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This is a Blog about This and That.

The Fixer
Posted:Aug 24, 2019 3:37 am
Last Updated:Aug 24, 2019 10:58 am
When he puts his thumb against my lips like that…

I remember the first time.

I remember how he said he thought I’d like it. How he put his thumb against my lips like that and said: “Suck, baby.” So I did.

How he made me get it all wet and sloppy and then pushed it against my backside. I opened up slow, and he pushed in slower.

Fuck, it hurt.

Fuck, it felt good.

My first hit of pain and pleasure was a slow drag of his thumb inside my ass.

I knew it would hurt, but I didn’t know how much I’d like it.

My first fix.

I didn’t know how good it would feel when I clenched around him.

I didn’t know I would keep clenching, neurotransmitters surging, dopamine overflowing.

Orgasmic Euphoria, Reinforcement, Gone Girl.

When he puts his thumb on my lips like that…

I remember the second time… and the third time. When I felt dirty, and ashamed, and couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“You know…”

“No, I don’t. Will, I what?”

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”


I couldn’t say it… but he knew I needed it. He wanted me to have it. So he gave it to me, anyway.

His thumb. Then his finger, then two.

Orgasmic Euphoria. Reinforcement. Gone Girl.

When he puts his thumb against my lips like that…

I remember every time, every promise.

He promised me that it would hurt, that the slide of his cock inside of my unused hole would make me feel every delicious drag against my insides.

He promised me that it would feel good for him, slowly taking it from me, then faster, rougher, dirtier, making me feel just how much every hole, every moan, every part of me, was his.

He promised me that I would beg for it as he pushed me down against the kitchen floor, ripped into me and fucked my ass as hard as he could

He promised me that I was his little anal slut, his fucktoy, his plaything to do with as he pleased.

He promised me that it pleased him to hear my moans, my groans, my words, my screams. That he loved how much I was his dirty little , pleading him to fuck my ass, begging him to do all manner of depraved and degrading things to me.

He promised me that I would love it so much that I would ask for it, again and again. Plead for it, again and again. Be his needy little anal , again and again.

He promised me that I would feel full in a way I’d never felt before, that I would like it enough to want him to fill my other hole at the same time.

He promised me… and he delivered. I liked it enough.

Orgasmic Euphoria. Tears. Release. Relief. Reinforcement. Fucking LOST girl.

When he puts his thumb against my lips like that…

I remember who I am. His beautiful, disgusting, depraved little love junkie.

He was my Daddy before I knew what that was, and he always knew what was best.

Posted:Aug 22, 2019 9:58 pm
Last Updated:Aug 23, 2019 8:50 am
There is a time after the cuffs are fastened, the blindfold in place, the last knot tied, when we must practice a discipline that neither of us is particularly good at. A time when our anticipation and excitement are at their zenith when all we want to do is devour and be devoured. This is the hardest part of all.

For it is not the things that come next that are the real challenge for us, you and I. We know what we like and what we want, the pleasures and pains, the murmurs and cries. These are the reason we are here. We do not cringe at the spankings and floggings, the pinch of the pegs, the pleasing and denial. We do not shrink from fears of the unknown or concerns over harming or being harmed. No, in those places we are at our most comfortable, for we have absolute knowledge, faith, and trust in each other.

The part that challenges us most, the thing we have to work the hardest at to succeed is the waiting. Calming the breath. Slowing the pulse. Giving time, time. This is hard stuff. Being in the moment. Not anticipating. Not needing. Not preordaining. Just the two of us, separate in body and space, merged in thought and intent.

We know where we are going. We know what we want. Now is the time to savor exactly where we are. Here. Now. Us.


Caption © For The Love of a Submissive, 2019
Losing Someone
Posted:Aug 22, 2019 4:28 am
Last Updated:Aug 24, 2019 3:45 am
Grief can destroy you --or focus you. You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had end in death, and you alone. OR you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together, not just watching sunsets together, not just scrubbing a floor or washing dishes together or worrying over a electric bill. It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it. The answer the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you the deeper beauty of it, the sanctity of it, you can't get off your knees for a long time, you're driven your knees not by the weight of the loss but by gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there, but day not the emptiness, because nurture the emptiness, take solace in it, is disrespect the gift of life

Dean Koontz, Odd Hours
His Voice...
Posted:Aug 21, 2019 10:56 am
Last Updated:Aug 22, 2019 3:38 am
They can talk for hours. About everything and nothing. She loves his voice. The deep timbre that she can feel in her bones. When he is animated, talking fast and telling jokes, she enjoys his energy. His early morning, “hello beautiful” rumble wakes her with a smile. But when their talk turns intimate, when he’s telling her in detail what he’s going to to do her; the dirty, delicious things he has planned, then his voice does something else.

She’s not even sure how to describe it. It goes lower, and the tiniest bit hoarse. Like coarse velvet. It does things to her, that voice. Abrades her nerves, sensitizes her skin. The low, calm tone heightens her desire for him, leaving her wet and aching with want for his possession.

She’s powerless to resist it. So when he says “beg me” she begs, sweetly and then with increasing desperation. When he says “kneel” she drops like a stone. And when he says “good girl” she melts, every single part of her becoming soft and pliable, bent to his will.

She doesn’t know if he does it on purpose, or if, like his dominance, it is such an intrinsic part of him that he wields it effortlessly. But when he uses it, it’s a key in the lock of her submission. A rough but tender embrace she could stay in forever.

Posted:Aug 19, 2019 5:32 am
Last Updated:Aug 21, 2019 5:42 am
~Just Sayin.....

Posted:Aug 19, 2019 3:19 am
Last Updated:Aug 22, 2019 4:54 am
~Each day is born with a sunrise
and ends in a sunset, the same way we
open our eyes to see the light,
and close them to hear the dark.
You have no control over
how your story begins or ends.
But by now, you should know that
all things have an ending.
Every spark returns to darkness.
Every sound returns to silence.
And every flower returns to sleep
with the earth.
The journey of the sun
and the moon is predictable.
But yours
is your ultimate

― Suzy Kassem
Some kind of Love...
Posted:Aug 18, 2019 2:12 am
Last Updated:Aug 20, 2019 3:32 am

Posted:Aug 17, 2019 4:11 am
Last Updated:Aug 18, 2019 2:31 pm

This Is Not Goodbye...
Posted:Aug 16, 2019 5:00 am
Last Updated:Aug 19, 2019 7:38 am
This is not goodbye, my darling, this is a thank you. Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy, thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever. But most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go.

— Nicholas Sparks; Message in a Bottle
What Are You Reading? (Summer Reads)
Posted:Aug 15, 2019 10:48 am
Last Updated:Aug 24, 2019 7:26 am
~I just started Lust & Wonder: A Memoir by Augusten Burroughs. It's pretty good so far. I think he's a great author. I've read a few of his other books, "Running With Scissors" "This Is How: Surviving What You Think You Can't" and "Dry"
As always, do you enjoy holding an actual book in your hand or are you a tablet person? (just curious).

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