the glory of the male human form in motion. I am not a huge fan of ballet but I adore this short piece.
Today is one of my bad days. My blood sugar is wrong. I needed food but could not get up to eat. I force myself to try, end up on the bathroom floor sick and shaking. You pick me up and feed me. You remind me that I know the rules, I didn’t get my eating right yesterday too much energy output not enough food. You remind me that I still need to put on a little more weight and that I have not achieved that goal well enough lately. In fact I have lost weight again. Damn diabetes is frustrating. Combined with a fast metabolism, coeliac disease and lactose intolerance, well food is a constant nightmare. I am feeling terrible and thinking as you put me to bed and call my work to say I won’t be in, that I deserve punishment. I sleep for a while and when I wake your head is buried between my thighs. You are feasting on my clitoris. I try to move but you pin me down and continue your exploration adding firm invading fingers. You are determined in your task and very quickly you have me cumming and begging for your cock. You tease me pushing your cock against my hot hungry cunt but not entering. You are smiling down at my pleading face then your fingers are on my nipples pulling and rubbing them between finger and thumb. I am pushing against your cock ‘please Sir’ I plead again ‘not until you make yourself cum by rubbing against my head’. Mmm a delicious task. I set to it all the while you continue to assault my breasts and watch me writhing against your head driving myself towards orgasm. ‘What a gorgeous dirty slut you are so hungry for my cock’ I cry out, your words pushing me closer to orgasm. ‘I want to feel you gushing hot juices all over me’ oh god ‘that’s it my dirty girl cum all over my cock. When you are wet enough I am going to fuck you so hard you will beg me to stop.’ Please Sir, please fuck me, fuck me so hard that I scream. But you are not done teasing me. A single finger viciously circling my clit with your cock still paused for entry. I start to cum again and you finally enter me but only just teasing me A little longer with short thrusts. then you pin my body so you can ram me much deeper and harder. I am lost to orgasms that just keep rolling one after another. I am helpless to the power you have over my body. When you are spent you tell me to sleep some more. You know that sex, that orgasm is like magic to my blood sugar and that I am going to be just fine.
If you are unfamiliar with the song I have borrowed for the title of this post, the paraphrased story is: no regrets, not one, not for the joys or the pain, I have swept away my love stories, lit the fire with my past, because my life, my joys today they begin with you… It’s a lovely sentiment but its just not true though, is it? We like to think with a new relationship or a change within a relationship that this would be the case but we always have some things, negative or pleasurable, in the back of our mind that like an old photo album or playlist (or mix tape for those of us who remember) we pull out, dust off and reminiscence over. Be they good or bad, but to light the fire with them and banish them forever? Partially perhaps but not entirely.
This song holds special meaning for me. When I first committed to my man (fast becoming my Sir) I had many regrets. Prior to this I had to choose between two very different men. Both passionate, gorgeous men that challenged and excited me. One I would have the opportunity to make a family with, be challenged sexually and lead an exciting life full of creative pursuits but in another town. With the other no more children but a family with his children and their children (he a young Dad and his daughter a young mum) in the same town and to dance and grow in Tango together. I chose to have neither. I really sunk both ships. Total annihilation. Depths of fucking despair. Because I could not decide. And the needs of my son had to come first. And my son (who was recovering from severe depression) wanted, needed the familiar routine and town he knew, he begged me to remain close to our family he simply couldn’t handle anymore change. Eventually proximity meant that my tango partial friend became my tango dance partner and although we tried to remain just friends that just wasn’t going to happen. Back to Edith Piaf, we were at a local bar and I was meeting a very good friend of his for the first time. She was a was a wonderful, gregarious French woman who put me through the hard yards, please imagine a heavy smoker French accent: ‘you look very young, you know he can’t have any more children. He can’t take another loss either, you know he nearly died when you said just friends? I was with him through all that, he is happy now but if you go…’ She would kill me, I could see it. Then as the night progressed she realised my worth and accepted me whole hearted which meant time to play and sing as loudly as possible to what she referred to as her national song: Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. What a beautiful lady, I had the pleasure of calling her friend for another 6 months before she dropped to the floor one day and never regained consciousness. Stroke. But I know she clearly believed in and lived a life with no regrets.
Two random points to expound upon 1. Contextualise the song, it was written in 1956 and made famous when Edith Piaf recorded it in 1960, she dedicated it to the French Legion who were in conflict at the time in Algeria. What a damn fine song to take to heart and into battle. I don’t know if Edith sang it with irony or not she sang it with intensity and passion (just wait till I start on tango songs oh my, God!) 2. The man not in close proximity, three years later he has just welcomed the birth of a beautiful daughter with an equally beautiful woman, regrets? Yes I have many. He is a part of me that can never be removed. It is a strange time in my life, my father starts radiation therapy tomorrow, my sister is suffering severe anxiety and is fearful that she will harm her children, my niece is trying to die, my brother (the niece’s father nowonder) had a heart attack and me I am celebrating liberation through honesty about my true nature, loving my son and all he is becoming, loving my man for all he is becoming. I yet I look at ‘his’ Facebook updates and can’t help but wish that was our baby and that he was still mine. When I saw him last I didn’t know if I could handle seeing him. I missed him so much I had no idea if I could stop myself from kissing and kissing and kissing him. And if he ever wanted me again, could I say no? I do not believe I could. I love him and I love my man who became so by default yet still was chosen. Lucky am I to have had such love in my life yet I regret (Yoda moment for those nerds among us). I could have been a mother again. But I chose not to, I chose to give that up to honor the child I already had. Since I am on the topic of songs; two songs come to mind (actually so many on this playlist of woe, ‘Indifference’ Pearl Jam, ‘Wonderwall’ Ryan Adams version, ‘Hallelujah’ by Gin and along the more mainstream ‘Stay’ Rihanna) for me Lorde (a New Zealand girl and damn talented at just sweet 16) ‘Biting Down’ and for my distant love Adele’s stunning version of The Cure’s ‘Lovesong’. He already knows he is home to me. Stupid girl. Not so stupid girl. Just a girl. The ones I want to ask for advice, they are gone already. Damn death that sneaky fuck who stalks those most cherished and takes them away. You just leave my Dad and niece the fuck alone.
This was not a ‘popular’ post first time round… But it’s honest and nothing has changed between now and then…
Have you ever had a near death experience, or something similarly intense, where you have had only the power of your mind to survive? I have been near death far too many times in my life (I think I have more than one angel, or devil, ensuring I stick around) but by far the most poignant occurred some years ago.
My son was nearly 2 years old at the time and we lived in a very remote area. My vehicle was at the mechanics getting some serious repairs so we were alone, in the wilderness (so to speak) without transport. I have always been allergic to bees but didn’t realise that this kind of allergy is accumulative. My son and I had just had bath time and were about to settle in for some stories, my son was playing in his room while I went to Dress. A bee was in my clothing. I had no medication in the house and had never reacted the way I did this time. My glands swelled very fast and my throat started to close. Before I lost the ability to speak I phoned (thank goodness I decided I needed a landline in this wilderness – I had no internet or mobile phone coverage) the local doctor, his wife informed me that he was attending a heart attack and would get to me when he could. There was no point calling an ambulance it would have taken over an hour to get to me and the Doctor was sure he or his wife could reach me within 20 minutes.
I lay on the floor and focussed on the simple task of breathing and keeping enough airway open to allow me to survive. I imagined my organs not needing so much oxygen to function and simply slowed everything down. I refused to allow the poison in my system, or my immune systems reaction to the poison, to kill me. Of course I don’t know how I will die but I decided a bee sting was not the end I was going to have. My son continued to happily play in his room, which was amazing as he normally would have been tired and cranky at this time of the day. Eventually the doctor arrived and was able medicate me. I now carry an adrenaline shot everywhere and have had to use it twice since then but I have never forgotten those twilight minutes hovering on deaths door and refusing to enter.
Today’s random interaction with a work colleague; he passed by my desk on his way out the door and innocently enough in a humorous tone asked: ‘behaving yourself?’ to which I responded ‘I have done my best so far.’ To which he paused mid-stride, turned to me and replied ‘Good girl.’ Time stopped for the briefest moment as I caught myself from replying ‘yes Sir’, his words had me weak at the knees; a random moment with a colleague where we were both speaking another language… or possibly not. Luckily he missed the depth of my blush.
This highlighted to me how subjective life is, how we have to be careful what words we choose to communicate with an Other.
If we choose nominalisations that have different (often emotive) meanings to every individual we can end up sounding like a politician with each person that has heard the conversation hearing something different because they associate different values to and experience the word differently (like ‘education’ as a stand alone with no further context). Although this will always happen to some degree simply because life is subjective.
It also reminded me of autopilot or default screen saver ‘syndrome’ where commonly used phrases (or behaviours) drop out of your mouth out of context. For example, in the scenario above, I happen to know this colleague has two young daughters at home. The phrase he used is very liked to be commonly used by him in the context of his family but transposes to the workplace a little incongruently. If I had responded ‘yes Sir’, a phrase becoming common to me with in the context of a D/s relationship, it may have sounded odd, or perhaps an attempt at humour… (A similar thing happens in Tango, when either the lead dancer or follow goes into autopilot mode they have left the context of the dance, left the present moment and killed the improvisation.)
Anyway, what all this made me realise is that I want to be more ‘in the moment’ during my day. I want to be clearer in my communication. To do that I need to be more present and receptive to those I am engaged with in conversation. Language is a powerful tool and I want to further enrich my toolbox with a deeper vocabulary – just call me the word whore.
On my knees, the hard wooden floor beneath me, hands on my thighs, relaxed straight back, practicing breathing, practicing patience. Random thoughts, distractions, irritation, moments from the day turning over and over. Breathing, just breathing. Stillness enters quietly, busy mind giving way to a quiet mind, tense body frustrated with stillness becomes a quiet body, reduced to just breath. Slowly my soul fills with serenity and I feel I could wait shrouded in this calm for hours.
To be repeated daily for optimum effect.
When I start to think about the complexities of the human body I feel overwhelmed by the strange qualities of the organic structure we each exist within. I have always felt alienated by my body. It feels as though I am living in an ill fitting skin. Yet, by nature, I am a very kinesthetic person. I love to dance. I love sex. Perhaps I have sought to understand my physical form by dancing in it, moving in it, discovering the pleasure that can be wrought from it. I suppose it is little wonder that I have always had an intense desire for someone to dominate my physical form. Perhaps to provide some boundary and organization to the discovery of the skin I am in. Sometimes the need is so strong I can no longer bare it. I cannot breathe. I am struck mute with anxiety and desire. I need to submit my very being. But only to a deserving dominant. And I am still afraid to let go, to give into this desire. It is so deep I feel my entire geography might be lost. Yet I want it. It feels right. Yet what is ‘it’? How do I articulate this to my partner who occasionally likes to be mildly dominant. I wonder does he want more? I want to be left tied up blindfolded on my knees to contemplate what he might do to me on his return. Will he punish me for getting wet and horny while I wait, give me his hard cock to suck or fuck me senseless? God how I want it. I want this control over myself. I want to gift my submission to him. I believe that is why I have been drawn to tango. A good follow submits to the lead yet is a strong person with personality, grace, sensuousness and physicality. A submissive is not weak minded or unintelligent, they simply have a different need, a different almost insatiable hunger. I feel I simply need Domination just as I need to breathe.
This morning you placed a gold chain around my waist. You secured it with a tiny padlock. You placed the key in your pocket and advised me that I was not permitted to wear panties today. All day I would wear this symbol of our promise to each other. All day the loose length of the chain rubbed against my warm moist sex reminding me that I am yours and held the promise of relief from the constant arousal it was bringing me. When I arrived home from work and began making our meal you tease me pulling the loose length between my legs and rubbing it against my hot swollen clit and labia. I try to continue focussing on my task while you mercilessly bring me to the edge of heaven. We eat, the whole time you know I am desperate for relief, suspended in that exquisite place of aching to cum but loving the sensation of withholding the pleasure.
After the meal. I clean up then you tell me to go to our room and strip naked so I am left wearing only your chain. Then I am to bend over the end of the bed, legs spread wide and await your pleasure. I can hear you moving around the house and working on the computer before finally coming down the hallway to our room. A single finger slides slowly inside me gauging my wetness and hot swollen arousal. I moan with desire and the finger is removed. I can hear you lick my juices from your finger. “You have been a horny little slut all day haven’t you?” Yes Sir. “Thinking about cumming all day long?” Yes Sir. “My dirty girl needs a spanking.” Yes please Sir. Then you are rubbing oil into my skin, over my pale cheeks, allowing the cool oil to drizzle down between them then oiling my labia lips and clit, circling my tight sphincter and oiling just inside me gently but firmly pushing into me with your strong rough finger. Then the sting of your palm on my left cheek then the right, again and again followed by more oil and your massaging fingers probing my open wetness. Now a different sensation as you thwack the leather crop on my cheeks the pain a stunning contrast to my aching desire. You have finished spanking my ass cheeks and now gently apply the crop to my clit. The first strike sets me afire the following harder ones have me desperate for your cock. Then your lips are on me your tongue probing inside me tasting all of my offering. Now your fingers roughly inside me and tongue pushing against my anus. God I want your cock in me. Then you oblige pushing your silky hardness deep into me as deep as you can go. Your hands grip my hips as you slide deep and hard in and out in a slow intense rhythm. Then deep short hard thrusts your head finding the sweet spot that makes me weak at the knees. I am on the verge of cumming when you pull out and mercilessly suckle my clit causing me to gush. God it feels incredible but I am ashamed you didn’t tell me to let go, to release. You turn me over now pushing me to orgasm, demanding my orgasm, with your dexterous fingers rubbing and slapping my clit you mouth and tongue attacking my depths. Then your mouth is on my nipple sucking hard your hand pulling roughly on the other. I am lost in ecstasy as again you slide your cock in me riding me while sucking and pinching my breasts. You have to release your mouth in order to enter me more deeply you push my legs wide apart knees up to find the angle you want. Then you are slowly fucking me teasingly drawing out the pleasure for both of us. The chain is still rubbing against me adding to the multiple sensations you are inflicting all pushing towards blissful pleasure and mind altering orgasms. They crash around me and I am helpless within the tide of release surging through me. I can feel the tension growing in your cock as my orgasms strengthen you become harder and harder then you tell me you are going to cum inside me, the hot rush of it, the moment of stillness as your cum enters me filling me with more heat. The waves continue, surging, then slowing as our heart rates calm and we return to ourselves from the merging of our bodies.