Saturday, September 23, 2017

Into The Darkness

I have always been of the belief that when Second Life isn't fun anymore, it's time to log off for a while.

It may be only a day, or two, or a week or even a month, but sometimes that break is necessary.

This is one of those times... for several reasons. Some are my own doing, some are others.

Let's start with those reasons first, shall we? Well, really, it's just one other person. Yes, ladies and gentleman, Michael mother-fucking Stewart. And, yes, I know I had it coming.

About 3, maybe 4, weeks ago, Michael was in Chicago, at O'Hare, getting ready to fly home from a business trip. We were chatting on Skype before he boarded the plane... he blew me some kisses and that was the last time I heard from him.

Pleading, begging, threatening, crying, cussing... nothing I did could get him to answer me. Oh, and not just me, either. He's not logged into SL (at least under THAT account), he's not contacted any other friends... he's just gone. 

For all I know, he could be dead. 

But yeah, I scoured the obituaries pretty hard and he has an unusual first name, and I found nothing so I don't think that's the case. And if he is dead, he won't be reading this anyway. 

No, he's just a dick, like so many other men. I'm not sad, or even really hurt anymore. Mostly I'm just disgusted. Mostly I think he's a coward. 

I've had people point out a couple of men that they believe are Michael's alts. I flat-out asked one of them and he, of course, denied it. 


I have no way of knowing. And at this point, it doesn't matter if his name is Tom, Dick, Harry or Michael. He can kiss my ass.

His departure left me with some other issues I had to deal with. Some I handled well... others, not so much. I did something I'm really not proud of, and that I thought I could live with but, no... I did an ugly thing and it's weighing on me like a ton of bricks. 

I've never been too terribly shy about the fact that my Second Life is all about sex with men. It's not part of my... God, I don't want to call it game play because I don't view SL as a game... but my pattern of behavior to have close female friends. I have one female friend in SL that I've had for years, and we hardly ever even talk. It's just nice knowing she's there. And when we do talk, it's rarely actually much about what is happening in SL as much as it is what's happening in our real lives. I would actually consider her more of an RL friend than a SL friend.

When I got together with Michael, we decided we wanted to be intimate friends with some other couples. 

And so we did. 

And then he disappeared.

One couple that I went through a lot with in relation to Michael... well, I just told them that I couldn't have anything to do with anything that reminded me of him anymore. Was that a shitty thing to do? Maybe. No. I don't know. I just know how I was feeling and I didn't want, and still don't really want, to talk about him. It makes me angry. 

But then there was another couple. A woman Michael had known for a long time and her partner. I really hit it off with them... both of them. She became what I would consider a close friend. We had a lot in common and she's just a really lovely person.

And then she and her partner broke up. I had a decision to make. Continue being friends with her, or continue being one of his lovers? 

Yeah, I broke the woman-code. I went with my "I'm in SL to fuck men, not be friends with women" line and crushed her. 

I thought I could live with that decision. SL is for sex, RL is for female friends. That was my delineation. 

And it still is. So why do I feel like such a piece of shit? 

Because I knowingly hurt someone, badly. Someone who absolutely didn't deserve it for some pixel cock. 

Oh, he's a good lover. He's great at the sex stuff. But I knew going into it that this wasn't a man I was going to fall in love with and have a relationship with. We were just going to fuck. And finding good lovers isn't all that easy in SL. 

So I chose him. 

And now I'm really not happy. 

And I feel like a terrible, awful person, and I deserve to feel this way. This isn't a plea for sympathy, or an attempt to make it about me. This other woman is a kind, beautiful soul. Funny, smart. Sympathetic, empathetic. She was a real friend to me and I shit all over her. I'm a monster for doing that. 

There were a hundred ways for me to handle that situation and I went low. I went very low. 

And that's not the kind of woman I am, not the woman I want to be. 

Second Life can be insidious. It can get inside your head and make you behave in ways that you shouldn't, wouldn't, in the real world. And I let it happen. That one is all on me. I could have turned my back on him, I could have turned my back on both of them. All I had to do was explain that I'm in SL for one reason... I didn't have to fuck him. I didn't have to have him. 

I did, though, and I feel dirty about it. 

That's really only happened to me once before in SL, years ago, when I created an alt to be with Hugh when I was partnered to someone else. I lasted less than a week because it made me feel dirty. I did the right thing then... broke up with my partner, told him the truth. It hurt him, but I was in love with Hugh. Sneaking around made me feel dirty.

And I feel dirty now and I can't fix it. I hurt her and no amount of saying I'm sorry would fix it. I dug my grave. 

So... yeah. Time for another break. 

Mind you, I say that as I'm logged into SL. But I'm not there to fuck. I can't stop shopping, and taking photos... maybe. I don't know. 

I'm just keeping quiet, keeping to myself, until I feel like I'm ready to face it all again.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Revisiting Feminism

I know the subject of this blog post isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea, so I'm going to let you all look at some filthy photos of Michael doing Very Naughty Things to me while I rant.

Because I'm fucking going to rant about Taylor Swift.
Specifically, I'm going to rant about how she's being treated by this new generation of 3rd wave feminists.

You see, they don't like her. At all. They like to throw all sorts of insults at her... she's always playing the victim, she's a liar, she's this, she's that... but the one that really angers me is when they call her a "white feminist".

That's a thing now... white feminist... and it's not a compliment. What does it mean?

I'll give you a hint... it has to do with the color of her skin.
These "feminists", and no, I don't consider them actual feminists, are absolutely pissed off beyond belief that this pasty-faced, blonde white chick is... um...

What exactly is she doing? OH, yes, she's making music! She's writing songs and singing about what she knows, and no, it's not exactly a gritty urban upbringing. How fucking dare she, right? Who could ever relate to that?!

They've gone so far as to call her an Aryan Princess... the face of the neo-Nazis.

What? WHAT?!

No, seriously, they have. According to them, she's an icon within the white power movement.

What absolute and utter bullshit.

Why do they say this? Because she kept her politics to herself during the last election. She didn't yell about being Team Hillary, therefore she's obviously Team Trump, though she never said a bloody word about him, either.

I don't know how she voted. It's not anybody's god damn business. Would I have liked her to speak out? Sure... but it's not my fucking place to try to push her to do that.
And it makes me fucking livid that these "feminists" have branded her Public Enemy #1.

Look, I know that women of color are marginalized far more than white women. I'm not an idiot.

But I'd look like a total dumbass if I decided to take up the fight of the women of color, being as I'm not one. Do I support them? Abso-fucking-lutely. Will I have their backs in their struggle? Of course.

There are plenty of strong, intelligent, amazing women of color out there leading the charge, all across the spectrum of industries and politics. Wouldn't it be insulting for Taylor fucking Swift to try to fight their battles? They are doing great on their own... they don't need her to try to push them out of the way and speak for them. They have strong, amazing, clear and loud voices that should be heard.
So why is everyone dragging Tay-Tay, huh? Why can't she just be who and what she is and do her thing with Jezebel shitting all over her on a daily basis?

I choose my own path, and my own battles. I practice the kind of feminism my mother taught me. I'm old enough to be a product of 2nd wave feminism and I'm pretty damn proud of that. Being a woman has never once stopped me from doing or being anything I want to be because I never even considered that as an option.

Get in my way and try to hold me back because I have a vagina instead of a penis, and I'm going to mow you the fuck down without breaking a stiletto heel.

And if some little insignificant male has to believe I'm somehow lesser than he is simply because I'm homogametic instead of heterogametic, I'm just going to point and laugh at him cowering in the corner while I'm on my way to the top.
I'm also not naive enough to think that women of color don't have a more difficult time than I do.

As I said, I'm not an idiot.

But it's all gotten twisted together into one issue when it's really two... misogyny and racism.

Both are rotten and idiotic but they aren't the same thing. Right now, the problem in this country, the US, is racism. By and large, women aren't being held down by the patriarchy, despite what the 3rd wave feminists want you to believe. Most of these girls are still in college, are being influenced by each other, and have no idea what it's like out in the real world.

And seriously, out here in the real world, it's not bad for women. Are there still problems? Yeah, there always will be and we're always going to have to fight the good fight but no one is keeping us home barefoot and pregnant.

Donald Trump is an absolute piece of shit. He's the worst thing to happen to our country since Jim Crow laws. Yes, that includes 9/11. Trump as president is far worse for the United States than 9/11 was in terms of damage. For all the horror of 9/11, this country united in its wake.

But the Trump presidency? Dividing our country in two and it's going to take ages to fix it. The man hates anyone who isn't white. Truly, the man hates most everybody, but he's found his niche in scaring stupid white people into fearing anyone who isn't as pasty as he is. Yes, I know he's actually orange but I'm talking about underneath the fake tan.
THIS is what we should be enraged by... not Taylor Swift. I mean, Jesus, seriously, people. It's Taylor Swift.

Don't get me wrong... I fucking adore her, but, c'mon... it's Taylor Swift. She's singing songs about boys for the most part, though I'm loving this new angry Taylor.

I could write for ages about how she's been misinterpreted and wronged by the pop press and the world at large but I'm going to try to refrain a little.

I think she's gotten a bad rap for a lot of things. So she's dated a few guys over the last decade... She's a young woman in her 20s. Better she date around than get married to some dude just because and have it end in yet another celebrity divorce. Jesus, when I was her age, I'd dated far more guys than she has. People, that's fucking normal.
And as for her music, and writing songs about her exes... who the fuck doesn't do that?! EVERY songwriter writes about love, the good and the bad. It's what they fucking do.

I didn't see anyone giving Timberlake shit when he wrote Cry Me A River. 

She writes songs that young women relate to. Heartbreak is a big theme in music, you know? Why does she get so much grief over it? Not your kind of music? Okay, great! So what? Don't listen and move on with your life!
Playing the victim? How about "not taking any shit"? She refuses to put up and shut up... Talk about feminism! Bravo for her. People are so good at ragging on her music that they don't take the time to listen to it. 

And the shitty thing is that it's mostly women. We're our own worst enemies. 

Ladies, you can't claim to be a feminist and then turn around and slam other women for behaving, saying, existing in ways you don't approve of!

That isn't how it fucking works. You can support her without liking her music. You can support her without relating to her. 
And that's why I can't stand this 3rd wave feminism bullshit. It's all a bunch of college aged social justice warriors who believe their way is the only way. Feminism is about being the woman you want to be, and not letting anyone stand in your way. 

It's about being strong. Forging your own path in this world. For Christ's sake, it's about not taking any shit for being who you want to be! You don't get to tell any woman who she can and can't be, damn it, or how she's supposed to act, or look, or dress, or sing, or vote, or speak. 

I don't know where these women are getting their entitlement from... this belief that they get to pave the way for other women. I paved my own. Yes, there were other women along the way that may have cleared it, but damn it, I paved it. 

And I didn't have to do it on the backs of other women that I knocked down and crawled over. Other women helped me, I helped other women. The women in my life have supported me, as I have them. 
It's stupid to be trying to shut other women up because you don't like the words they're saying, or sometimes not saying. 

You just don't get to do that. 

Be fucking nice to each other. Don't give in to the divisiveness that Trump is fostering. Just be kind. Turn the other cheek. Be who you want to be, not who anyone else thinks you should be.

But don't be mean.
Oh, and have sex. Lots of it. With people who make your toes curl.

Like this guy. ;-)

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Late Night Date Night

I never know for sure when I'm going to get to see Michael. His real life is unpredictable and the best laid plans and all that...

It's not easy.

But then, the best things in life never are, are they?
I'm a night owl. He's an early bird. Add being on different sides of the country to that and, well, it's not easy!

Communication is key... as is trust. Being in an open relationship certainly helps... itches can still be scratched even if the other isn't available.

Being a night owl worked in my advantage last night, however, when my man found himself unable to sleep and though it was 2am my time, I was still awake.
We talk a lot even when we aren't inworld together. Skype is our friend! So when we are able to be together in SL, the clothes usually don't stay on too long.

We both had the itch last night... and scratched it soooooo good.

No one fucks me like this man does. No one can get inside my head, and my body, and make me feel the way he does.

No one makes me erupt like Michael. The orgasms that rip through me, over and over, just like wild waves crashing against the rocks.
When he touches me... he touches my mind, my soul, as well as my clit. He ignites the fire so deep inside me that there is no holding back anything from him. My orgasms are heavy and deep and oh-so-wet. Michael Stewart makes the juices flow like a river... it curls my toes and makes me rumble like an earthquake. Every nerve ending in my body pulses and aches until he soothes them. I turn into a jibbering-jabbering idiot full of nonsense words and pleas.

And it just. doesn't. stop. We women are lucky to be able to have orgasm after orgasm and Michael... Michael exploits that. There is no one single little orgasm... they loop together, ebbing and flowing, until I'm nearly unconscious with it. Every orgasm leads to another and another until I can't tell where one stops and another begins.
It's sublime and insane. It's perfection. Cataclysmic.

He leaves me shaking and spent... a sloppy wet babbling mess.

He touches the most intimate parts of me. He fucks the most intimate parts of me.
I'm not letting this one go. No way, no how. Michael is mine, and I am his. We're inside each other... part of each other. 

I would say we're lucky to have found each other... and we are. But above that, we work at it as well. Wacky schedules, wacky time zones... wacky real life. We could drift apart during those times we're not together but neither of us want that. So we make it work because it's worth it. 

Giving up those orgasms? Never. 

Giving up this man? Never.

We're just climbing the first hill on this roller coaster... and oh what a ride it's going to be!

Monday, August 14, 2017


Well, here we are. Me. Michael. Together.

I know that pisses some of you off. 

One thing I've learned in my time on Earth is that unhappy people just can't stand to see others happy. And there are a handful of you out there who have expressed their unhappiness that he and I are a thing. 

And since I've not posted about him in a couple of weeks, I'm sure you unhappy folks were rubbing your hands together in glee assuming that the worst had happened.
Yeah, no, sorry... we didn't break up. 

You see, when you're a fucking adult, there are some times when Second Life needs to take a back burner to real life. And you don't bitch and moan and whine about it, you get on with what you need to do. 

Michael and I have an understanding... as Hugh and I did, as well. Real life comes first, no questions asked. 
Okay... questions are fine. When you care about another human, you ask them about their lives. How about 'no guilt trips' instead? Maybe compassion, understanding and empathy instead?

Michael and I haven't been apart... we've just not been in Second Life together for a couple of weeks. He's had his things to do, and I've had mine, and neither of us would respect each other in the slightest if either of us ignored those things that come first.

Because that would be stupid. Truly.
As much as we might sometimes want it to be, Second Life isn't the real world. For the vast majority of us, it doesn't pay our bills, it doesn't cook our food, it doesn't take care of our families or pets. It doesn't power the electricity, doesn't pay our mortage, and exists in this little box we have on our desks or on our laps.

And it's not going to be there for us when the going gets tough. Yes, some of the people we meet there might be, but if they're that close, there's a damn good chance you have other ways of staying in touch besides SL.
Michael has a far busier real life than I do and his attention and devotion to those things are part of the reason I adore him. I'm not talking about the big life stuff, like when Dad died. I'm just talking about the littler things - a busy stressful week at work, a family vacation, hell, just taking the car in for a tune up or something.

I know there are people in SL who either ignore those things or feel angry about having to deal with them because it cuts into their time in Second Life. And there are also plenty of people who get pissed because their partners or friends have to take time away from SL for the real world.

What. The. Fuck?
I apologize for the quality of these photos... there was a fucking reunion happening!
In the entirety of the circle that is the Life of Michael, I know I don't come first, or even second, or even third. I know I'm damned important to him but if the chips fell, I know where I'd place. And guess what? It's the same on my end.

And that's as it fucking should be. He and I are never, ever going to transition into the real world... neither of us wants that, or needs that. It's odd how I feel like I have to explain that, but... holy shit, some people just don't get it. I have this amazing man in my life and he is truly surprised and appreciative that I don't get angry or give him shit or try to make him feel guilty for not logging in for a couple of weeks.
Life happens. Life happens, or it should. I understand that everyone comes into SL from a different situation... and it's not any of my business what those situations are. But if life isn't happening for you outside of our virtual world, perhaps it's time to log off and go smell some flowers. Get some damn sunshine... go to a yoga class... take the dog for a long walk and do some bonding with the real people in your world.

I knew where Michael was... I knew how he was spending his days. He didn't disappear (THAT is uncalled for with the umpteen million ways we have to communicate outside of SL). Neither of us are people who need to be logged in 24/7.

And that gives us the freedom to keep feeding our relationship. Our friendship. We're real live human beings and we talk about things that have nothing to do with Second Life. We can go a couple of weeks without "seeing" each other in pixel form.
I mean, sure, it's wonderful when we are in SL together... being together that way is the very best, but those little Skype conversations are nearly as cherished and just as important.

And that time when we're not together in SL just makes us stronger. When we're together, it's because we want to be, not because we feel some sort of obligation. Not because we feel like we just have to log in and be together. It's a "YAY! I'm not busy right now and neither are you so lets spend some time together!" It's not always sexual... sometimes it's nothing more than sitting on the couch talking.

And, yeah... sometimes it's "Baby, get naked because it's been two weeks and god damn it, it's time to fuck." Edit: Not an actual quote.
So, yeah... sorry to the folks who were hoping we'd crashed and burned. Mostly, I'm sorry that your lives are so unhappy that you take pleasure in the idea of someone else's misery, real or imagined.

This man, my Michael mother-fucking Stewart, was totally unexpected. And how much fun is that? Lots of fun, let me tell you! A man who has his shit together! Mature! Intelligent! Hilarious! Sexy as hell! A man who's self-worth isn't tied into how many hours he spends logged into Second Life!

Hot diggity damn!
I didn't think lightning was going to strike twice for me after Hugh. I mean, it's been nearly two years and I hadn't found anyone else who really knew how to balance Second Life and real life. It was either all SL, all the time, or just the opposite. Men who I met in SL who wanted to shut it off and exist solely in other chat applications, or on the phone, or on a webcam... or, worst of all, men who wanted to meet in real life.

I don't want that... either of those things. SL is SL and RL is RL. No, I don't role-play as someone I'm not in Second Life, but I do like the separation of the two. I love sex in SL. Love creating that world with someone... and then being able to turn it off, and then back on when the time is right.

Second Life is a beautiful escape from the real world. I look like a goddess, have an unlimited clothing budget, an amazing house, etc., etc., but at the end of the day, I've also got it pretty fucking good in the real world, too. I'm in a good place and I'm probably happier than I should be so soon after becoming an adult orphan but, hey... I paid my dues and have no regrets. I know a lot of people who can't say the same thing.
This... this is my fun. This is where there is no silly drama, or limitations. And I have a man who gets that, and operates under the same principles I do. 

Oh, and he adores me. 

All in all, it's a pretty sweet fucking deal. 

Friday, August 4, 2017

On the Subject of Well-Behaved Women...

I want to talk a little about profiles in Second Life.

They are a wonderful, easy way to let others know a bit about us before they decide to click that "send IM" button. A way to show people what we're about, what we're seeking - or not seeking as the case may be.

My biggest pet peeve is when people refuse to put anything on their profile at all, except some trite language about "if you want to know, just ask". Who the fuck has time to have a conversation with every sexy avatar they see? I don't have time for that. With a well filled out profile, I can know up front if I think someone may be a person I might click with.

And I do assume that those people who have empty profiles don't have a good enough grasp on language to express themselves. I'm uninterested in those people.
Second on my list are the people who use text speak or ascii characters. Look, I get it, you're a 12 year old girl and think it's cool. Guess what? It's not. It's annoying as fuck. I certainly don't have the time or inclination to try to decipher whatever the fuck you're trying to say. You think it makes you look unique? It just makes you look like a garbled mess.
My third pet profile peeve is the quotes people use. So, so many repeated and trite quotes. First off, no one has ever found anything anywhere that can definitively prove that Marilyn Monroe ever said anything about accepting her at her worst. Secondly, even if she had said it, Marilyn was a fucking wreck. Thirdly, it's a stupid sentiment. No one should accept me at my worst. I'm the worst when I'm at my worst! Don't accept that shit, don't tolerate it. Really, a person should just be ignored when they're at their worst. No one wants to see that shit.
And let's talk about this one for a few minutes... "Well-behaved women seldom make history." If you're one of those people who also thinks this was a Monroe quote, stop reading this post right now and go read a fucking book.

Now, if you do know that it was, in fact, a quote from a woman named Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, good for you! Ulrich is a Harvard professor. She has won a Pulitzer Prize. She's a devout Mormon. And that damn quote of hers is taken completely out of context.
It's from an article she wrote back in the 70s about Puritan funerals.

Puritan funerals. Let that one sink in for a minute.

This is a fine woman. A wise woman. A feminist. And yes, a Mormon complete with the funny underwear and bizarre set of religious beliefs that include women not going to Heaven unless their already deceased husbands say it's okay.
Do you think for one hot second that she was advocating for women to go out and act up in order to make history? Yeah, no... that's pretty much the complete opposite of what she meant. She was bemoaning the fact that there have been so many truly amazing, great women who have done tremendous things and never got the recognition they richly deserved because they weren't showing their proverbial asses left and right and fucking did behave.

Her work as a historian has been to focus on the boring. The ordinary. Here's a good quote from her that you can use, "I am interested in ordinary objects partly because they’re not supposed to be interesting. I think I’m contrary that way."

Ordinary women. Those are the women she was interested in. The ones who never made it into the history books... at least, not until she came along and shined her own spotlight on them.
So, yeah, it irritates me when I see that quote anywhere, much less on someone's SL profile. The women who plaster it on bumper stickers and t-shirts and profiles have bastardized the true meaning of Ulrich's words and have defined it to mean it's okay to be a brat. Or a bitch.

No, ladies... it's never acceptable to be a bitchy brat. That behavior should never be tolerated. Mocked and scorned? Absolutely. Better yet, it should just be ignored, as you should be when you act a fool.
Perhaps try to have an original thought? Oh, don't go quoting yourself... I've seen that in people's profiles in SL, too. Mostly men, mostly fake doms. Always ridiculous. 

Set some damn standards for yourself and your behavior. Be nude if you want, fuck every man you see if you want. But don't act like a impudent child... and if you do, don't be surprised when people treat you as one, and do as all good parents should do when faced with a child throwing a tantrum, and ignore you. 

Sometimes forever.

And you have no one to blame but yourself.

Sunday, July 30, 2017

My Submission

It's high time I embrace that side of me and let it flourish in all its glory.

You see, this man came crashing into my world one evening... I was at Teqi's and I was horny and I wanted to get fucked before I needed to go to bed.

An IM arrived, then an invitation to dance... No, he didn't fuck me that night.

Oh, he gave me an orgasm... and a few very dark promises that left me intrigued. Not many men intrigue me.
I didn't see him again for a while... my father died and I wasn't in world much for the next couple of weeks.

And he noticed. Not just my absence... I received an offline from him asking if everything was okay. Sure, he might have read this blog. I really don't know. All I do know is that he cared enough to ask.

And that's when I knew he was going to be someone special to me.
When I came back to SL after that brief hiatus, he was there. And we talked, and we had sex, and we talked even more. He didn't demand my submission... I gave it willingly. He gives me freedom... freedom to be myself, freedom to soar... and I know he'll be right there to catch me.

Is he a dominant? Yes, he is. A rough one. Demanding? Not even a little bit. He has his rules, certainly... standards more than rules, really. He has high expectations, and why shouldn't he? I do, too. Will he punish me if I get out of line? Most certainly, but why would I get out of line?

These photos... the bruises and marks I wear... those aren't punishments. They're rewards... they're what I crave. I love to be taken the way he takes me, and he knows it. Punishment, for me, would be to have that taken from me.
There is no collar.

Well, there is, but not a locked one... one I already had that we use during moments like in these photos.

He doesn't need to place a collar around my neck, or a set of rules I must follow. I've given myself to him. Freely, without limitations, without any constraints or rules.

And I've never felt stronger. Never felt more like a woman. I speak to whomever I choose, I go wherever I choose... I fuck whomever I choose.

He lets me be the woman I want to be. He asks for no changes... there are no nods or hints, or pushes or shoves for that matter. He adores me and I feel that so deep in my bones.
Dominant man, yes. He's also a rather outspoken feminist. He dominates me because I crave the domination. It is his gift to me. We feed each other... the darkness, and yes, the light. He is unfailingly kind. Even when I'm bound, on my knees for him... he respects me, unflinchingly. I don't walk behind him... I walk beside him.

I haven't changed... not one iota. I am 100% me. That's the woman he wants. Opinionated, foul-mouthed, exasperating, hilarious, intelligent me. Submissive me, strong me.

He has a gentle, beautiful soul... and no, that isn't at odds with his dominance. He's a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors and he shares them all with me. As vulnerable as I am when I'm in chains, he is just as vulnerable with me. He trusts me, I trust him... and that grows every day as it only can with time.

We've clasped hands and taken a leap of faith together when it was something neither of us thought we were prepared for, but it's just felt so natural... so unforced.
We will have other lovers, together and separately. We won't hide our needs, our desires... we will share them. We are both of the strong belief that our real lives take precedence above all else. I am not chained to his side. Our time spend together isn't out of obligation... it's out of want. Desire.

And that desire is so much more than sexual. We talk about everything... from politics to religion to family to work to every unimportant, silly, serious topic in between. We laugh... a lot. I can be my goofy self with him and he's right there with me.

As a dear friend of his... ours... told me tonight, Michael Stewart is one of the 1% of men in Second Life. He's the full package. Flawed, certainly... and isn't that part of the package? He's a billion adjectives and a few more that haven't even been named yet.

Is this fast? It feels like it is, but it's been nearly two months now since our first dance. In Second Life time, we're practically crawling along. But every day, every single day, every single moment, I feel something new and spectacular for him.
For a long time after Hugh left, I thought that was it... that was my one and I had used up all my good juju and there was nothing left. Oh, I tried... god knows I tried... but in the end, none of those other men fit. Bits and pieces of them, sure... but the entirety of the man? No.

Not until now. It just feels... solid. Strong. Heavy... and oh-so light.

I fumbled the ball once when we were first getting to know each other. I learned a valuable lesson about the man he is... he's not one to play games, nor does he tolerate fools. He's a man of his word, and that's in short supply not just in SL, but the entire world.

He confided his only real rule to me... and no, I won't share what that is. It's not my rule to share. But I tested that rule... I pushed it... not quite to the limit because if I had, none of this would exist.

But he listened to me... he stuck it out with me. He thought I was worth it, that we were worth it, and he was right. We are worth it.
And so there you have it. My submission... my gift to him. His dominance... his gift to me.

I'm having the time of my life with this man. My boundaries... my self-imposed restraints have been freed. By me, with him.

The hand prints on my ass, my bruised breasts... the marks around my neck, and yes, the reddened cheeks on my face... I wear them with pride. They are a sign of my strength. They are badges of honor. Abusive? Hardly. Not when I'm the one begging for them. I get off on pain and I won't be ashamed of that.

The orgasms he gives me are so deep, so all-consuming. They come with the twist of a nipple, or a hand on my throat, squeezing. They come with a hard slap on my clit... and mostly with his cock buried so deep inside me that it hurts and I see stars... and fireworks... explosions and bright white lights. A fire so intense it burns through my entire body until I erupt, over and over, an earthquake, tsunami... an F5 tornado ripping me apart in a torrent of bliss... and just when I think it's subsided, he touches me and it all begins again. The lash of his hands across my breasts or the soft brush of his lips on mine... I feel nothing but bliss. I feel nothing but cherished. I feel so safe with him... I can be myself, fully, holding nothing back from him.

I am his. I am owned. I've given myself to this man... this incredible man. My master, my lover, my best friend. Mine... as I am his.

I am finally complete.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Goddesses & Monsters

Michael and I were spending some time with a dear friend of ours this morning. She recently ended a long term relationship and was sharing some of the details about their time together.
It's not often that I actually get so enraged that I'm seeing through a haze of red fury, but I was today. There is an issue, something that just crawls right under my skin and makes me want to scream literal bloody murder. When it comes right down to it, it's what's behind the point of this entire blog. It's the reason I share myself, my sexual self, so blatantly, so openly, for the world to see. I've touched on it many times in the past, and have probably written a post about it at least once before, but I believe it's worth revisiting.

It involves our society as a whole, but I'm going to be focusing on men for right now. Don't get me wrong... women do this, too, and that's a whole nother spectrum of the issue.

Stupid, impotent, tiny-dicked, tiny-brained, insecure, vile men who... GAH... it's even hard to put into words, you guys! Men who shame women for their sexuality. Men who do their very best to get inside a woman's brain and make her feel wrong, dirty, about her sexual urges. About her need for sex, to enjoy sex.

Because women aren't supposed to enjoy sex, right? Right? A woman who enjoys sex is a whore. A slut, a floozy. She's cheap. There is something wrong with her. A woman is supposed to just lie there and take it from a man... He's an animal, after all. He can't control his urges. They're natural for a man.

But women? Oh no, our clit is their purely for decoration, right? That is, if you can even find it, amirite?
The female orgasm is nothing but a myth! These women... these tarts that allegedly enjoy sex... it's just some sort of Daddy issues, right? She's lowering herself to pretend to like being sexual. She needs help, therapy, counseling.


Seriously. Fuck you. You stupid, ignorant, repugnant, slimy shit-stain.

I dated one of you, mercifully briefly. Partnered you for a minute, even. Even looking back on it now, seeing the obvious signs of what he was doing, he almost got inside my head with it. Almost. He pushed his... moral agenda... too far, too fast, and I had a glimmer of clarity and walked away without looking back. Did he outright call me a whore? No... he was more insidious with his venom. He'd say things like, "You really should have been choosier." Mind you, he had a whole host of other issues, like getting off on watching me with other men yet thinking I was filthy for doing it and that I should go to church.

I know, right?
I escaped. A lot of really incredible, amazing women aren't so lucky. This incredible woman we spent the morning with. She had three years of a man who shamed her for wanting to be intimate with him, and being rebuffed by him and made to feel dirty because she needed it. She's... god, you guys, she's amazing. Intelligent, funny, sensual, stunning, strong... and this imbecile did everything in his power to tear her down. That fucking monster.

It is everything in my power not to track him down and put my stiletto-clad foot up his ass sideways.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? To do that to anyone, much less the woman he was supposed to love, the woman who loved him... god! She gave herself to him, and he threw it back at her in the ugliest of ways time and time again.
And let's not forget the line of every single abuser ever... "You made me do it." It's all her fault, you know? His inability to perform his manly duties... all her fault.

BULLSHIT. Bull-fucking-shit.

Guys, let me tell you something... Women ARE supposed to enjoy sex. We have a clitoris and thousands of nerve-endings that just light up like fucking Christmas trees when they're correctly manipulated. More than that, we have fucking brains, and we fucking use them and we get aroused beyond the telling of it and we have Earth-shattering, ear-splitting, back-clawing, blistering, wet orgasms. Better still? We can have as many as we fucking want. Take your refractory period and shove it up your urethra... We don't need it. You think that's a fucking accident of evolution? A mistake of God's, if that's how you chose to believe? Our ability to reach the precipice and fall over again and again and again while you're still lying there curled up in a little heap, with your empty balls, and your "babe, I need to rest..."? That's no fucking accident. That's the universe telling you that women are better fucking equipped at sex than you are.

Maybe that's it. Maybe it's jealously. Some men simply haven't evolved beyond caveman-like grunts and ass-scratching and can't move beyond the false idea that men are sexually superior to women.
The Very Definition of a Man
Thankfully, most have. See the man in these photos? That's Michael Stewart. Michael fucking Stewart. THAT is a man who utterly revels in my sexuality, just basks in it. He beams with pride at the way I express myself, the way I let myself just... drown... in our arousal. He might tie me up, beat my ass until it's black and blue, and squeeze my throat until I can't breath... because he knows that's one of the many, many keys to unleashing the... whore... inside me. He owns me. Not through force. Not through abuse. Not through demanding it. He owns me because I let him. I gave myself to him, my soul, my love, my sexuality... my complete trust because I know he treasures it. He would never try to tamp that down. He would never try to make me feel dirty or wrong because of my urges, my needs. A dominant? Yes, absolutely. In the truest sense of what that means. An abusive asshole? Not even close. A staunch feminist. A champion of women.

He's not intimidated by my sexuality. He fucking owns it.
And that's what a man is. Ladies, never, ever settle for less than that. Never. The first moment you see the signs... fucking run. Just turn tail and run like you've never run before. Don't look back. Slam that door and nail it shut. Block him. Inworld and out. Because he will try to get you back. He will realize how badly he's fucked up... but he won't change. He won't. He'll make pretty apologies and shower you in gifts and praise... but it won't be long before he's back to slipping in those little insults. The ones that make you question yourself.

Don't give him that power over you. Just don't. Heed this warning... listen to the words of women who have been there. These men are broken inside, but they will never recognize that. They will never admit to their deficiencies, their weaknesses. It will always be "you made me do this" or "if you hadn't done such-and-such"...
It is not your fault.

It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.


I know it's not easy. I know it's hard to stand alone, to turn your backs, to not have that special someone who is all yours. I know. I do.

But please, please trust me on this... You are better alone. You are better without him.

And one day, when YOU are ready, you're going to meet someone and he will love you for everything you are. He will be proud of you, will want you walking beside him, will absolutely cherish every single thing you are. Your flaws, your weaknesses, as well as your strengths... and your urges, kinky, vanilla and everything in between. Your intelligence will be his aphrodisiac and he won't be able to keep his hands off you. And you'll glow with it, just as I am right now.

The wait is worth it. I promise. I promise.
And if you ever need a woman to talk to, I'm right here. Just ping me, anytime. I may not be available right away, but I will get with you. A friend to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, a punching bag, a sounding board. You're not alone. You are never alone.

And never, ever forget... YOU are a fucking goddess.

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