HNT: Glow sticks

I have an affinity for things that glow in the dark. Okay, things that glow. If I'm at a dance, if I wander into a lamp store, if I find someone who has a particularly interesting garden light -- any of these, and I'm entranced. It's pure shiny object lust.

With that in mind, what do you think happens when it's Wednesday night and I have a container of glow sticks I found on sale?


It looks sort of like a face, doesn't it? I should have grabbed a third one to make a mouth!



Just, y'know, lighting the way. Think of it as a glowing treasure trail.



I like this one best -- the two glow sticks snapped together formed a very graceful curve, which looks pretty good between my breasts.

I'm having way too much fun over here with my dirt-cheap package of glow. More silliness is almost certainly on the way in the future.

On an utterly unrelated note, I sat down yesterday and composed a poem, after who knows how long sticking purely to prose. It's pretty twisted, so I may post it here after I run it by my resident editor/lover. (Handy combo, let me tell you!)

Hope everyone's having a good Thursday!

HNT: Last Weekend

[Note: If bruising and marks aren't things you want to see, please don't read this post!]

I can't possibly contain my glee over the past weekend a moment longer, and HNT's as good a time for it as any, no? Especially with the pictures that were taken, like this one:

This is what I got for not meeting my daily quota of writing at all last week, plus a few other small offenses. All caning, with a bamboo cane I found ages ago. My lover has decided that punishment is cumulative, and occasionally starts the week with a bit of carry-over from the previous one. So this week started at four carry-over which means Monday was five more, Tuesday six -- and so on. I believe we ended up with about forty-six total, and my love was very pleased with me for being able to take them all.

That, however, was not the high point of my weekend. The high point was Saturday, where I got a beating several times worse than the one above. And the reason that's the high point (as I suspect you're wondering)?

It brought me to tears, for the first time ever.

I asked for this, and it was nothing short of glorious. I stretched out on the bed, arms around a pillow and took whatever he gave me. Not quietly. I moaned and gasped and whimpered and writhed, even, but I only asked him to go easier at one point. That was a slightly-too-hard stroke across the flesh of my shoulder. He said he was happy to know I would use my safewords if I needed to. (Yellow and Red -- I like to keep things simple.)

So he hit me, over and over, pausing to stroke my sore ass and slip his fingers inside me. Being fingered from behind while he takes the cane to me or spanks me is one of the most incredible feelings ever -- it was the one that finally brought me over the edge into tears that day. The whole time is kind of fuzzy in my memory, but I remember that one moment clearly.

I broke into tears, arching off the bed and absolutely sobbing. My whole body shook, and he was there beside me, warm and soothing, touching me and whispering to me that I was good, I could cry, I should let go, he was there for me.

And so I wept until I just had nothing left to cry about.

Then, then I was free, I was light as a feather and safe, deep down into the submissive corners of my mind, held in his arms where nothing could hurt me. It's buoyed me up through the entire week so far. All I have to do is get to a mirror, flip up my skirt and glance at the rather impressive bruises, and I remember those moments of bliss. My productivity is up, my mood is downright chipper, and I feel like I've discovered the Holy Grail of stress relief.

I pay for it in bruising, however, as my skin is about as tough as your average peach. This is from early Wednesday morning (so three to four days post-beating):


You can imagine how impressive they were the evening of! My lover suggested we go see a movie as we were driving past a theater -- I just looked over at him and said, "There is no way I want to sit in theater seats for two hours right now." He pouted at me, and I pointed out that it was entirely his fault.

Then, of course, we managed to hit a red light and had to kiss and make up. It was a great weekend.

HNT: Knickers!

For someone who almost never wears the things, I sure have a lot of underwear. When I'm at home, I just don't bother. I wear skirts, and it's more comfortable to let the bits have some air. When I go out I put on panties, and then a pair of bike shorts for comfort, but I love getting home and pulling all the excess layers off.


This pair is one I purchased in a moment of weakness. It's the boyshort style, which for mean translates to "rides up within ten minutes of putting it on." They're so darn cute, though! I just can't help myself.

This picture was actually an attempt to get a clear shot of the bruise on my arm, with little success. The knickers I'm wearing here are really awesome -- soft, stretchy lace. If I lift 'em up I get patterned shadows across my hip.

The ones I normally wear aren't nearly so interesting. Most of the pretty pairs are worn for my boyfriend -- I like surprising him with the sexy knickers under a skirt when he comes over, and I sometimes have him pick out a ridiculous male-fantasy pair when I go shopping. Fun for everyone!

HNT Morning

My bedroom gets fantastic amounts of sun through the biggest window straight through to afternoon, so I often open the blinds first thing after getting up. One morning, I noticed how lovely the light was, so I set up my tripod and snapped a few photos as a gift for my lover.

I think this was one of the first times I took photos of myself and was happy with how my body looked, and I remember that feeling every time I look at them. Since I have a somewhat mediocre camera, I struggle with lighting a lot as well, so this was a double triumph!

Now, mornings and sex. Not, generally, my cup of tea -- or rather, coffee, since that's what I'm usually craving after I get up. When I'm sleeping with my lover and I wake up before him, I do tend to ease him into consciousness with a blow job. I love going down on him just as he's waking -- the look on his face is incredible, both before and after he's come. The sleepy, satiated smile makes me fall in love with him all over again.

Also, it means I get all the snuggling I could possibly want to start my day.

Daydreaming

My lover's coming by tonight and I've been imagining how he might greet me. We have something of a D/s relationship. I identify pretty strongly as a sub, though the roles are not irreversible between us.

This comes into play because one of the things he ordered me to do this week was work on some porn I'm writing, and I don't think I'll be able to get to the word count he specified by tomorrow night.

If I don't, I'll be nervous when the time for him to arrive comes closer. I'll watch the clock, putter around the kitchen, all while keeping my ears wide open listening for the sound of him pulling into my driveway. He'll know, by the time he pulls up, if I have or haven't done what he's told me to, and in this case, he knows I haven't.

I run to open the door for him and stand in the doorway, backlit by the light from the house while he stands almost completely in shadow. There's just enough light for me to catch flickers of detail: the button-down shirt he's wearing, the light jacket he has on over it, the gloves he's got on not to ward off the cold but to turn me on.

"You didn't finish in time." His voice carries well in the late evening stillness. He doesn't need to raise it to get my attention anyway -- the cold tone is enough to tell me I'm in trouble.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I say, bowing my head and keeping myself from giving excuses.

Three of his long strides and he's standing in front of me, his height intimidating me as it always does. He trails one leather-covered finger up my throat and then grabs my jaw, holding it just tight enough to make struggling an uncomfortable option.

I relax my face as the other hand cups my cheek. It took me a while to learn to do that, but tensing up is a terrible idea.

The impact of his hand across my face makes me moan. My thighs clench together, my cunt starts getting wet, and my brain slips into sub mode so fast it's almost disorienting. He slaps me again. Again. Even with the gloves he manages to make it sting, just a little.

"Looks like you enjoyed that." He flicks a finger over both my nipples which have gotten hard enough to show through my shirt.

I look up at him, wide-eyed, and drag my bottom lip into my mouth for just a moment. My non-verbal plea gets me almost what I want: his grip on my jaw tightens, and he brings his lips down to brush against mine. Not a kiss, a tease. Little flicks of the tongue, little brushes of his lips against mine, but no lasting contact. It leaves me whimpering in an embarrassingly short amount of time and struggling to move forward and close the space between us.

"We should be getting inside now, I believe." I can feel his words on my lips, tantalizing me with not quite enough touch. "Wouldn't want you to get cold."


I'm cutting this short because he's going to be getting off of work early, and so dropping by soon than I expected! No use daydreaming about it when I'll have the real thing in just a little while.

Wow!

To everyone that commented on my last post, thank you so much! I was not expecting such a warm welcoming committee from the HNT crew. Here's hoping that I can live up to your expectations, you lovely folks you.

My first HNT: Gloves

My very first HNT. Here's to many, many more!

Just in case you were wondering, yes, those are my own hands, in my own lovely gloves. I have a serious glove fetish. The sight of someone putting them on, hell, the sound of someone putting them on -- even that little will start to get me worked up.

Brushing them over my bare skin makes me shudder. Running them over my mouth, so I can smell the leather as well as feel it against my lips is absolute heaven. I like to be spanked by someone wearing them; the feeling of leather along with the fact they take the sting right out of spanking means it's perfect for me. Gloved hands around my throat? Fantastic.

The best use that I can recall offhand was when I was riding my lover's cock and he slid his gloved hands across my breasts, over and over again, along the underside where I'm the most sensitive. If my memory serves me correctly, I came so hard that I broke down crying after.

Why I am here

I want somewhere to post the porn I write.

I want to participate in Half-Nekkid Thursdays.

I want to talk about sex frankly.

I want people to get off to the porn I write, ogle my half-nekkid self, and talk frankly with me -- and I want to do all this anonymously.

That's reason enough, I think.