thinking [countdowns] thursday

Today, I’ve started a lot of posts. Broken things, orgasms, comfort, moments… But my mind just will not focus on one.

I am a mess of emotions. It can be hard to write when I feel so much at once.

Soon (God, I hope soon), this transition period will be over…living amongst boxes and uncertainty is stealing my essence.

I’m sad and stressed and just kind of living for the next thing. Passing the days in the space between moments.

Counting down to afternoon coffee, to Sir getting home, to bath time, to bedtime. It leaves my days rather lacking. I do the things I must do. I function. That is the best I can say.


But, when Sir takes over… I can breathe (even if it’s through tears). I can let go and just be me. I can cry and fuss, I can get it out. We play games. Sir brushes my hair and rubs my shoulders for an hour (or two), while we watch television. It’s a silly little ritual, but one that I love so much.

Then it’s off to bed… But not to sleep, not yet. It’s time to get dirty, primal. It’s time for me to give, to be used. Sir gives too. We give and we take…sometimes there are bruises and leashes and all of the things. Other times, it is just us… Animals. No need for fear or worry. Heaven.

When it’s time for sleep, I get collared and cuffed and curl up in my home. On occasion, I drift off and sleep all night. More often, I fall hard and greet 2:00am with all the thoughts there are to think and countdown until morning.

And begin again.

Today, as I start the countdown to bath, I am so very weary. This has been a long stretch of utter shit…at least five bad months…well over a year for some of it. It’s enough to drive a girl mad! But even through all of this mess, I am extremely thankful to Sir for everything He does. I’m not sure I could’ve stayed sane through any of this without His firm hand and love (or 24/7 D/s, for that matter).

Happy Thursday… Two hours til bath time!!


Thinking [rough] Thursday

I like the rough.

I like the words that make me bristle.
The words that initially shock, but make me melt into a puddle.

I like the firm grip when maybe I’m not listening well enough.
The grip that tells me I am not on my own – I am accountable, always, to Him.

I like the demands that cannot be ignored, lest consequences be given.
The demands that overwhelm and release me.

I like the strikes that make holding position impossible, that make me cry.
The strikes that wash away my guilt and shame, allowing me to start over.

I like the hands that hold me down, that constrict, that insist.
The hands that hurt, love, and heal.

I like the force that slams mouth, fingers and cock into me, gentleness lost.
The force that tells me there is nowhere else, no one else.

I like the bruises that linger for days, a constant reminder of who’s boss.
The bruises so tender, telling me, whispering “you are loved”.

I like the rough.


Happy Thursday…hope it’s rough!!