A submissive musing…

I love the scope of bdsm territory, it’s so intense, playful and deep.  I am a very decisive person particularly sexually but have found it is true that a good Domme at some point needs to hand over her power to someone trusted if only to get inside the mind of a submissive and explore it with mastery.

Have i ever handed over control to someone else – yes only once and it was scary, exhilerating and unravelling all at once.  To be at the whim at your lover’s touch and trust that he (or she) will tease and torment you, spank you hard and please you to within an inch of your pulsating body can handle is just hotness.  Plus, there’s a certain joy in switching roles and allowing someone normally self conscious the ability to command and ply you in whatever position they damn well want.

Ahem…. so the following is a story kinda based on my own experiences, and how the inner voice works during such times, which really is the most intimate place you can share with another person.

It was an uneventful day in Gigi’s life – the usual meanderings and the musing over  how to spend her day, after luxuriating in bed all morning she got up and did the mundane and boring.  She showered and admired her ass in the plethora of mirrors in her room and eventually went on webcam – she did such things in private as was her fetish, to be unnoticed outside by prying eyes and to be adored and lusted in the confines of her abode.
Glimpses of succulent breasts here and there, the taut calf muscles, the camera loves her pale skin and the tangled ‘just been fucked’ tangled mess of her hair.  Some men privately think she looks like she has just been fucked and is basking in the afterglow, others imagine her sensuous lips wrapped around their cocks, plump lips sucking on their length over and over whilst seeing her lush, full breasts heaving in time to being worshipped. 
She exalts  in being noticed, in that shy way women who have blossomed do, the last little vestiges of self consciousness apparent to those who look for it.  The coy smiles and the blushing at compliments are endearing and a juxtaposition to the confidence and ability to make a man’s dick hard.  Then you came in the chat room… quirky, sexy and beckoning to her with words and wit and the air of a man that doesn’t need to show his hand but quietly waits to be noticed.  And notice Gigi does.
You talk about common loves, of culture and art and food and travel the mutual love of books and wanting to be vibrant instead of innately hesitant.  You connect quickly, the mental foreplay evident with quick exchanges of words and erotic pictures of shared desires.  Torment her with pictures of mouth worshipping cock, skin bound with rope and sensual, black and white pictures of fucking in the rain.

There is a glint in her eyes and the look of a woman that wants to be stripped to your liking and pleasured without thought, all desires explored and softly opened up.  

 In her mind is the fantasy of hearing a stranger’s voice and being compelled to obey, to hand over the reigns of lust and see where it goes.  No questions, no rules- just freedom and a guiding hand to help.  Even before the first word you utter she is wet.
‘Will you make me cum?’ hesistance in her confident voice, it’s a new position to be in – this vulnerability and openness.  To acquiese, to mould and be His toy. 
the pause almost kills her…. she’s glad you agree.
The sensuality in your voice is her undoing, it’s the softness that belies the true pwer and without consciously knowing she longs to hear it tell her orders, undress her, strip her – open her legs – fuck her mind and fuck her body.  The ultimate mind fuck starts to unravel beautifully
She strips for you on cam, heart pounding, mental images in her head of being blindfolded and denied vision of you – conflicting desires of wanting to be on her knees and forced onto your cock enter her mind – she knows you want to be sucked by those lips, to be engulfed and pleasured and to make you gasp.   You didn’t know she kept thinking if she made you hard, dripping with precum for her. 
When she lays down and spreads her legs at your command it is hesitantly – the cheeks on her face are red and a blush creeps over her skin.  Skin is on fire, arching her back to ensure the best view for you, she loves how you watch her sensually.
‘yes Sir’ dutifully she whispers, mentally begging you for release.  deep down she wants to cum, to break down the chains of control , to let someone close enough in.
The lewdness of spreading her creamy white thighs for a complete stranger turns her on more, the liquid seeps from her cunt down her lips and onto her sheets and thighs – it’s clammy, it’s sweet and its just there to be licked up by this man at  his bidding.  Its the voice fucking her onwards, making her spread her legs, knees apart further -arching her back higher.  Fingers pulling labia apart – glistening for you Sir, only for you.  Hoping always that his cock is happy, that the smile on his face is there, voice steady and controlled in fucking her.
and you fuck her well – if ur voice was a cock it would be long and hard, unrelentless – smooth in one stroke then punishing the next – but always with passion and care.  It’s a voice that doesn’t need to use force, the maleness commanding enough to strip every last shred of dignity and force compliance.  You appeal to her softer side, you coo that she is making your cock happy, making you hard, pleasing you
pleasing you
pleasing you
its a new mantra for her and she can’t stifle the moans in being taken on this ride.  Her legs are apart, she’s writhing and moaning, willing to beg to cum, willing to beg to be fucked, licked, bound and used for your pleasure just so that voice can tell her she’s a good girl.  Wants to be good for you, wants to earn the right to suck on that cock before it enters her cunt hard and pounded.  It may be the toy on her clit but it’s the voice talking to her that makes her juices flow, makes her scream and shake.  Random thoughts enter her mind that he’s watching her, that he’s using her and telling her what to do and making her cum, he’s making her cum over and over.  She yells it in her head and the knowledge stroke after stroke on her pussy that it’s him makes her body jolt.  Usually she has trouble climaxing in front of others, let alone on cam yet she is in a safe place and cocooned by him…. he’s kneeling next to her and whispering in her ear, lips against her in time with her clit ryhthm
He’s watching
When she finally cums, he tells her to keep going – not allowed to stop, pussy has to keep going, she keeps cumming, it’s electric running through her – and she’s stifling her screams.  On and on he pushes her – till she is wrecked to the core…shaking and juices running from her sensually.  despite it all she wants more, to be taken further and to obey without question just to hand over the desire to someone else.

Little does he know she’s already tied up, no ropes bind her, just the lull of his soft voice and promise of sweet debauchery that will linger, long after the marks have gone.

A natural woman and the facade…

Ok – short and sweet as it is laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttte.  No not a latte, late in the evening for those that can’t decipher my linguistics.

I’m an unabashed natural gal, but what dear men does this mean to you?  Let moi enlighten thee…

It means i don’t slather on dorito coloured make up, nor look as pale as the grecian status that inhabit the local art gallery.  Nor do i try to pass muster as a beautiful tanned golden girl that lays around the beach or hiking outside.  Nay, i feign the lustre of a twilight fan without even trying it’s a skill i know.  It also means i’m not going to wear five inch heels to appear taller or make my calves look thinner for your benefit.  I’ll probably expect that you like me in a cotton Yoda t-shirt and plain white panties as much as me in boots and leather as it’s much easier to not put in that level of effort when you don’t have your own stylist or make up artist. 

Plus – nothing sexier than an unmade woman, hair messed up  from the night before and a smile which melts you… knowing that you put the smile on her face to begin with.

Hmm – whilst i’m being  upfront i won’t freaking wax my vajayjay either.  Lord knows the tears and the sheer fact i have to lay on a table with my legs spread open is just not worth it.  Bah humbug to hair removal.  You want natural, you got it baby.  It’s old forestation down there, lush and verdant and fuck me if guys don’t like it.  Besides – it’s all a ruse by the beauty industry and porn to make you all think that the more hairless the puss the better the sex.  It’s now sheer irony that i’m unusual for not being hairless.  Plus, i always thought men were just in unadulterated bliss to be able to sleep with you not getting so fussy about the hirsute stylings of pussy.

More than anything though, being a natural woman is about embracing the fact you are real, curvaceous and sassy.  It’s an attitude which says ‘this is me… love it or leave’ and that you value your relationships, your time and the love in your life more than the latest Prada bag or facebook status.  It’s about loving the differences between the feminine and masculine and embracing what being a woman is all about.

Sexually… mmmm always back to the sex isn’t it?  I’d say being natural is about not being fake, not feeling like you have to perform bukkake, gangbangs and squirting on demand to be good at it.  It’s about treating others and yourself with respect and loving the fact that sex is well ‘natural’ and that it’s best when safe, spontaneous and passionate and does not resemble porn nor Mills and Boon romances.  As a woman it’s about not faking orgasms, not hiding your lady lumps and sex with your eyes open and the lights on.  Lets face it – if you can’t handle the thought of seeing yourself naked, natural and sexy why are  you making love??



 Its Autumn he…


Its Autumn here in Australia, which means the vibrant colours and the beckoning of darker nights, and for some like me the wistfulness of thinking of bed and breakfasts, log fires and good company.  Its still warm enough to feel the sun against your skin and enjoy laying on the grass outside sensually. 

Maybe i was channelling some fond memories but i wrote this today pondering about the nights where your partner warms you up instead of the fire.  That’s the great thing about winter, you have a legitimate excuse to stay inside and  keep each other warm in the most inventive of ways.

What season do you like most and why??  Does summer appeal because of the desire to travel in the sun, or the rush of feeling the cold ocean on your skin.  Maybe spring beckons with images of picnics, flowers and mild days.  My favourite part of Summer is watching Rage countdown replays longing for the revisit of 1980’s music and dancing all night long – share some of your seasonal longings or stories with me and hopefully enjoy the new poem.


We burn the night
We burn slowly
instead of flames catapulting
                like embers
each word is fire on kindling
our verbal foreplay akin to soft candlelight
the type that mesmerises
not with rage
not with a burn that destroys
        ravenous we burn the night my love
        sordid respite against the cold