Common Misunderstandings in D/s Relationships

In fairness to Doms they often get a lot of stick. Before you throw your glittery shoes or kitty ears at me, let me explain.
I’m starting to think that it may be the age difference, the fact that they often have more worldly experience or the pressures of being a protector makes it seem like they’re the only ones responsible if a relationship fails. It would be easy to blame them… and that is why often they are blamed completely. But like any relationship, it swings both ways. Relationships thrive on trust and communication. Without them, you sign your own death warrant.
Being a Dom is often confused with having to be the strong one all of the time. It isn’t true. Daddys and Sirs and even Masters require a little time to breath and be cared for. In short, Daddys need aftercare too.
It’s another reason why I advocate getting to know your potential Dom in a friendly way first, before you jump into any kind of sexual relationship. You have to know what makes each other tick as you would in any vanilla relationship- in order to the learn what makes each other tick sexually.
Some Doms are under the impression that they have to be stern all the time. They are usually not being true to themselves or they’re pretending to be something they are not. If they are being themselves then all aspects of their personality will be shown and that is how connections are made and trust is built.
What can also often happen is that one partner has slightly different expectations and views of where the relationship is. You shouldn’t be afraid to communicate with him. Just because he’s a Dom doesn’t mean he has control over every aspect of the relationship. It is a common misunderstanding of a d/s relationship that the Dom has final say. It’s not true. Certainly while playing he may be demanding, but take it like any other relationship; trust needs to be built before you can move onto the next stage and that is done with communication. This enables the relationship to progress.
A lot of Doms on here want their cake and they want to eat it too. Sometimes you will find Doms owning one sub but DMing others. If the new prospect is deemed a better attraction they will make the move on that sub and drop the original. Unfortunately, twitter provides a perfect platform for this.
To determine whether you are right for each other, you may want to research DDlg (which stands for Daddy Dom little girl). There isn’t much point in calling him Daddy if when you play it doesn’t reflect that. A Dom takes pleasuring his sub very seriously; he will want to know that he is hitting the right buttons, so to speak. So he needs to know what they are. In fairness to him, he may be waiting for you to grow into the type of sub you are before deciding what to call you. He may first be trying to discover if you are a princess, kitten, little or babygirl. All play differently so find out what suits you.

Lessons for Baby Subs and Kittens

They creep out like zombies in search of brains but it’s not your brains they feed off (if only)… it’s your selfies. But they are obvious, easily avoided. Look for the man with the dick pic as an av. He hasn’t used his face but the dick still represents what he is. They usually start the conversation with a, “U horny?” Or the one that always grinds me, “mmmmmm.” Throw in a couple of smileys and you’ve got yourself a gag fest on your hands- and believe me, not the good kind.
What you need to watch out for is the predators and the manipulators . They are less easy to spot, more easily camouflaged with their acquired knowledge and an articulate poise.
They will screw with your mind. They feed off a different kind of control, they are insidiously destructive, the devil incarnate. They seek and destroy and it’s a slow death; they want to break you down until you are nothing but a lump of flesh that beats for them, to replace the void where their hearts should be.
Then, when these emotional vampires have sucked away your life force, they hand back your broken pieces… you are no longer their concern.
So if I was to ofter any small piece of wisdom, any sage advice I can, it’s this: don’t be afraid to tell your potential Dom that you want to build a friendship first. That should weed out some of the fakes. But be careful, as some like the challenge. The best thing to do is always keep your wits about you no matter how much a Dom knocks you off your feet- and believe me, they will.

Pain is a Friend of Mine

The tip of a blade pressed against my bare skin, a tiny trickle of red against white, I watched it fall, my eyes fixed to it hoping that I might escape with it. A high piercing voice shook some of the rigid fright from my arrested body. My mother’s voice was breaking through, my body morphing from horrified statue into energy which bubbled up into my limbs. My body was still stiff but instead of being frozen I was ready to bolt. My mother, my saviour, was but a mere dream. Here was the figurehead of destruction, hell’s matriarch. Her raised voice was directed against my tormentor, batting him around the head as she teetered by.

“You’ll ruin her for the pictures.”

She said with what I was surprised wasn’t a forked tongue spitting at him, tears stung my eyes and my lip began to tremble, I cursed myself for my weakness in front her for long ago any doubt of this woman’s maternal instinct was laid to rest and with every act of pure evil after she threw another layer of soil on the mound. She wet her thumb and rubbed out the smudge of blood from my neck. The face that should have been that of a loving mother was smeared with hatred. The look she gave, one reserved for the lowest form of pond life. The creak of the door hit my ears like a gunshot as they entered. At 7 I was no longer scared of monsters in the closet, because I knew real life monsters existed in the forms of these five men.

16 years later…

I slowly pushed the globe around, tracing my finger over the map, of all the places in the world I could escape to. But the only place I could go was to the contents inside.

“Round and round the garden…. Where it stops nobody knows.”

Bottles clinked as I stopped turning it and opened the lid.

“Ah, so it is you who will join me this evening my old friend.”

I said to the bottle of Tia Maria who was at the front of all the rest. I knew pain and in some cases I welcomed it. It was good to feel because I knew if I stopped feeling I’d go numb, I’d lose hold of the heart I knew I had and they’d win. But the pain was also a reminder, a reminder that constantly needed blotting out, like a pin prick that wouldn’t stop bleeding or the knife, that sometimes had me wondering; what if I’d have bled out? But the pain was real and kept me focused, and I often sought it for pleasure from the darkness. It was at night when the dreams came that they’d find me again and by morning I’d have to physically run to escape them. But I could never run from the night that would inevitably come around, and the nightmares that would always trap my soul would ensnare me again. Running had always helped but I’d needed it more often lately, to the point I was running so much that my burning muscles ran on battery acid, until I just couldn’t go anymore.

Captain Morgan joined Tia Maria and made quite the threesome, just need to blot the darkness out. I stretched my weary limbs out on the couch, my tiny frame engulfed within all the cushions, I felt like I was floating. My long hair fell over the edge and into the paws of a little kitty who immediately started to climb. I chuckled and I thought of my Daddy Dom, he’d often told me my life was like that of a Disney Princess.

“So you’re my prince, are you Delta?”

I said to the cat who had now given up on climbing and was trying to curl up and sleep in my hair. No there is no such thing, battles must be fought by me alone. Besides, how many Disney Princesses escape like this, I thought whilst popping a little pill into my mouth and swallowing it with a mouth full of rum.

Dream of a Garden Temptress

“Come and sit with me in the garden, baby girl.”

You take my hand in yours and lead me to the deck sitting me down beside you, the sleeve of your shirt brushes the naked skin of my arm and I can feel the heat of your body touch me, thrilling me.

I gently place my hand on your knee.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, someone who I want to spend every second of the day with. And when we’re not together I’m always thinking of you.”

I climb onto your lap.

“May I kiss you Daddy?”

“Please do angel.”

Your perfect honey soaked voice hits my spot and makes me lose my mind.

I surprise you by taking your mouth with heated passion, nibbling at your lips then kissing them better, panting with a whisper I ask you to, “keep me.”

Beads of sweat burst on my breasts like the early morning dew on the apple tree you planted for me.
You touch my skin softly staring into my eyes, seemingly mesmerized by them.

“I do love you baby girl.”

Inside my mind is beaming at your declaration but on the outside my hands are working to keep you forever, so that I may hear those words coming from your lips everyday of my life. My orange t-shirt dress is short but my fingers work deftly to hitch it up the extra few inches until you can see my my red hot little pussy poking out the bottom. My folds are open and slick and I create a wet line over my lips using my fingers. I look at you invitingly I’m open and wet just waiting for you.

Your breath catches.

“An early morning nymph covered in dew glistening in the new sun dancing for her daddy.”

A small grin curves the corner of my mouth, I slide two fingers down either side of myself, over my rosy red skin and scissoring my lips for you to kiss my nub. You dip your head planting a kiss there, tasting me. You rise with my sweet warm nectar coating your mouth, glimmering on your lips.
I watch you taste me, sucking your lips between your teeth and the drops from your fingers. Your eyes burn with appreciative fire, I’m provoking the beast.
But I’m aching for you, I dip one finger in ever so slightly probing my entrance. I shoot my sultry gaze to you, you’re watching my fingers intently, captivated by my thumb circling my sensitive nub sending little sparks of pleasure through me.
I reach lower probing my puckered arse gasping at the forbidden ….I whimper in desperate need of to feel you filling me.
Two of my fingers entering me now, exploring my creamy depths curling inside me you can see me stretching over my fingers.

“I need you where my fingers are.” My softly spoken words sounding like such contradictory filth when sweetly uttered from my mouth.

“Right here daddy come inside.”

You take your cock into your hands positioning yourself at my entrance, you search my face hungrily looking for confirmation but not waiting for assurance you slam inside, filling my hole completely with a triumphant look of manly satisfaction on your face. You pump through my sharp feelings of pain and orchestrate my pleasure, taking me bare. Violent thrusts slapping against me animalistically, slamming my small body against the hard wood.
I bite back a little whimper, my body starts to shudder but my movements are tempered by your weight around me, catching me as I fall into unbelievable bliss. I throb and the clenching around you acts as a fist squeezing you tight and holding you to me. You swell inside me your own orgasm mere seconds away I can see the choice behind your eyes and you look both to my breasts and my tummy as a place to release.

“Cum inside me daddy.”

I kiss you, simple but with the strength of an army behind it, showing my love

Canterbury Kitty Tales

Beads of sweat dripping tantalizingly down the parting between my breasts and sliding down my tummy, making their delicious way down to my sensitive nub. Meeting with my creamy core and melding with the trickle inside. Warm honey pours through the line of the phone and I brush the hair that’s now plastering my head away from the speaker. My hot body tingles all over every time his whiskey voice rasps out a command. He’s gone from having me rub my soaking tights-covered pussy against the armrest of the chair in the room I’d been dusting, to pulling them down to my thighs and working my fingers inside myself.
My senses are hyper-aware of the fact I’m not alone, that actually the guesthouse where I’ve been working over the past day is brimming with people. Every time I hear someone past the door my body freezes, sending a heated wave of risk-tinged awareness to my thumping center.

I’m overwrought, heat flaming my skin, panting hard my body on the edge of falling apart straining to contain the boiling pot that’s on the cusp of spilling over. I need to hear just three tiny but powerful words to end it all and bring me sailing to my destination.

“Cum for Daddy”.

Those words, uttered from his supple lips but holding the weight of fifty galloping horses, ignite little spasming muscles that clench and ripple around my fingers, “oh”. It hits me that no matter how I try to keep quiet, the intensity of the orgasm that’s been building inside me and now smashes against me like waves battering rocks, makes it impossible not to scream out my pleasure. If he were here then depending on how the mood took him, he’d either be balling up a tie (not panties as he commands me not to wear any) into my mouth to keep me quiet, or he’d let me scream so everyone would hear exactly who I belong to.

I bite down hard on my arm, sinking my teeth deep in to the flesh of my bicep and tearing skin, pain mixing with pleasure so complementary that a little a tear of joy escapes the corner of my eye and drops, wasted, to the floor. Unfortunate, I thought, as had Daddy been here he’d surely dip his head toward me and taste it from my cheeks.
Hearing my muffled explosions rumbling through the phone, Daddy’s reassuring replies were coating me, praising me with his voice tinged with pride and manly satisfaction… and a large serving of regret at not being here.
A large knocking at the door had me yelping and slapping my palm across my mouth to hide it. “Yes,” my voice trembled and I stared wide-eyed to whoever was on the other side of the door- which of course I couldn’t see through but I still looked stunned. I hurriedly pull my tights up in position around my waist and rearrange my wayward skirt.

The person behind the door turns out to be a concerned member of staff who has heard a candlestick holder drop to the floor- unnoticed by me- and the “curious” noises of a struggle. I talk her round to believing my clumsiness is down to first day nerves and depart up the stairs giggling like a lovestruck little girl. She doesn’t suspect anything and I laugh uncontrollably at the invigorating events. I close my bedroom door shut behind me and rest up against it with my back, whilst sighing out a calming breath and closing my eyes.

My revelry is broken by my phone springing to life in my hands and I almost drop it trying to answer. Daddy’s exhilaration was palpable and I giggle inanely in response. He growls, immediately ordering me to my window. He asks me what I can see out there and for a moment I get a fierce pang of elation thinking I might see Daddy waiting in the field below. But all I can see is horses, trees, long stretches of green and the setting sun on the horizon.

“Take off all your clothes baby girl.”

I suck in a lungful of air and reinforce my posture, unbuttoning my skirt and letting it slip to the floor. Cool air hits my already pert nipples, pebbling them further into impossible tautness. Stepping out of my skirt I puff out, clenching my teeth at the cool breeze that assaults the wet patch at my tights. My tights soon follow and I step up naked in front of my window, bare, even the previous flaming inferno of my body shuddering away with the shivers that grip me. Daddy orders me to touch every inch of myself, running my hands sensuously over my body for the world to see. The contrast from hot to cold had been shocking but now the trail of my hands start to build a new fire, flames fanned by Daddy’s authoritative voice, sparking at the hunger that had been on a simmer, but is now flaring back to life.

Scandalous moans rent the early evening air, and I writhe my body before the window, no longer in the least bit concerned who will see me. I rest my foot on the windowsill as Daddy commands my fingers to plunge fast and deeper inside me. My body shakes uncontrollably at the rise of another orgasm, whimpers escape my lips. Dizziness blackens my vision, my spent body fighting a useless battle against the exertion that another explosion will bring. But it’s not really up to me if I can take anymore; Daddy knows best.

“Enough.”

And my body lets go, feeling all of a sudden really heavy, tiredness seeping though my bones.

“Squat if you’re tired baby.”

I sink to a squatting position with relief, my legs no longer have to hold my trembling body. My sweet nectar drips from my core and I watch tiny droplets collect beneath me.

“Feel your arsehole baby girl, do you feel me filling you?”

I can feel the heavy weight of Daddy’s butt plug, I’ve been wearing it everyday since it was bought and I could still feel it inside me, a constant presence and reminder that Daddy owns me. I’m his and he’s with me always, I touch the tips of my fingers to the diamond in the center and find my hot wet pussy juice has reached there too.

“Fuck yourself with me, stay squatting, feel me inside you, filling you, stretching you, you belong to me baby girl.”

I clasp the golden tip and swirl it inside me, getting used to the girth, moving it sends shots of pleasure through me. I gasp, moving it slightly, in and then back out a little at first, and then harder, faster, fucking myself with it and coming apart. Losing myself in the carousel of sensation, I grab at my heaving breasts with one hand and fuck my arse deep and hard with the other. I let out a long drawn out moan through gritted teeth when the tidal wave hits and the earth shatters around me.
I found myself flat out on the floor afterwards, panting heavily with my heart thumping against my chest like a trapped bird.

“You think it’s over don’t you little girl?”

The Enforcer

“Do you have it in?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Good, feel Daddy inside you, filling you.”

I checked the hem of my lacy pink summer dress for the 5th time since the short walk from the place I was staying to Camden tube stop. It wasn’t the length of my dress that had my eyes darting back and forth between the expressions of the people passing me, but rather it was the trickle of wetness that was rapidly drenching my upper thighs. I was sure they could see me, see the dilution of my eyes, the twitching of my hips as I walked, the flush that covered my cheeks and upper neck. ‘Slut’, their eyes seemed to judge, but as the pulsating heat that radiated from inside my bum, and seeped through my walls to cause sparks inside my pussy, I couldn’t care less about them. My teeth were clenched in an attempt to stop them chattering against the climbing need to let go of the orgasm that felt like being on the verge of tipping scales.
“Ahh”, I moaned as Daddy, in the form of the butt plug he’d chosen for me to wear, hit the edge of the tube seat. Pushing the gold plug with diamond center further up inside me, brushing the intimate heated need in my bottom.

It was the first time we’d ever played with the plug and in fact the time I’d ever used one at all. The smattering of intense new experiences and Daddy’s thrilling honey soaked whiskey voice breathed through the phone sending me sailing through a dusty dream onto a different tide. I was a ship floating on his waters feeling every bump against my hull… every breath of wind against my bare wet sails, towards a whirlpool I eagerly wanted to sink into.

“May I cum Daddy?”

“Cum baby girl, good girl, feel the world watching you, show them what belongs to me.”

I open my legs, my juices saturating the cushion seat beneath me. I writhed my body into a single flick of my pussy on the seat, sparking electric ripples. Arching my back, I rode through it, a long sultry moan escaping my lips. When my orgasm settled so did my mind. I was suddenly acutely aware of the tube, of people around me- none of which, by some feat of amazing luck had seemed to notice me.

However I hadn’t even reached the place where I would begin my task yet. So I jumped up, biting my lip against another jolt of pleasure and shot out of the open doors.
Piccadilly Circus was bustling and I hadn’t expected it to be anything else. Daddy preferred my task to be completed in a place where the more risk the better, so that’s how I found myself rifling through clothes in a very busy, extortionately expensive brand store. Daddy requested I pick out some dresses and a few pairs of panties to take into the changing rooms with me.

I pushed through the doors of the changing room with a handful of clothing and my heart in my throat. Excitement coursed through me, I’d passed a number of security personnel along the way and although I hadn’t yet done anything wrong, their eagle eyes had perused me with suspicion. Or maybe they could tell a girl with the heady air of sex around her. Either way they hadn’t stopped me. I stood fumbling with my items while Daddy ordered me what to do. He soon had my dress hitched up around my breasts as I slid fingers through my silky, slick pussy lips, the pile of clothes lying beneath my feet. Shuddering, I was made to dip a finger into my little hot hole and my whole body swayed, the risk and intensity of the situation deliciously mixed with the full presence in my arse and Daddy’s gruff commanding voice all heightening my senses. My body once again moving under his control, nipples taught and fully squeezed and pulled tight, pussy throbbing wanton, abandoning all pride as I writhed like his slut amongst the clothes, spilling juices on them in my wake. I bite my lip hard, my mind scandalized but hugely turned on when Daddy ordered me to ball up a pair of the panties I’d picked up and pop them into my cunt.

“Daddy’s nasty slut,” he growled as I obliged him and inserted the panties into myself.

Sweat slid down between my breasts, my heated body squatting over the clothes, my breathing hard, panting, drowning again within his turbulent sea. My fingers working in and out of myself, brushing against Daddy’s plug in my arse. I feel the build, full like I need to wee, the feeling I’d never felt before Daddy. I was going to squirt.

“Daddy, I feel like I need to wee again.”

“Cum for Daddy my beautiful little slut, squirt all over those clothes.”

Trembling, my body hit my orgasm at full throttle; I rolled through the ecstasy, gasping at the copious amounts of clear cum that streamed from me and onto the clothes. the bundle of panties inside me were sopping by this point and Daddy blissfully asked me to get onto cleaning up every drop from my body, leaving the clothes dirty so that I could hang them back up on their rail afterwards.

I made such a mess of myself and the clothes, somehow I’d managed to get cum on my back and I walked out of the dressing room with two noticeably wet patches on my back, and fully fucked up hair. But the wild and vibrant look on my face told of masses of tales of Daddy blowing my mind. I hung up the cummy clothes and draped the dirty panties over their original stand. Leaving the store with a beaming smile and a twinkle in my eyes after fulfilling my mission from Daddy.

“Good girl, Daddy’s baby girl. You make Daddy so proud.”

Daddy held me in his calm waters afterwards comforting me from the storm.

Bond Girls Always Die

I sucked in a lungful of precious air and my stomach plummeted to the murky depths of the North Sea below. S’Okay I told myself you’re what- 30,000 feet, if the plane goes down now, your organs will most likely blow apart from the g-forces rapid deceleration. Great! I won’t feel a thing, I gritted my teeth in an attempt to make myself feel better by smiling.
“No” I gasped shaken by turbulence, nails clawing for the ­armrest and nearly taking out the unlucky bastard who had the absolute pleasure of sitting next to a freaked out little girl. Giggling inanely I tried to brush off his slightly concerned/slightly disturbed look at my erratic behavior and cursed myself under my breath for not taking something to relax.

After a little more than an hour’s flight- and two JD’s to steel my nerves- later, I stumbled from the runway at Brussels only slightly, but really quite tipsy. Later I’d grimace when a friend asked why I didn’t take the Eurostar… because I’m more inclined to impulse than bright ideas I said to myself along with a few curses that would make a sailor blush.

I started tapping my feet in the airport as I realized the hotel check in wouldn’t be for another couple of hours. And my attempt to counteract my sleepy state from the alcohol with a couple of shots of caffeine failed bitterly when I arrived in front of a Starbucks to find it very much closed.
I wouldn’t let it get me down though, although the threat of no coffee was intense. I was here, I made it, didn’t get ripped apart by a 200,000 pound flying metal deathtrap. Mission: Follow In Daddy’s Footsteps was finally underway.

I climbed up a metal stool in the Sports Bar. I decided to let my tummy settle from the flight before attempting to venture into the Black Pearls sushi place in search of a morsel or two. I flipped the lid on my laptop and touched down with Daddy, he was worried and wanted me home, safe. It was a novelty to be cared for and my heart was already halfway across the North Sea swimming back to him. But my head was pitching a tent, hammering down the metal pegs right here in Zaventem.

Zaventem, I liked the name, I felt like a bond girl on a covert mission- Babygirl, your mission if you choose to accept it, fight all the demons that took Daddy away and bring him home- make him whole. Show him just how much he deserves to be loved.

For-fuck-sake I pouted, knocking the contents of my bag over in the process of being in complete shock that a hotel as expensive as this didn’t have any biscuits. I seriously considered voicing a complaint until reason broke through. My tummy panged its disapproval and I patted it reassuringly, soon my little one, I told it. Although soon didn’t come, and I’d later live to regret not grabbing that sushi.

A burning thrill that usually accompanies hearing from Daddy was thrumming through me. That mixed with hunger of various kinds and my hyped up adrenaline from an hour making use of the hotel gym all led to a beyond oversensitized wildcat in an emotional barrel roll. Drained, tired, horny as hell and Daddy pleading for my return had me on a tailspin heading for the water. My head was a turmoil of contradictions each overlapping the other, I want to help Daddy but all he really asked for was my safe return, I was breaking a bond between us by disobeying him, my mind was also hell-bent on the way I was intending to fix things. And then to hit the nail in the coffin of all of it was my absolute bone-crushing fear of going back to London. In a way this journey had freed me from it, of my old life and pain. I never really had a home but the one place I felt more at home than anywhere was on the road. It was the metaphor of moving forward that enabled it to mirror my life. One single pathway in constant motion that had the past staying just where it should. I knew with certainty that going back would kill me like no threat I faced out here.
So why then at 23 hundred hours did I find myself booking a one way ticket back? One word- Daddy. I loved him to the moon and back, scrap that, the furthest star. With nothing else important to me in my life I had come to realize one thing, I treasured the things that were important to me and held them that much dearer. So much tighter, because I knew the importance of love over material possessions. And with Daddy I loved him so much, I’d sacrifice myself for him. And so I did, packed up and stuffed onto the Eurostar speeding me back to the poisonous tendrils of the London streets- a part of me died.

There are no Coffee Shops in Whitehall

The first thing I realized when getting off at Charing Cross was to my horror there are no bloody coffee shops in Whitehall. Yes that’s bad, I mean for me and my coffee addiction that is quite low. Of all the landmarks in Whitehall, along the route of Parliament Square to Trafalgar Square, noticing only the lack of coffee is surely sinking to rock bottom. In fact the lack of coffee turned out to be pretty detrimental to the tipping point I felt with all the damn tourists in my way.
Standing in front of the Horse Guards I couldn’t help feel guilty for worrying about coffee. Those poor soldiers have to stand there for six hours whilst the tourists act like baboons, laughing at their hats and trying to make them break and smile. As I stood there watching a particularly imp-faced little terror, I was almost entirely sure that one of the soldiers was a second away from going berserk and feeding the brat to his horse. Of course that didn’t happen and I wandered off in search of the Ministry of Defence.
What an appropriate place to follow in Daddy’s footsteps and start my journey, being that Whitehall is in the very heart of London. The main artery running north from Parliament Square towards the southern end of Trafalgar Square and marked by the statue of Charles I, often regarded as the heart of London.
My Daddy holds my heart, I decided to give it to him to look after for the entirety of my journey. So it’s only fitting that whilst standing there staring at the Ministry of Defence building, my chest felt completely empty and my mouth dry. The imposing grey neoclassical facade loomed over me like a crushing weight, it was hard to imagine the people inside not being as grey as the edifice. The thought of Daddy being around this place turned my stomach. I pictured the steps he would have taken, and the Earth and Water, Gurkha Monument and nearby memorials to the Fleet Air Arm and RAF put a lump in my throat that I couldn’t shake. I wandered blindly through the road paved with HM government departments/ ministries, defending our nation- without a second glance. I ended up with the fallen, my eyes tearing at the vision of the WWI Cenotaph… I thanked them for my life.

The Beaten Track

Ever loved someone you couldn’t have and your whole world feels like it burned to cinders? Ever feel like the ashes of your existence are being stamped out by tiny demons?
Ever screamed and pounded your fists to soften the blow? Whilst every part of your being is viciously torn apart, ripped from flesh and, sinew and bone until all that’s left is a empty shell.
Clinging desperately to the remnants of that person in a pitiful attempt to hold onto their shadow as they leave.
Some small part of them that reminds you of their unique beauty and wonderful mind. Of the powerful arms that once held you tight.
Something, anything to make you hold part of them in the wasteland you’ve become. So that the memory of the impact of them hurtling through your life helps you to sleep at night, wraps you in a blanket of warmth from the bitter cold.
From the ashes a small sparkle of hope lies buried in the wreckage of your
soul, a little piece of the life they lived the journey they took the road they walked, the battle weary soldier they became.
What made them the person you fell ever so hard for but ultimately lost. The quest you undertake to find them. To travel the road they walked, like a faithful little kitten. To fight whatever demons of their past that stole their mind. So you have some small outlet for the pain you hold inside. The hurt of never having the only one you wanted.

Kitten Tails- His Pleasure is my Pleasure

He’s been drinking, slumbering in the sun, eyes half closed and face turned up toward the heat of the day. His legs are stretched out before him on a blanket. And there’s a trickle of sweat gathering in the dip of his neck. I drag my tongue over my upper lip as I picture licking it from him, tasting the sweet delicious taste of him mixed with alcohol.
He lazily moves a bottle of amber liquid to his mouth then reclines back to his elbows. His sculptured lips are full and I watch them as they part on a tiny exhale, his body relaxing into a floating buzz.
There’s a tension in his body and worn lines on his face have been earned in the tempering heat of work, battling hard everyday with the spirit of a warlord. It’s something that’s left in him, that the day and the alcohol’s heady mix can’t subside from his shoulders. But something my warm sensuous touch, the touch of his kitten, can ease away into distant lands.
Taking his face in my hands I gently begin circling his closed eyes and smooth out the lines at the edges. I trail a map across his face until I reach his brow, tilting back his head slightly so I might smooth out the tension there with my working fingers. He exhales, relaxing into an uncoiling breath, his divine lips stay parting on the inhale.
His mouth arrests me, I can think of nothing more than the need to touch it. With a nod of his head I begin to rain little kisses over his lips, his taste makes me hungry for more. Softly, I run my teeth over his bottom lip and then nibble the top one. The little groan that escapes him thrills me and has me devouring his mouth with pleasured moans.
I climb into his lap and from my entrusted vantage seated on his reclining body I can see every inch of his beautiful face and upper torso, his features for now soft but with an undercurrent of dormant power running through him that could easily erupt at any moment. I get to work on disentangling the bunched muscles in his traps, rubbing out the tiny knots that had formed there and for the moment tranquilizing the beast.
He opens one sly eye to let me know the sleeping tiger is still there, but for now I curl into his side where I’m wrapped in a protective arm and lulled to sleep.