“Sub-duction”

     The red tip of the cigar glowed bright red and orange in the unlit room. The night sky provided the occasional streak of a lightning flash. The ominous rumble of thunder seemed to emanate from deep within the room’s only occupant. Another flash revealed a circular bed as the centerpiece of the space. The dimmed moonlight and brilliant but brief displays of illumination from Mother Nature were not enough for her to fully process the scene before her. The deliciousness of that thought engaged her brain and started a matching physical reaction. 

 “Time.”

     Her musings were interrupted by a single syllable. Her eyes immediately glanced at the understated yet elegant timepiece she wore. It had been one of the first presents she had received from him. Where she viewed time as relative, he saw it as another tool that created order in his world. As the son of a former military officer, punctuality was always the order of the day. He believed his tech company’s success was in due part to his innate and impeccable sense of timing. 

     She cleared her throat as she started to speak and was surprised at how quickly and silently he moved to stand before her. He kept his eyes locked into hers as he raised her hand slowly. The brush of his lips along the inside of her wrist sent jolts of needle-like sensations coursing from the spot of origin throughout the nether regions of her body. As he slowly lowered her hand, his gaze never wavering from hers, he stated, “You’re late.”

     She knew that. Unconsciously she also knew that the warring sides of her personality – dominant and submissive – were resistant to his insistence on precision-like punctuality. 

     She also knew he observed this silent struggle she was engaged in with herself by the amused glint she could see in his eyes as the lightening flashed once more followed by the thunder’s sonic boom. She remained silent. The hand that still held hers in its grasp was deceptively gentle, his thumb lightly stroking the fluttering pulse which was becoming more and more pronounced with each of pass of his thumb.

     “Come”, he commanded suddenly, releasing her hand and turning so quickly that she felt a cold rush of air that tightened her nipples. At least that’s what she told herself as she followed the source of the fire that had been ignited in her belly. She was His now as always, ready to be at His command. 

     As she walked she shed the outer coat she still wore. Underneath it she was dressed in a beautiful blue concoction of leather and silk. The coat had been specially designed to detach from the bodice of the suit. The inner wear was a sleeveless, one piece number that narrowed into shorts, very low-cut and fitting ones. He loved to view her legs from any  angle. Fishnet stockings were finished off with a pair of stiletto heels in a complementary color of blue with silver, diamonique heels. 

She felt sexy when he dressed her. She loved the attention to detail that he showed in everything he presented her to wear. She loved sliding into each creation knowing that every detail of the evening ahead would be well thought out by him for the mutual pleasure of them both. The other part of the seduction was the secrecy of the dual life she led. No one would believe that the always cool, calm, and collected attorney wore a waist chain and a Yoni egg beneath her designer skirt and pant suits. No one would suspect the deliciously sore sensations she experienced after a night’s scene at the Wolf’s Den… 

     Her inner thoughts were again interrupted by the cycle of light and sound that He seemed to use to command her attention this night. She smiled at the thought that even the weather seemed to be under His command. 

     “Yes, Kitten?” he queried, expectancy in his tone. He was gauging her response to the elaborate scene before her.  

     She stood transfixed as he moved quickly and surely to flick the tiny light switches on the sides of the miniature tealight candles that surrounded the perimeter of the bed, which was itself  a centerpiece of gauze and silk situated upon a raised dais. The back panel of the bed was mirrored, reflecting the scene before them. He watched her from the mirror. Her eyes became trapped within the intensity of his gaze. She could feel his desire for her. It warmed her on the inside as she dropped her gaze out of emotion and submission. She took a step up on the platform and turned to face him. She enjoyed the slow caress that was his gaze as he took in every detail: the hair, make up, clothing, hose, shoes, even her scent- all pre-planned for his satisfaction. 

     “Thank you, Sir.” Her words drew a slight hiss of air from Him in response. Inwardly she smiled. Although it was He who was Dominant, she still found power in her submission. He needed it as much as she craved his power over her. His need for her submission was His weakness, and the aggressive side of her nature never failed to record this fact like a juicy secret between lovers. It made her even wetter. 

     “Show me”, he commanded.  

     She lifted her left foot slowly in a delicate balancing act and removed the shoe before placing it on the floor. She repeated the action with the right shoe, taking the time to place it carefully beside its mate. It was always about order and ritual with Him. She lifted her arms behind her neck and unzipped half way, shimmying slowly the rest of the way out of the one piece outfit. Beneath it she wore matching bra and panties, the black lace of the panties accentuating the creamy fullness of her ass. It would look even more  delicious later withred welts upon it she thought as she stepped back down and kneeled before him. Her eyes were level with his crotch, and she could see the thickness of him straining against the material of his dress pants. As if on cue her mouth watered at the thought of him in her mouth. She swallowed. 

     “Look at me”. His hand stroked her face softly. She lifted her eyes as commanded. 

     “Fuck me eyes. That’s what you have. Would you like to be fucked, kitten?”

     “Yes,” came her whispered response. 

Love Notes from the Pavement 

We all have this ooey-gooey feeling, this image of love. I know I did. I think of love and I conjure visions of flowers and roses and rainbows and sunshine and feel-good feelings. And that is love. But like life, love is not one-sided; it’s a multifaceted diamond with brilliant colors and sharp edges.

I love running. I developed my love for running in 2012 as part of my weight loss regiment. Prior to that, I had never run or walked a mile anywhere, at least not on purpose. But I found a group of ladies who were in a similar journey and so began, or was born, my love for running. 

It has not always been easy. I have had slips, falls, sprains, wardrobe malfunctions, mishaps – you name it. But through it all, I have remained true to my love for the pavement.

Yet my love has stagnated over the past couple of years. I have been neglectful. The number of races I have run and the subsequent medals I have earned has dwindled greatly. I have been haphazard and half-hearted in my love. Yet every time I lace them up, the pavement is there, welcoming me. It never turns its back on me. Hell it’s even there to catch me when I fall. (Insert maniacal laughter). 

Lately the pavement and I have been experiencing a rebirth of sorts. But like long-lost lovers, our reunion has been a bit shaky to say the least. In fact, our relationship has made me question if I still love the pavement, and if it still loves me back. But like a faithful suitor, I continue to lace them up. And my results have been a roller coaster: there have been days that I say to myself, “I’m back!” And then there are the days that I want to just throw my shoes in the trash.

How does all this apply to love, you say? I was hoping you made it this far to ask.

As I said in the beginning, love is multifaceted, like people. And just as you have to love people for all of their facets, so it is with running. Love ain’t always roses. Sometimes it’s greatness, sometimes its absence. Sometimes it’s rough. And sometimes it flat out knocks you on your ass. Loving something doesn’t mean that it’s always going to be easy, but it means that you’re committed enough to withstand all the phases. (Don’t you love life despite the contrast and dark days?) Sometimes the things you love? Ain’t gonna love you back. But that shouldn’t change your love. Anything that changes you controls you. You should always be in control of your love. It’s the only true control that you ever need to practice and exercise, and ironically, it is the toughest. Practice self love as devoutly and diligently and ceaselessly as you would pursue a lover. Expand your horizon and images of love. Love can be a song, a dance, or a smack on the ass. Energy transformed, reformed, renewed, ever flowing but always, always, love.

Tight Spaces

I meet you, at the appointed time and place. I have removed my underwear as you requested. They have been placed in the glove box. The secluded parking structure is located in exactly the spot from which my GPS has been pinned by your phone. I pull straight in and cut the car off, and wait, legs spread in anticipation, as requested. I pull down the mirror to check my reflection and am startled when you slip wordlessly into the seat beside me. Your forearm brushes against my thigh as you lean over me to flip the mirror closed. You utter one syllable, “Beautiful”, simultaneously sliding your hand up towards my throat. Our eyes lock as our lips join hungrily. 


There is a sense of urgency to this mission although the lazy way in which your fingers reach for my breast say otherwise. As always these moments are breathless and weightless and heady all at the same time. The sound of gnashing teeth and whispered words fill our tiny space and place in time; hands exploring familiar territory, lips yearning for forbidden spaces. Hearts pounding. Members throbbing. Spaces vibrating. Chakras ignited.Eyes still closed. Lips slowly part. Earth reappears in the rear view mirror as I look to view what I’m sure are bruised and pinked lips. A sudden whoosh of air cools my heated skin. I look right and wonder if I still see the imprint of you there…

Or was it all just a dream? 

Vignettes of a Vixen

His chest was a double wide barrel that shot bullets at me, winking at me in the form of visible nipples straining against his tee shirt, the obvious irritation in his stance and demeanor making the blood course through them causing them to harden. Nice. 

I continued to observe this semi-caged specimen of a chocolate drop as he paced back in forth in panther-like form, rocking back on forth on his heels as he executed military style turns at the edge of each walk way that held him and his anger just at bay. 

I couldn’t make out but a few words as he would wait for his retreat to utter most of the harsh speech into the tiny phone trapped to his ear. A couple of times our gazes collided and instantly retreated like The Northern Lights. I chewed my food slowly, thoughtfully, as I observed this fine specimen of a man before me. 

I needed some dick. 

And he looked like he gave good dick. 

I reached for a napkin to wipe my lips as he made his journey back my way. My tongue snuck out to lick the sauce hovering in the corner of my mouth. Simultaneously our eyes met again. His eyes slightly widened then narrowed as my tongue made its slow sojourn across the lush valley of my lips. I slowly lowered my gaze as I lifted the napkin to my lips to finish the job. 

His mouth was slightly open, short breaths making his chest move a bit rapidly. I took a second to observe the play of chest muscles before allowing my gaze to travel up to the smooth dimples now perceptibly forming in the crevices of his cheeks. Across his face my gaze took its time, broadening the stroke to include his noble nose and the beautiful pair of eyes above them. 

Time stopped. 

The tinny sound of a woman’s voice was barely audible, like the proverbial soundtrack for the deed that we had just sealed in that moment. 

Damn. 

He looks like this is going to be some damn good dick. 

LoveLetter(let her)

05/07/17
Dear Love…
I wrote another letter to you today. I tore it up; I wiped my screen clean. I inserted a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter. I got out a fresh notebook and new pens. 

And here I am again, still, back at square one. 
What do I say? How do I get you to understand just how much I search for you in every breath, every conversation, every interaction and relationship I’ve ever had? I see your silhouette best it seems when you are far away; everyone looks like you then. 

self love

But then I get up close, and I am disappointed that it isn’t you. It looked like you, I think as I smile the sheepish smile of the misguided and move on…
I have so many words, but then when it comes to you I am at a loss to describe just how – 

Amazing, isn’t it, that I am tongue tied with you of all beings? You who know me better than I know myself in this moment…
I keep seeing this bunny rabbit in my yard, and it reminds me of you too. Perhaps it is the carefree nature seen in the joyous, bouncy jump with which it bounds across my lawn and out of sight; it makes me smile and giggle, and I look around to see if anyone else has just seen or felt what I just did. Or perhaps this is just another instance of me projecting you into my daily reality? 

So many questions…
Square one again, but nonetheless I take a deep breath to center my thoughts as I start with a blank screen, a fresh page, a new pen, and a renewed energy to tell you just how much-

I love you.
Love Wins, 

Me