Let’s be perfectly clear


After play I clean our toys. This is one of our favorites for many reasons. It’s long in length and wide in diameter. It stays in place. It’s easily cleaned. The Dominator enjoys it because it keeps me in my place, gives Him a lovely feeling of control while inserting it, and makes me very happy! He really enjoys the tight feeling of fucking with this inside me.  I tend to have quite a few impressive orgasms with this. Clearly, it’s perfect.

Sinful Sunday

Are you in?


I might try to do this and I hope my followers will too! Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year! My mind is already off in a hundred different directions, but I think I know what I want to write (prose) about… Get going, writers!



I’m kinky, true. Submissive, true. I’m also modest about my body. Right now I’m heavier than I like. Even when not overweight I’m always unhappy with my large saggy breasts and belly with the flap from my c-section. I don’t like to show my body in public or to strangers. I wish I felt differently! So, here is a reflection of me in the clear glass door of our shower. What do you see? Can you even see anything?

Sinful Sunday



Yesterday and last night I was feeling very low. I’ve been so frustrated with our daughter I’m literally beside myself. Even mentioning her in passing, to a stranger, as I did this morning, is apt to bring tears to my eyes. She is perhaps the real rebellious angel, not me. Although Master and I have given, offered, and done all we could for her, she is no more than a spoiled brat unwilling to accept any responsibility for her life and move forward with school, work,  or education. We’ve had to give her an ultimatum to find a job by a given date or we will take her car and she must move out of our house. This is tearing me up inside. I don’t recognize the smart beautiful loving and giving girl I raised. And she is so brilliant.

I know we have her best interests in our hearts. But I feel like a failure as a parent. I want to scream at her and rattle her brain and tell her to wake up, in fact, have done some yelling – but it has not affected her. On top of this is the stress of my own inadequacy as Master’s good submissive. One blogging friend had the best advice: stay strong, forget the past and move forward. Although sometimes I want to be Sir’s good little girl, I am in fact a grown woman, just as I want our girl to grow up and be a strong powerful woman. It’s time for me to pull up my pants and realize I can be whoever and whatever I want. My past does not define me – I make my own future. And if I want a lifetime of happiness with my beloved, I need to stop pouting, be loving, and in turn I will be loved. That was part of St. Francis of Assisi and then the blessed Saint Mother Teresa’s message:


While I am unconcerned with eternal life, and am not even Catholic (or even Christian) I have always loved the simple truth conveyed in this beautiful heartfelt prayer. Somewhere I have it on a card I found in a book (hoping it’s in my bedside table drawer) and I am going to say this prayer morning and night. I DO believe these words. And in the wise words of a friendly bunny!

Thorns and Roses, part 2

This is another poem I wrote back in my university days at UCLA when I was studying poetry with various published poets. Looking back now, it is easy to see I was of the D/s mindset even though I had not yet even heard of the lifestyle!

Plastic Roses

What can this feeling be but love?                                                                                                           So perfect and original a sin,                                                                                                                  how can anyone mistake it for pain?                                                                                                  They are as closely related as roses and thorns.                                                                             Only in its one monumental moment of full-blown perfection                                                      is the flower cut, whose thorns slice the invader.                                                                              The raider, so intent on risking his blood for beauty,                                                                       finds it duplicated in form so degrading,                                                                                              the original sin was far sweeter simply a memory.

The photos are from my garden today. It was a day of mixed sun and clouds with a few scattered raindrops (not enough to count.)  You can see the thorns on my roses. I have always, always considered myself a thorny person! My daughter says I can be a downright bitch and I suppose I must acknowledge it is true, as much as those words pain me. Again, I think upon much recent self-reflection, the way I am and always have been, stems from watching my father abuse my oldest brother. Not a pleasant thing for a wee girl of 5 and up to process and handle. Back then we just went on as a military family, and didn’t speak of it. It was swept under the carpet. My Master has always wondered whether my dad did anything to me, but I know he did not. But growing up in that atmosphere made me leery of warmth and comfort except from my mother, brothers  and grandparents. I was shy and didn’t like people (still don’t.) I never even liked watching kissing or sex scenes at the movies; it made me extremely uncomfortable. With Master’s patience and love, I have grown to enjoy the sexual part of our life – perhaps more than anything else! But as I’ve said before, old habits are so hard to break. I am comfortable by myself and when Master approaches me for cuddle time I tense up. It is automatic. He thinks of me as a beautiful rose; whereas I see myself a mass of thorns.


Thorns and Roses, part 1

Lately I’ve been having trouble acting in my old, not nice ways toward Master. Last week I had bad migraine headaches for several days even taking my extra abortive meds, and then out of the blue developed a UTI. All this put me in a very bad frame of mind, and Master and I have ongoing issues with our daughter which has been on my mind as well. Logically, I know and understand I should be good and sweet to and with Him. I know I belong to Him and I am His to do with as He pleases…. Still, when I’m over-tired from lack of sleep, and ill on top of that, and he desires me to do this or that… I can’t seem to handle it. I want to curl up somewhere by myself with no intrusions of any sort. I want to be in a quiet place to rest. I’ve always been independent and self-sufficient in this way, and not been a cuddler or even desired it. This is one thing Master would like to change, but how to change someone’s innate personality? It got me thinking this week to way back in the day when I fancied myself a poet and I remembered a poem or two I had written on this very subject when I was no more than 18 or 19 years old! I actually found the poems and here is the first. I apologize I don’t know how to use HTML so the poetry does not look the way it should with proper line spacing.


I can’t bear your touch now,

As long as we’re together,

Part of me is prickly and thorny,

And will not hold you close,

Bothered by your cupid’s touch.

When we are content to be easy,

As if love is too comfortable an emotion,

My budding ego is drowned

In the warmth of your care.

In greenhouses, some orchids die,

Killed by the kindness

Of life in a carefully controlled paradise.

So this season,

During a harvest yielding maturity,

Perhaps even blossoms,

I’m alone.



Bound, below


For Sinful Sunday

A view of Master with me bound by the spreader bar and cuffs, below. All you can see of me are my hands and fingertips really… which is perhaps my comfort level for my first Sinful Sunday post!

Sinful Sunday