Sunday, November 25, 2012


I almost never wear panties. I blame my college boyfriend for that. Despite the fact that I had quite the collection of Victoria's Secret's finest silk and satin panties when we met, he preferred me panty-free.

I felt daring and undeniably naughty the first time I went out in public without panties. I remember locking eyes with him across the restaurant as I sauntered back from the salad bar feeling sure my mini skirt was going to reveal too much. I'm sure my smile gave me away.

And I'm sure we went home and fucked for hours.

In the years thereafter, I used my lack of panties as a weapon. I'd lean over to an unsuspecting guy and whisper, "I don't wear panties." I'd pause dramatically, letting that little tidbit sink in and then add, "Ever."

Somewhere along the way, not wearing panties became less sexy to me. I quit using it to shock guys. Sure, I still relished the little moan a guy couldn't suppress the first time he undid my pants or put his hands up my skirt and found no panties blocking his way. But wearing panties became the exception, not the norm and I'd comfortable with wearing no panties on a daily basis.

And then about five years ago, at the urging of my first girlfriend, I began buying panties again. Lacy boy shorts with a tiny satin bow and dangling sparkly bit that made me feel sexy and beautiful. Panties that made my ass look amazing.

One of the few pairs of panties I own.
I don't wear panties often. I save them for those times when I want to feel exceptionally sexy. And they never fail to make me feel almost naughty, much in the same way I felt so many years ago the first time I went without panties for my boyfriend.

The last time I played with medieval ken, I wore panties. And I had him do something so simple, so amazingly sexy that it might just change my mind about wearing panties. For play at least.

I had him kneel and then I stepped in close. "Now I want you to very, very slowly take my panties off."

As he slid his hands slowly up my thighs, I raked my fingers through his thick hair and steadied myself with my fingertips on his scalp. With his thumbs in the lace on each hip, he very, very slowly pulled my panties down to my ankles.

Even as I savored each moment, I marveled at how unexpectedly delicious something as simple as wearing panties could be.

OK, MAYBE just maybe it had a little something to do with the boy on his knees.

Sunday, November 11, 2012


My first date with medieval ken, almost a year ago, remains the best first date I've ever had. He took the initiative to plan it and I let him. He chose a lovely restaurant with an amazing view and we spent three leisurely hours talking through a bottle of wine and a delicious meal. We talked about everything but kink and then moved to a lounge where we drank cocktails and flirted until I finally broke down and kissed him. We closed down the bar that night and then I took him home and broke my I-don't-play-on-the-first-date rule.

I can't remember exactly what we did but we didn't fuck. What I do remember is breaking my I-don't-let-guys-sleep-over rule. I blame the alcohol.

I saw him a couple of times after that but we drifted apart. We swapped some texts and remained Facebook friends. Hell, we even discussed working together (his company and mine) on a project. We both pursued other relationships but stayed in touch. And every few months I'd catch him peering at my collarme profile. He liked my pictures, he said.

I'd think of him from time to time, remembering how he'd bite his lip in that delicious way that made his dimples show when I'd do something evil to him.

And then a few weeks ago, we started talking again. Neither of us could remember really why we'd stopped seeing each other. Both of us were clearly still interested. We discussed what we were both looking for, agreed we seemed to be looking for something similar and set a date.

We chatted through a lengthy dinner, with margaritas this time, and then went back to my place where we talked some more. As we sat on the sofa, I was distracted by his hand on my leg. Actually, it wasn't his hand on my leg. It was my body's reaction to his hand on my leg. It both puzzled and intrigued me, this reaction. That I'd have a reaction all surprised me.

And then we kissed.

It was that perfect kind of kiss that makes you think HOLY SHIT. I kept kissing him, waiting for there to be a fumbling but kissing him was like some finely choreographed dance that continued beautifully and flawlessly. It was if we'd been kissing for years.

We melted into each other and I marveled at how natural, easy and totally hot it was.

I stopped kissing him after a while and nearly shouted, "I don't remember us having this kind of mad chemistry before. Did we have this kind of chemistry before? We didn't did we?"

He laughed, "You don't remember?"

"NO! I'd have never let you wander off if I'd remembered this!"

As hot as it was with him, as crazy intense as our chemistry was, he was not giving me the "subby vibe." I broke out the rope and we had some light play but I didn't have that predatory feeling I typically do when I play with a sub I crave. And although I did crave him, I didn't want to devour him. It was like really hot 'messing around' in a vanilla way. With rope. And some pain. And some face sitting.

As it happened, I was puzzled. As I look back on it, I'm still baffled. Were was my Mistressness?

It wasn't anything he did or didn't do. He did EVERYTHING right for damn sure. I even caught him biting his lip, his dimples making me melt. And his responsiveness to me was perfect. I was feeling super sexy and uber aroused but not RAWR.

We hadn't talked kink in so long I couldn't remember his experience or limits. Maybe that was it. Maybe my inner Domme was holding me back because if it. Or maybe it was the crazy sexual chemistry overriding any D/s dynamic and fucking with my Domme mode.

I'm definitely not losing sleep over worrying about it. I had an amazing time and look forward to seeing (and playing with) him again.

But I must admit I am definitely intrigued. If we have this kind of crazy sexual chemistry now, this early ... and then we develop that yummy D/s chemistry on top of it ...

Yeah, this could have some definite potential for mega hotness!

Sunday, September 9, 2012

The hottest thing I never did

I once considered a mixed martial artist with UFC aspirations. He had a beautiful body, was smart as hell and fiercely competitive.

There aren't any other sports that captivate me quite the way the UFC does. Ripped, sweaty men pummeling each other to decide who is the best, the most manly. I love it.

And the thought of watching the fighter engage another man physically ... knowing he wanted to please me ... knowing he sometimes tied his cock with pink ribbon to amuse and entertain me ... it was panty dampening.

I wanted to watch him fight. I found the idea intensely erotic and so did he. So I upped the ante and came up with this - the hottest thing I never did.

I told him I'd wear panties to his fight. And that my panties were sure to get a little more than damp watching him fight.

If he won, he'd get my damp, dirty panties as reward. If he lost, he would not get my panties.

In fact, I promised him I'd bring him home and make him kneel by the washing machine. I'd make him watch as I very slowly took my panties off and dropped them into the washing machine without letting him have as much as a sniff. And that I'd make him kneel there through the whole washing cycle contemplating his loss - his loss in the ring and the loss of my panties.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Unintentional monogamy

Once upon a time there was a woman who identified as bisexual, dominant and polyamorous. She chose for dates, play partners and lovers only those that understood that she'd probably never be completely monogamous with them. In fact, most that she chose celebrated this about her. Even her uber jealous sub grew to appreciate it.

And then one day that woman woke up and realized she had essentially been monogamous for more than half the year. She had the freedom to be with others but had been too busy and too happy to bother.

She'd also been too busy and too happy to blog.

How the fuck did that happen?

It was nodder's fault. Blame him.

Since I stopped blogging regularly, nodder and I have been apart and back together and now apart again. We've had some incredibly hot scenes I should have written about. We've had some I've even started writing about and stopped because my writing sounded like erotica. We've had the kind of play you fantasize about and it seems unfair to you, my readers, that I haven't written about it.

Consider that your tease. And this blog your denial.

Over the past several months I've been more content than I can remember. I've stayed busy with my career and away from the local scene and all the drama it entails. I've concentrated on my friendships some of which are with lifestylers, some of which that are not. One of which is with a beautiful bisexual woman, Elle, that I don't get to see nearly enough, but overall, I've been very happy.

Up until our relationship ended recently, nodder has been a huge part of that happiness. We'd reached a level of comfort and intimacy with each other that was only exceeded by our D/s connection and it enabled us to play at levels neither of us had before. His appreciation for my dominance and my appreciation for his submission intensified. It wasn't perfect, yet even with him living several hundred miles away we enjoyed each other and our relationship in ways we have not in the two years we've been together.

Between nodder, Elle, my friends and my career, I've stayed so busy and happy, I haven't really sought anyone else. I didn't feel like I needed anyone else.

I've been unintentionally monogamous.

I've also unintentionally neglected my blog.

With this post, I'm rectifying one of those situations. The other? Eh, who knows?

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Eye contact

Call me romantic but I really enjoy looking deep into a man's eyes when I push my cock into his ass.

I've bent a boy over. It's always nice. There's something more than a just a little bit primal about holding his hips and pounding him from behind.

But what I enjoy more than anything - more than hearing every gasp, every moan - is watching his eyes.

I've seen my sub's desire. I've seen him drowning in sub space. I've seen his fear and his awe. Looking into his eyes as I've fucked his ass, I've seen everything.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Subtradiction - by the writer

Subtradiction - n. colloquial The contradictory feelings experience by a submissive who finds himself caught between two contradictory desires

It’s the best word I can imagine to describe the state I’m in.

After seven weeks of chastity, I want so desperately to cum. At the same time, I want equally as desperately to continue to suffer for my Mistress.

I am at the point where my ache is constant, where I cannot get through any task of any day without thinking of how much I want and need release, how full my cock and balls are, how badly I want to feel the rush of cum leaving my body.

How badly I want an orgasm.

How I will happily be humiliated in my cumming, to do so in a way that diminishes my pleasure and increases Lilyana’s.

And yet, at the same time, I am proud of the seven weeks I have endured and know that I can endure more. As badly as I want to cum, I want to remain chaste. I want Lilyana to laugh at my state, to take pleasure in my predicament.

I know it pleases her, and, in truth, it pleases me.

I want to cum and I want not to cum.


I want my cock wet and warm. I want my cock denied any entry.


I want my Mistress’ taste to linger in my mouth; I embrace the reality that as a long distance sub, she taunts me with the fact that I have never experienced what would assuage the pain of my chastity.


If I were allowed to cum tonight, I would wake up tomorrow wishing I were still full and suffering for her. If I am not allowed to cum, I will wake up tomorrow in an agonized state, wishing I had been allowed release.


It sounds like lose-lose but it’s not. Not for a true sub. Any choice my Mitress makes is a choice that binds me tighter to her.  That results in my suffering. That I embrace and accept and cherish.


It’s win-win for me.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Blog bondage

One of the comments I hear most from readers is that they love how honest I am. They love how I write about everything, not just the hot parts.

The truth is I don't write about everything. 

I write about the hot parts I'm willing to share. I write about the funny things. I write about aspects of the lifestyle I think are relevant to my readers. I write about the epiphanies I have and the challenges I face.


I have a huge gaping hole in my heart right now. I can't write about it. I. Just. Can't.

And I can't write about my family and my day to day life. Only the sexy parts. 

Sometimes it feels like I'm in restrictive bondage. Sometimes it's a bit claustrophobic. Sometimes I yearn to pour my heart out.

Since I was a child, I've written when I've felt happy. I've written when I've felt sad. I've written when I have been unable to determine quite how I felt.

Today, more than ever, I NEED to write. I need to write to sort through all that is in my head. I need to write to try to repair the hole that is in my heart.

And I WILL write. I'll write about something fun and sexy. Something interesting.

It'll arouse you. It'll make you think. It might even make you laugh. You'll love it.

But it won't be what I need to write about. It'll be what I'm bound to write about. After all, I'm quite the bondage enthusiast.