I also got to spend some time with The Dutchman who was taller than I expected for some reason lol and an absolute gentleman. Well gentleman if you consider my interests but really just added icing to what had already been one of the best experiences of my life. If you ever get a chance to go please do.

You know this is really my fault but I have not been good at making new friends. I tend to meet people through other people. I can easily adjust to new groups of people but making those connections does not come naturally to me. They didn’t when I was a military brat and moving every two years. They come even less so now. Despite my on nature when I have to present or do something similar, I am ridiculously shy and reserved when pushed out to do something on my own. I am slightly dumbfounded that I boarded the plane for Amsterdam since I was going alone but talking to people and doing things as momentarily Dutch red was much easier than doing it as American red. So here I am now needing to venture out and make new friends and I am legitimately at a loss.

I had a situation mulling around in my brain for weeks that I ended up asking a group of kind strangers about because I didn’t have one person close enough to me, and not involved in the situation, to talk to about it. I have vanilla friends that I could have stripped it down and talked to about the situation but this is something that I wanted the whole BDSM trappings around. I’ve had one really close submissive friend for a while, you’ve heard me talk about her on here before, but her life is in full out mode so she’s been a bit tied up lately. That leaves me with lots of acquaintances but no other sounding boards. I know it’s easier to find some of those people in person so I did what I normally do and started with a quick search online to see if I could find like minded individuals preferably who were also Black and make my car take me to those people. Well if they exist locally they are hiding well because I couldn’t find a thing. The closest thing I could find was in Chicago–several hours away–and they weren’t any more active than the long since defunct group closer to my town. I just wanna meet some friends around my age who also have lives to protect so being out and about at a local cafe isn’t an option lol. Plus I don’t like coffee or the smell of it–headache time.

Where are the people with permanent tans all hanging out if they don’t live on the east or west coast? Come out come out wherever you are. Say hi. I just wanna chat. And maybe vent when I’m frustrated and let you vent when you’re frustrated. I’m more of the bitee instead of the biter so you’re safe. See ya later. And if you have any suggestions let me know.

When you’re ready for it….

So this may seem like a random departure from the last few posts and it may be but it’s still necessary to share with you. I have been thinking a lot about what is next for my life. I’m embracing a million different things because I want to say I’ve tried or done them. I’m leaving the country soon–actually twice if I include something for work, I’m learning to play tennis, I went back and took more pinup photos, I’ve lost fifty pounds, I’m relishing all this lovely gray hair and I’m reading more. And when I do that last one I learn things about myself that I wasn’t planning on when I picked up the book.

A little over a year ago, The Dutchman gifted me with a copy of Diary of a Submissive by Sophie Morgan. It was like I had been given a shot of adrenaline as I thumb through the pages. Not because it was sexually arousing, I mean parts were but other parts really made me evaluate my submissive life lol, but because it was like reading my own journal if I was more skilled and able to convey those thoughts to others easily. Sophie was a normal girl who liked her men a little different and her sex with an extra dash of something. I could relate to her because I was her save the British and white thing but seriously she could have been my submissive twin. It made me recenter and stop feeling lesser than because I didn’t have a “submissive heart” and for damn sure not a “slave’s heart.” I have a desire to serve one person that can make me focus if I’m being honest. I very rarely concentrate on one thing at a time because it’s not enough to catch my attention and keep it. Right now I’m blogging, just put out the mail, watching tv and chatting online. And this is a bit of a slow time because I’m also not doing work for other areas of my life lol. I need the man that makes me willingly strip all of that away and just focus on Him and us. I say all that to say books when introduced at the right time can be crucial for my development and thought process. I didn’t walk away from the lifestyle last year. I doubled down my efforts to enjoy it and I have so much. That’s part of what created the bucket list and I am trying to work through it now. Anyhoo, back to the impact of books.

The last time I had to do an airport run I ended up traipsing to the book store to kill some time. I picked up some more travel guides about my upcoming trip and then stumbled into the humor section after perusing the fiction, Sci Fi and loosely connected BDSM section. Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson made me crack up and I figured I needed a good laugh as I have been in a weird place emotionally as of late. So I looked around and most of the books were not ones I’d want on my shelf after I finished reading them so I opted to check them out of the library if I wanted to but leave all but What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding by Kristin Newman and Toddlers are Assholes: it’s not your fault by Bunmi Laditan. Now the second one is linked to The Honest Toddler which I love which is why I had to buy it. The first though was like a tiny bit of kismet given my upcoming travel plans and general relationship wanderlust. As I read it was a totally vanilla sense of connecting with my people again, very similar to the experience I had while reading Diary of a Submissive. I can’t say I have ever been as anal as she was about the picking apart of what I was doing with who I was doing it with but I know that my patterns have been similar to hers in some areas.

I’m not afraid to get married, even though pushing humans out of my body seems terrifying, but I’m also not in a rush to do so either. And much like Kristin I was looking for that thunderstruck moment because it was going to take that to get my attention but also like her I realize that moment is probably a set up. It makes us stick with the wrong people longer than we should because we are trying to recapture that rush. It makes us ignore other people because they never give us that rush. And it takes us having a really grown up moment until we figure out the right balance of intrigue and emotion and embracing of love in a different package. I don’t think I’ve had my grown up moment yet. I’m hoping that the trip helps me really step into whomever I’m meant to be right now in this moment. I’ve already been a great tart and a great eager submissive and I am transitioning into a more depraved needing of psychological degradation kind of submissive. My picker is still off though. I need to let go of something but I’m not sure what it is. I hope in a few weeks I’ll be clearer in whatever that was so I can dive head first into what the universe has waiting for me. What I haven’t been ready to envelop myself in and explore. I’m ready to be ready if that makes sense.

Books, tricky little devils I promise. Just be open and ready to hear the message they are sharing with you.