Abandoned and resentful
Mood:  smelly
Topic: Dear Diary
I want to talk about TSO today. I?m getting extremely tired of playing that game alone. I feel resentful every time I load the game because I might as well play Makin? Magic and the rest of the Sims series I have here at home, if I wanted to play by myself.
I work on a lot for three days and get it into the top 100, then two days on another property and come back to find that I have to start all over again. Then everything breaks and I have to hire a repairman, every single day. There has never been to my knowledge one day that I landed on any property and didn?t have to call the repairman.
Then on top of it all my friends show me screen shots of Second Life and encourage me to come play knowing full well that my computer can?t run it even if I downloaded it.
I feel resentful because I feel like I invest a lot into my virtual friendships and sim relationships and somehow it means very little to anyone else. I worked up a schedule so that I can use 12 hours of my weekdays working the lots with my friends, but no one is there because they?re in SL. And I would understand if I had procrastinated way too long and everyone had already left, but I didn?t. Folks received my schedule and following one person, they all left one by one, each telling me I should come too.
One friend asked what he could do because he doesn?t like to see me feeling abandoned and what could I say? I don?t feel comfortable with telling my friends come back to the game and play with me because I would do what it takes for me to feel happy too. There?s a lot of drama and technical bullshit in TSO, and if someone is sick of it, who am I to say they can?t go find what fun they can elsewhere?
I don?t even know what I can do to make me feel better. I don?t have $1 to spare on a lottery ticket, how am I supposed to buy a gaming computer?
Maybe it would be better if I had a ?real? life. If my local friends called once in a while or invited me to go do something, but there?s something about me that it?s okay if I just show up, folks seem happy to see me, but no one, and I mean no one, thinks to include me specifically.
Oh, folks are interested in ?playing? with me, alright. Some of them whine and tell me that they?ll die if I don?t spread my legs and let them put their parts into me. Some of them beg me and tell me they will do *anything* for me without a safe word. And still others attempt to bribe me and get exactly what they want from me like a store. They want to have this done, but don?t want to do this, that, and the other because they have reasons and issues?but other than that I have freedom to be the dominant person that I am and do as I will with them?and they?ll serve me and give me money.
If I wanted to play with folks for money, I would still do as I pleased, that?s the whole point of being a ?Pro.? And I could prostitute myself like that, I?d be good at it, I?ve had years of practice. But I don?t want that kind of life; otherwise I would still be doing it?God knows I could use the money.
Why can?t I have anything ?real? in my life except all the hardship and shit?

Menopause and Mental Chaos
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Finger Eleven -- Good Times
Topic: Dear Diary
In the middle of celebrating my 43rd birthday (still), it came to me that my menopause is not a dreadful thing; it?s the opposite. It?s something I?ve looked forward to my entire mature female life. It?s not that I disliked being female; on the contrary, I have some fantasies, but I have reveled in my womanhood. I realize, skipping this cycle with all the symptoms once again, how desperately I want it to be the last time.
It came to me in a waking dream as I played Bejeweled some wee hour of the morning. I believe the past 21 months since my daughter started her first ?real? period, our animal instincts or genetic triggers, whatever they?re called, were at work?big time.
I saw it in colors and abstracts for the most part, with flashes of texture that gave me the impressions of experiences rather than showed like a film on a screen.
I felt stifling hot and sweaty soaking wet, as if my body were in two places at one time. I remembered holding my children?s baby teeth, collecting them one by one and saving them in a tiny box like a treasure. They?re keepsakes because it was a little triumph to learn how to cut teeth in the first place, then look forward to losing it for something bigger and better able to do the job. That?s a tiny thing to learn, and I remember wondering at the time what made me think to get on the floor with them each and play with teething breadsticks, yet so important in comforting one?s body through things intended to happen to it. I almost remember what it was like for me to learn that.
[21.04.05 Author's Note: I had the breadsticks, my son had teething rings and my daughter still bites..not sure if that's something to look the other way with or not. :D ]
Through the energies generated from solving the puzzles hidden in Bejeweled, my analytical mind enjoyed the time off while I, whatever you call that part of my mind, the emotional, the sensuous, the intuitive, the primitive?yes, the primitive part of me got a chance to awaken. That?s what happened, I wish I could describe it, even three dimensions like stone couldn?t accurately express the connection and honor and peace I felt. I hardly dare to hope this skipped cycle means I?m finally done, it?s worse than waiting for my teeth to come in.
Menopause is such a deeply primitive thing, and it?s only natural that a biological mother would ?regulate? her female children before her contribution to the perpetuation of the species is completely made, enjoying the rest of her life and her grandchildren. Yes, I have looked forward to exactly that, and how silly of me to dread that it wouldn?t happen.
I?ll blame hormones. :D And beware the face of the moon?I?m not always in my right mind. LOL
Okay, see you soon. Wage peace; love each other and ourselves. Really, trust me, just do it; I promise life will improve like magic all around you. Poof?.:D

Wet Dreams -- Episode 4
Mood:  a-ok
Topic: Wet Dreams (Fiction)
There has got to be a way to leave the resentment behind, Andi thinks as she watches Claire sleeping soundly on the sofa. She picks up a few things from next to her on the sturdy coffee table and carefully maneuvers around semi-visible objects in the semi-darkness to the sliding glass door leading out to the deck.
She swings the security bar up into its holder and almost soundlessly rolls the door enough to allow passage and flips the latch closed so the door can close without locking her out accidentally. Andi resents living in a place where locking the doors is necessary to protect her loved ones.
The chilly, nearly Spring air tickles her face and perks her nipples in spite of themselves, and she stretches and inhales several deep breaths. She resents her aging body which alerts her to the weather and pains her without permission or reason. Andi sat at the side of the deck against the house, putting her things on the little table, and lighting a cigarette. She resents being left handed because if she were right handed she could sit in the other chair and lean against the giant tree, maybe finding inspiration or a little comfort. Then Andi continued feeling resentful of feeling resentful all the time, and opened her notebook and wrote:
?He tucked a tendril behind her ear, tracing a line up her jaw and around her soft, jeweled ear. She didn?t stir. He watched her sleep, a tiny flair in her nostrils when she breathed, dreaming behind her eyelids. He couldn?t communicate with her, not one word yet, but he thought he might have some caring feelings for the poor creature; sexual ones perhaps, too.?
Andi took another long drag off her cigarette and thought she resented loving Clair so much too. And she couldn?t remember the first time she began feeling this way, yet. She believed she resented that the most because she thought that if she could only remember the first time, it would solve all these years of insignificant resentment, and she could feel happier just for the hell of it afterward.
But, instead of remembering anything at all, she has to either sit up half the night writing bullshit romance stories, or dream the damn thing over and over again.
?Good grief? Andi said to the tree, she felt especially resentful tonight, she thought, and butted her smoke in the tuna can ashtray. She gathered her things, secured the house, and put herself to bed again.

The Kissing Couch
Mood:  lucky
Now Playing: Blues Traveler and a variety of alternative rock.
Topic: The Kissing Couch

A straight, homebody kind of girl gets talked into going to a mixed (slightly more gay than straight) party. She?s a little out of her element, but mingles and drifts around the large house then settles in a sofa against the wall with snacks and something to drink. The little end table is covered with various cups and tiny paper plates and she doesn?t have enough hands to make a little space for her drink. As she looks around for a solution before someone notices what a dork she?s becoming, a handsome butch comes to her rescue.
He?d seen her when she came in with her friend and had watched her from a distance as she mingled and gracefully made her way to the sofa.
?Hi, looks like you could use a hand while you settle in, may I?? He approached with an easy smile and an outstretched hand for something she might hand to him to hold while she finds a place for the other thing.
?Hi, thank you, yes? she blushed and decided to pass the plate so she could take a little sip of her cup before setting it on the end table.
It takes a couple minutes and she?s more nervous by the second, while he just seems patiently waiting to give her plate back to her and be on his way.
She reaches for the plate, but he sits down next to her on the tiny sofa before handing it back. She?s suddenly too shy to speak much, but does a lot of nodding and smiling and stuffs something small in her mouth so she wouldn?t say something stupid.
?Mandy is your girlfriend, right?? He asked her three chews into a sliver of hard bread with spinach dip and a now half piece of jumbo shrimp on top. She rushed to chew and swallow so she could answer, but caught a twinkle in his eye and simply nodded instead, chewing more slowly and swallowing with an unconscious flick of her tongue to the corners of her mouth.
?Yes, she was kind enough to make a deal on the rent the first month for me to move in. It was much harder to find a room in my price range when I got here than I expected.? She blushed again.
?That?s good; it?s nice to meet good folks right away. So you just answered her ad or something??
?Yes, I was really lucky, too. I got the paper in the train station and it was already a week old by the time I got here. I expected her room to be taken already, I?m so glad I called to be certain.?
?That was lucky. How are you two getting along??
?Oh fine, thank you. Mandy is really great, and the room is perfect and the apartment is just beautiful, she?s an interior designer, you know.?
?Yes, I know.? He smiled like he knew everything he wanted to know and only waited for the right moment to pounce.
?So, I?m Mel. Nice to meet you.? He grinned and stuck out his hand just as she thought it was safe to pop another delicious bite of something into her mouth.
She blinked a couple times, gulped her mouthful down, and responded in good humor.
?You?re doing that on purpose aren?t you, Mel??
?I like to see a beautiful woman with her mouth full. And, of course, I?m an evil stranger. Haven?t you ever met an evil stranger before?? He leaned in a little and noticed she didn?t lean away. She didn?t lean into him too, but she didn?t flinch or subtly shrink away either.
She laughed brightly, ?No Sir, I have not, and if you?re the first then I must say I don?t know why I waited so long to meet an evil stranger.?
She flirted a little, the man was courteous and friendly and even if he was only making polite conversation and they?d never see each other again, it was still kind of him to give her a little hand and chat with her for a while. And he was charming and something on the ?dashing? side in her judgment.
His color deepened a little and she realized it was his turn to blush, she felt a pleased rush tingle through her guts; a blushing man is one of those irresistible things for her. She blushed knowing she had gotten to him in some small way and having had the upper hand in the conversation for a split second. Then she remembered and blushed brightly.
?Starla. Starla Nelson, very nice to meet you too, Mel.? She looked around for someplace safe to set the half empty little plate in case she needed to bolt.
?So who else do you know here, Starla?? He said leaning against the back of the sofa and giving her room to bolt if she needed it. The dance was on now; it wasn?t like she would want to leave with her roomie still here.
?Well, you and Mandy now, actually.? She smiled and shrugged her shoulders slightly. She couldn?t very well lie about a thing like that, for all she knew he could be the host of the whole thing.
It was still early in the evening, there was a ?European? supper planned in an hour or so and what she?d heard from Mandy, impromptu performances of some kind would follow. It was a full room, yet everyone seemed to flow around each other and only brush up close now and then on purpose. They seemed like an affectionate and inclusive group of friends.
?Starla, I have to ask you something, because you?ve never been here before and you might not know. Do you mind if I get a little tacky and ask you a couple personal questions??
?Yes, of course. I mean, no, go right ahead.? She laughed a little flustered, but holding it together well. ?Yes, please ask me anything you?d like to know, Mel.? She concluded and rested against the back of the sofa too, little plate still in her lap.
?Okay,? he sighed in a huff and paused for dramatic effect in an unconscious manner. ?How do you feel about gay people??
?Oh! Oh, well, yeah, you know, I probably don?t know any, but I probably couldn?t tell either. Except I think those two guys are gay, but they?ve been making out over there for an hour, that kind of gave me a clue. But, you know, I like them as a group, I think the parades are spectacular and I believe in Gay Rights; I think every one should be able to get legally married if they want. And, and I thought about kissing a girl when I was in the girl?s school, but I just never, you know, no one had the guts to kiss me either.? She stopped herself before she needed a crowbar to pry her foot loose from her mouth.
?Well, little Starla, hold onto your socks because the majority of us here are gay.? He watched her carefully for her reaction, he could see her blinking a few times and the little cogs turning inside and it was only a matter of seconds before she would go one way or another.
?Oh, are you gay too then?? she attempted to keep the disappointment out of her voice, she had already envisioned the possibility of a date or two with him.
?Yes, Starla, I am.? He rolled forward on his shoulder and aimed his face toward her ear closest to the sofa so she wouldn?t feel pinned and she could smell his neck and whispered; ?I was born female. Technically, I?m lesbian, but it?s more complicated than that.? Then slowly retreated giving her plenty of room to make her excuses and bolt.
Any second now?there she goes. Okay, count to three and if she doesn?t bolt offer to hold her plate while she goes to the bathroom and let the sweet little thing go. One, two?two and a half? Okay, fine then.
?How are you doing, Starla? May I find a place for your plate while you go freshen up or anything??
?I?m, um, well, soon yes, thank you, but I?m curious. Oh my god, I mean I?m fine and I?m curious to know what your point was in asking me?that, you know, question?? she just trailed off this time.
Well what do you know? Mel thought to himself. Exactly how curious was she, now that was the question Mel really wanted to know. She avoided him a little and glanced around the room, then back at her plate; fiddling with bits of things to keep the stray from slipping off onto her long black, wow, that looked like suede, skirt. He looked around casually, just a room check, where was Mandy, what were those guys doing now?oh, sheesh, we haven?t even had dinner yet, come on guys, jeeze, why do you always have to show off for the virgins?
He shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes just enough to look exasperated without implying it had anything to do with her or their conversation as he turned back to her. Well, she might not date him, but she had to know about the meaning of the sofa, other guys aren?t always as nice as he is to cute girls.
Besides, she was living with Mandy, it?s only a matter of days before someone over there tries something silly thinking this woman knows something about anything from lesbianism.
?Well, really I was trying to tell you about the sofa you?re sitting on here, because I don?t think you knew the house customs, and I kind of needed to know how you felt about alternative lifestyles first.? He spoke carefully, as if he thought of that exact word to say just that instant. However, he hesitated because she seemed so innocent and open and he?d probably said those same words two dozen times to femmes sitting on this sofa, but he?d never doubted his urges to kiss one before. It was the whole reason he hung back so long and observed; to prevent these doubts when he goes for the kill.
Mandy had been telling him for weeks about Starla, how he was the right man for the job and all, but now, looking at her sparkle and blush?there was just something wrong with spoiling that and not preserving a bit of it for himself.
?What about the sofa? Was it reserved? I?m sorry.? She sat up and adjusted to stand as soon as it was polite, but he rested his hand on her forearm and smiled.
?No, it?s not reserved, exactly, just this particular sofa has a purpose beyond just relaxing like the others. See the decorations?? He pointed out the watercolors and glittery things hanging from the ceiling and pieces amid the trash on the end tables with a secretive smile.
?It looks like a little Christmas Corner, or something. It?s sweet, and no one seemed to be sitting here, I didn?t understand there was a purpose for this particular couch. I certainly don?t want to intrude on someone?s art or whatever?s going on.? Starla said not actually irritated at anything in particular, but thinking someone could post a little sign when something?s special. She glanced around in obvious places on the wall, then the not so obvious places, maybe it fell? She resisted the urge to look behind the sofa.
?Yes, you could say it was Christmassy, and I don?t think I would be outing the host if I told you that he?s pagan and probably wouldn?t go quite that far to have a Christmas Corner. Of course, you couldn?t know that, but if you look closely you?ll see that it?s only mistletoe around this area, see??
She did see. Pretty darn good watercolor, now that she looked more closely, and suspected the host painted it himself. Probably one of the gay men enjoying themselves over there, they seemed like the creative types. Oh yeah, that was pretty creative alright, perhaps she?ll just look at Mel again for a while.
?Oh! Mistletoe, oh okay. Wow, I?m really naive, kissing couch, right?? She rolled her eyes at herself in an unconsciously adorable way and couldn?t believe she?s as old as she is without remembering what the hell a kissing couch looked like. Yep, looked like any kind of ?straight? kissing couch she?d ever seen. She didn?t think she?d ever have to purchase powder blush again.
Okay, that?s it, he decided, she?s not getting off this sofa without a kiss now. There?s no future or anything, she?s about as straight as a rail, but she didn?t have a clue about him and he thought he could make her forget long enough for a really tasty kiss. He licked his lips and she seemed to catch it from the corner of her eye because she involuntarily, utterly unconsciously licked her lips too.
?So, Starla, you said something about being curious? Are you more or less curious now??
?Oh, well, you know, I was curious about what you were telling me, and now I know about the sofa, well, I know, so I?m not as curious now. Thank you for letting me know about it, by the way, I wouldn?t want any evil strangers getting ideas about me or something.? She flirted out right. It wasn?t even a step above the first flirting; she leaned forward and put the plate on the floor under the end table and swallowed the last of her drink.
?I thought I might take you up on that run to the bathroom, and wondered if you wanted me to bring you anything to drink back, or something??
She perched on the edge of the sofa for flight, and he guessed the poor woman was near her limit with the fuck buddies over there and everything, and figured his best option was to let her fly and see if she might return for a kiss. That could be a fun evening. He was planning on going to bed after the party and masturbating with her in mind anyway, he just might get lucky.
?I?m good thanks. I?ll relax here for a few, you?re probably going to get distracted along the way or on the way back. It?s all good, thanks for the chat, Starla; I?ve enjoyed meeting you.?
?Oh, I?m coming right back, I really do need to go to the bathroom, and, well, if you don?t mind talking, I mean, you probably have all kinds of friends here and I don?t want to keep you from them, you know, I?m okay too. You?ve made me feel comfortable, so I?m okay now, I don?t want you to feel like I?m sitting here all lonely and uncomfortable or something.? Now she didn?t want to leave him sitting there wondering if she would come back or not, but she really had to go, time was running out before her body would make the choice for her.
?Good. I?ll kiss you when you come back, then. This is the official kissing couch; I can?t let you get away with just sitting here now that you know, even if you are new.?
?Oh, well, I guess that?s fair. A kiss, right? Okay, I could probably do something like that.? She blushed like a school girl that time; she thought she might need to find some facial bleach if things kept up like this. She hopped up and headed for the toilet without looking back, hoping he watched her ass and wondering if she would chicken out before coming back.
There was a line when she got to the narrow hall.
?Come on you perverts, take that to the closet, there?s folks who have to take a piss out here.? One man in a fantastic sequined gown and full head dress knocked on the door again.
She saw Mandy a few people behind him leaning against the wall on her elbows and passing the wait time lip locked with a woman who looked she?d just stepped off a fashion magazine.
She glanced back in the direction of the sofa around the corner of the hall knowing she couldn?t see it from there and decided that if lesbians looked like Mandy and her friend, she had nothing to fear from kissing an attractive man who claims to be a woman. She was never going to look like a model, that?s for certain.
She attempted to watch without actually directly looking at how Mandy and her friend kissed. It was getting pretty heated over there. Mandy had one hand up the woman?s dress kneading her breast and hiking the hem up to show that she wore nothing else except shoes. The woman seemed abandoned to the embrace with Mandy and made little sighs and gasps as Mandy pressed against her and sexed her up against the wall.
Starla glanced at the other people waiting in line, all of them chatting and shifting from one foot to another and just doing the usual things folks do while waiting in line for the toilet?as if nothing at all out of the ordinary were happening inches away from them.
Mandy had her fly unbuttoned and the woman?s hand down her pants as she humped against her and chewed on her nipples now. Starla wondered if there were another bathroom in the apartment?she really, really had to go soon. And now she thought she might be getting turned on.
The men came out of the bathroom, three of them, and the man in drag zipped in and shut the door. We all shifted forward, except Mandy who shoved off from the wall, snatched her girl along, spun them both around like dancers and thumped her against the opposite wall, waving behind her half-moon ass for folks to take their places, we did. Alrighty then, Starla thought to herself and believed Mandy would take the show elsewhere any second.
?I?m going to fuck you right here in front of all these people, Tiffany, what do you intend to do about it?? Mandy said in that moment.
?Um gee,? Tiffany panted in Mandy?s face, ?how about I fuck you right back? That work for you??
?Yeah, it does.? Mandy said, and swooped onto Tiffany?s nipple with her teeth in earnest. Tiffany yelled and then relaxed with a husky chuckle, shoving her hand down Mandy?s pants even farther.
Starla looked around again, maybe she just ought to say her apologies to Mel and slip off home, this was turning into an orgy and she really didn?t think she was ready for something like that. Then Tiffany, in front of God and the universe, pulls out Mandy?s cock, [oh, so that?s what a strap-on looks like], kneels and start sucking it down her throat like it was real. Well, it was real, Mandy probably paid good money for it, but, you know, it wasn?t a real cock. It looked like a real cock, only a little bigger than the several she?s seen, but, yeah, that?s a fake cock. Maybe there?s a way that it?s hooked up to Mandy?s clit or something, because she seems to really be getting off on Tiffany sucking her like that.
Oh my God, she thought, Mel. He?s probably got a fake cock too, or she?s got a fake cock, or ? fuck, now what does she call Mel, he or she? Better to stick with ?he? because he did say it was complicated and that probably means he?s got a permanent fake cock like a prosthetic or something?in which case that would make it a real cock and therefore she?s a he anyway. Holy shit, she just wanted to kiss the man once, was that so difficult?
She looked over at Mandy who held her jeans up on one hip with one hand and had the other tangled in Tiffany?s hair. Tiffany raised her eyes and looked into Mandy?s eyes and gagged twice on the large cock and only paused to swallow, hardly missing a beat. Tears streamed down Tiffany?s face, streaking her mascara, but she sucked and opened her throat and took it deep till her chin snuggled into the rubbery fake balls. Then back off to breath through her runny nose, working that cock like a professional apparently conscious of only Mandy and her cock in the whole universe.
?Oh my God, you slut; you?re going to make me cum down your throat right now aren?t you?? Mandy tipped her head back and groaned loudly. Tiffany didn?t answer. ?Get up here, you.? Mandy pulled Tiffany to standing and shoved her against the wall again one of her legs hoisted up over Mandy?s hip.
The drag queen came out of the bathroom and the next three in line ahead of her all went in at the same time. She hoped they wouldn?t be very long, besides having to pee more than ever, she also needed a breather. She would go out on the fire escape if necessary, she thought of alternative plans in case the bathroom door suddenly disappeared and she were stuck here watching Mandy and Tiffany sharing their intimacies in the hall.
And just as Mandy plows home for the first time with Tiffany huffing and howling and apparently painlessly thumping her head against the wall with Mandy?s enthusiasm, Mel walks around the corner and gets a good eyeful. He just grins and slips past and steps in next to Starla whom he can clearly see has not nearly watched enough pornos in her time.
?I?m just getting here now, I?m sorry for the wait, Mel. See, I didn?t ditch you.? She grinned at him and if she didn?t have to pee so badly she would pull him away from there and see if he still wanted that kiss. She didn?t quite connect that she felt horny from watching Mandy and Tiffany; she just knew she needed to get a little farther away from them and her mind on something else.
?It?s alright, Starla, I wasn?t coming to check on you, I know how these lines are and I thought I better go too while I had the chance.?
?Dammit Mel, you can?t cut in line just because she?ll let you go pee with her, we?ve been waiting too. If it weren?t for Man and Tif, I would have pissed myself by now.? The women behind Starla complained. They all look again.
Mandy?s little butt cheeks flex and jiggle with one of the strap-on straps unhooked and flapping between her legs, her jeans and boxers dropped to her ankles, while she plows Tiffany into the wallpaper.
Starla thought it was cute and sexy at the same time and should have waited one more breath to look at Mel, but he caught the ?curiosity? before she realized it was there herself. Oh yeah, the kiss.
Forget the kissing couch, she thought as the Master and his slaves came out of the bathroom and Mel held the door open for her.
?No, Mel. I mean it. We really have to pee here, don?t you dare go in there with her. Mel. Mel! Goddamn it. What an asshole.? Starla thought he grinned like Mel Gibson in a mischevious way as he turned from closing the door gently in the woman's face.
?Does the door lock, Mel?? she asked in a quivery, excited voice.
?Yeah, but the host has a key.? Mel said as he emptied his pockets on the sink top, keys, some loose change, a wadded up piece of gum wrapper, and winked.
?Yes, I can lock the door. Would you like that?? He stepped closer and Starla stammered.
?I don?t mean to be rude, but I really have to pee and I hoped for about a minute of privacy.?
?Yes, go ahead, I won?t let anyone in. I really have to pee too.? Mel grinned, watching her as he guarded the door with his back. ?Oh, you mean ?privacy? from me too?I gotcha, okay, I?ll close my eyes.?
?Yeah right, somehow I think I know that story. Whatever turns your cranks, I always say, I don?t care if the whole world watches, I got?to?go?ahhhhhhh, now. Ahhhh, thank the gods of bladders, I didn?t think I would make it to the toilet this time. That was close. Remind me to bring a bucket in case of emergency next time, alright?? Starla babbled in her nervousness of peeing in front of an admitted evil stranger, especially since he seemed accustomed to going pee with girls guessing by the lady waiting for them in the hall with the others.
They heard thumping on the wall and guessed Mandy and Tiffany were really getting into it out there, but Mel innocently kept the door closed not even hinting that he might be curious enough to peek out. He just stood there and watched her wipe, pull up her pantyhose, and flush with a self-satisfied smirk.
Starla moved to the sink and turned on the tap. She wasn?t about to just watch Mel pee, although, she suddenly felt curious to see his cock; was he wearing one too? Mel had finished and still adjusted himself as she reached to the hand towel tossed halfway over the ring.
He stepped up closely behind and reached around her to the sink. Oh yes, he was wearing a cock, she could feel it now.
It felt real, and she felt like swooning from the heat of him pressed up against the crack of her ass and she arched her back so her head rested on his shoulder and exposed her neck and he could see down her chest to wash his hands.
She pulled down the hand towel when she heard the tap close and continued to watch him in the mirror as he dried his hands in front of her too.
?Are you just about ready for that kiss, Starla?? He whispered against her neck behind her ear and gently spread his hands on her belly and ribs.
?Oh God.? She sighed and melted into him, all the hairs on her arms and neck standing on end. She reached down and behind her and smoothed her palms along Mel?s hips.
Someone pounded on the door and made her startle, but Mel held her fast for several seconds longer. Then he turned her around, giving her just enough room so she must step wide to keep from scuffing his shoes. She could feel the edge of the sink across her hips and his bulge fitting comfortably up under her pubic bone. There was no escaping anything, not a kiss, not a blink of an eye, nothing.
Starla considered his lips and didn?t want to just dangle her arms with nothing to do since he still had his hands on her ribs and he smoothed her shirt slowly up her back out of the waistband of her skirt, so she placed her hands on his inner elbows along up his biceps. Wow, biceps! What? Is he a rock climber or something? She thought she couldn?t have been more surprised until she looked into his eyes. Something told her she was more than ready to be kissed now; she recognized the kindness and admiration gripping her there somewhere between her heart and her now soaking wet "breath-easy" cotton crotch pantyhose.
She shifted her weight, slid her hands up his arms and gently behind his neck and nuzzled her face in his shirt collar.
?Oh God, you smell so good.? She sighed in Mel?s neck like she?d been his girlfriend for a lifetime. Mel thought he might have had a little orgasm just then.
A louder pound on the door and the woman likely had to pee like crazy now, but he thought Starla wouldn?t mind going to the kissing couch with him now. He kissed her forehead and squeezed her tightly to him before stepping away and stuffed things back in his pockets; then opened the door.
Starla's soft butch roommate and her mostly femme lover were still going strong next to the bathroom door.
Mandy had Tiffany in something like a police search position up against the wall, her cock clearly rigid and flexible enough to pound deeply into Tif's experienced, eager asshole. There seemed to be about half a dozen extra folks standing by actively watching the whole scene. The remarkably well endowed "FemDomme" squeezed past behind Mel and closed the door but Starla couldn?t see a path through without brushing someone nude and undoubtedly sticky along the way. She turned to Mel, who was already taking her hand and forging a path for them. They wove their way through the throng and Starla noticed this time that while folks straggled back in from the buffet style dinning room and generally lounged around like fully fed people tend to do, none chose the kissing couch. Mel charted a direct course and she was gracefully seated before she could have a second doubt. She suspected he planned it that way, the thrill from the bathroom was already fading now that she was back in ?public? view, and all she wanted to do was sit and fade into the woodwork for a while.
He watched her eye the room and decided to get them something to eat before she went into complete shock rather than just jumping right back into kissing her as he originally planned. She?s seen a lot and deserved to take things easy for a few minutes he reasoned to himself.
?I thought I might grab us a couple plates, are you allergic to something? Anything you particularly dislike??
?Please don?t leave just yet, Mel. I?I don?t know what I want actually, but I just need a couple minutes and I?ll be happy to come along and have dinner with you then.? Starla said a little desperately, suddenly feeling anxious.
?Alright, Starla, we don?t have to go in just yet. Is there anything specific you want to talk about or would you just like to cuddle for a time?? He took her hand and leaned against the back of the sofa again. She still sat perched and looking a little overwhelmed, he thought she might bolt after all. He laid her palm on his upper knee and relaxed and waited. She would either pull out and bolt or settle down and let him seduce her.
She looked at him, and then she looked down at her hand on his thigh and his hand on hers and exhaled. Here she comes, he dared not sit forward just yet. Yes, my pretty, he thought, come to me, that?s it. She shifted her hips a slight amount and slowly sank into the comfort of the sofa breathing so shallowly he thought she held her breath sometimes. Yes, she did hold her breath for several seconds, then, as if she suddenly remembered to breath, she panted soundlessly a few times.
Then she turned her shoulders toward him, watched herself while she slipped her other hand under his on his thigh, so it would only take one swift move and he could have both her wrists in his strong grip. And then she raised her eyes to meet his with a tentative smile.
?I do believe I owe you a kiss still, kind Sir. I?m not certain I will be able to wait for dessert.? She flirted as best she could in a whisper and with the terror swirling behind the sincerity in her grey eyes. She really did want to kiss him. And he thought he understood her fears. Still it?s good to be sure; no telling where the land mines are in some otherwise well adjusted and open minded women about to be kissed by a stone hard butch for the first time in their lives.
He slowly leaned in, allowing her to breath the same air he exhaled. He just floated there, inches away from her face, searching her eyes for the sparks of passion, studying her lips. He leaned closer still, their noses nearly touching, and whispered into her parted mouth.
?What is the thing you most fear about kissing me, girl?? He poised there in her rapid breath and thought if he could be turned on any more by this woman, he would bust something.
She huffed a couple times and blinked a few more not wanting to break the closeness, yet faced with all these fears and feeling too confused to sort which one might be the most. Dozens of fears passed before her eyes, and she kept having to bring her mind back to the kissing Mel part, because there wasn?t any dating or relationship or ugly arguments or any of that yet, and that?s the part scared the shit out of her. And ?alternative? sex, what was that? Did that mean he had breasts? How the hell do you ask a man who is on the verge of kissing you if he has breasts? She didn?t even get past the belly button when her mind blanked the whole physical aspect of Mel?s cock before she even thought that far. She had already gotten to the point that she thought she could suck a strap-on like Tiffany because there?s no surprise cum to attempt to swallow, and she really didn?t like swallowing all that much anyway. She could live a lesbian life motivated by that thought alone, she reasoned.
However, he was talking about a kiss on a kissing couch, not living happily ever after and bearing his kids. He hadn?t even asked for her phone number yet, how did she know that he even wanted more than a kiss (provided everyone likes it and all goes well, and that whole round of thinking again)? She gently took one of her hands away, brushed a few stray hairs out of her eyes and blurted her answer, still gesturing to emphasize her thoughts.
?I?m afraid that will be it. I?m afraid the kiss is all there is and I?d never see you again, even as a friend. Or worse, what if I don?t like it or can?t handle it, then we?ll never date, but I don?t know if you are already in a relationship, and what does that mean about me if I do like the kiss and we date and get into a relationship, am I lesbian then? And who am I, the Queen of Sheba? You never said one word about anything more than a kiss, so, you know how desperate I am now. And I want to kiss you just to know, just to feel for myself, because all my senses and instincts are yearning for me to lay myself open to you. I?m wondering how much gender really matters to me, because, I mean, where?s the line, you know? I?m so turned on by you I?m afraid I already have my answer regarding my sexuality. But if all we do is kiss and there?s nothing after that, maybe *you* hate it or something, then how will I know if I?m attracted to you because you?re you or if I?m attracted to you because I?m really lesbian and you happened to be the one that sparked it for me? You?re just such a nice guy; I don?t want to use you like that, just because I?m curious and now have issues with my sexuality. And you know; I still can?t believe you?re originally female even after going to the bathroom with you. Well, actually, especially because I went to the bathroom with you, because that was just such an opportunistic ?guy? thing to do, now that I think about it really. Oh my God, I?m such a dork, I can?t even believe it. Perhaps, I ought to go, I think Mandy can handle herself.? She pulled from his gentle grasp and stood to find where Mandy tossed her coat and hoped she could find the host to ask for a taxi.
?Come here, Starla. That was perfect, that?s why I asked you, I wanted to know what your fears are so I might have a chance to answer some of them, will you sit with me again and give me that opportunity?? Mel remained seated and spoke calmly with low tones, keeping his hands folded on his thigh where she?d left them.
She hesitated and glanced around the room. Mandy and Tiffany had brought the show to a longer sofa against the opposite wall and the gay men had towels and lube and condom wrappers strewn all over the sofa in the back.
Starla found herself distracted by them, they were slow moving and powerfully muscled, and in spite of the unfolding orgy-like activities in the room, there was a high degree of passion to their public lovemaking. Then she looked at Mel.
He had removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a solid looking chest under a men?s t-shirt. Mel had some curly hairs sticking over the neck band, and Starla sunk back down to the sofa thinking she might like to lay her head on his chest and rest for a bit, and he gathered her to him, scooting into the corner of the sofa giving her more room to tip off her shoes and put her feet up if she wanted.
She curled in facing the inside of the couch between his legs, she felt his groin in the soft part of her side and it took her a couple minutes to relax a little more comfortably on him with each breath.
?There you are, Starla; that?s my good girl. Look at you snuggling in with me here. Isn?t this nice? Yes, that?s good.? Mel crooned softly and stroked her soft hair while she closed her eyes and rested her mind for a time.
Starla lulled in his embrace and listened to his heartbeat under his soothing voice and trailed little patterns through his white undershirt on his stone hard butch body.
?I?ve been taking male hormones for about 6 years now. I started about a year after I had my breasts and ovaries removed. One breast had cancer and I felt it would be better if all of it were taken. I had a partner until nearly three years ago and we grew our separate ways, although I?d like to think we still remained friends. And from the moment I saw you innocently sitting on my mistletoe sofa, I wanted to do far more than only kiss you, Starla Nelson.?
She felt slow witted and confused as if she were drunk, and thought she should be working harder to figure this all out so she can go back to worrying about whether he?ll still want to get to know her after they kiss, but if she could just sleep for three whole minutes, that would cure everything.
He let her sleep for about 15 minutes while he decided whether to take her to her own bed or his. Then another 15 minutes longer because it felt so good to have a soft haired woman sleep on him again. Ahh, never mind, let her sleep as long as she needs; he would need to surgically remove his leg from the sofa, but it was a price he felt glad to pay.
She stirred and woke after another several minutes and carefully raised herself to look at his face.
?How long did I pass out on you?? Starla asked with a concerned look.
?Long enough to make me believe we?re going to have more than just kissing in our future.? He smiled gently back.
She brightly sat up and gathered her shoes onto her feet and giggled.
?Good, that must be dinner you?re talking about as well as the kissing, I?m starved. Let?s go eat, if your legs aren?t crushed, and if they are, what do you want? Are you allergic to anything??
?Oh ho, ho. Come back here little missy; you can?t escape that easily, you had your chance when you went to the bathroom. Mel dragged her back to the sofa and pinned her in the corner. She panted and pulled his weight onto her, bunching his shirt in wads at his shoulder blades. Oh yeah, the woman is a back scratcher, he gloated to himself as he leaned in for the kill.
Her eyes were large obsidian pebbles ringed in a thin grey line and her teeth chattered. He shifted to move back, but she clung to him and sat up with him, so he drew her into his arms and held her against his chest again.
?What is it, my little Starla? What are you afraid of so suddenly?? He smoothed her hair and rubbed her back.
?I don?t want you to be like all the other men and kiss me and break my heart. I want you to be different. I want to be different because you just don?t know me, and we?ll have a good time for a while, then you?ll learn what a bitch I am and that will be that.? She felt like crying suddenly and attempted to relax the knot in her throat, but it was already too late, all her dashed hopes and failed loves flashed before her eyes and leaked onto his soft undershirt.
?Oh darling, I?m not like any man you?ve ever known, promise. You just lay here and rest your pretty head and let me take things one day at a time with you.? He kissed her hair and breathed her into himself and held her close to his heart.

An Owner's Responsibility: Identity
Mood:  on fire
Topic: Words of Wisdom
Identity is the one thing we each rely most upon from day to day. It?s your identity which allows you to be unique and recognizable; utterly individual from even the ones you love the utmost in your life. It?s something we protect and defend, even as much as we like role play in our lives.
I?ve mentioned often how real life dominance is far different than online dominance. I?ve had long discussions with some of you about taking the role play into reality and playing safely in the ?real? world of SM. And I almost had it, but I was slightly off in one important way; the ?online? world is real too.
An Owner?s responsibility is to protect one?s slaves, including their identities. This also includes protecting them and their families from Oneself too. It means being willing to ?own? an online identity because someone doesn?t trust me enough to give me more personal information. The reality is that it?s reasonable to expect someone to protect their loved ones and families while they?re out and about online. And especially of even the ones we expect absolute truth from?which for me is everyone including myself.
I have a certain amount of reality I tell folks about myself, you know my age and some of you know my real name and that I have at least one kid. I?ve never posted my real name or that of my kid?s anywhere, not even in yahoo messenger in conversation with the exception of my writer?s Advocates who need to know where to send the checks eventually. Meliora Volens is my legal ?pen name? and Au Contraire is my official online alias. I will not lie to you; there are identity thieves and predators lurking on the internet and we need to protect ourselves, our loved ones and our online relationships from them. Even if that means that I never see a recent photo of my online slave or know *any* of its reality beyond what it is willing to share with me.
My public and online identity is important to me and it?s reasonable to expect others to feel similarly. It?s more than keeping someone?s real name and information secret; it?s expecting to earn the trust it takes for a reasonable human to share that much of themselves with me in the first place. Because the truth is, you may never get an invitation to read my blog or chat with me in The Sims Online if I don?t trust you either.
A warning signal to online submissives wanting to get into online D/s relationships is when a Dom/me insists on knowing your personal information before you?re ready. A person like that is already mistrustful. S/he expects you to prove yourself with your personal information on the faith that s/he is a dominant and all that s/he claims to be. These folks often have good intentions while having higher expectations of the end results of the relationship than is healthy.
Think about that for a minute. You?re meeting someone online, and in the back of your mind you are working toward your goals of taking your dominance (or servitude) into your daily (away from the computer) living. So, you?ve had some practice and you can get a sim into cyber faster than you could get introduced in your glory days and everything seems so much easier and faster online. It?s reasonable to conclude from all this speed and intimacy that the human behind the avatar you just romped is equally willing and able to take things to the ?real? world too.
Except, in virtually all cases, this is not true. Online relationships are fast and easy because we are someone else and if we were ourselves we wouldn?t do any of it and we wouldn?t have met and it wouldn?t have been easy or fast if we attempted to do half the things we do online.
If you want an online relationship, accept the online person you like as ?real? and sit in your own persona and have a good time; we?re all friends here. If you want a physical relationship; find your best friend or your favorite neighbor or the buxom brunette you met at the last local Munch and find fun things to do together online as well as in bed. That?s the actual difference between an Online Dom/me and a ?real? one.
Thank you for assisting me to see it. :D

My Funny Kid
Mood:  mischievious
Topic: Words of Wisdom
Did I ever tell you all how much I enjoy my kid?s sense of humor? I think everyday she says or does something to make me laugh.
She?s studying timing and presentation and such in her Theatrical Arts class and the day before mid-winter break began a week ago Friday, she participated in a ?Joke Off? and was awarded second place for the three jokes she found on the internet and memorized for the event.
It was an informal event, really intended for the kids because they tend to goof off just before the regularly scheduled time off and I didn?t even know about it until today. The reason she got second place was not only because she had memorized the jokes she found (several kids did as well although the assignment didn?t call for it), but also because she attempted to relate the jokes to each other with a couple sentences she had written in between. The following is a transcription of the three jokes she found on the internet and the handwritten notes she put between them.
Hi ? thanks. I?m [Nomi] and I think President Bush is really blond. [She goes directly to the first joke:]
One day, a blond named Sally was putting together a puzzle. She was really stumped and very frustrated, so she decided to ask her husband for help. ?It?s supposed to be a tiger!? Sally cried. ?Honey,? said Dan gently, ?Put the Frosted Flakes back in the box.?
[My kid writes:] But if you?re born blond it?s too late, you can?t even change your hair color and get smarter. [And she launches herself into the next joke:] A brunette goes to the doctor and says, ?Everywhere I touch it hurts.? The doctor asks, ?What do you mean?? So she showed him what she meant. She touched her knee and said ?Ouch!? Then she touched her chest and said, ?Ouch!? Then her stomach, ?Ouch!? The doctor asked, ?You?re really blond, aren?t you?? She replies, ?Yes, as a matter of fact I am. How did you guess?? The doctor answered, ?Well, your finger is broken.?
[My kid continues:] I think the President Bush was born blond and this is why ?
George W. Bush is visiting a primary school and he visits on of the classes. They are in the middle of a discussion related to words and their meanings, the teacher asks the President if he would lead the discussion of the word ?tragedy.? So the illustrious leader asks the class for an example of a tragedy. One little boy stands up and offers: ?If my best friend who lives on a farm, is playing in the field and a runaway tractor comes along and knocks him dead, that would be a tragedy.? ?No,? says President Bush, ?that would be a terrible accident.? A little girl raised her hand: ?If a school bus carrying 50 children drove over a cliff, killing everyone inside, that would be a tragedy.? ?I?m afraid not,? explains the exalted leader. ?That?s what we would call a great loss.? The room goes silent. No other children volunteer. President Bush searches the room. ?Isn?t there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?? Finally, in the back of the room, little Johnny raised his hand. In a quiet voice he said: ?If Air Force One carrying you was struck by a missile and blown to smithereens; that would be a tragedy.? ?Fantastic!? exclaims President Bush, ?That?s right. And can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?? ?Well,? said the boy, ?because it sure as hell wouldn?t be a great loss and it probably wouldn?t be an accident either.?
My kid concluded with a bow and a smile and nothing further written on her pages. Laugh today and everyday, my friends, and if you want peace on earth, then please pray for a tragedy with me.

Another Domly Rant
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: All my Blues Traveler again
Topic: Stray Thoughts
Okay, I just want to get something straight here between us. When my terms are agreed to and review dates are set and I?m giving you virtual collars with diamonds and things; that means you can be the submissive now. I?m not going to twist your arm, even if you were here. If you?ve changed your mind now, well?too bad.
I?m not talking about one particular submissive here, I?m talking about the whole lot of you. Okay, I?ll be fair; I?m talking about the submissive sims (I can?t even bring myself to use the word ?slaves?) I have gotten to know in this full Sims Online year. What is it with you people? I?ve been working on figuring that out because I?m just not interested in playing a game that frustrates the shit out of me.
Why do I take things step by step if I wanted you to do something differently when I got there? I do not ?date.? I will not marry you. We will not share children together or grow our own. And even were I sadistic enough to break your arm just because I felt like it, I do not foresee any opportunity I might actually meet you face to face ever in our lives. Some of that is financial, the majority is because I do not have a monogamous, equalitarian lifestyle where ?dating? or marriage or other people?s young folks work well at all for me. If I were abusive you wouldn?t question your lifestyle, if ?submitting? were something you wanted to do or not. You might fear for your life, you might do anything you could think of to escape me or die trying. But you know me, don?t you? Each of you whom I?ve ?punished? did your sim die? Did you feel any physical pain at all? Did I call you names and hurt your poor childhood abused little kid inside you still? And what did I actually do when I was really pissed off? Each of you whom I?ve ?owned? did I destroy your friendships or disappear without warning? Talk to each other about your former owners; yes, that is how submissive folks protect each other in the real world. Don?t just tweak out because you *think* something ?bad? will happen (yes, in a virtual reality where the most that will happen is feeling an emotion or two) then go out on a smear campaign?deleting sims and seeking protection from sims with barely half the facts and less of the truth?what is that? I thought I would chalk it up to experience the first time, but I won?t stand by and tuck my hands in my pockets when it looks a great deal like a game wide trend.
If you believe I own you in any kind of way, if we have sims together somewhere, if we chat in yahoo, then you know me a great deal better than to jump and tweak every time I praise you. What do you expect of me that after all these months and promises kept and agreeing that you approved of my treatment of you each and every step of the way, that after all that ? when I can?t even hold you in my arms much less bind you and make you piss yourself in real fear ? what do you expect of me? God, if I owned every ?submissive? who promised to do *anything* for me?well this world would be a very different place, I can tell you that. If you believe I own you in any kind of way you know exactly my limits and personal boundaries, how dare you fear my kindness and love and friendship now? And if the *only* way you know me is through the internet, then double how dare you?I bet I don?t even know your real name, yet so many of you know my home address too, I?m surprised I?m not paranoid about it.
It?s a real shame that you were mistreated the way you were, and now is your opportunity to get over it. If you believe I own you in any kind of way right now take a good look at me, even the pain I?ve ever given you is *opposite* to all those abusive people you once knew. Why do you think I don?t know what it must have been like? Of course I do. I want your agreement. I want your consent. I want you to be the happiest and healthiest you can be so that we have more things we can do together. And if you believe I own you in any kind of way: get over your past, quit looking at me to be something that I?m not, and involve yourself in this intense thing you negotiated and agreed to share with me.
Speaking when spoken to doesn?t mean refusing to speak until you burst and say something snippy or flippant and strain on your leash in front of friends. Speaking when spoken to means expressing yourself fully with grown up words when you?re asked, and gouging them into your journal when you?re not. This is my way of life and in the ?polite society? I keep, we look for quality and strength and many things, we always look for common courtesy (if not a certain level of general protocol) in a potential ?submissive.? Yes you have a strong will, what would you submit to mine if you didn?t? This is exactly what you asked for, a confident owner who wouldn?t abuse or harm you, who will be your life long friend at the very least, who sincerely sees the true ?you? and persists in adoring and encouraging you more every day?this is what you said you wanted in an Owner?and just think, I can do so very much more in my ?real? life. I?m not the person to adapt or change my ways; I know what I?m doing is right for me and mine. If you don?t want to share my life with me, whatever I might do from day to day, then be my friend as you can and choose someone else to ?own? you. Don?t just patronize me and agree quick, quick because you know deep down in your heart that if I ?really? loved you I would change and be just like that little fantasy Owner in your head. It might work that way if I ever intended an equal relationship with a friend, but I choose to share my life with a submissive who understands it's expected to adore and comfort and attend to me even if I don't feel like running around behind you "caring" for you and making you feel owned that day.
Yes, I know you feel lonely too. That?s one of our reasons for giving this whole Owner/slave relationship a serious shake. Do you think the race is over when you achieve the trophy of my collar and feel ?taken? by my ownership? It means I believe I own you in some kind of way too. Think about *me* for a change. You shouldn?t fear when I feel angry or sad or any of the things humans feel, you should fear when I stop feeling them for you; it means I just don?t care anymore.
Set an example for my kid, set an example of the best of your morals and your ideals, I think that?s the least I can expect knowing me and my life as well as you do; especially if my kid believes I own you any kind of way too.

Just Thinking Out Loud Again
Now Playing: Dido - Hunter and various artists
Topic: Stray Thoughts
Blog 02.14.2005
The frustrating thing for me balancing my virtual reality with all the things I want to do in my real relationships with my friends is being forever unable to look in anyone?s eyes or touch them. I can?t tell if someone is rolling their eyes at me and telling me ?Yes Mz. Au? just to shut me up for once. I can?t grab anyone by the back of the head and have them show me that eye roll again with feeling this time. I?m just a dork waiting around for the other kids to come out and play with me if I can?t touch someone and have an effect on someone?s life.
And why do I have to force that upon someone else? Why am I expected to chase after a slave when I?ve kept my promises and treated it better than *any* relationship it has ever known before me? If a slave doesn?t want to live by an Owner?s ways and standards, what?s the Owner expected to do? Who is in control if ?negotiating? means the Master adapts to suit the ideals and expectations of the slave(s)? I ask for opinions so I have more information so I can make more informed choices. I often think my slaves have good ideas and will gladly take those actions. And that is just my nature, I?m lenient like that, most of my dominant friends are far more strict in their private lives than I am in mine. And what am I going to do online? Exactly?jack shit.
I remember being slapped in the face for blushing and feeling ?shy? for my Mistress? nude body. She knew herself to be a goddess and it was rude for her personal slave to think any less of her than she would think of me. I already knew for a fact she enjoyed my nude body. It was my job as her slave to look upon her with adoration and encouragement, otherwise what?s the point of having such a personal slave around when so many begged her attentions in earnest?
I emailed a friend not long ago and one thing I said stuck in my head and I?ve wondered why I missed some of the old days when they were a serious bitch the first time? I think it?s because I miss the risk and the reality of the moments I shared with those people. I don?t have that with even my sister anymore. I have great phone conversations and yahoo messages, and nothing touches me deeply.
I remember being gagged for the rest of the evening for interrupting the conversations of the Owners in the room and thinking I had something to say. I remember kneeling for hours between Owners and holding various items for them like a living utility rack. I remember all the protocol just to bring a glass of cool water to an unfamiliar Owner working over a slave because that was my life for so very long. I told my friend in that email that I missed having to park the car three blocks away because the neighbors were assholes and would have ?strange? cars towed away when we went out to be kinky with folks. What I really meant was that I missed the risk and the feeling that we would give our life?s blood to each other without blinking an eye if life came to that?again.

My kid is more dominant than I expected.
Mood:  sharp
Topic: Stray Thoughts
Eves dropping on my 14 year old daughter?s phone conversation on the other side of the television with the top half of her body splayed out on the floor and most of her ass on the cushions with her feet swinging dangerously close to knocking the hanging plant again, I hear her dig information out of one boyfriend regarding his whereabouts for the movie outing the evening before. ?Yeah, so that doesn?t tell me where you were when we all planned this movie thing for days.? Silence, because I?m just sitting here and can?t hear what he says; I call it ?writing? but really it?s more like doing everything else I can do in this chair except actual keyboarding at all. ?No, because I?m giving you my Valentine?s gift on Monday and the house is a disaster, I?m serious, oh my god, you don?t even know how bad this place is.? I just smiled to myself because just about two days earlier I told her she might want to straighten just her stuff from the living room area because friend?s might come over and I didn?t think she would want them to see the disaster area the house had become. ?No Dude?yes, I want to see what you got for me?and?and?oh my god! No, because I already told you why.? He?s a couple months younger than she is. This is the third time they?ve dated since summer, and they?ve worked it out that they can go do stuff with other good friends as long as it didn?t interfere with the ?love? part of their relationship. My sister likes him, actually asked me to bring him back when I visit. That?s unusual for my sister; she has too many kids running around her own house to have time for too much teenage bullshit. ?Lynette, Deirdre, her boyfriend, what?s his name, Scott, yeah, whatever, and Mark?yeah, because Mark is my pet. No, you are beyond my pet, you?re my bitch. [They thought it was funny, but it was really true, she had him wrapped around her little finger]. ?No, she?s my girlfriend, you?re my bitch, get over it.? I thought my kid was going to be submissive. She was this adorable little thing running around sweet talking all the grandparents out of my inheritance with the bat of her eye and a flash of half coming in teeth. She was quiet and bright and polite and I remember perhaps 5 times when she didn?t wake up smiling. When she was 5 my girlfriend and I opened her basement for our friends and their friends to ?play? on the weekends. My kid didn?t care about the sounds people made, she cared about the next time she could go down and twirl in the hanging cage. She had her first lesbian girlfriend in 6th grade, but didn?t mention anything to me till this year, eight grade. She?s gone through boyfriends like television shows?one after another and only wants to talk to me when they?re annoying. This boy on the phone is her first real relationship. He?s hung in there with her after she?s treated him like shit and has consistently kept a great attitude. He was best friends with one boy she just *had* to date so he ?officially? broke up with her so she could date this other and told her everyday that they would get back together when her fling with his friend was over. I think he?s just about as hormonal as any other teen out there, but when they really did get back together the second time, he proved something to me too. Then they broke up a second time because my kid didn?t want to use him. So, I talked a lot about my friendship with different people and how some of my needs are fulfilled by each one and how I fulfill some of the things they need in their lives with me as their friend too. At this point, the boy had never been to our house and his family moved closer to our side of the city and my kid hadn?t seen his new place yet. I made a bet with her that she couldn?t stay away from his house, and that she would find some kind of reason to go there. I was going to give her real money and everything. She had to last until her birthday; she lasted until New Year?s Eve. They started going out again in January under the conditions that she gets to keep her girlfriend and other boyfriends too. I asked Joe (of course none of the kid?s names are their real ones) what he thought about this arrangement with my kid and he figured that since he wouldn?t be ready to settle down and get married and have kids and things till he was at least 16 (but he really wanted to wait till he was out of college or just before college if my kid wanted to live together with him and share expenses while they both went to school and worked and stuff, and he probably didn?t mean to tell me about the living together part and I should just forget I heard it) then yeah, it was cool because he knows they?ll always be friends even if she loves everyone in the world and she?s a really great friend and even if they marry other people they could be like Willow and Zander or something then. He went on about it and it?s a good thing he?s on the right track because that boy?s got a lot of charm and will certainly get where he?s going someday. He arrived at my door with an arm full of Valentine?s Day and birthday gifts for my kid about 15 minutes after she hung up the phone on him and growled at me about nobody ever listening to her. They?re up in her bedroom wrestling around like 6th graders right now. That?s all I want to know about it. I told them if they were going to do anything really dorky like having unprotected sex, they better leave the door open so I could hear them and make sure the sounds I heard wasn?t anything like rape. They also know that if they?re going to try drinking or smoking or something that I want them here where someone has a mind to call an ambulance or something if a really bad thing happens. And if anyone is going to have the guts to pinch from my stash then they have the nards to ask politely at the very least and sit right there and share a bowl with me. You want me to risk going to prison for neglecting my kid because I?ve had to take your experimenting ass to the emergency room?.no, you can have the balls to smoke a bowl with me and hear the speech for an hour. I think as long as facing me is worse thing that could happen if she smoked pot, why not just face me the first time and see what happens? I agree with marijuana. I disagree with alcohol and virtually all other drugs including prescription ones. I disagree every minute of the day with smoking cigarettes, mostly with my own body which is addicted to them from conception. I disagree with buying minors alcohol, yet cannot disrespect someone?s right to allow their children drink it in their lifestyles. I think if we managed to convince our government to restrict and tax marijuana like alcohol and firearms, and sincerely protected our children from everything else, the crack the homelessness the enslavement?the United States would make super powers look like anime nations. We could be a planet with one people, we might be ready to play in the stars after that. Just because I agree with firearms doesn?t mean I allow them in my house. If one were a soldier or police officer or used a firearm in the course of a day, then I would still restrict the presence of one in my own home, because I still have that right. Even if I keep my kid and those she cares about off the streets and near someone who can know what to do and wouldn?t hesitate to do everything it took first then get really pissed off about it later. And don?t anybody dare preach to me about any evils, y?all best learn how to choose yours too. My kid can get what she wants from the universe and she?s brighter and healthier and more capable than I am in protecting her from anything she faces in her life. I trust her to bring even the evil things to me because we?re all only human and we do exactly what we do. And on top of all that, I remember all the shit I did when I knew I couldn?t bring my evil things home for my mother to fix. I don?t ever want my kid to need to be so creative and innovative as I needed to be, even once?even the ?best? time where it wasn?t ?that? bad compared to other evil times. And if you think I would allow other people?s kids to come to harm, then you certainly wouldn?t want to know me anyway. I?m thinking about my friend Q right now because he?s just at the edge between understanding bdsm and living a bdsm lifestyle. He understands all the ?right? things to do to be a dominant and he would understand more of our conversations if he didn?t want to hold onto all his goodies he gets from his past lifestyle. He thinks I want him to give up all he?s earned and gained to accept what I have to offer and that?s not it at all. I want him to stop sneaking around and take the things he likes and bring a new meaning to his own life. He wants to know how a dominant develops his own style and there just isn?t any other way than doing what he admires others to do then thinking up stuff to do with all the people he knows according to what they will do with him on his own. So he goes sneaking around behind *everyone?s* backs and thinking he?s at least dominant online and don?t nobody talk mean to him anymore or he?ll go away and never come back. Please. I won?t accept that from my 6 year old niece, it?s almost rude to try something like that with me as a friend many years older. I?m attempting to show him how I use the internet to make my relationships as close as possible and gain information to do new things with my friends, and he continues to believe a Mistress should be like a mother hen after she releases a boy. He continues to believe that not saying anything and confusing the issues will solve the challenge of wanting more than one slave and loving only one person at a time?.openly, anyway. It doesn?t matter if I?m stoned or crazy or just plain slow, my kid is still more dominant in her relationships than the majority of the adults I meet online. She?s honest and playful and loyal. She fears evil more often than not to avoid it successfully, and I feel I can trust her out in the big city sometimes. I know it looks like I?m comparing, however I want to show an example of how ?natural? being a dominant person can be. My kid takes my advice most of the time. Sometimes she finds a more unique way of agreeing with me and my views, but she?s developing her own style and that?s what she?s supposed to do. I?m not going to tell her how to do every little thing, how to maneuver every little step. Good grief, there are so many reasons why that won?t work for us, I don?t even attempt any kind of micromanaging with folks over the age of five in the first place.
I?m not going to tell a grown man how to do every little thing and take every little step. I want real conversations and debates with my friends, I have one last teen in the house, and I can admit to anyone standing still long enough to listen, yes, I want to escape into my computer?as often as I can. I?m creating my own life, including the zillions of hours in TSO, more according to my own desires now that I?m not at the royal princess? beck and call quite as often. I don?t think anything of the hours my friends get to share with me because I get to have that authority to do pretty much as I please in my home. I forget that others live differently, and I?m working on being more aware of my boi?s and other?s schedules. At the same time I expect others to think nothing of the hours I play too. I trust my friends to make a little time for me as they can because they seem to enjoy my company. If the only time I get to see some of my friends, my boi for example, I would hope my friendship would make them want to spend more of their online time both including me in their plans and allowing me to include them in mine. You want to call me by my real name and hang out with me and my friends, expect to believe me when I tell you I?m a bitch. Because when I tell you you?re my friend and that I will do everything to preserve our friendship as long as humanly possible, I tell you the truth about that too. The rest I?ll just tell to your faces. I hope you all can sort yourselves out from all that; I?m really in no mood to repeat myself for a least a year or two.
Good day to you all.

A predatory mind
Mood:  energetic
Topic: Woman of Evil novel
Excerpt from Woman of Evil
by Meliora Volens (copyright and disclaimer protected content)

It wasn?t difficult to subdue her, he found. She had struggled a bit but it was a natural response to his attack and he expected it; he?d done it often. A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him to keep on his toes and alert. Subduing her was only the first step, and she could still slip through his grasp.
His body pressed hers face first against the damp bricks, one hand covering her mouth ready to pinch her nose closed if she struggled again.
?Will you scream if I move my hand to let you speak?? He asked quietly behind her left ear. He could feel her heart pounding and her rapid breaths across his knuckles. She made little panicky noises in the back of her throat, although she seemed to be deciding what next to do.
?Will you scream if I move my hand, bitch?? He whispered again, this time with a little more pressure on her mouth and a squeeze against the wall. He felt a hot tear roll down the back of his cold hand and she nodded a ?yes? as best as she could.
?You have just saved your life? was all he could say; she was the first person to tell him the truth when he asked that question before. She cried and leaned her forehead against the wall then her body felt as if it deflated and he knew the fight had left her for the moment.
His mind raced through the steps of what to do next, they always said ?no? and then he would get to beat them senseless, then they stopped screaming and he could?oh, yes, then he could take them someplace special. He thought he should kill her for the inconvenience of making him think and find someone just as pretty instead, but she was to be taken alive; she was not his this time.
He flipped her around with a firm twist and clapped his hand back in place hard enough to hear her head thud against the wall. She didn?t even have time to suck in a breath. She rolled her eyes as if she might faint, and he pressed close again. There could be time for cracked heads later if he worked things right.
Tears dripped down his hand, and when her nose stuffed up she looked at him. Like car lights passing by the dark alley, her eyes flared in recognition of the situation anew, then immediately faded to abject hopelessness. He hesitated. He thought he would see the familiar panic flash across them, but there was none. So he waited.
Her body began jerking and heaving to breath and still she returned his gaze knowing somewhere deep in her soul that she was already dead. Another minute or two and she would die, and she simply looked at him, not even daring to hope he would allow her to live.
He nearly forgot to cup his hand and allow her to breath; the look in her eyes touched and aroused him so suddenly.
She said a muffled ?thank you? as she inhaled the second time, gulping her words back down into her lungs.
?For what,? he wanted to shake her and scream the words, ?for letting you live??
It was all he could do to keep himself from strangling the false gratitude from her throat. She blinked at him, a kind of distant, blank, hopeless look in her eyes. He slammed her against the wall a few times as hard as he could.
?Fucking, stupid cows?all you bitches.? And people wondered why he wanted to kill them. She had passed out sometime during his outrage upon her, and now she girgled a little when she breathed. He probably broke her ribs or something, oh well, it?s not like it?s the first time that?s happened.
He tucked her under his arm like a drunk girlfriend and dragged her to his car. He tossed her in the back seat, bound her hands and feet with quick turns of the duct tape and covered her with a blanket just for this very purpose.
It was an old patrol car, painted dark blue with the thick divider between the driver?s seat and the back passenger?s seat. There were no handles in the back doors and the spotlight still hung on the driver?s side.
He liked the thought that there was almost no escape from the back and often wished there were still lights and radio installed just for the fun of it. But everyday he was told to keep a low profile, and after a few years, he?d grown used to no one taking much interest in him.
In the beginning, after making a little mistake, like leaving one of a girl?s earrings at the site where he grabbed her, he was scolded.
?What? Do you want to get caught? Do you want to get locked up so you can?t hunt anymore? What is it? You tell me, because I don?t know what to say to keep you from making these little mistakes that will get you caught? the man said.
?The police are stupid. They don?t know it?s me and they?re not going to catch me,? he retorted restraining the urge to spit on the man?s thick Oriental carpet.
?Bullshit. The police now have several clues and when they get enough clues they *will* catch you. The prisons are full of men who thought the police are stupid and wouldn?t catch them. If you don?t clean up your act and stop leaving little trails straight to you, then all I can do is wash my hands of you, you are of no use to me in prison or dead.?
?Well, fuck you. I could kill you too.? He was angry, mostly because he was told to grab this girl or that one and hadn?t been allowed to hunt for himself since they met and he accepted the job.
?Yes. I expect you could. It would be the end of your brilliant career, but hey, you would have vengeance against me and it would only be a matter of days before you would be caught by my other men. Now you don?t think you?re the only one to work for me, do you? Oh yes, now you see the light. You?re right you wouldn?t go to prison if my other men caught you, what do you think they?d do to you? Do you think you would just be killed? I tend to doubt it, they?re pretty loyal to me, I believe they would be unhappy with you. What happened the last time you felt unhappy? Yes, that?s right, look at the ground, I still don?t think the police found all the body parts yet after that time.?
He still didn?t understand what the big deal was, but the man was very clear about what would happen to him if he didn?t ?clean up his act? so he?s been more careful since, if not happily so.
He knows he isn?t a particularly smart man. He?s been told all his life that he?s stupid or sick, but these things don?t worry him much anymore, he knows his special talents and after all, like the man says, it takes all kinds to make the world turn. He sits nearly calm again behind the wheel of the altered patrol car and knows himself invincible surrounded by bullet proof glass.
He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that she was sitting up, just as if she were taking a day trip to a distant city. No tears in her eyes or much interest in her surroundings, just sitting there as comfortably as she could looking more down than in any particular direction. It didn?t matter if she saw where they were going; she would not pass this way again. He smiled to himself at the thought and stepped on the breaks once in a while to see her slide to the floor, just for the fun of it on the long drive.
Generally, hunting calmed the noise in his head. Sometimes with a good kill, he could go days without hearing it. Often, like now, the noise was so loud he could hardly hear anything else and he didn?t bother turning the radio on full blast, it would not drown out the noise at all. Sometimes the urge to kill made him nearly blind to everything else around him. He heard of people seeing red and felt it must be something like that except he is color blind and doesn?t know what red looks like. He really shouldn?t be driving at all, except who gives a fuck if he has a license if he knows the ?stop? is always at the top and the ?go? is always at the bottom. The noisy people in his mind yell at him to stop when he can clearly see the light at the bottom is lit, but he slams on his breaks anyway because that?s just what one does when people in your head yell at you. There is always a bad thing that happens when the people in your head aren?t heeded.
The car behind him blares its horn and he flips them off with out looking in the mirror. He has his priorities and they don?t include more, angry, noisy people telling him what to do. Still nothing that he can see, the traffic is still stopped crossing his direction and the cars behind him screech angrily around him, but he?s not moving till he gets the go ahead: there?s always a reason for these kinds of things and he?s learned to have a little patience with it. He looked at the woman. She sat upright on the seat again and jiggled her knees up and down on the reflexes on the balls of her feet.
?What are you doing, stupid bitch?? he asked, beginning to feel angry there was no sign what to do yet.
?Trying not to pee in your pretty car, Sir,? she answered without looking directly in his face this time.
He knew she was kissing ass big time, but since it was likely the last car she will ever see the inside of, it might very well look pretty to her. He let it slide, it wasn?t worth it and he figured he might as well let her pee outside of the car rather than have to clean it up later when she was in the man?s hands. Besides, he could use a good piss himself.
He pulled the car to the right, cutting off someone turning around him, pulled into a vacant lot a block or so down the road, turning the car around to head out of the exit again and parked in front of some large rubble at the rear of the property. He walked to the door behind his, opened it and reached in, and hauled her feet toward him in less time than it would have taken her to swing them up onto the seat. She grunted but made no sign of screaming and before he cut the tape around her ankles, he pulled her face close to his.
?Will you scream now, bitch?? he asked with a threatening glint in his eyes.
?I?d rather tell you ?thank you? first. It seems to make you want to kill me more,? she answered.
?What the fuck is your problem? Do you want to die?? He was really confused by this one. And it did piss him off to hear her say ?thank you? to him.
?I?ve been waiting for you to find me.? She slumped a little, her shoulder resting against the back of the seat.
?Yeah, well, here I am you stupid cunt. You?ll die, and you won?t be so fucking happy then, let me tell you.? He jerked her around unnecessarily and cut the tape lose and slammed her heavily against the car above the rear tire.
He liked the girls who wore dresses, like they just asked him to reach up and tear their panties off. Or pantyhose, as the case may be. She was wearing neither. He looked under her skirt, draping it over her face to keep it out of the way, but sure enough, she wasn?t wearing anything under there.
?I guess you were waiting for someone, now weren?t you, slut?? he grinned in a twisted, angry way. Where is the fun of a little rape if there?s nothing to tear aside? ?Just piss. You don?t thrill me anymore, you fucking slut.?
She squatted with her feet wide and let loose a thundering stream. It was kind of erotic to him to see her pissing there, her skirt over her head, arms still taped behind her back. He quickly whipped his short, thick cock out and aimed his piss at her shaved pussy. She jumped and squeaked at the surprise then relaxed and continued her release. He stood close enough to hit her full force without it bouncing back on him and it was the first time he felt pleased with something this ?sick? in a long time. He thought of pissing on her face, but figured the man would be able to tell even if she were dry by the time they got there.
He jiggled himself at the end and realized he had half a hard on, and decided if she were going to be so cooperative and willing to die, he might as well get his kicks while he could. The noise in his head subsided a bit and he knew he was on the right track now.
He stepped to the side keeping an eye on her and reached under his seat for the shammy he kept there. It was oily and filthy, but at least he wouldn?t get piss on himself, and he wiped her roughly with it, giving her a painful squeeze in the front.
He always thought a shaved pussy looked better than a hairy one and there wasn?t often a good chance like this to see one alive. He generally preferred warm and dead, however one can?t have everything one wants all the time.
He kicked her feet wider apart so she was completely off balance and depended on the car to keep her upright and she bent her knees a little to keep them from straining so much. Her lips just hung there and he guessed she must have had a lot of use to be that loose.
What a fucking slut, he thought and yanked them wide with both hands. She screeched loudly, but stifled herself as best she could.
He didn?t realize how painful that would be; he always thought girls had little or no feeling there, when he thought about it at all. The noise in his head was nearly quiet now, the early morning traffic easily drowning it out.
Thinking he could cause this cunt pain made his hard on a little longer and thicker. This might be something to look into, maybe there were pains he could give that wouldn?t leave marks. He thought of cutting the lips off for a souvenier, but remembered that he only did that with is own prizes.
He stretched them out in different directions, watching the little ball near her pee hole twitch and spasm when he did. She was breathing in pain, but kept herself from making much sound. That probably saved her life too; he liked causing pain almost as much as he liked causing death.
She certainly had a big damn hole there, that?s for sure. He shoved four thick fingers up there and found it sticky and wet.
?Shit, bitch, what the fuck is this? Are you peeing on me now?? He was offended for a moment until he realized she was shaking her head ?no,? and as much of a death wish she might have had, he didn?t think she would dare pee on him. Besides, she should be empty by now. ?Well, what the fuck is this shit, then?? he asked shoving up inside her and twisting around fairly easily.
?I like it,? she choked and held her breath for several seconds, tears sliding down her cheeks and collecting in the wrinkle of her skirt gathered under her chin in the brightening morning breeze. Then it occurred to him. It hit him like a hot wind from the desert. She was alive, she had feeling in her cunt, and he?d always had to use baby oil or something when he fucked his prey. It just never occurred to him that a female would make her own oils until now. That was a pretty handy thing to know, maybe he could make a girl really oily and kill her while he fucked her next time, he wondered. He?d have to think about that, it sure would save money on baby oil. Oh, duh, sometimes he really was stupid, oil made for pushing babies out, not from babies. He might be slow, but he gets it eventually; nothing is impossible to understand, the doing something about it is an entirely different story. His left hand gave his balls and half awake cock a final caress through the seam of his jeans and he popped his right hand out and wiped it with the back end of her skirt. Well, time to think about that on the drive, time is wasting and he hated the man yelling at him when he was later than expected.
He shoved her back in the car, in the middle of the seat and taped her left foot to the side of the frame of the divider dissecting the car in half near the joint between the front and back doors.
The ?leg room? in the back seat was significantly shorter than the front, partly to make a few inches room for the strong divider and because anyone in the back didn?t need to feel all that comfortable. He slammed the door shut and did the same with her right foot on the other side of the car. Her skirt still over her head in the front and her cunt very exposed to his view. He sat in the driver?s seat again, turned on the car, and adjusted his mirror. He could just see into her cunt over the top of the seat and since there was no time, it would have to do. He turned on the radio; it was too quiet inside his head now.
He pulled back onto the road amid the commuters and headed back in the correct direction. He glanced back often and realized he didn?t need to strain so much after a time. He wasn?t sure, but he thought she might have scootched back a couple inches to assist his view. What a fucking slut, he thought. He?d never met a woman so agreeable to rape and death before. It almost pissed him off again, but it made his cock hard instead.
He unzipped his fly again, and pulled his cock out over the teeth. He reached for the paper towels and baby oil on the floor of the passenger side while waiting for the bottom light and laid a couple in his lap. He often masturbated in traffic and had the technique down to a fine art.
Driving at a steady crawl away from the down town district of the city with one hand, he squirted a nice stream of oil on the head of his cock and already felt relaxed and stiff with the smell. He cranked the radio a little louder, that was a bitchin? song.
He looked back again and realized she moved her hips a tiny fraction with the movement of the car and the music and it made her pussy lips look a lot like a sideways mouth trying to talk to him. It was almost freaky, but it was kind of fascinating at the same time. The song ended and he turned the radio down a bit again, but she continued to move and wiggle her pussy lips. He realized she was doing it on purpose for him to watch.
?Okay, that?s about the sluttiest thing I?ve ever seen,? he said out loud, without much knowing he had spoken. His left hand adoring and caressing the baby oil into the skin of his cock and hairless scrotum, he absently made a note to himself in the back of his mind to pick up a personal waxing kit on the way home from cashing his pay next week.
?What other slutty things can you do, you fucking cunt back there??
She didn?t speak, but pulled her cunt closer to the glass, lifting her ass off the seat several inches. If there had been a way, he could have easily reached over the seat and slapped it hard. The oils warmed his palm and made slurpy sounds as he stroked harder and squeezed his balls up around the base of his rigid cock from his ass hole. He thought he would like to punch her cunt a few times, maybe break the bones there, but then remembered he wouldn?t be able to kill her.
His cock went limp and he decided to beg the man to kill her when they got there; she was too much of a slut to live. He readjusted the mirror and wiped his cock off, tucking it comfortably away again.
?Fucking slut, can?t even make me cum,? he grumbled to more to himself than anyone, and spit as he dropped the used towels out the window, the traffic significantly thinner by the second.
He drove through the state line, then another, stopping for gas and something to eat a few times. She was allowed to pee in a tiny windowless toilet in an abandoned station, but otherwise he just pulled to the side of the road and watched her piss on the ground again.
Since picking her up he?d seen nothing but sluts all over the place. One he wanted to fuck while suffocating to death, another he wanted to fuck while slitting her throat, and still another he wanted to fuck while she dangled between trees by her neck so that she would strangle much more slowly as he lifted her up in the air with his powerful cock. Most things he knew were physically impossible to do with a slut body, but it made his cock twitch and strain against his jeans and that was a comfort to him on the long drive.
?You know you?re alive when you?ve got a hard cock and a cold beer,? he heard his father say in the back of his mind. The noise was getting louder again; he knew he was nearly there. He drove through the tall gates and around the circular drive past the traditional oaks and to the stables and pastures at the left of the Colonial style house.
The stables still have some horses and dogs, but not as many as more than a century ago when the place was first built. He lived above them, but that wasn?t where he was headed this time. Farther down the service road between the pastures and the mansion lawns, he drove to the edge of the woods where ruins of former house slave quarters still leaned and weathered in the setting sun.
He knew these acres like his cock and liked living here. It was quiet most of the time, in contrast with his mind, and sometimes he could hear the neighbors across the lake throwing another coke party or whatever they did. He couldn?t see the lake from here; it was just on the other side of the trees where the service road was too thick to enter anymore, but sometimes the wind brings people?s voices to him as if they were standing on this side. This evening it was quiet.
He looked around before opening the back car door. The house stood at a fair distance and the newly set sun still reflected in the upper windows, but there were no lights on. Only the timed lights along the walkways blinked one or two at a time, looking something like a runway calling planes to land. He thought someone should be home by now, but pushed the thought aside, he was a little later than he planned and wanted to get this bitch secured before heading to bed.
She seemed too tired to fight at all and even walked under her own power around the darkening grounds behind the ruins. He felt like shaking her or shoving her, but the drive had taken its toll on him, and he just didn?t feel up to the task of fighting with her if she resisted. He reached up on a ledge formed from a broken chimney and found the all-weather flashlight housed there. It still worked well, although he noticed he might need to charge the batteries soon. He roughly led her along a path that dipped into the trees not far from the cottages and turned left suddenly at an enormous elm, counting his paces nearly unconsciously, and stopping in front of another huge tree. It was nearly pitch black in the woods now.
He stepped to the right of the tree and pushed the brush aside with one arm while shoving the woman into the darkness beyond. The entrance was hand carved into a large boulder that had probably fallen from the tall hill bracing the property sometime before much technology had been invented. Through the rock and into the hill was a well worn path that told of many decades of use in recent times.
They had found cases of rum and whisky stockpiled near the inside of the cavern and legend has it that bootleggers had traveled these parts undetected for many years. Deeper in the various sub-caverns they found evidence of many other peoples living inside, probably run away slaves and perhaps natives before that. None of that interested him much, except it was always dry and warm enough and no one outside could hear.
He fondly remembered the electrician who had wired the caves for heat and light from the house. His bones are here behind a stone wall near the back of the hill. He twisted a knob and the power flickered and buzzed into light.
In the middle of the large space sat the man. He stopped as if frozen for a moment then casually turned off the flashlight as if he had known the man was there the whole time. The woman made a strange sound and sank to her knees, and he bent to drag her up and continue his course, but the man spoke.
?Leave her,? was all he said. He could see by the look on the man?s face that he was in no mood to discuss the matter. Then it occurred to him that they knew each other, the woman and the unfathomable man.
?Fucking good goddamned thing I didn?t kill her. Could at least warn a man that he?s being watched. And she?s a slut too; just ask her about how she flapped her cunt lips at me the whole way here.? He paused, the man just looking at him without saying anything more.
?Fine then; I?ll just be a good little bastard and go to bed then.? He slammed out of the caverns the way they came and disappeared into the deepening night.
The room was lush in spite of its location and appeared more of an octagon shape than actually round. The walls were paneled in thick woods of various stains and carved in grotesque forms and sinister shadows in what looked like a history of the macabe all around. Some of the panels had tiny cut mirrors embedded in them like a shimmery mosaic. The floors were polished wood and fitted without nails or pegs and covered with large carpets of various shapes and design, all rich and thick. The ceiling domed at the top as if it had grown there to support the hill; roots dangled into the otherwise empty space well above the height of three tall men.
Works of art and books lined the walls and if she hadn?t known better she might have thought she walked into an eighteenth century study in a manor of a Lord, except for the torture devices on the flat of one large wall behind the stern man.
He sat at a carved mahogany desk with a thick leather top. Quills and writing instruments of all sorts neatly organized near stacks of parchments and paper. All fashion of glittering objects placed at the edges that caught the eye and led one back to the man himself again.
He was typical and unusual all at the same time. At one breath he seemed like an ordinary fifty-something year old man, grey a bit at the temples and still firm of body. In the next, he seemed to melt and drift as if he were an illusion or a changeling which transformation could only be seen from the corner of one?s eye.
There was an aura of power and strength about him which his apparent attitude alone could not explain. He seemed ageless and immutable while sitting there utterly still.
If she hadn?t felt so exhausted and defeated she might be terrified of him by now. Plus, she did know him.
She?d seen him often, both in her dreams and out in her daily life. He was only a glimpse, not even a shadow, but she knew he was there. Yes. She finally knew he had been there.
?You know they had me taking drugs so I wouldn?t see you anymore. Now I know why they didn?t work,? she said softly, almost to herself, almost too tired and uncaring to speak. She didn?t even bother to raise her head and look at him, she knew he heard her.
?I wish you weren?t real? she whispered.

He knew she thought that if she only loved him a little bit more, a little bit less selfishly, he would learn to love her and he would be changed forever. They all thought it. After a few centuries he learned it was true; they had each changed him forever, by only their love. Of course he remembered the first time, he believed he did, but it was so long ago and he?d prayed for it to be different so often it just might have happened that way.
All the faces and names blend with the sensations over time and he could have told the same story a million times and think he just thought of it at that moment. And it was nearly true, he still did not believe in love any more now than the first time, he remembered that.
They simply didn?t comprehend that he was not human, so perfectly was he fashioned for their minds. He played with them too long before destroying them, he knew this, but it was obsessive, this emotional love they all felt. He understood the very old; they recognized him and most seemed relieved to go. And the very young had really no idea what they missed and never skipped a beat. It was the humans in between, those who bargained and begged and beguiled and berated him, those he enjoyed the most.
?Welcome home my precious baby woman,? he said as she finally slumped to unconsciousness on the floor.

Post to a lesbian email group
Mood:  chatty
Topic: Words of Wisdom
[Written to a lesbian email group on the topic of what is "Old Skool" (not to be confused with Old Guard, which is very different), and male and female roles in the butch/femme dynamic.]
Hello Everyone,
It's interesting that we tend to align ourselves along more traditional gender roles. I think that shows something about human nature, not quite sure what exactly, but something.
The reason I joined XXXXXXXXXX.com and this list was to meet some people and maybe find some of the answers I looked for within myself. I get a great deal of courteous rejection from the gay community in my area because I identify bi, and in the strictest sense of the word I am.
Unlike my parents and their friends, I adore men (in general, cuz you know, some men are jerks). I will be 43 next month, and maybe I'm just lonely and despirate and would do just about anything with another human, as my more "strict" lesbian friends claim, but looking at my relationships over the past 30 years or so there's a distinct pattern.
I'm a feminine woman, a large Scottish boned woman. I am the only girl I know who could climb a tree and not muss up her hair and knees. I'm the oldest of eight, five boys, and I'd seen too many little wangers running around to be very curious about sexuality. I was more confused by my mother's seemingly random choice of partners and the fact that she kept having kids when she talked so badly about men.
I was 11 when I had my first "real" boyfriend. We dated the entire summer, kissing and talking and the usual things until about a week before school started. He just disappeared one day and I thought he'd moved.
Then the third day of the 6th grade I finally got in this girl's face who had been staring at me and lo and behold it was my boyfriend. Her parents had decided that her "tomboy phase" was over. He was forced to wear dresses and take "girly" classes like Home Economics and they continually brought other parents over for dinner, all of them with little boys about hir age. I was hir secret girlfriend mostly because he was still a very good kisser even wearing a dress. And I truly understood about being forced to conform to something utterly foreign to one's basic nature.
That seemed to set the pattern for me. Virtually all of the "boys" I dated were actually males born in female bodies. So, then I was sent to a girls school for a time and I learned to scream when Andy Gibb came on the television and to get grass stains out of white shirts, and I came out of the school thinking I was straight (because I only had sex with a few of the girls and a lesbian in my mind at the time would have gone for all the girls, little did I know then).
I dated my first bio man when I was 20, for about four hours, because technically I was still a virgin and I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. I'm living proof that it only takes a bottle of tequilla and about 15 minutes of actual romping to create life. And yes, I was really that naive to expect that the odds wouldn't catch me.
I've "slept" with exactly five bio-men in my life. Yet I have to identify myself as "bi" because of them rather than "lesbian" in spite of them.
In my 30's I blossomed from the traditional dating and monogamy to more alternative practices in my already alternative lifestyle. It all started when I met a nice lesbian on a local phone chat service and we met and dated and as soon as hir transformation from identifying as female to identifying as male was complete, he dumped me. We had been through at least a year of crap together, all our friends being confused by the pronouns so they quit speaking to us, all the physical and *emotional* changes from taking T, the breast reductions and truth twisting so that some of it could be covered by insurance, all of it. And he's this glorious new man I expected to share the rest of my life with as straight, and he dumps me for this sprightly little 19 year old femme who thought the Don Johnson look was enough to base a relationship upon.
So I took control of my relationships after that. I was always "femme," only after this big ordeal I wasn't going to let anyone, male, female or a body in between, hurt me again like that. I had entire relationships based on control rather than sexuality. Then I quit dating altogether, there just wasn't any point to it anymore for me, or for anyone I dated, without the sex and intimacy and all the messy parts.
Then I turned 40, actually 40 wasn't so bad, 41 sucked big time, and I decided that the next time someone likes me and wants to get together with me, regardless of gender, I would just take the next step and see where it might lead us. My friends call it "despirate" but I notice I'm still pretty dang picky about who I want to be in a relationship with because, while gender is a small issue to me now, a great many other things aren't.
I want to be respected as a human, and treated nicely, and have the intimacy and sexuality without feeling like that's the only thing someone wants from me. I want to share myself with someone who isn't going to somehow use that information against me in an argument. I want to have an inequal relationship where the buck stops at the head of the household. I want to be supportive and nurturing and feminine, and I want my mate to be supportive and organizing and masculine.
So, what shall I call myself? A femme lesbian? An openminded het woman? A bi slut?
Tell you what, just call me Meli, and we can cut to the heavy flirting, okay?

Dear Diary...P.S. Happy New Year!
Mood:  chatty
Topic: Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
I want to reject him outright. I want to just tell him, gently, ?no, thank you.? He?s really not my type in the first place. Really, I mean it.
I want to see myself with someone else, someone exciting, maybe even famous in some cool way. He?s this big teddy bear and, you know, he?s really creative and all, but what does he want me for if he?s happily in a primary relationship? And yes, the couple thing has interested me for years, but damn it, now I?m different because nobody wanted me when I was that way a couple decades ago.
It?s not easy letting go of years of harbored resentments, and still I sit here and kick myself because now I?m pissed off that someone likes me. All I need to do is breath and relax and see what fun thing there is to do with someone nice tomorrow, yet here I am. I just know what happens every time, that?s all. I don?t want to do that anymore.
But, then, see, I don?t know what I?m talking about because I clearly remember talking about the general limits I would have with every relationship with him as if all he needed to do were pick up the phone in a couple days and make an appointment with my personal secretary or something, and *poof* we could have this really fantabulous ?casual? relationship.
But I?m insane because who in their right mind would be upset with someone hoping it would be as easy as that to have something great with me? So, I gave him my email and blog addresses, because he already talked to my former owner, and we?re talking about a long time friend now, he?s been respectfully interested in me for years. He?s taking an opportunity and while it was swift and direct, well, didn?t I hope it would be like that; just cut to the chase and do it?
But then, I think I deserve to look around, because I?ve been attracted to pretty much everyone at one point or another, and we all know that lust fades. I?m getting too old for lust I think.
I want intimacy and passion and I keep hoping I misheard and what he really meant by ?casual? was ?I want to have my wife and eat my slaves too.? And it?s not fair that no one really knows how very difficult it is for me to trust a man so well as to feel ?casual? in any kind of relationship with him in the first place.
And the worst is knowing that no one can live up to my frightening imagination, yet basing my decision to ?play? or not with someone on how well they feel they want to satisfy me and my desires.
Still, you know how many times I said all I wanted was the chance, and here one is, a very attractive opportunity, in fact, and the first thing I want to do is reject him outright? For what, because he could fit into only one of the fantasy lives I wanted for myself, and he?s not going to want to marry me? Or because I?m waiting for ?something better? to happen along? I?m insane, I?ve said it before; all I have to do is relax and wait and enjoy the moment, and I?m here fretting in my diary over something I don?t have and won?t get from sitting around waiting for it.
Ahh, I have it. I know what I wanted, what?s missing, I wanted to be seduced into exactly the ?perfect? relationship I always dreamed of?still, after all these years of knowing I?m not actually the princess of the universe. Yes, I wanted someone to take one look at me and know exactly what I needed and just walk up to me and talk me into it?or better yet, twist my arm a little while at it.
And I wanted some more mystery and romance to the whole thing, yes, and in that particularly tricky way of being direct and honest all at the same time too. But in that case it would be ?dating? and there?s not much of the traditional dating in my lifestyle.
Besides, who wants to date, there?s all the expectations and the blinding hormones and the surprises, no thank you, I?m not into dating, really. I didn?t want to just say, ?yes? right off the bat either, because, you know, that would be kind of slutty; it?s been a year since I?ve even laid eyes on him.
But if he?s offering the opportunity to do stuff with him ?casually? and that means I probably could do other stuff with different people as well, then I?m already a slut and I should have just said yes on the spot. Sheesh, I?m such a dork sometimes, I have *got* to quit hanging around eight graders; I keep thinking I can play with only one ?best? friend at a time. All I have to do is breath and agree and I can have whatever each friend wants to have with me. That?s about as ?casual? as I can get. :D
At one time I fantasized heavily about serving a couple as a slave. I had basic standards and searched personals and everything, but it?s an extraordinarily difficult position to fulfill in reality.
But I want to be around artistic and creative people and he?s absolutely that, and he?s bound to have friends and hell, he told me he likes me and first thing, introduced me to his wife and she?s cool too. What the hell do I need, an anvil falling from the sky?
You know, Diary, I deserve to be alone if I can?t say ?yes? just for the hell of it.
Holy Mother of Pearl, it?s just that I have so much shit going on right now, you know?
And he really doesn?t know me, and I know he?s remembered everything this whole time, but he still really didn?t know all of me, and even if he did and I didn?t know it, I?m still grown beyond that now, so he still doesn?t know me, see? (whew)
Look at me, and I call myself ?dominant? now? Yeah, right. A freaking ?dominant? wouldn?t dork out in her Diary every opportunity. And all I could remember was my senses were confused by all the smells?I couldn?t smell him, I just recall. That?s what bothered me. That?s why I shied. I just flashed on that.
And I was distracted terribly by several people, I feel I did well by getting my body to follow my lead, rather than lose all control and romp my friend?s bones without warning. A friend who is looking wonderfully and feeling happy and we?re friends and big flirts, and we?re pretty much after the same thing, so I have no clue what that was all about, and stopped that right there.
Okay, I?ll tell you now, she asked me to dance and, of course, I said ?yes? cuz she?s cute and we always dance at the club events once or twice, just to keep someone else at arm?s length for a breather with a friend. Sometimes a butch likes to see how things look from a distance, if you know what I mean. :D And what butch in hir right mind would argue with watching a nice femme dance on the respectful occasion?
So she?s this sprightly little thing and she?s zipped out there before I can maneuver my way around to the dance floor, and I don?t know if I caught someone?s pheromone perfume on the way or what, but I stepped up to her to dance like a predator and she looked up just in time ? wow, yep, that?s the spark, I still have it, oops, yep, she saw me, shit, I forgot how embarrassing it is to get caught in my cuteness.
So, I told you this nice guy still likes me, right? But here I am flitting around the room, forgetting a soda and having to gracefully flirt my way through the crowd and back again.
Then I?m not really *that* hungry, and my hair keeps swinging around to get into everything in spite of the headband intended to restrain it.
But I gave myself a break and it was okay to feel anxious about a few things. The last time I went to any event at all at the club was the previous New Year?s party, he knew that, and all my friends knew that, so I definitely felt like they gave me a break too.
So, now I?m really a profound dork because I?m on the third page of freaking out about a really cool thing that could happen to me reasonably soon. If I kept my wits about me and said ?yes? once in a while that might make things a little easier, but I seem to like learning the hard way.
I just don?t want to throw myself at people I care about, well, or anyone for that matter. I want folks to know I?m open to suggestion and available, and I have been alone so long I fear that I have unreasonable expectations of simply everyone, and I just want to be as close as whatever is most comfortable for each. You know how unique I am, and there are lots of good folks out there wanting to do things with me too, yes, we all know this part. I want too much. I want things to start out with this sparkly thing and end in this blaze of glory like I can imagine and write in my stories, but that?s fiction and I keep forgetting that part.
And people accept my dorkiness, then instantly forget how literal I am and think I meant something other than what I said, and the light shifts to something new in their eyes and I know they?ll ?lose? contact with me again. (And I would have said that more specifically, but after flashing on three or four pairs of eyes that changed in that way that night, I decided I could leave that with the more generalized ?people? statement).
I?m a bitch, and a rather unsuccessful slut at the moment, and there is so much very real crap happening with me in my life now, I just want to be realistic and learn to enjoy what I can of my friends and my life, and why the hell do I have to think so much about everything?
Still, I?m proud of the way I handled myself at the New Year?s Eve party. I had fun, and relaxed, and gave myself a break, and flirted my ass off with everyone who would stand still long enough, and it?s only been three days since then so what?s my rush in the first place, I?m still doing the right thing by taking things one day at a time. And I looked good too.
It was all spur of the moment; it didn?t even occur to me that I would go and something just urged me. I didn?t stress about what I wore, I had a new collar and knew folks wouldn?t care how I dressed. I know I?m full of myself, and I remember that no one else is. I had taken a shower and expected to take the kid and her friend to a movie, but they were invited to the mall and to watch fireworks at another friend?s house, and suddenly there was no reason to stay home.
Then once more my thoughts spin around to the fortune in the possibility that I might have met someone ?meant? for me and everything is good and I?m breathing, but now I doubt this is something I might want in my life? I?m insane, and every single one of those people interested in getting to know me better will drop me like a hot brand the moment they do. How could I be sane and still want more than everything I?ve always asked for? Someone just needs to take me away and seduce me into something really evil, *that* would teach me a lesson. :D

The alien story continues...
Topic: On A New Topic :D
With a loud mechanical grinding, the ?table? where she lay face first moved so that her pelvic bone rested against a wide padded bar, and top of her chest and face on another soft piece some inches below and knees and forearms solidly below her placing her in quite an exposed animal position.
?Are you comfortable in that position?? He inquired politely, watching her large asshole pucker and twitch to reshape itself.
?Ogad, I can?t think, I can?t think, will you be angry if I tell you I don?t believe I feel comfortable in this vulnerable position??
Felicity attempted not to whine, she didn?t want this being to believe that was her natural tone of voice, yet while it was a comfort to feel her sight return, the power of him having the capability to turn her senses off and on frightened her to near insanity.
All her previous mumblings were nearly translated now and he wondered at the ?pain? she spoke of and renewed his interest in the markings on her back and ass. He believed that they were natural to her skin, but looking more closely he could see some were raised and they didn?t form a pattern as they would on skin like an ocean mammal like his experts theorized she most resembled.
?Yes, I shall accept that response from you, you?re a very good beast for showing your courage and terror respectfully. You?re complete honesty is required and your best shall always be pleasing to your Sovereign,? he assured her.
?Ogad, thank you,? she whispered like a prayer.
?Tell me about ?pain? why do your sexual organs register arousal when your mind imagines ?pain?? he asked in her right ear quietly, like a lover.
?Ahh, she can regain control of her functions rather quickly,? he observed to the husbandman who agreed vigorously, and watched her attempt to writhe and involuntarily arch her back.
?Ogad, ogadogadogadogadogadogad?? Felicity breathed like a mantra preventing herself from grunting and hyperventilating, ?Please forgive me, Sovereign,? she chattered around her teeth.
?While I?ve apparently had eons to think about this very topic, I?m no closer to those answers than when I fell asleep.? Felicity swallowed hard, she was a ship?s Chief Engineer and would never see another soul like herself again, he knew her deepest intimacies before she was aware she was alive, there was nothing left in the universe except the absolute truth. And she realized her body had already betrayed her true nature as he continued to examine and probe every inch of her body.
?Ogad, I can?t think. If I weren?t distracted by all these sensations I could describe an experience for you, if your Sovereignty has the time and inclination?? she trailed off hopefully.
He laughed heartily, ?That was the most polite attempt to stall the inevitable witnessed within these walls,? he stated amused and pleased with her cooperation as best as she could.
A tear dripped off her nose and nearly landed on his foot. She would be tortured and raped and she would come to thrive in that life. It was a frightful nightmare come true and it was still difficult to comprehend.
Felicity flashed on the sexual daydreams she had at 12 years old where ?aliens? from space captured her and turned her into a sex slave for untold ghastly creatures.
A second tear hit its target and she said in as steady a voice as she could muster: ?Yes, Ogad, I submit myself to you and can accept no other alternatives except swear an oath of fealty to you exclusively. I recognize my powerlessness and I was created in a laboratory, perhaps I was trained and preserved to serve you in some way you?ve forgotten in your history? If you pleasure my body it will respond sexually. Ogad, you said you wanted the absolute truth and I want so desperately to tell you I would learn to find joy in my destiny serving you, but I?m only human and as courageous as I?ve sometimes proven to my former superiors, the sight of your feet and your obvious power in my new universe intimidates me to tears. I cannot promise my consciousness can fully accept your reality quite yet, Ogad, please forgive me, I?m not attempting to resist or show disrespect?? she blurted rapidly and clearly not knowing she spoke his language as if born to it, perhaps better, the abstracts of her thinking adhered to his various subtleties so well her brain patterns showed such similarity in her language center to his own they might have been linked by computer.
?Tell me, have you had any sexual experience with life forms other than yourself?? He asked to distract her from his movement hooking the translators and her visual centers into the monitors. He indicated to the husbandman to fine tune the instruments and she twitched and yelped in fear at the flashing behind her eyes.
?Calmly, little human, that?s a good female, tell me your experiences, did your mind think of sex with other life forms?? If the focus could be tuned a little more, if they can record her unconscious mind dreaming so well, he could certainly learn to follow her train of thought while awake.
?Yes, Ogad? she whispered and closed her eyes. Suddenly the monitors cracked to clarity and while the translators caught up to speed, her mind flashed images of his feet from her perspective raising up to meet all manner of terrifying creatures repeated like flipping through archives. It amazed him to think she could consent to him so fully seeing how terrified she felt. He reached down slowly watching the monitors carefully for any changes in her thoughts. His left hand unsnapped the top buckle of his ?environment? boots and the sound caught her attention because her thoughts stopped rolling and focused so accurately on him he questioned for an instant if the monitors had switched to camera view, but none had changed, she saw accurately in any event and there was a great deal to be said for that.
?Okay, Ogad, okay, I?ve reasoned it out in my mind, it?s not your possible appearance which terrifies me, it?s the thought that I shall never experience another human relationship, Ogad, forgive me, but I shall miss that terribly.? She admitted in anguish while her mind in the monitors remembered eyes and smiles and a lifetime of lovers and mates.
He suddenly saw the sacrifice she offered him, the thought of perishing of loneliness never crossing her mind. The husbandman flushed a little and stepped back a few paces while he unclasped his boot and removed his foot. He could see that she watched his hands and looked at his feet.
The monitors whirred and clicked as they recorded the images flickering in her mind. She seemed to play with the face a bit, changing the colors and shape a little to match something more recognizable in her mind, but after a few seconds she settled down and saw his feet just as they ought to be at her angle of vision.
He didn?t consider his feet often, usually when they ached when he tried to sleep, he ought to sit more often, he thought.
?When my species was created it was thought there were much more jagged rock faces and larger vegetation. We used the two toes to grip like pincers and shred our food.? He offered clicking his talons together a couple times. The monitors went black for a moment and he realized she had closed her eyes.
?Thank you, Sovereign,? she managed to whisper and reopened her eyes.

Somebody just slap me
Mood:  irritated
Topic: Stray Thoughts
Would someone please tell me what the fuck is my problem and just slap it out of me? I don?t want to do anything. I don?t want to write although it could lead to something good someday. I don?t want to play TSO. I don?t want to work on my beading. I don?t want to read or watch movies. I don?t want to leave the house. I don?t want to talk to anyone, including my sister, and there?s just something wrong with that. I don?t want to eat, but there?s nothing new in that except that I usually eat everything in the house when I don?t want to do anything else. And I know I?m depressed because of the holidays, but shit, come on, enough is enough.
I just feel resentful?still. I?ve felt resentful for a couple years now and someone just needs to slap it out of me or something. And this was the last fucking Christmas I will ever attempt to celebrate. I will never have a nice Christmas because I?m done, I?m not celebrating one more. In the 42 Christmases I?ve survived, I cannot recall a one of them that were nice, not a one of them, although just to be fair I?ll say that there might have been two that could have been nicer than the others. And even the very few Holidays I?ve happened to be in a relationship with someone at the time, there?s been so much stress and stupidity that it wasn?t even worth it.
In fact, I don?t even want to be in another relationship ever again. It?s just too much shit. Even if we survived the ?getting to know each other? phase, I would dump that person in half a heart beat the moment I heard the words ?I love you.? I?d probably slap someone for lying to me before walking out. What?s the point of even going out and meeting someone just to end up alone and resentful in the end anyway?

Whatever, anyway, Happy New Year, I hope things are better for you all. I?ll be sure to let you all know when I snap out of it and come back to my usual bitchiness.

Just a rant
Mood:  crushed out
Topic: Stray Thoughts
Something really good must be attempting to come into my life because there are already vultures handy to snatch it away from me and my family the instant it arrives.
A local car dealership is attempting to sue me for a car I had in 1998/99 and had to return because I lost my income. I was insane because I really couldn?t afford $344.00 a month payments for 54 months. I did have a good job with Air Touch in sales. And I had to get to the east side of the city by 6:30 am from West Seattle, and the 84 Pontiac 2000 I used to get the big kid to his before school activities and my little kid to her daycare/school situation just wasn?t reliable anymore.
I got some really nice Christmas money and I figured with some cash and my pitiful trade in, I could get into a nice little used car, that way I could continue to go to work and do what I needed to do to keep making payments. I?m so very thankful that gas prices were under a dollar then; I would have gone ballistic and found a clock tower or something with all the stress I was under.
According to the paperwork, I arrived at the dealership on 12/29/98, and I remember that day from hell very well too. But it wasn?t the first day I had to deal with this dealership. I got this Escort in the suit because the deal for the Neon a few days earlier fell through. I got the Neon because the dealership sold my Pontiac 2000 before any paperwork had been signed for something new. I remember it was before Christmas because I drove my cherry red Neon with the sun roof and CD player to Portland, Oregon for several days including Christmas day. The dealership had left several messages and actually caught me just as I came in the door and told me I had to bring the car back right away. So I went the next day and was forced to trade the Neon for the Escort at much higher payments.
I knew trading in the small down payment and Pontiac would take a few hours. I brought in all the documentation and the car was in excellent shape and I wore tennis shoes because I knew I would be walking for hours looking at cars. I chose that particular dealership because of their advertising at the time. What credit I had was pretty poor, it?s worse now. And I did everyone a service and left my kids with neighbors.
I remember getting there before noon because I wanted to get a sales person interested in closing a sale before lunch. I really did think it would be easier than it turned out, even allowing for the waiting and the signing and the waiting some more. However, it was a busy day.
Sometime around 3pm, I noticed the sales kid who had test drove the Pontiac to make sure it was a decent trade in getting in and out of my car and obviously showing it to two women. My salesman had all my documentation and allegedly the supervisor was checking things out and tying up all the loose ends so that I could drive away with this Subaru I liked. Then the two women drove away in my car and I jumped up and found my sales guy and asked why women drove off in my car, did that mean that the paperwork was done and I could drive off in the Subaru?and as I?m talking someone else drives off in the Subaru just out the window, obviously happy and didn?t look like they were coming back. Both cars had been sold, I understood about the Subaru, I was displeased about mine.
So, after several hours longer of frustration, by about 8:30pm, I finally drove off the lot with the Neon and thinking things were all settled. I had gotten the payments I knew I could afford with the insurance and other expenses and the Neon was much better than the Subaru.
So, the dealership not only got my trade in and the Neon back, but managed to twist my arm into the Escort with payments everyone knew I would not be able to keep, even if Air Touch hadn?t sold out to Verizon and my job was still secure to this day. And I didn?t even put up a fight when I knew I couldn?t pay for it. I cleaned up the car, drove it with a decent tank of gas, and completed all the paperwork it took to give it back. And for a third time I saw folks buy my car and drive off the lot before my dealings were finished. I took the bus home and thought things were all handled.
Now, weeks before the statute of limitations runs out, I?m being sued for the $5000 left owing on the thing? And if I don?t respond in 20 days I have to pay regardless? I fucking hate this country.

Still on the "alien" sci-fi idea
Topic: On A New Topic :D
She knew instinctively that touch on her arm was meant to attract her attention, and it certainly did. It meant she had been attended more than she imagined and after a moment she concluded that she could not have responded differently and this touch was an introduction.
Felicity reached with her mind and relaxed her body; perhaps he was telepathic or empathic? She thought, then instantly wondered why she felt it was a male touch.
Carefully, as if to prevent her from panicking, the touch grew to press a palm along an open area on her arm. It was a very large hand gauging by the length of her arm as she last knew it. She panted and waited.
He felt her response to him ripple through her flesh like a wave then her skin rose in tiny bumps to sense him. He agreed with the husbandman, she was a very sensitive and vulnerable creature; her universe had few predators for her kind, if any.
He released the large clasps holding the pieces of equipment together and raise it on its hinges a few small measurements and watch her quiver and gasp as she adjusted to the sensations then further until the waste tubes stretched and she moaned and flexed her muscles and found herself too weak to move much beyond what she could while restrained. It had been longer than she thought.
?Okay, okay, yes? she voiced and felt certain she?s said it out loud, and deliberately went limp, keeping her eyes open and breathing slowly and quietly. This person with the large hands had absolute control and the best course was to accept whatever touch or contact he might provide.
Felicity felt his hand above her back at least inches and years before he laid the full length of his hand along her moist back.
One finger curled around and tucked into her right armpit, two finger tips rested gently against her right collar bone, and what seemed like a thumb lay along her left side, fitting smoothly along the curves of her ribs and waist. His palm reached to the end of her ribcage and nestled in the small of her back, the highest of several defense claws just nestling into the shallow area between her ass cheeks and thighs and at long last his elbow met the crease between her legs just at the back of her knees. She nodded and relaxed further, this (likely male) creature could easily carry her around with one hand like a child. There was no sense in arguing with the fact that he had deliberately given her every opportunity to trust his actions in spite of clearly obvious differences in their forms. She frantically reasoned he was intelligent and considerate and if he wanted to dissect her alive to see how she worked, Felicity thought she would still feel grateful for that kind introduction.
?Yes, I understand, thank you kindly?Ogad, please help me,? she whispered and nodded showing an utterly submissive attitude in her body.
The monitors caught the intense inflections in her tones and one of the translators buzzed the console near his left. The husbandman flipped a switch and only a single word escaped them, they felt it was a title of reference to Himself since she seemed to respond positively to his touch.
The Sovereign agreed and gently tapped and stroked her body a few times and she smiled. They could communicate in absolute truth and she would do her best to comprehend. He knew when an animal consented authority, and he could trust her at least as far to recognize his kindness in not simply awakening her one day and letting her open her eyes upon him.
She was ready to hear now. He flipped another switch and watched the console warm up slowly and as her brain registered sound and remembered again, he slid his right hand down to her anus feeling her anticipation and confusion with the sudden recognition of sounds.
?Ogad, please? she gasped gripping the pads beneath her hands with strength that would have surprised her more if she known exactly how long it had been since the tubing had been placed there. She would have hunched had she not already used the last of her strength and she panted in fear.
?Yes, what do you want, Beast?? a voice sounded in her head, she looked around, but, of course, was still blind.
?Ogad, I?m sorry, I don?t know what I want, thank you for my hearing, thank you for my life, and I?m so terribly afraid I don?t know anymore than that now, Ogad, please.? She cried softly. It was a perfect answer, especially since she called him the ?creator of the universe? as if she accepted it as fact.
?First you want to be released from these devices,? he reasoned with her quietly and felt the moisture at the edge of her anus, it was enough to move the tube slightly without damaging her. She made little grunting noises in her throat and her anus twitched a few times.
?How does one of your species find sexual release?? He asked directly and she hesitated only a few seconds past allowing for translation before responding.
?Generally, if one like me is stimulated in the genitals it will produce a physical response, and release comes in the imagination, Great One.? He considered what to say in response, He hadn?t expected a direct answer.
?If you are talking about me specifically, I can only tell you that I?m open to suggestion and want only to please you.? She added courageously.
?And why should your words be trusted?? He asked softly near her ear so she heard him inside and out.
?Because?? she choked, then started again more calmly.
?Because I was dead and deaf and you caused me to live and hear. I assume you can control my sight and breathing. I am willing to pledge my life into your service if only for purely self-centered reasons. Ogad, I?m really a very simple creature.?
It was an honest and logical answer. She recognized his authority and understood enough of the consequences of her actions to satisfy him that she knew no other course.
?Your body has slept many times longer than it should have lived.? He informed her and waited for her response.
?So, you are human or have you evolved to something I would not recognize?? Felicity asked, attempting to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest.
?Well, both, actually, little one,? he responded gently. His left hand across her ass and back, his right slowly massaging the tubes out of her anus, then waiting as he spoke again.
?You are the last of your species as you were once known, about six thousand of your years ago. The face of your planet is changed and your species adapted beyond you.?
She panted between words, ?Ogad, I understand, thank you,? and moaned as he parted her inside cheeks a bit and deflated the tubing to its significantly smallest diameter. He continued.
?Your mind and body will be used for research and your level of service to your Sovereign personally depends entirely upon your loyalty and willingness to follow his commands.? He paused flipping another switch and popping both waste tubes out of her body, she cried out in fear.
?You will regain your sight soon, and I will expect a full examination of your capacities and functions as you are this moment, no doubt you will improve in time.?
What could she do? She saw movement and guessed it was his feet as he shifted around her and cleaned her body.

Last Human with only
Topic: On A New Topic :D
Untitled Sci-Fi Fantasy Idea?by Meliora Volens
Felicity was an unusual woman, she recognized that. And perhaps she wasn?t fully awake either, however she felt quite a bit had changed since she had fallen asleep.
She quietly flexed some muscles and realized she was actually form fitted into something like Styrofoam. She deduced she must be nude and reasoned she had tubes and sensors and monitors plugged into her various soft spots. There was no indication of which direction she lay, if she were laying down at all.
Felicity wondered what happened, had there been an accident while she slept and she was injured? Perhaps there had been an earthquake and part of the wall had landed on her head? How could something have happened to her without waking her in pain?
Then it occurred to her that she must still be dreaming. Since she didn?t feel much pain and couldn?t see or hear anything significant and the more she thought about it the more reasonable it seemed that she was still asleep and dreaming. She coughed a couple times and it dawned on her that she hadn?t really heard the sound of it. So she cleared her throat and found she was deaf. Not simply muffled by the material covering her ears, she couldn?t hear the sounds inside her body either. The silence grew on her and she reconsidered the darkness of the room. Felicity calmly seemed to be able to feel and move her body in spite of the restraints or traction gave a head injury theory more weight.
Every hair, every skin cell reported information and after a time she could almost pick them out individually. The puffs of air and drops of sweat creeping down her skin began to feel erotic to her, as if knowing she breathed and functioned meant she loved living in her universe in spite of her tremendous fear welling quickly from deep within.

********** **********

?No, she?s not likely going to panic on you now, Sovereign,? he said in a whisper knowing full well she could not see or hear him.
?And why is that, Beast Keeper?? He asked , not caring whether she did or not.
?Well, because she?s intelligent and apparently mature. We think the males of her species are smaller and they likely have three genders.? Finding confidence in his reasoning the husbandman became more animated in his manner and continued.
?She?s awake for about five hours at a stretch and sleeps most often after her body has been given nutrients. She thinks and creates because rather than fithting her situation she talks to herself in a language and makes sounds indicating music or singing to occupy her mind.?
He raised one hand and bowed warding off questions with more answers. ?Yes, Sovereign, your top language experts have been working on it from the beginning, but it?s difficult without actually interacting with the creature. ?We feel she?s mature because she seems to respond sexually to some stimulation. We would like to ask your Sovereignty to introduce her to your touch before you permit us to release her. We believe she will look for a way to communicate with others and you would have the utmost control as the only one ?handling? her. The consensus is that she is a personal slave. We have observed her masturbating with her life support tubing, Sovereign.? He informed with a leering flash of an eye.
The Sovereign shook his head slightly, ?And what about this creature?s society and hierarchy? How do you know she was a personal slave? She seems more likely from a soldier caste because of her small size she can infiltrate, yet her strong structure could easily carry heavy loads while moving quickly. She?s been trained to gather information before taking action and to calm her emotions so she can think more clearly by every means possible. Masturbating while hardly able to move or function properly in her universe shows more than a being?s sexual maturity.? He smiled as she became utterly still at his first touch. ?Yes, a highly trained and intelligent creature.?

Warfare
Mood:  on fire
Topic: Words of Wisdom
Why do I always have to be the one to stand down? I thought when I got to be the mother I would be so cool that I would be taken seriously on occasion. Maybe my ?nos? would be more respected if I were a cool mom. And I?m so much more cool than my mom ever was on my *worst* day.
Why can?t I just beat her senseless? Why can?t I just scrub her smirky little face into the gravel? Because I love her? Well, no, today I cannot say that I ?love? her. At least I don?t feel like giving her time on my computer when I need it. I don?t feel like letting her stand at my chair and poke me for a full hour, repeating that she wants to go on *my* computer to go online (rather than her own, yes), when I already told her ?no? and several other viable options. So she gets what she wants because I go upstairs and write by hand rather than hanging her by her stinky little toes and flay her to within an inch of her spoiled little life.
There has just got to be an end to this where neither of us walk away bloody. I keep referring to our relationship like a war and there simply isn?t a better analogy for us. I felt an actual physical sense of satisfaction when I gave her one more chance to crawl out from under my computer where she had reached up and used the mouse to turn off my word program without saving ? and when she refused, I calmly, deliberately unplugged the whole system and went to my room to write.
Where?s the end? When do I get to do what I want when I need to?
Okay, I get the part where my kid isn?t going to be the slave to me like I was to my mother. I didn?t want that in the first place. I wanted to be a cool mom and assist my kids through these hard times.
It pisses me off because we?re doing the right things and they all work. Just as something we do works and we have this closeness and another ?issue? is solved she goes completely wild and runs away or something dangerous. It pisses me off because I really do see which are the hormones and 8th grade days and which are actual issues to be solved. I know that child better than she knows herself.
I continue to have perseverance because I know someday the war will be over. I just want the war to be over. I hope she feels she won. She will feel independent and unique from me to the marrow of her bones and that?s something my mom had to die to be capable of giving me.
This is absolutely a war I will feel lucky we survived.

Wet Dreams -- Part 3
Topic: Wet Dreams (Fiction)
?I have had enough of things in my teeth? placing the bits and utensils down at his feet, she stretched her mouth wide in his face and showed him up close. ?Please invent something that will clean my teeth without leaving splinters or breaking in between.? She turned on her heel and strolled out of the room as if he had already satisfied her wishes.
Nothing to do but love her and obey, she ruled the universe and anyone who didn?t see she was a goddess was the enemy.
He couldn?t understand a word she said, the experts claim she?s speaking a language, but he knew a royal-born girl when he saw her. Not very much different from the royal women he grew up around. They?re mostly spoiled and shrill, and far too arrogant to become his wife.
Yet, here was his fate, betrothed to marry that strange creature. He didn?t know if she could survive bearing his children, much less understand his position in the world. He felt she still amused him, no doubt.
The One, his elders and forecasters assure, will be his soul mate, she will have been created specifically for him and he would recognize her amid all the arrangement and ceremony. He still could not see it.
Her servant, on the other hand, seems to understand a great deal more than she reveals.

Andi paused in her typing and wondered at all this fairy tale bullshit. It?s a shame things are done on monitor and keyboard, there?s no sense of satisfaction from ripping paper from a platen and scrunching up a fantasy now and then. Sometimes it?s just easier to Save and think of something else for a while.
?Because it?s just going to bug the shit out of me tomorrow anyway? Andi sighed and went back to bed.

The truth of Grace
Mood:  on fire
Topic: The Origins of Au
Ell is my origin in a real sense of the word. I transitioned into virtual Dommeliness by her inspiration. You know me as Au Contraire and that sim looks nothing like my actual person. Grace is an entirely different sim with her own history.
She looks like me, Meliora, because I was coming out of a long term relationship with a (male) sadist and talked someone into Absolute slavery with me as my slave for an agreed short time. It didn?t work out as either of us expected or planned, and we still succeeded in remaining friends when the time was up. Still, I do not consider it a happy ending.
I told it to create a sim in any city it chose and I would find it. The sim could be named anything including bitch and take any form it created. My only ?rule? was that the sim look as closely as the image in its mind as it sees of me and how it perceives me as its Owner. It lived only minutes drive away and we talked on the phone for hours as well as by journals and emails. It was a real life, 24/7, slave to me. It created Grace and played perhaps twice with her.
We discussed how Grace was like me in length and the plan was for me to create a sim in AV and find it. However, time slipped away from us and we learned what we wanted to know and my former slave refused to take over the TSO account which held Grace as originally agreed.
So, since I was paying for it, I played Grace, and she really did look like me?as I was when I was enslaved by the lovely sadist. I hoped for something more ?dominant? looking, but I thought the sim was beautiful; golden and sweet.
It came to light that my former slave had met Agilia of Ar, now known as Marlenus, the once or twice it played and there would be zero way that it would come back to TSO in any sim, especially Grace. Since I had been involved in drama with the sim I created originally to look for Grace, it wasn?t worth it to keep both, so I kept Grace and deleted the other. (This was all a matter of days, btw, seems longer, but really much less in actual time).
And then I met Ell, and learned what I really wanted to portray of myself. She saw the dominance through Grace?s new eyes and didn?t think to question it. I felt that the slave had seen real truths about me, and I disagreed that I was as sweet and innocent looking as Grace. Perhaps, if I had created it, although I might easily have chosen exactly the face and hair and dress that Grace turned out to display, I might have felt more connected to the sim in the beginning. It was like wearing my dead mother?s clothing; I looked familiar, but something smelled strange and not like me at all. Besides, all this drama had made me feel ? contrary, and when Ell handed literally everything to Grace and deleted her sim it was like there was no longer any purpose to play Grace, yet my sense of honor and duty wouldn?t allow me to loose a legacy over it. I still felt that Grace could not possibly represent the ?real? me, and at that time it was true.
Au Contraire was born to assist Grace to hold the objects of the property and allow Grace to retire as someone else?s vision of me. It took me about a month to grasp the fact that Ell was gone and find this solution to my situation.
It had been discussed with Ell that some sims would continue to find guidance with Grace as their "Domme," and that worked for about a week. Others felt Ell?s departure keenly too, although I?m certain that we all understood and supported her endeavors. We fell apart without a sound, like a house of cards, and the dynamic which held us together wafted away unseen. There might have been two sims in the entire universe with enough of the pieces to understand this whole puzzle of Grace and Au Contraire, and now I?m ready to share myself as I could not before.
After some time of trading objects and redesigning the property and waiting one more day to recreate, Grace seems like a sim I might have designed myself. Her bio is mine and she really does look more like me than Mz Au ever will.
These past few months, I?ve grown too. The adjustment from virtual reality to reality and back again took me about a year, and while I may not have it entirely figured out, I find things aligned more with what I?d always intended to do in TSO.
I couldn?t see Grace for who she was; as a beautiful work of art sim, because I didn?t want my former slave to acknowledge those good things about me. I felt resentful because I had worked so hard to get away from the way I was while I enjoyed life with the sadist. The sadist and I did things the ?right? way and he and I closed and healed everything we could find so that we kept our promises to remain friends should the intimate part of our friendship need to change or stop. It was the third specifically ?lifestyle? oriented relationship I continue to feel ended successfully and will persist in feeling that it met exactly the goals (if not more) that we dreamed of in the beginning. I still wasn?t expecting that part. The ?success? part. :D
I actually wrestled with feeling angry that I didn?t get to have a screaming snit-fest for a couple months over the sadistic bastard?s treatment of me and how ?wronged? I had been those three years. Because it didn?t happen that way. He treated me well, with more respect than I gave myself (and you know how egotistical I am), and fulfilled each and every one of his promises he made when he owned me, then nine months later, collared me, then two years later, released me.
I think I was looking for an excuse to go back to lesbian practices again, and for the third time in my life, because I had kept the promises I had made to myself, that relationship ended positively too, just like we hoped it would?swore an oath that it would. My brain said, ?This just isn?t right.? And it was too painful to find the truth in Grace. My slave loved me more than I could ever know.
It?s not easy growing through an unhappy ending, as commonplace as they are, imagine the surprise to find oneself growing through a happy ending. :D It?s a trip, folks, but a person could get used to this. Say! This could be a nice way of life. Wouldn?t *that* be something? Welcome home, my friends, truth and Grace are restored in the house, and we are each everything we want to be and more. And none of us need excuses to be who we are or live as we choose?the universe is the limit, if we can only create it.