31 perfect days

October is always my favorite for so many reasons. As it again comes to a close, I am reminded that I will miss it. It also reminds me that I miss other things.

Cuddling after a spanking
Having a dominant
Forming routines
Loving someone openly
Loving them honestly
Saying “I love you”
Hearing “I love you”
Knowing I’m loved
Curling into someone’s arms at night

Probably 100 other things im forgetting. Possibly 1000.

31 perfect days

I should not be allowed

Clearly I don’t make good life choices. I had drinks with a man who initially was funny. A bit direct. That quickly turned into pushy and it pushed me way to far.

I feel so dirty right now.

I hate that I feel like I owe someone something because they pay attention to me. I hate that a man, even one who is physically smaller than me, can scare me into situations I don’t want to be in. I hate that even when I say “no” and “I want you to stop” people don’t listen to me.

I hate being scared in my own fucking house. I hate that I dissociated so much from what just happened that he sat on my couch and planned out 4 more dates.

No more meeting new people for me.

I should not be allowed

Lucky number 13

I only have 13 items left on my list and I think I can knock six of them out at one time. The 24 of this month is my birthday, it’s also mom’s birthday. I’m observing the approach with huge amounts of caution. Even some night terrors. As a matter of fact huge amounts of terror in general. So I’ve decided that I’m going to grab it by the balls.

I think I can handle that.

My sister and best friend have so graciously taken the weekend off. They will be staying here with me. I am so thankful for the people in my life that have remembered this isn’t over for me. That I miss my mom with a never ending ache. That this birthday, our first one without one another, is going to be very difficult. In a history of birthdays that have always been difficult.

So I’m planning a party. One just for me. I’ve never had to do that before.

I hope you are well. I hope the beginning of the holiday season finds you well.


Lucky number 13


My mom would always say “If you can find ways to laugh at yourself. You’ll always be entertained.” It’s wonderfully easy to laugh at myself. I’m an emotional jester. Some days I am so hungry for love, I allow common kindness to manifest. I hope that people’s intentions are real. I give the words of my friends so much value that I begin to pin my expectations on them.

I get caught in the Web of it all. Not noting I’ve slid through until my fingernails are the only thing holding me on. There is usually angst and heartache there. In the moments I hang, waiting for a hand to reach out. But, the laughter comes with the fall. Delrious realization that I was holding on to nothing more than my expectations. That no one has promised me the moon. That people do not treat you the way you treat them.

That’s ok.

Once I’ve landed on my well padded bottom, I find peace and joy in the struggle I’ve just processed through. I search for the lessons. I apply them. I keep laughing at myself. I uncover my worth. I am reminded that, one day my Web will be strong enough to hold me.


Listen closely, for the violins

I opened this post with a tangible idea of what to write and now it’s gone.

I really love October’s, the smell in the air, the weather change, it’s always been promising for me. This has always felt like the beginning of a new year. But this year I’m apprehensive. With my mom gone and my sister engaged, well I really don’t have anywhere to go for the holidays.

Mom’s family and I have had a strained relationship since I was a teenager. My dad’s family disappeared shortly after his death. My sister is forming a family of her own. I’m so very proud of her. Multiple times I’ve been asked to join them, it doesn’t feel right to me. I feel awkward and strange. Why does this 30 year old woman need to leech off of her younger sister? What’s wrong with her?

My friends are limited these days. Hard work, mourning, being a bit more introverted than I realized. All of those things have a taken a toll on my social life.

Does this all sound whiny?

I want a family. One that I know without a doubt will love me unconditionally,  where we all treat one another with love and respect. That everyone is self aware and spiritually kind. I want to walk into a room and not deal with quiet whispers and hateful stares. I want what I say to be important and to be part of a group that let’s other people feel important. I want to remind and be reminded that we share this journey with one another. I want a family.

Because right now I feel like an orphan.

Listen closely, for the violins

Self care

She walked alone after a long day of work. Her body tired, mind still preoccupied with the next days schedule. On one should her laptop bag dug down against her tender skin. A purse in the other hand also carrying three bags of groceries. She clenched her keys tightly as she approached the sketchy corner on the side of her apartment building.

A busted fence holding back trees and vines. The brush always seemed to be rustling from some strange feral amimal. “Just cats.” She thought to herself. The cooling autumn air made her smile, but the coughing fits she had over the last few days had stolen her voice. A shiver ran down her spine; just tired. She chided her herself. As she passed down the unlit alley her mind raced and with heart hammering in her chest Nicole finds herself standing in the faint yellow glow of the only outside lamp on this corner.

The sound of something dragging behind her propels her towards the apartment door. Number 13, the familiar knob feels comforting and she pushes to allow herself inside. Smiling at the enthusiastic greeting of her pets she gingerly sets the heavy load down.  Her usual song and dance for them shelved for the day. She gathers her small dogs up and squeezes them tight.
Nicole sinks into the welcoming cushions of her couch. Curling up with a few pillows and her favorite quilt. Vaguely noting she needs to save the groceries and recharge her cell phone. But, the pull of the day and the warmth from her happy welcoming committee lull her to sleep.

She opens her eyes slowly to the sun streaming in. Body aching from whatever odd angle she had dozed off in. The world still blurry from slumber she smiles softly and closes her eyes again.

“Not so fast my little worker bee. I’ve been waiting so long for you to wake up.”

Nicole panics and tries to stand up. Tries to move at all, only to find herself tangled in what she imagines to be the quilt. The soft cushion underneath her not the couch she remembers falling asleep on, but the oversized ottoman usually located in the living room. Her feet cold and touching the ceramic tile of the dining room, sending chills up exposed and spread legs. Revealing every private part of her between them. The air moving over the delicate folds of skin so normally concealed and gaurded. A brief evaluation reminding her that it was very much time to go to the bathroom. The tank top and bra normally worn to work still on but ruined. Someone having cut holes into them to uncover her large breasts. Her hands bound beneath them to hold them up and attention as if she were presenting them for display. Shoulders, elbows, hips, knees, and ankles securely fastened with what she figured must be the few yards of rope left in her toy bag.

A cold finger moves slowly up the sensitive inside of her right thigh. Reaching the juncture between, pulling on the untrimmed hair there. A moment of shame courses through her body. The pulling increases and she tries to cry. Try to scream stop. Only to remember, she has no voice. A scratchy low sound escapes her lips. The feeling of little paws scratch her leg, her babies pleading to be held.

“Don’t worry to much about them. We have been spending lots of time together. I come in every evening once you’ve fallen asleep and play my games with you. The dogs and I have become very good friends. I enjoy seeing them. I enjoy being a part of your family Nicole.”

Nicole begins to tremble wildly, memories from what she thought were just erotic dreams bubble to the surface. The faceless lover that had not failed to visit her for the last three months. The sadistic and passionate games she thought were only dreams. Were they all real? Wet sheets and a swollen sex. Remembering all of the things she had told herself was just a result of not having an actual sexual relationship. Her nipples tighten responding to the memories. The tugging on the hair between her legs increasing ever so slightly as tears slip out unnoticed from under her long eyeslashes.

“I’ve been training you for this. But, had gotten so worried when I noticed a week ago you were running a fever in your sleep. I sent an email to your clients saying that you would be unavailable as you had developed a medical issue that needed immediate attention. Everyone was very understanding. Your clients care a great deal about you. Now since you’re here and know so much about these essential oils maybe you can help me learn some too. I plan on being a large part of your life and want to meet you on your level. Common interests are important you know.”

Nicole looks over with apprehension at the large glass front cabinet in her dining room. Her love of therapeutic essential oils evident in the hundreds of dollars worth of product just behind a locked glass door. All beneficial is used properly.

“I’ve spent lots of time reading in your books about them.”

The pull between her legs creating a hot  swollen feeling. Encouraging blood to fill the area, her labia pushing against one another. A slow trickle forming and slipping lower to tickle secret parts.

“I’ve spent many hours searching which oils you respond best too. For example when I take this here.”

A gloved hand reached out and four drops on each nipple fell to cool her exposed nipples. Rubber fingers working harshly and quickly as a moan attempts to escape tired vocal cords.

“A mixture of peppermint and cinnamon really brings these to life. Especially when we add these.”

Without delay metal clothespins were applied to each rigid nub. Air rushing through parted dry lips with a ragged cry following.

“I’ve learned you can take quite a bit of pain Nicole. I’ve learned that you actually prefer it. See I’ve penetrated every hole of mine that you carry around for me. I’ve learned that you really respond when you have something in here. I fear I’m a little excited, so today will be just about me relieving my own passions. Be brave for me, none of this will be easy for you. But it’s obvious that you don’t want it to be.”

Nicole’s body fighting against the large rounded head of some unknown invader pushing into her tightest of holes. Her head thrown back as tears flow freely, the warm smell of melting coconut oil wafting up to her. As a rubber covered hand pushes firmly on her distended belly. Pushing with conviction against her very full bladder. Short twisting strokes angled up against her soft tissue adding more pressure to her long neglected body.

“I know that you must need to use the bathroom terribly. I promise to take care of you in your time of need. Don’t worry about anything, we have all the time we need.”

Self care