I write. That is a part of me just as the color of my eyes. In the last few days, I've dropped the veil to reveal more than my sexual dark fantasies and thoughts. I've shed light on my life and my pain. I've uncovered pieces of myself few have ever seen. Tonight, I've chosen to continue this path. After all, what does it really matter. 99.9% of you will never see, hear, smell, taste or touch me. I am simply whatever woman on the other side of the screen you imagine me to be. ~shrug~ I can no longer find it in me to care what you may or may not see in me. That is truly reserved for the ones closest and dearest to me.
As anyone does when getting to know someone, they share pieces of themselves. I'm beginning to wonder why I even try. Too often, my words go unheard, unbelieved, or carelessly shrugged off in indifference. Then when that person sees whatever it is that I previously described, they act shocked, amazed, or confused. My response is just about always the same, "Ummmm...I told you."
Recently, semi-publicly (Fet/blog) I went cold. Cold is the only term I've ever come up with to describe that emotional and mental state. No, I'm not - nor have I ever claimed to be - the coldest bitch in the world. However, people that know my heat and passion struggle to imagine me like this when I've tried to explain the potential. But it is there.
The ability to go cold did not always exist in me. No. Not at all. However, my ex-husband trained me extraordinarily well. Ten years of routine emotional abuse and a couple instances of physical abuse trained me proficiently on how to go cold. To shut down and no longer receive or absorb the emotional onslaught of pain coming toward me. However, in the time since my flight from hell, I have (on my own and with several skilled and patient teachers) managed to make some technical adjustments to my training.
The difference between then and now is that I will never again be on my knees mentally and emotionally out of fear and the belief that I am nothing. In my marriage following whatever transgression I had made, he would spend approximately an average of four hours berating me for every possible worthless behavior or failure as a wife, mother, and human being he could image. He tore me down in any and all ways he could. It was during these session I mastered my ability to go cold. To feel absolutely nothing. To protect myself as best I could from the excruciating pain and heartache. I would sit for hours unmoving, my eyes unfocused, losing myself in nothingness. I would push the pieces of myself further and further away and apart from one another. Each would get smaller and smaller until they quite simply ceased to exist in that moment.
I was nothing.
Everything inside me was simply gone. Dead. I was nothing but a plain, twenty-something year old female shell sitting quietly with tears streaming down her freckled cheeks as her husband screamed and yelled to the point where spittle would land on her cheek. (You could say this fucked me up for a good, long time. But that tangent isn't something I'm covering in this post.)
One of the side effects of this tactic that I was unaware of at the time was that some of those pieces I pushed far, far away to protect would get lost somewhere. Slowly but surely over those 10 years, I lost more and more and more of myself. So many pieces were lost, and some of them I still haven't to this day found. Though I have managed to get a majority of them back in some way, shape, or form. But all that took a long fucking time.
Jump ahead to present day.
First I should say that I make every effort I possibly can to avoid this state, especially with those I care about. I'll back up. I'll try to walk away. I'll give more than one chance. The normal, everyday woman that I am doesn't want to go cold and exist in that numb hazy. I hate emotional pain. I've had my share, and I really do want to avoid any additional gargantuan lumps of it. I realize pain is a part of living, but the big, ugly drama-like chaos...I try not to let that nasty shit get too close to me. I also try so hard to avoid it because I have an inkling as to what I'm capable of, how cold I could get, and how that really would be a very fucked up place for me to get stuck in. No...I don't want to go there. I don't like it there. But I will if forced to.
When I'm emotionally pushed and pushed to my breaking point and when whatever it is in me that finally snaps, I don't shove the pieces of me away like I did in my marriage. Instead I bare down. Hard. Fast. In a split second, I lock up all of the pieces that begin to tremble and threaten to explode into oblivion behind cold, seamless steel - protected and sheltered until I'm safe and can let myself begin to tear down my guards again. My emotions are trapped inside that safe, secure place for another time and another place. When the pain gets too much, I lock it away so that I no longer hurt and no longer feel it's blinding bite.
And when necessary I fucking fight back. I will never again sit and take, take, take. I will not be silent out of fear and weakness. I will not simply be a victim to another's assault of emotional blows. I will stand up for myself. I will protect myself. And I will strike back harder than I've been hit. Because the one thing I've learned over and over again in life is that if there's no consequences, people just seem to do it all over again. No...it's not pretty at all. But I don't start shit. I don't. And when politeness and patience gets run over and taken advantage of too many damn times, then I can't find it in me to care very much about anyone else's state. ~sigh~ I'm not looking to destroy anyone. I'm not. I just don't want to hurt again.
Maybe I should feel bad that I'm like this, but I don't. Because I know there is balance. The loyalty and love I am capable of sharing, giving, and offering is beautiful and true. If you can honor our friendship/relationship with honesty, compassion, and love, I promise you...I will return it all exponentially. Now...if who I am and how I am capable of being when I'm backed into a corner is not something you can cope with, then I completely understand if you would prefer we go our separate ways. I know there are difficult pieces of me that can be too much for some to handle. I get that. I guess that's why I try to warn people ahead of time. So please, just be a little bit careful with me. Just a little?
~A Lioness Guarding Her Soul
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Fighting Through
Under the blanket, a warm, strong hand followed the line of my thigh to grasp my hip. A flicker of heat after a long, cold, exhausting day. An ache bone deep had consumed my soul. My heart and mind numb. Yet my body betrayed my sense and craved that heat. My breath froze in my lungs waiting.
His hand tightened its hold. His fingers bruising. Sharply, I pulled my hip forward away from the heat mere inches from my back. I couldn't help my rebellion - my angry spark of resistance. His hand snaked out to take hold of my thigh and tug. I resisted again. His weigh shifted immediately closer. I pushed. A tangle of limbs wrestled for dominance. A grasp. A push. A tug. Futile. I knew who would win. I struggled anyway. I couldn't make this easy. I refused to obey.
Until suddenly it was over. His weight on top of me. My wrists held firm in one fist. My hair gripped in the other. His hard, thick dick pressed against my abdomen as his legs trailed between my spread thighs. He leaned down to my ear. "Did you think I would let you go?" A light kiss on my cheek. A nip at my ear. The stroke of his tongue on the crease of my lips.
"Say you don't want it," he whispered. "Say you don't need it. Us."
My ragged breathing was his only reply.
"A safe word is your only out." He released my hair. I knew what was coming. I struggled to escape, yet in moments I was bound securely to the solid iron headboard. He pushed the last of the covers off of us as he slid down my body to rest between my thighs. When I realized his intent, my fear leaped. I whimpered and struggled to deny him his way. His arms wrapped under and around my thighs and held me to the bed and him. A kiss and lick to my hip. A bit to the inside of my thigh. "You're already wet. I can smell your desire." He spread my thighs further so that I was bare and exposed. He paused to blatantly explore me with his eyes. "Beautiful." Then he devoured me. His tongue dove between my folds. His lips sucked and teeth grazed my swollen clit. My tears finally broke with his assault. Every shred of pain unfrozen and melting beneath his touch and our passion. My hips bucked in fight against or toward the passion I couldn't explain. I didn't want to feel. I did. My internal struggle. Our emotional battle. The pain I hadn't let myself feel bled freely now. I mentally grasped to find my previous anger and frustration. His touch scattered them both.
His fingers pulled back my heavy, sensitive lips and his tongue fucked my cunt deep and long. Again and again. "Cum, baby. Cum. Let it go. Cum for me. Let me taste you. Let me drink you." My gasps. My groans. My face stained with tears. I couldn't find my way through any of it. My emotions poured through the broken wall of my soul he'd purposely uncovered. Suddenly three fingers filled me, and his tongue lashed my clit. My hips instinctually rose to meet him. He pushed inside me deep, hard, and demanding. Over and over. "Cum, baby." His touch finally ripped the orgasm from me. "Yes, baby. Cum for me." My harsh, endless cry accompanied the gushing wet strokes he refused to slow. He licked at my dripping pussy. His cheeks, chin, and lips covered in my sugar. "Again. I want more. Let it go. Let it all out." Within moments, the pounding of his fingers sent another helpless wave of pleasure rocketing through me. My orgasm soaking his chest, his arms.
My tears continued to fall. I could no longer think. I simply existed in the emotional and physical riot that was us. He rose up and kissed me deep and sure. I licked at his lips, sucked at his tongue, tasting myself. Losing myself further and further in us. "I'll fix it. I'll make it all go away," he whisper as he kissed and licked at my salty tears. "I won't let you hurt anymore." He slowly, so fucking slowly, fed his hard thick dick into me. "I'll make it better, baby." When he was embedded into me so deep I panted, he reach above us and unbound my wrists. His arms arms surrounded me. I clung to him. When he pulled slowly out, my nails dug into his skin in instinctual refusal. Poised with his head at my entrance, he whispered, "Say it. Say it, baby."
He waited. Straining. My body begged. I simply needed. And I finally let go.
With a broken, harsh cry, "Please..."
He instantly drove into my heat. His dick pumped me long and hard. "Please..." I whisper. "Yes..." I cried. My cunt was filled with his consuming strokes. Hard and harder. Faster. "You're mine. I won't let you fucking go." The walls of my pussy clenched his demanding shaft. My nails raked down his back. His hand held me so tightly, bruises bloomed. Our punishing strokes met violently. With a shout he drove into me one final time. We exploded. My cries echoed him. His hot thick nut spurted endlessly inside my pulsing flesh. My cum drenched his shaft and tight balls. His hold on me tightened. His embrace shattered the last wall I held in place. As, he leaned his forehead on mine and clenched me to him, through my tears and sobs I heard him whisper over and over again, "Your mine. Your mine, baby." He cooed to me, he kissed away my tears, and he gently stroked the shell of my ear. Until finally, I found peace. Peace in his arms. Peace in us.
~A Battle Weary Lioness
His hand tightened its hold. His fingers bruising. Sharply, I pulled my hip forward away from the heat mere inches from my back. I couldn't help my rebellion - my angry spark of resistance. His hand snaked out to take hold of my thigh and tug. I resisted again. His weigh shifted immediately closer. I pushed. A tangle of limbs wrestled for dominance. A grasp. A push. A tug. Futile. I knew who would win. I struggled anyway. I couldn't make this easy. I refused to obey.
Until suddenly it was over. His weight on top of me. My wrists held firm in one fist. My hair gripped in the other. His hard, thick dick pressed against my abdomen as his legs trailed between my spread thighs. He leaned down to my ear. "Did you think I would let you go?" A light kiss on my cheek. A nip at my ear. The stroke of his tongue on the crease of my lips.
"Say you don't want it," he whispered. "Say you don't need it. Us."
My ragged breathing was his only reply.
"A safe word is your only out." He released my hair. I knew what was coming. I struggled to escape, yet in moments I was bound securely to the solid iron headboard. He pushed the last of the covers off of us as he slid down my body to rest between my thighs. When I realized his intent, my fear leaped. I whimpered and struggled to deny him his way. His arms wrapped under and around my thighs and held me to the bed and him. A kiss and lick to my hip. A bit to the inside of my thigh. "You're already wet. I can smell your desire." He spread my thighs further so that I was bare and exposed. He paused to blatantly explore me with his eyes. "Beautiful." Then he devoured me. His tongue dove between my folds. His lips sucked and teeth grazed my swollen clit. My tears finally broke with his assault. Every shred of pain unfrozen and melting beneath his touch and our passion. My hips bucked in fight against or toward the passion I couldn't explain. I didn't want to feel. I did. My internal struggle. Our emotional battle. The pain I hadn't let myself feel bled freely now. I mentally grasped to find my previous anger and frustration. His touch scattered them both.
His fingers pulled back my heavy, sensitive lips and his tongue fucked my cunt deep and long. Again and again. "Cum, baby. Cum. Let it go. Cum for me. Let me taste you. Let me drink you." My gasps. My groans. My face stained with tears. I couldn't find my way through any of it. My emotions poured through the broken wall of my soul he'd purposely uncovered. Suddenly three fingers filled me, and his tongue lashed my clit. My hips instinctually rose to meet him. He pushed inside me deep, hard, and demanding. Over and over. "Cum, baby." His touch finally ripped the orgasm from me. "Yes, baby. Cum for me." My harsh, endless cry accompanied the gushing wet strokes he refused to slow. He licked at my dripping pussy. His cheeks, chin, and lips covered in my sugar. "Again. I want more. Let it go. Let it all out." Within moments, the pounding of his fingers sent another helpless wave of pleasure rocketing through me. My orgasm soaking his chest, his arms.
My tears continued to fall. I could no longer think. I simply existed in the emotional and physical riot that was us. He rose up and kissed me deep and sure. I licked at his lips, sucked at his tongue, tasting myself. Losing myself further and further in us. "I'll fix it. I'll make it all go away," he whisper as he kissed and licked at my salty tears. "I won't let you hurt anymore." He slowly, so fucking slowly, fed his hard thick dick into me. "I'll make it better, baby." When he was embedded into me so deep I panted, he reach above us and unbound my wrists. His arms arms surrounded me. I clung to him. When he pulled slowly out, my nails dug into his skin in instinctual refusal. Poised with his head at my entrance, he whispered, "Say it. Say it, baby."
He waited. Straining. My body begged. I simply needed. And I finally let go.
With a broken, harsh cry, "Please..."
He instantly drove into my heat. His dick pumped me long and hard. "Please..." I whisper. "Yes..." I cried. My cunt was filled with his consuming strokes. Hard and harder. Faster. "You're mine. I won't let you fucking go." The walls of my pussy clenched his demanding shaft. My nails raked down his back. His hand held me so tightly, bruises bloomed. Our punishing strokes met violently. With a shout he drove into me one final time. We exploded. My cries echoed him. His hot thick nut spurted endlessly inside my pulsing flesh. My cum drenched his shaft and tight balls. His hold on me tightened. His embrace shattered the last wall I held in place. As, he leaned his forehead on mine and clenched me to him, through my tears and sobs I heard him whisper over and over again, "Your mine. Your mine, baby." He cooed to me, he kissed away my tears, and he gently stroked the shell of my ear. Until finally, I found peace. Peace in his arms. Peace in us.
~A Battle Weary Lioness
**********
While this fantasy is about a determined lover fighting through me to get to my heart, it is also more than that. In nearly 40 years, I've a never had a man I called my own fight for me. Always, when I love a man, he has other obligations, duties, and ties. Inevitably, I am simply the casualty to those other demanding and needy priorities. I long for a lover who willingly stands beside me - to defend me, to protect me, to shield me as I would him. Funny how a strong woman is put to the test, and the weak, helpless one coddled and protected. Again, it seems my biggest asset is also my greatest weakness. I wish I could put down my shield and spear - in fact I've tried, but that only ever leaves me defenseless against the next assault. I don't know. I just don't know.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
A Reply - Drama Warning
I've tried to be respectful. I've tried to give room. I've tried to be reasonable. But it seems no one else wants to color within the lines or handle their business. Instead they wanna be ghetto. And well...I'm done being silent and polite.
So mija...don't you have something better to do than to poke at me? Like maybe take care of your kids or husband or coordinate that oh so lovely little fundraising benefit or hey go play with your girlfriend? The second you think my back is turned you toss in your little comments. Feel better? Doesn't keep your house from being full of drama. Doesn't make your life any better? Don't you have more fuckin important things to focus on? Just sayin...
How good your Daddy is? Well he ain't that good if you can't seem to be respectful of what he tells me that he describes to you as his "primary" relationship. All he's got is a spoiled brat causing him drama. What? Tired of standing in line behind his wife and me? "No one can replace your position in my life, Katherine. No one. No one even comes close. " So I wonder how far you're planning on carrying it? Will I be the only one? Or am I just the first in his set of dominos you want to fall down? What's your agenda? Looking for back up?
So let's just clear the air. He says he doesn't fuck your fat ass. Do I believe him? Considering I KNOW he's said the same thing about me to folks, well... lol Oh and "find that offensive to what we consider a good d/lg relationship"? Huh. Well his dick sure does get nice and fucking hard for me when I tease him with all that "offensive" shit. He tells me how much he wants his little girl to be a good lil nasty slut and suck Daddy's dick like a big juicy popsicle. But maybe you haven't been paying attention to my blog. What? Think I just make that all up outta thin air?
And Daddy, Papi, Sire...I'd apologize, but I wouldn't mean it at ALL. And considering you don't ever want to get pissed or defend and protect me, well...I thought it was time to take a swing of my own. I don't like drama. But I'll only stand in the corner for so long and watch the games and bullshit. I don't ask for much, but what I do ask for I fucking deserve without question.
With that, I'll leave you two to your hot fucking soap opera mess that I didn't sign up for.
Sincerely,
Katherine
Domina
Thais
Kitten
Baby
Daddy's Good Little Girl Being Very, Very Naughty
So mija...don't you have something better to do than to poke at me? Like maybe take care of your kids or husband or coordinate that oh so lovely little fundraising benefit or hey go play with your girlfriend? The second you think my back is turned you toss in your little comments. Feel better? Doesn't keep your house from being full of drama. Doesn't make your life any better? Don't you have more fuckin important things to focus on? Just sayin...
How good your Daddy is? Well he ain't that good if you can't seem to be respectful of what he tells me that he describes to you as his "primary" relationship. All he's got is a spoiled brat causing him drama. What? Tired of standing in line behind his wife and me? "No one can replace your position in my life, Katherine. No one. No one even comes close. " So I wonder how far you're planning on carrying it? Will I be the only one? Or am I just the first in his set of dominos you want to fall down? What's your agenda? Looking for back up?
So let's just clear the air. He says he doesn't fuck your fat ass. Do I believe him? Considering I KNOW he's said the same thing about me to folks, well... lol Oh and "find that offensive to what we consider a good d/lg relationship"? Huh. Well his dick sure does get nice and fucking hard for me when I tease him with all that "offensive" shit. He tells me how much he wants his little girl to be a good lil nasty slut and suck Daddy's dick like a big juicy popsicle. But maybe you haven't been paying attention to my blog. What? Think I just make that all up outta thin air?
And Daddy, Papi, Sire...I'd apologize, but I wouldn't mean it at ALL. And considering you don't ever want to get pissed or defend and protect me, well...I thought it was time to take a swing of my own. I don't like drama. But I'll only stand in the corner for so long and watch the games and bullshit. I don't ask for much, but what I do ask for I fucking deserve without question.
With that, I'll leave you two to your hot fucking soap opera mess that I didn't sign up for.
Sincerely,
Katherine
Domina
Thais
Kitten
Baby
Daddy's Good Little Girl Being Very, Very Naughty
Monday, September 5, 2011
Secrets
Every where I turn.
What I know.
What I don't know.
What you know.
What you don't.
What they suspect.
What they don't.
Secrets.
Hidden truths.
Blatant lies.
Accepted denial.
Kind distractions.
Secrets.
Sealed lips.
Practical acceptance.
Teller of no tales.
Suspects.
But no proof.
Victims.
Of the unknown.
Secrets.
Lie to ourselves.
The weight that rips at our core.
Games that continue.
The internal burden that suffocates.
Secrets.
Once born.
They never disappear.
They exist for always.
They refuse to fade.
Haunting.
Stalking.
Secrets.
Now...
Whisper in my ear and tell me some of your...
Secrets.
~A Silent Little Kat
What I know.
What I don't know.
What you know.
What you don't.
What they suspect.
What they don't.
Secrets.
Hidden truths.
Blatant lies.
Accepted denial.
Kind distractions.
Secrets.
Sealed lips.
Practical acceptance.
Teller of no tales.
Suspects.
But no proof.
Victims.
Of the unknown.
Secrets.
Lie to ourselves.
The weight that rips at our core.
Games that continue.
The internal burden that suffocates.
Secrets.
Once born.
They never disappear.
They exist for always.
They refuse to fade.
Haunting.
Stalking.
Secrets.
Now...
Whisper in my ear and tell me some of your...
Secrets.
~A Silent Little Kat
Friday, September 2, 2011
Not a Trick Monkey
Sorry...no porn for the horny today. Maybe tomorrow. Today you'll have to find someone else to jerk your needy dick or stroke your begging clit to.
I've chosen an extremely fine line in my journey through the dark. Well...maybe chosen isn't quite the right word as my disposition doesn't allow me to take any other road. Oh I've stumbled through the hazards of a couple shortcuts here and there, but I dust myself off and jump right back onto my little tightrope. The balancing act exhausts and frustrates me at times. However, no matter what I do, the long road always seems to be the one to suit me best.
Enough of the analogy...
I'm not a trick monkey. You can't simply take me out whenever you want to play with me and expect me to perform when you snap your fingers. Really. That's not me. For the most part, I'm easy going. I can go with the flow of things. For the most part, I can work within limitations and boundaries. I have my own. For the most part, I have no use for grand tokens or efforts in the dance of seduction. I prefer to keep things simple, yet meaningful.
But all that doesn't mean you should expect me to jump up and do your favorite little trick whenever you decide you have time or are in the mood for me.
See...there are plenty of slaves out there in the magical world of BDSM. There are plenty of dommes, switches, subs dying for the chance to act out or be a part of whatever random fantasy playing in your head. There are plenty of vanilla women out there simply waiting to be fucked, chatted up, paid attention to, or for the chance to pretend.
I'm not any of those. Go find one the next time your in the mood for a monkey.
A relationship with me comes with a cost. Respect. Consideration. Decency. The threads that make up my tightrope. Whether as a domme, a switch, a sub, a lover, a partner, or simply a friend...those three things apply in some way, shape or form without question.
Anything less...I'm simply taking shortcuts down less than rewarding paths that aren't for me. It would be better for both of us if you simply took someone with lower expectations to use on your journey.
Just don't expect them to be me. lol
~Kat
I've chosen an extremely fine line in my journey through the dark. Well...maybe chosen isn't quite the right word as my disposition doesn't allow me to take any other road. Oh I've stumbled through the hazards of a couple shortcuts here and there, but I dust myself off and jump right back onto my little tightrope. The balancing act exhausts and frustrates me at times. However, no matter what I do, the long road always seems to be the one to suit me best.
Enough of the analogy...
I'm not a trick monkey. You can't simply take me out whenever you want to play with me and expect me to perform when you snap your fingers. Really. That's not me. For the most part, I'm easy going. I can go with the flow of things. For the most part, I can work within limitations and boundaries. I have my own. For the most part, I have no use for grand tokens or efforts in the dance of seduction. I prefer to keep things simple, yet meaningful.
But all that doesn't mean you should expect me to jump up and do your favorite little trick whenever you decide you have time or are in the mood for me.
See...there are plenty of slaves out there in the magical world of BDSM. There are plenty of dommes, switches, subs dying for the chance to act out or be a part of whatever random fantasy playing in your head. There are plenty of vanilla women out there simply waiting to be fucked, chatted up, paid attention to, or for the chance to pretend.
I'm not any of those. Go find one the next time your in the mood for a monkey.
A relationship with me comes with a cost. Respect. Consideration. Decency. The threads that make up my tightrope. Whether as a domme, a switch, a sub, a lover, a partner, or simply a friend...those three things apply in some way, shape or form without question.
Anything less...I'm simply taking shortcuts down less than rewarding paths that aren't for me. It would be better for both of us if you simply took someone with lower expectations to use on your journey.
Just don't expect them to be me. lol
~Kat
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