PSA: Still here, or Call me 3RH

Yes, you're not mistaken, it's me, Sore or 3RH (story below), posting here again. For now, just a PSA of the current state of affairs.

I know I haven't been posting on my blog for many months, for which I'm truly sorry. At least I have a good excuse - I've been writing a lot in the past few months, and I've already blended the vanilla part of the story with many of my spanking stories, and now am in the process of editing the second draft of my book.  

If anyone who reads it had/have a good publishing experience and willing to share, please write to me, there is a form on my blog to send me an email.

You won't believe what prompted this post: Hermione's brunch question, have you ever written a spanking story, and I truly couldn't resist!! Nothing brings me more joy than writing my spanking stories (and some vanilla stories too.)

Please note that many spanking stories, especially from this year April A to Z 2024, will be removed from the blog, as they become part of the upcoming book. 

I hope you will be hearing more from me soon.

Last but not least, giving thanks to my dear friend JM: Your encouraging words and your support always meant so much to me. Your words, calling my writing a "divine smut" became my mantra and pushed me through time and time again, a powerful reminder: I write divine smut.

Yours,
Sore/3RH

PS If you are ever on Tumblr, please visit me and say hi at @three-red-horns (hence the new avatar, the full story of Three Red Horns or 3RH is in my pinned post on Tumblr). There I mostly reblog tastefully naughty pictures, not too NSFW, and anything tasteful and elegant that catches my eye, sometimes it's my own pictures, sometimes I post my own musings and snippets from my writing. Visit and see for yourself. I spend an awful lot of time there, instead of finishing my book. You all know, what would be a good medicine for such a behaviour!

PPS 

my main blog: 

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/three-red-horns

my side blog, where I only post my own creations: musings, pictures, writing

 https://www.tumblr.com/blog/3rhwriting

To give you a taste, here are two recent snippets, both my own writing:

"Hurt and harm, two powerful words. The first brings freedom, the second one takes it away."

and

urgent: need a farm, to be as loud as my kinky heart desires

A to Z challenge

 

Hello, my darlings! Yes, I've been away for way too long, and I missed you all dearly! 

As far as my writing conundrum goes, I had finished putting together what I decided would go into the first Izzie and Nick book and even started editing it from the beginning.

But-but-but editing is hard, right? Especially when my writing style changed soo much, since I wrote the vanilla part of the story. So, if anything we the procrastinators like to do the most, is to find another reason to do the mundane. 

And there it was, a new shining April A to Z blogging challenge. For you, it means a new snippet every day. For me, it means to get all pumped up, have the creative juices flowing, and to add so much needed kink to the otherwise exciting and adventurous vanilla story.

The stories will be written from Izzie's POV, at least that's the plan for now. You know, boosting that highly desirable female protagonist POV haha! Also cranking up some word count and writing less dialogue. The good stuff.

So, visit me often and cheer me up, please, because it's quite a vexing enterprise, that A-to-Z thingy!

... and I will stand up

Saturday morning edition, a fresh batch of some pun and dad jokes, all by yours truly. See yesterday post for the previous batch. Yes, when life gives you lemons, make a key lime pie. 

I have an accounting joke, it might cost me too much.

I have a librarian joke, can't find it. 

I have a surfer joke, it whooshes over.

I have a carpenter joke, but can't nail it. 

I have a plumber joke, but it can leak.

I have an excavation joke, just digging it deeper. 

I have a trader joke, but it can fall short.

I have a makeup joke that can make you blush.

I have a fisherman joke, the one that got away.

I have a bartender joke, but it's a tall order to fill.

I have a race car joke, but it disappeared too fast.

I have a baking joke, but it might not rise to the occasion.

I have a whiskey joke, but it's too old. 

I have a gun joke, but it might backfire.

I have a relationship joke, but afraid to let it go.

I have a masochist joke, only it's hard to bear.

I have a sadist joke, it's smart as a whip. 

I have a comedian joke, and I will stand up. 

Bam! 

Friday Night Fun

My dear readers, I'm really sorry for disappearing. I had my reasons, one day I will tell you more. Short version: betrayal, death in the family, and a vicious threat. All in a span of a few days back in September. 

But today, I just want to cheer everyone up. I wrote a bunch of Dad jokes today and want to share them with you. They are truly all mine!

Yours, Sore

I have a shibari joke, but I forgot how to tie it all together.

I have a D/s joke, but don't know where to submit it.

I have a DD joke, but nowhere to Head with it. 

I have an S/M joke, but it's too painful.

I have a little joke, but Daddy won't listen. 

I have a spanking joke, but you will end up red. 

I have a primal joke, but it has a bite.

I have an M/s joke, but it was hard to Master. 

I have a cooking joke, but it might burn or get roasted. 

I have a fishing joke, but it might get off the hook. 

I have a history joke, but no Friday night dates.

I have a chemistry joke, but it's missing elements.

Happily Submit

Forgive and forget. Let go. Don't dwell. Don't recite all my wrongdoings till the cows come home. Don't blame all of our failures on me. Don't yell at me. Control yourself first. Own your mistakes. 

Lead. Take responsibility. Make me feel safe and secure. Protect me. Watch me. Don't let me go by myself after dark. Don't encourage harmful habits. 

Laugh with me. Read with me. Watch me dance. Leave silly notes for me. Cook with me. Share a meal not food. 

Don't put tomatoes in the fridge. Don't try to sneak a pair of black socks into the white laundry. Change that lightbulb without a gentle weekly reminder. 

Tell me, I got you. Call me a good girl. Take care of me like no one else before. 

Braid my hair. Pull me onto your lap. Hold me tight. Fall asleep with me. Kiss my forehead in the morning. Check on me. Don't let me drop. 

Look me in the eyes. Hold my chin to look into yours. Touch me for no reason. Pin me. 

Buy me an almond croissant once in a while but not too often. Make me presents that money cannot buy. 

Listen to me. Support me. Inspire me. Lift me up. Don't refer to anything I'm into as crap or bullshit. Believe in me. Cheer me up. Root for my success. Be proud of me. Cherish me. 

Accept me for who I am. 

Then, I will HAPPILY SUBMIT. 

PS Yes, it's so much easier to pour my heart out to complete strangers in hope that maybe, just maybe, my words, this instruction manual, will make a difference in someone else's life. 

PPS That’s Ralph Marvell and Samantha Woodley on the picture, and the still is from a Shadow Lane video (thank you, Erica, for identifying). A famous photo, popular in the community, mercilessly cropped by yours truly (unintentional pun) in order not to get nuked over one picture. No, I will not send you the original. What, you haven't seen enough red bottoms already?

Strawberry Filled Forever

Happy Strawberry-filled Croissant Day! 🍓

Because what can brighten your Sunday morning more than a freshly baked croissant filled with cream and strawberries, hmm?

Funny how this image singlehandedly brings together my two favourite characters: Nick loves strawberries, and Izzie can kill for a proper croissant.

Any Beatles fans out there? 

A to Z - The Best of

The A to Z Reflections day was yesterday, but I thought I would allow myself a day off. Actually "off" time started on Sunday night, no longer under the pressure to post for the next letter, I binged on this new show, The Diplomat, and then again last night. Highly recommend, kind of a mix of Veep and Newsroom, with a sprinkle of Downton Abbey. Fast paced, lots of people with lovely English accents, not enough smut for my taste, but, hey, it was my time off! Now, back to A to Z.

How I got to do A to Z challenge?

As many things in my life by a happy accident. Mrs Fever mentioned that she is about to start it, it piqued my interest. So I clicked, I googled around, and, gasp, I signed up. It seems like a good challenge, to post every day. Silly me! Read my pre-challenge post  A to Z. That was on March 20.

What actually happened?

Somewhere around letter E, E is for Enter, I realized I should get off the high horse, trying to educate vanilla people, there's tons of blogs better than mine, and Bonnie already covered every topic imaginable and more than once. I should write what I like the most, spanking fiction set in Izzie-and-Nick verse, and not using the snippets of what I've already written, but to be a good girl and produce new spanking content every single bloody night!!

What was the turning point?

Definitely letter G, G is for Going, Going, Gone which became the first installment of a multichapter spanking story that later I started to call the Alphabet story, and continued all the way to letter Z is for Zingy, . Click on the archive for April. Besides the parts marked as part of Birching Bordello story and a couple of poems, all other posts are in fact the chapters of the Alphabet story. Pinky promise, I will organize all the links in one post!

Why was it so hard?

I felt committed, so committed. No matter what was going on IRL, I had to produce the next post by midnight and schedule it for the early morning. Sometimes I didn't have time to edit, to hone, to polish, to rethink. The last few were especially hard, like X is for Xanadu  or U is for Upsy-Daisy. I’m insanely proud of myself for making it to the end and producing original content every single night, like a clock.

What did I learn?

I learned that I can be trained as a Pavlovian dog to write on demand. Sometimes, especially the last week, I didn't have time to edit, to hone, to polish, to rethink. Honestly, for the first time in my writing life, I would sit in front of the screen or mostly with the phone in my hand, and wouldn't know what I will write about. I knew I had to pick up from the events of last chapter, but didn't know where will the road take me. That was the most exciting part!

Like in the movies, when the author sits in front of a typewriter and types in full sentences, paragraphs of text, a stream of conscience but in the very much plausible form. That's what I did, and the feeling was incredible. 

Looking back I can't believe some of the lines I came up with.

What to read?

"You say upsy-daisy when you pick me up," she repeats. "You always pick me up and put me together. Upsy-daisy." (from U is for Upsy-daisy)

"No one will come to rescue you, damsel in distress. Isn't that what you fantasize about?" (from H is for Humiliation)

"Sorry, love. I was debating, which apology would insult you more, for wearing you in or out?" (from N is for Nothing)

"No! Stingy is zingy, thuddy is cruddy." (from Z is for Zingy)

The jitters that keep me reeling
Wanting scream, fight, come, or break
Into million pieces, are peeling
Layers, onion layers of fake  

(from J is for Jitters or Ode to Cane)

Izzie is still bent over, knees on the couch, naked from the waist down. Her face, turned away from him, lies atop of the couch’s back. She spits out the words in a hurry. But all Nick sees is her pregnant belly, hanging there, presumably safe. And her wobbly knees.

“Do... do you want me to build a pillow fort?” (from C is for Crying and Corner and not the Cane)

Last night Nick didn't follow on any on his empty threats. He didn't give her the six of the best or draw a five-barred gate as he promised. Gasp! That most dreaded stroke across the first five, crossing the lines, that is considered  a cardinal sin by some and the intentional evil-doing by the others. (from M is for Morning and Marks and Middle of the night)

"So today, with the help of my little lie detector," he tugs at the fox tail. "And the cane," he taps her cheeks with the cane, and she jerks away. "I will get to the bottom of it. If required, a bright red bottom with some perfectly parallel stripes. Told you, I've been practicing."  (from L is for Licks and Lust)

"After we are done with all the unpleasantries of your punishment, yes, Isabel, I will forgive you. That's how it works, darling, you've most surely heard of it. You will be back on my lap, rather uncomfortable, I must say, but much happier. Until your next shortcoming, hopefully not as disastrous as the current one." (from P is for Punishment or Birching Bordello part 3)

"It's embarrassing." She dutifully slides her hands off, clutching at the shawl around her neck. 

"And you know any spanking that isn't?" (from Y is for Yellow or Birching Bordello part 6)

Enough with the self-indulgent trip down the memory lane!

Please don't forget to comment, I would love to hear back from you, even anonymously.

K is for This is Kink

K is for Kink 

I was dying to write a post about this article, since the day I bookmarked it: If I Ever See Another Checklist I Will Scream: An Extremely Thorough Play Checklist 

I think it's a must read not only for kink-minded but vanilla alike. I think your perception of what is kink and what is vanilla will change drastically after reading the whole list.

Let me start from a simple example of how deeply wired perceptions are. How does really physical attraction works? 

H is a regular heterosexual guy, very near and dear to me, with certain likes and dislikes when it comes to the female beauty and body types. If a woman is too skinny, flat chested, so thin that she has a gap between her legs, he is not only find her unattractive, but even ugly. That includes all those gorgeous tall model-type size two women.  Mind you, that's his honest opinion. At first I thought he says that to please me, as I'm definitely not tall, size two etc. But no, he sincerely doesn't get it, that other people consider these women extremely attractive. He doesn't fine them attractive simply because they are not his "type".

Now, that checklist is massive, skim through it as you first read it. Try to count how many things from the list you did, had done to you, like in general, wouldn't mind doing if it will please your partner. Share that number in the comments, please. 

I've been going through this list a few times already, and it amazes me every single time, how many items on the list no one would even consider a kink. In fact, some are not kinks or fetishes at all, like kissing, but all of them have names.

You went to a Halloween party as a Little Red Riding Hood and a Big Bad Wolf, and on the way back home got unexpectedly aroused by your furry partner and want to jump his bones? That's quite a few from the list: animal role play, fur play, clothed male naked female (CMNF, surprisingly not on the list), possible CNC (depending on Wolfie's behavior). 

Morning quickie with a sleeping mask still on? Blindfold. Pinning hands above one's head? Light bondage. Biting the toes? Foot fetish. Biting in general? Primal. 

What is your number? Did you post it in comments? 

My blog is only five months old, and I've been browsing through the kink blogosphere for a few months before I started posting. I read tons of blogs, tons of personal experiences. If I was an observer back then, I was a keen observer. 

Let me tell you one thing I learned. Labels don't mean a thing. There is a reason why so many despise labels. No Venn diagram, with the spanking as a cornerstone of it, will ever define all the possibilities. Labels are boxes. People do not fit in them. 

Every relationship is different. Exceptions are everywhere. I will start from the most extreme ones and work my way to the mildest. 

Masters marry their slaves in romantic ceremonies. Slaves sleep in cages and are used (yes, that's the term) daily, but punishment is extremely rare, and pain is not a goal. Properties are loved and cherished and sometimes served breakfast in bed by their owners. DD/lg (Daddy Dom/little girl) does not necessarily envolve age play. Princesses get spanked too. Though everyone loves plushies and pictures of cute animals. Daily BJs are earned, not asked for. Respect is earned.  

Strictest of D/s doesn't necessarily mean the most severe implements, some submissives just do not have the pain tolerance for that. Some use spanking only for punishment, while being a feminist in real life. 

Some swear by both D/s 24/7 and DD (Domestic Discipline). While generally speaking, those who practice DD usually despise the connection to D/s as it's a part of BDSM. TTWD (That Thing We Do) is used as an umbrella for other than M/F relationships and spanking in general. 

Those who do use spanking as a punishment admit that the reason is a pretend reason (funishment), and it's always serves as a foreplay. Then, there are those who just like the spanking by itself, and are able to separate it from sex completely. 

Bratting can be encouraged and can be frowned upon. Spanking parties are good, but dungeons are bad. Positions as hard limits. Cane is evil but a necessary evil. Wood versus leather, thud versus sting. Belt gets extra love. Of course it hurts, it's supposed to hurt, doesn't mean it shouldn't be comfortable. Bring extra pillows. 

Black and blue is admonished by some, and admired by others. Bruises and marks freak some out, or worn with pride. All shades of red are more than welcomed. 

Now fantasies, that's a creature of its own. Those who do not practice punishment spankings, almost always fantasize about them, sometimes during the spanking. 

But everyone is on the same page about the aftercare. Rubbing, hugs, kisses, sex, chocolate, juice, blankets, plushies, arnica, lotions, more rubbing, and favourite movies. Excellent! 

Don't forget, Doms are people too. With all the insecurities and doubting themselves. Doms also have drops and need aftercare.

We are all a mess, one big sweet hot mess, whether you call it a kink or not.

This is us. 

Hundred - To M and B

Hundred years passed today

But the story lives forever

Only words are gonna stay

Scattered in the world wide ether

"Hundred pounds soaking wet"

Winning smile that lit the room

Feisty, strong, and smart, you bet

Turning Dom into a groom

Hundred hours no need to wait

When you know, they say, you know

Call it love or call it fate

One reins in and one to bow

Hundred bear hugs were given

Scratch that, thousands, that is

Surely up the wall had driven

Him that spunky sass and tease

Hundred blows on bare bottom

How many is too much? 

Sting not meant to be forgotten

Followed by gentle touch

Hundred parties lay unravelled 

Bottoms sore and also hands

Hundred miles of road less travelled

Peanuts boiled are yikes, no thanks

Hundreds seeds of pomegranate 

Six - thirteen to be exact

May your life will be abundant

All these hundred years back

Little facts:

- The poem is set in the year of 2123

- The author is a helpless romantic and believes that love stories live forever

- "Hundred pounds soaking wet" is a direct quote from Erica's post

- I cannot write Dom with lower-case. Sorry if it offends anyone's sense of grammar.

- It's believed that there are 613 seeds in pomegranate, therefore making it a symbol of abundance

- Most important: the poem is solely based on a few teeny tiny facts from Erica's post, the rest is all figments of my own depraved imagination.

Meddling again, in the hope that two wrongs will make it right. When I wrote the first poem, To M and Erica, something irked me endlessly, and I apologized for meddling (thank you, Erica, for the kind words). It took me a while to realize what it was:

It was supposed to be all about M and B, but the first poem came out about M and Erica, which was wrong. I thought I didn't know anything about B, but then again, what do I know about M, really? So, here I am, apologizing my heart out in another poem, because that's what I do... in a hope that one day it would bring a smile on their faces.

To M and B

To M and Erica

I know it's not them on the picture. Read the damn post, will you?

Trusting her body and soul

Body heals, soul, not so much

Life's taking unfair toll

Out of reach, not out of touch

Fond memories of Shadow Lane

Forever cast into living on

Silly crazy, or safe and sane

Humming into oblivion

Poking without fear

First got her attention with scorn

Please do not disappear

The rarest of unicorns

Pain's easy, words make me weep

Of firm hand and of gentle heart

Yielded masterfully belt or whip

May your hand will never gets smart

Taking care of the one you love

Loyal achingly yang to her yin

I can't help, only cry or laugh

With a hope that good karma wins

I'm honestly weeping as I'm writing this post... Sorry for butchering otherwise beautiful picture, will give you the link to the original in a sec. 

You know when it comes to pictures, my blog is ridiculously pg rated, yeah, flowers, macarons, and silly t-shirts. Not so much with words, just in the previous post, was discussing with Kathryn the merits of saying cock versus dick and Izzie getting spanked for using the latter. You can weigh in in the comments, whichever of two you prefer. 

It all started with this picture. For the original picture please go to Nora's blog: https://ourmarriageanddomesticdiscipline.wordpress.com/2023/01/05/his-discipline-nsfw-18-spanking-fiction/

I loved the story and the picture so much that I mentioned it to Erica, she said it’s a famous photo. Read original Erica's post here:

https://ericalscott.wordpress.com/2023/02/02/some-words-about-pictures/

Hi Erica, as I was reading your post, i was thinking of one particular picture with plenty of hands, both hands, rolled up sleeves of the white dress shirt (sic!), and most of all, plenty of tenderness. This picture pushed all the right and wrong buttons for me. I’m usually all about the words, but this picture just did it for me.

Sore — you have good taste; that is a very popular photo. It’s a small world; I know both of them. That’s Ralph Marvell and Samantha Woodley, and the still is from a Shadow Lane video. I believe it was called Older Men with Younger Wives, or something along that line.

And then I wrote a poem inspired by that picture called Thick Brown Leather:

https://soreismore.blogspot.com/2023/02/thick-brown-leather.html which both Erica and Nora loved.

But enough about my shit, what happened next is that Erica wrote the most heartbreaking, sweetest post about M: https://ericalscott.wordpress.com/2023/03/10/for-my-friend/

I sat there helplessly and cried and thought about that picture again. And then I wrote a poem about M and Erica that you've already read, because that's the only thing I can do. That's all. 

Now scroll up and read it again!

Bum-mer

Let's talk about the weather, a very safe topic, even safer than food. Because there are vegetarians, vegans, pescatarians, gluten free, carb free, dairy free, fat free and sugar free. I'm trying to be food free, which other people call 'intermittent fasting'. What a boring name for a diet, intermittent fasting! I'm definitely forgetting many other ways to make yourself miserable. Once I tried bread diet, it's a happy diet as it boosts your serotonin. Did I lose weight? Take a wild guess, I wouldn't be trying 'food free.'

You will be surprised, but there are people out there, that unlike most of us, have trouble gaining weight, I know one in real life and one fictitious, Izzie. I even wrote a song for her called, Pound song. Do you want me to post it??

Back to the topic at hand, or in hand? The weather. After a few days of snow, the sky is finally bright blue and it's sunny, which means super cold but looks so beautiful and crisp through the window.

Bummer, I forgot to snap a picture. Bum-mer, get it? I forgot to put bum-mer on that great list of spanking expressions... And you thought that I would write a post that doesn't mention spanking, shame on you! You earned one right now!

For the full list how to say spanking without using the word, read the post called Let's start it with a bang here

The picture that you see is from a few days ago. You see how the sky is white? Now it's a gorgeous blue.

Cheers!

Panic

Panic? It's a perfect time to panic! Not the fight or flight kind, you silly. 

One of the readers just posted on a friend's blog (thank you, JM) that he couldn't comment on my blog and he left the loveliest comment, by the way, you can read it here at the very bottom.

Does anyone experience any problem with comments on Blogger? Can you please try to leave a comment, and if you can't, please send me a message, I just added an Ask me form on the right. And it seems that my blogroll is not getting updated properly...

Question: does Blogger have any profanity filters, like blocking comments or posts based on the certain words we like to use?? Because I don't mind using asterisks, I think everyone here can decipher the word c*ck without any problem.

Sigh.

BTW, the post in question was Tanning the tan lines from yesterday.

Pink with a touch of purple

 

Here they were, ripe luscious globes, rapidly getting that warm pink hue with a touch of purple, boiling hot, tender to the touch, sweet, delicious, smelling of cinnamon with a whiff of vanilla. 

Ahem, I was talking about making the apricot jam. I know, no good deed shall go unpunished.

Such a sweet way to start the day! Some apricots were about to go bad, so I threw them in the pot together with leftover blackberries and a heap of sugar, and voila, the jam was on the way, and my deprived imagination was taking notes, rolling the reality and the fantasy in one...

Now, get off your lazy bums and go read  Never in Anger  or any of my stories and comment! Pretty please with a purple blackberry on top...

Good Girl

Two stories for the price of one today.

First, a personal one. Someone casually called me a good girl in a business conversation, thankfully over the phone. While shocked, I played along and responded with 'yes, I am.'  But after I hung up, my brain short-circuited. You never call 'a good girl' another man's good girl. Never ever ever, you useless prick! And that is my rant of the day.

The second one is fiction, a part of the same series about Izzie and Nick, that happened in the very early days of their relationship, hence the reaction to these two magic words. Enjoy!

GOOD GIRL

Finally, the perfect height. Izzie is perched on the gazebo’s railing, Nick stands between her legs, hot and bothered, again. And so is she.

"A condom?" he nods to her beach bag on the floor.

"In my beach bag? Who do you think I am?" Izzie jerks away like from a blow. Annoyed, frustrated, vulnerable, and, most of all, exhausted. The fuckfest that started last night is taking a toll on her.

He does not hesitate, but the brutal honesty and the raw desire are not what she needs right now. "The most amazing woman in the world. Now, chop-chop," he plops the bag on the railing next to her hip.

"You are so mean," her eyes swell with tears.

"I streamlined the events in the direction we both want them to go. Do we?" he tries to meet her eyes, seeking confirmation. Her hand disappears in the bag and fishes out a foil package.

"Good girl," he murmurs and extends his hand palm up.

"No!" she hides it behind her back, looking up, burning him up with her stare. "Do you always take what you want?"

"Only what's willfully given, yes. Didn't you do most of the taking yesterday?"

"I don't do checks and balances in sex."

"Me neither, and we are both lying." Her face looks so small cradled in his hands. His dark brown eyes, as endearing and relentless as ever.

"Please don't cry. Izzie, why are you crying?"

"I don't know. I feel so empty and full at the same time."

"Me too. Like a house on fire but I’m the house and the fire."

"You're still riding the high, and I'm crashing." Her usually restless hands hover slowly over his, dropping the foil on the ground. Nick's eyes trace it, not daring to move his head, and return to Izzie's.

"Good boy," she is quick to return the insult. Good boy knows when to back out and when to give more. No checks and balances here.

"Do you want me to bring you back up?" he whispers in her ear.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Will you eat me?" she asks like someone would ask for a glass of water. If that's what it takes to get back into her good graces, he will stay on his knees forever.

"With greatest pleasure but not now. You still smell of me, from that time in the ocean. I will gag like a high school girl on her first blowie."

She lets out a chuckle, and it melts his heart. She's back, smiling at him again.

"Are you a half-dog?" she asks.

"Hell, no. When you sat on my shoulders, the smell was right there. I can offer you some digital magic," he wiggles his fingers in front of her face.

"No," she pouts.

He puts together his index and middle finger and bends the rest in a fist. "Doesn't it look like an average size dick?" he continues, unbearably smug.

"You're so full of it."

"I know, but isn't it fun?"

"Who knew you could be so much fun?"

"I knew it." That cocky bastard.

"Not stroking your ego."

"You can stroke something else." His suggestion falls on deaf ears.

"No, to stroking. Yes, to magic," she delivers the verdict.

She turns half-way and shuffles, so her back rests against the post, one foot now propped up on the railing, the other foot dangling uncomfortably in the air. Not wide open, but an invitation nonetheless. Nick places his foot on a beam a foot off the ground and moves her dangling leg over to rest on his bent knee. 

"Comfy?"

"Kiss me," she nods.

He kisses her sloppily in the delicious valley between her small breasts. She pulls him up by his hair. "You didn't specify where," he protests as he covers her mouth with his.

God bless women who wear dresses and skirts and the sounds one can draw from them.

"Aww!"

"That's a new sound! Here?"

"Awww! Nicky! Un bâtard formidable*..."

*You wonderful bastard (inspired by Stromae'song Formidable)

To read all my fiction in order click here 

It's all in the details

This is a Sharon Kovacs picture off Spotify 

You're probably confused by the picture above. I will get to that in the moment.

Now, every year in December Spotify graciously presents me with a list of songs and artists I listened the most throughout the year, all wrapped up in a fancy slideshow. No surprise there, Sharon Kovacs got the top spot. I really like her seductive voice with a tiny bit of a lisp. This song, Bang Bang, is not only quite kinky, here is a bit of a taste of Ms Kovacs' lyrical talents:

Baby oh, come to me

Like you used to down on your knees

You do as you're told

Wearing your blindfold

Here on the rubber sheet

Baby, don't be scared

You're all tied up and going nowhere

So take a moment

Savor the moment

And then realize how much I care

...but it was a completely different line that kept me awake at night:

You're chillin' out at minus ten degrees

Inside my deepfreeze

Mind you, the song is about a murder, I listened to it numerous times, and that line "minus ten degrees" rubbed the wrong way, time after time. Finally, my inner nerd takes the matter into its own hands and goes to check the freezer setting (hence, the picture) AND googles the recommended settings as well. 

My inner nerd to Ms Kovacs: 

Darling, your food and whatever else you are keeping there will go bad, if you won't change the setting to minus eighteen. Please, for my sanity sake.

Or maybe she knew that it should be eighteen, but the word is one syllable longer, and she decided to use ten instead. Or being the artistic spirit, she doesn't care about her freezer setting and doesn't use it at all. I wonder, if I found that line, are there any other trolls, for the lack of a better word, already discussing it on Reddit or Quora. Should I research the matter any further? Should I make Google cry from desperation? Hmm, so many questions. 

Thank you for reading my PSA and the vent of the day! You are more that welcome to vent in the comments.

Asking for directions

Oh, lighten up a bit. Not everything has to be about D/s.

I heard a joke recently: I changed the GPS voice to male, and now he says, "Just keep driving. It's somewhere around here."

In our version it would be somewhere along the lines:

Me: May I punch in the address into GPS?
Him: No, I know where it is.

The jokes about men not willing to ask for directions, it's like beating a dead horse, but still, I wonder if someone out there wrote a thesis or two about the psychological roots of this fascinating phenomenon..

I have to admit that with years I became more tolerable as a backseat driver, now just occasionally inquiring if he is training for the next Formula 1 race, when he switches lanes not according to my definition of normal. Or asking gently not to cause me a heart attack on the road, as it would be a great inconvenience to him.

What kind of backseat driver are you?

What matters/Inspection

This post was inspired by Kink of the Week (KOTW), and this week's kink is Inspection! I clicked on the red lips on lovely Fondles website, and voila, here I am, rambling about inspection...

How did I miss it, oh how did I forgot to mention all these little things in my recent recollection, My Submission. 

Inspection, such a cold, clinical word. Inspection, if he would only know, how all the little things he does are called in the world of kink, he would freak out, step back, clam up. My journey so far is one-sided, taking and gratefully accepting whatever he doles out, without putting any labels on it, without calling it what it really is.

Inspection, his gentle fingers graze the contours of my face, my nose, eyebrows, my mouth. Like in the movies, when they always check that the newborn has all ten fingers and toes, they can see it but still always count. He slides the fingers inside my mouth and pulls it at the sides to open wider, touching my tongue and my teeth, and I start sucking at his fingers in earnest. 

His fingers poke into my nostrils, not to deep, just mockingly check if they are clean enough. Then the same with my ears. The fingers squeeze and mush my cheeks, with intent but without causing any pain.

He checks on the hollow of my navel, if it's washed properly. Full confession, I used to skip, or more like neglect it, and an occasional tiny bit of lint would get stuck in there, bringing up an aha! reaction on discovery. Not anymore, the navel passes the inspection with the flying colours.

He smells my armpits, and it will depend how late in the day we are, since I last took the shower. No, he doesn't like me to take the shower right before, always quoting Napoleon's letter to Josephine, “I will return in three days. Don't wash!” 

By that point my smell changes, it always changes when I'm aroused, to the one resembling the smell of a skunk or weed. Haha, I'm Mary Jane, I'm Spartacus. He laughs it off with a fake disgust.

He grabs and squeezes all my curves, including not the sexiest ones, hello tummy, that's so hard to get rid off, and sometimes I protest, hey, everyone has extra curves when they lay on their side, riiight?

Through moans and giggles he turns me into a ragdoll, his ragdoll, and he didn't even touch me down there yet. That's reserved for the main course, we are not done with the appetizers.

These undeniably possessive touches that claim me without marking. That proclaim, you're mine, louder than any words spoken. That take me and make me his, while giving so much. That remind me of who's-who and what matters.

My submission

He says things like, don't tell me what to do, or don't argue with me, and I don't find it odd. He always scolds me, when I raise my voice. He doesn't let me swear, and yes, bullshit is considered a swear word. He gives me The Look, when I pick on unhealthy snack, freeze with a phone in my hand, or in general, do something that I shouldn't. I get The Look a lot, and it usually pulls me right back, like a tight leash.

He obviously opens and holds the door for me, walks between me and the road, I walk upstairs first, as he does downstairs. Ordering food is tricky as he doesn't like to do it, so he explicitly delegates it to me, to navigate through the menu while juggling all his idiosyncrasies of what he would and would not eat.

I got into a habit of showing him three outfits to choose from. He was puzzled at first, I said, when I choose myself, you ask me to change too often, better to show you the choices in advance.

I cook the food and serve it to him. We like to have the appetizers mezeh style, small plates with salads and dips to nibble on before the main course. I make sure his main is hot enough, as he likes it super hot, plate it for him, and bring it to the table. I won't start eating, until he takes the first
bite.

He doesn't like bones in anything, I make sure to debone all his meat and filet the fish. He hates garlic in any incarnation, I learned to cook without it. When I make him tea with lemon, I pick all the seeds from the lemon slice. But enough about food.

He likes to bite me and suck on the spot, like a horny teenager, leaving his marks of ownership, and I love it. I squirm and wiggle when he bites me too hard while holding me down, not letting go, until he moves to the next spot, and I love it. It doesn't have to be during sex, sometimes he bites me just because.

Needless to say, he's dominant in bed, gentle, caring, but yet still so dominant. Honestly, I never liked being on top anyway. I like how he pins my hands above my head, how he pushes my legs apart with his knee, how he's always on his elbows, never putting his full weight on me, till I specifically started to ask for it, till he realized I'm not as fragile as he thought.

Sometimes he places my hands above my head and just I hold them there, the same way as if he would've pinned them there. He burns my skin with his short stubble. He guides me with a firm hand on the back of my neck.

When I ask to switch positions, not when I'm uncomfortable, but just for fun, I never know if he would do it or not, he won't say a word, no explanation, the final 'say' is always his.

He is patient and generous, every time he brings me over the edge, I supress the urge to thank him. When for some reason we skip a few days and I get myself off, I feel guilty, because in my mind all my O's belong to him.

I feel guilty when I hide things from him, when I disappoint him, when we fight. Makeup sex is good, but I feel like something is missing, I know something is missing, something to clean the slate completely, to let us both move on.

No, he doesn't spank me, maybe an occasional possessive swat, like I swat because I can.

We never discussed our little quirks and habits, they do not have a label, that's just how we live our life.

Dominance and submission can take many forms, I think, and if this all is not it, then what is?

How can he be so blind not to see it?

 

Dear Bonnie

Dear Bonnie,

what a sad day to de-lurk... what they all said and much more. My journey is quite different. I wish I would discover your blog 15 years ago and not this summer.

Full disclosure, I'm vanilla, although as I learned now, so many little quirks count as kinks. For that matter, what really constitutes a spanking? A smack or two do not count, right? What about three or five? Where to draw the line, or better not to? So, I was writing a novel, quite steamy but vanilla, and one summer day, I wrote a scene that involved a spanking that went horribly wrong (they didn't know about Bonnie's writings), wrote it without any research, purely on emotions. And then, to justify what happened and why, plunged into research. BTW, I was right, I described bratting and topping from the bottom without knowing what it is.

MBS was the second spanko blog I found, right after an extreme CDD one. Thankfully, MBS is linked on virtually every blog throughout the blogosphere, and boy, did I stay in this impossible vast, skillfully crafted, generously shared Body of Knowledge. The tutorials alone, I read at least twice each and most, many times over: the elusive why (my favourite), how to talk to your partner, first spanking, fantasy vs reality, bratting, anticipation, letting go (a gem), implements, rituals, more rituals. When in doubt, read Bonnie's tutorial.

I'm still vanilla, leaving vicariously through my characters, following their ebbs and flows, letting them make mistakes, but knowing one thing for sure, I want them to become more like Bonnie and Randy, be themselves, find the way that works for them, because every couple is different, and forget the labels.

There is no sadder day for a lurker and purveyor of fine blogs to find a blog (or forum) written by a brilliant author, smart, intelligent, bold, and sincere, only to discover that the blog is discontinued (not to say dead). A word of advice for those who like me just read, do comment, drop a few words, ask for an advice before it's too late.

Bonnie, I have a parting gift for you, a song/poem called A Bottom Song Since I didn't know how to send it to you, I registered a blog today and posted it there, for Bonnie who redefined the word Bottom.

Becca