On another note….



This has nothing really to do with Dominance and submission…

And yet it may.

I feel soft again.

There was a part of me that had felt….hard?  Maybe even slightly cynical?  Maybe mulling over an imaginary hurt or two…

But the edges are smooth again.

And I feel warm, open,


Ad I like it very much.


Mindful reflection



she waits. she reflects. her fingertips tremble with excitement. her breasts grow before her eyes. her legs wide. she will be easily accessed. a steady trickle of desire and lust distracts her. her heels spread her ass just enough. Physically she is a statue. Inside she is a burning fire. Heat lands deep within her stomach,radiates to her limbs, creates a soothing warmth between her thighs. Inside she is consumed with an aching need to please Him. A slight wave of fear washes over her..she reflects.

                                                     ~ will she please Him and make Him proud~

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The meaning of His



Being His means many things

To the blessed submissive

Of a worthy Dominant…

It means His treasure,

His delight,

His servant,

His girl,

His responsibility,

His care,

His love.

But she must be careful,

For a man who sees her

Only in light of how

She can satisfy

His desire

His wanderings

His loneliness

His incompleteness

His boredom

His need

Is not a Dominant

But a cad

A player

A figure of a man

I am a submissive

I am submissive

But I am worthy of the former

And the latter

Is not worthy of


I would travel many miles

For the Dominant.

I would not walk

Across a room

For the cad.


The paper dominant


He is gifted with words –



The ones he uses,



The  ones he does not use.



He is sensual,



Seemingly Omniscient,



With a well-crafted presence.



His voice is deeply scuplted,



His looks heat-inducing,



His touch at once soothing and scorching.



He is a master at both creating and satisfying






He is skilled,



He is flattering,



He is just out of reach.



And he never pursues –



He waits.



He is delicious



And mysterious



And fascinating;



And he is his own first priority.


Beware the paper dominant.





She examines each fold in the glass

Each hue, each blush, each strand of sleek hair

The curves that have tightened

The lines that have become leaner

The breasts that lift slightly higher

And she smiles

Breathing in the faint hint of feminine scent

Sliding each small foot into the shoes that scream sensuality

And whisper sex.

And she takes her small handbag on the way out the door

Knowing where she will arrive.

In minutes she is seated exactly where the light

Has the most subtle cast

A glass of white wine ordered

Ankles crossed and swept to the side

The demure, serene expression.

And just as she had planned

He is there.

She doesn’t have to turn her head

Or make a sound

Or call attention

Her body will do that

The understated sensuality

The illusion of nubility

He will turn his head

And he will notice

And he will stand.

She circles a small finger around the edge of the wine glass absently

And stifles the smallest of smiles

As she observes the tops of his shoes

Beside her table.

He offers his hand

And raises an eyebrow in question

And for just a moment

She forgets the unexplainable niggling of pain

And his reaction to her

Before the change in her reflection.

And despite his energy,

She sticks to the plan,


Sips the wine,

And softly says,

“No thank you, Sir.”

And then she walks away.

Held tight



Life has been a whitewater ride of transitions and decisions.

He has been still water

My mind has been a hit and miss

Of order and scattered pieces

He has been a voice of reason

My heart has been a waterfall of strength and fragility

He has held every drop in His hands

My consistency has been exasperatingly….inconsistent

He has been both patient and challenging

My fears have sometimes grabbed me from behind

He reminded me to be unafraid

My tears have fallen at times I did not expect them

He was quiet and present while I cried

My control of the details of my life has not always been in my grasp

He has taken it and crafted calmness from the chaos

Sometimes it has seemed so quiet

His voice excites me

Sometimes there is so much noise….too much noise

His same voice quiets my soul

I am overwhelmed with love

He deserves it


“Stop covering that cute belly….that belly’s mine too.”



Those were Sir’s words to me after I sent him a photograph of a new set of bra and panties I had been bragging about.

The above photo is a pretty fair representation of the belly that belongs to Him, though it is not a picture of me.  It isn’t perfect; it could use some ab exercises and bears the marks of having given birth more than once.  But I still remember the first time I met Him, and we lounged in a jacuzzi sans clothing.  He pulled me toward Him, then laid His hand on my belly and said “this belly is sexy.”

He probably had no idea how that felt to a woman without a six pack airbrushed torso.

My Sir sees beauty in all of me….because He sees ME.

Absolutely Feminine

Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful.


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