Adult Content... If you are under 18 or easily offended by erotic - kinky - poly material, please leave. Thanks!

Sunday, December 14, 2008

New Job!

Friday, I started my new job at a local animal shelter. I am exhausted but elated! It's working with / helping animals and it's close to my house and it's full time and it's regular hours. Having quite my glut of part time jobs, I'll be finishing up the last of that work by the end of this month so I should be able to get back to a somewhat regular writing schedule (and start writing erotica again) at least by the beginning of the new year.

I may also start a blog of stories from the shelter. (I've only been there for 3 days and I already have tales to tell.) If you think you might be interested in reading that, leave me a comments. Thanks!

>^,,^<

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Life focus

Dear Readers,

As you may or may not have noticed, I've not been keeping a regular writing schedule. There are several excuses... I mean, reasons for this, but the most time consuming is that I'm in the process of changing several aspects of my life's focus and completely changing my career. If all goes well, I'll have everything sorted and settled by next week. If things do not go well, I'll probably cry, get over it, dust myself off, reevaluate the situation and see what else is out there for me... and take a little bit longer to get back to some semblance of a regular writing schedule.

One of my reasons for all these changes is to have more time to write & more time for the business aspects of writing. You know, little things like keeping up with my blog and sending my writing out to be published.

I thank you, dear readers, for your understanding and patience. Without you, this is merely an exercise. I love the feedback I get here and look forward to all the wonderful comments!

Your faithful (yet distracted) author,
Ninian

Sunday, November 30, 2008

The Ice Queen Cometh

Dripping sweat and snow
The sky flashes cobalt
I will be the Ice Queen
For my soul is tender
Stripped paper thin
I close my eyes
In wonder
Inside my folds
I do not abstain
Origami orgasms
Alone

Thursday, November 27, 2008

The beginnings of Dominance

When I was in kindergarten, I would ride my bike to school with my older sister and her friends. She was in second grade and, the two sisters we biked along side of, were in third and forth grade. My sister shared their reserved shyness while I was abrasively outgoing. I hadn't quite discovered the usefulness of tact or figured out how to censor myself. My sister's friends were too polite to tell me that some of my thoughtless comments had offended them.

My sister had no such reservations.

"If you weren't my sister, we wouldn't ride with you." ...and... "Sometimes I wish you weren't born." ...and... "Why can't you just shut up?" ...were things she'd say after we got home. It got to the point where I tried not to speak during our rides to and from school.

One day, as we were heading to our bikes, we saw the school bullies standing next to the bike racks. There were five of them. Four were fourth and fifth graders who looked like they'd been taking steroids since birth. Then there was Michael, a third grader who was shorter and younger than his friends. He had inherited the leadership position from his brother who was now at the middle school. Michael was mean and leading came naturally to him. But he was clever too. Unlike his brother who often got their gang of friends in trouble, Michael always made sure they never started anything nor were caught doing the same thing two days in a row. Instead of aggressively attacking anyone, they would obstruct the path to the bikes from different places and on different days. Then they'd tease and make fun of the other students. Eventually, a kid would get frustrated and try to push past one of them, just wanting to get to the bikes. But from that push, a fight would start.

My sister and her friends decided that it was best to hide and wait until the boys left before even approaching the bike racks.

After a few months of this, I was fed up. It was spring where we lived just outside of Houston, Texas which meant it was hot and humid. I was tired of running back and forth, checking to see if the boys had left as my sister and her friends waited inside in the air conditioning. I was tired of watching other kids get beat up. I was tired of seeing good kids getting into trouble for starting the fights and the bullies getting away with it. I was tired and I was going to do something about it. Fighting hadn't worked and wasn't my style, so I came up with plan.

Instead of lurking by the swings with my sister and her friends, when I saw that Michael and his friends were playing the bike blocking game, I marched over to him. His friends saw no threat in a 6 year old girl, so they let me past them. Michael didn't even move from the bike rack he was leaning against, he just cocked a eyebrow.

"Whachoo want, pip squeak?" He chewed on a fingernail.

I swallowed. "I need my bike." The boys laughed. Their smug laughter pissed me off. Putting my hand on my hip, I stared at Michael. "You and your friends need to stop bulling people. You need to get away from the bikes or..."

"Or what?" He hopped down from his perch and crouched so that his crooked nose was inches from mine. "What's a little thing like you gonna do?"

I wrapped my arms around his head and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his lips. He jerked away and took off screaming.

Balling up my fists, I glared at each of the goons. "So who's next?" I puckered my lips and blew kisses at them. "Who else wants to get cooties?"

They shook their heads and walked away. My sister and her friends ran over, laughing and congratulating me. Several people shouted, "She scared them off with a kiss!"

After that day, those boys avoided me like a plague and never staked out the bikes again.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

I don't embarrass easily but...

Tonight when I came home, I heard *rustle, rustle* then giggles as someone rushed off to the bathroom. Sitting on the couch with her eyes wide and her mouth pursed in a half smirk, was my roommate. She had the fuzzy red blanket over her lap. Looking back over her shoulder at the wall mounted clock then back at me, she blurted.

"I thought you weren't coming home until later!"

I shrugged. "I was going to go out after the event, but I decided I was too tired and..." I realized she wasn't wearing pants... or even panties. I glance towards the bathroom. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..." She and the boyfriend in the bathroom started giggling simultaneously. I blushed. Not because I interrupted them having sex, but because they felt like they needed to stop. "Seriously! You didn't have to stop. You could have kept having sex. I wouldn't care. I.."

She laughed. "You shouldn't have to come home and find someone having sex on the couch. Then again, I wasn't expecting you home right now." The laugh was echoed in the bathroom. I started giggling too.

Then, as I went to the bathroom, they scampered upstairs to resume the coitus I'd interrupted. I grinned.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

bedtime musings

What do you to wear to bed?

My friend prefers to sleep naked if it's not too cold to do so. An ex of mine usually wore boxers to bed unless he was planning on "gettin' some". I knew a girl who, well into her 20s, wore footy pajamas. A night gown is the garment of preference for my sister.

I tend to wear a teeshirt, thin sleep pants and, if it's cold, socks. I have a sweater that is so worn and holey it's barely a garment at all. I wear it on nights when I feel... full of fret. Something about it tosses me back to my childhood. I never had a special blankey or, even though I had several stuffed animals (I was never a doll girl), I didn't have a favorite among them. But something about that sad black velvet sweater makes me feel cozy. Whenever I wear that sweater, I never know how I'm going to wake-up. Sometimes I wake refreshed, sometimes with a need to write, sometimes angry at the world.... And then there are the times when I wake-up completely turned on. The problem is, I rarely remember the dreams I have when I wear my sweater. I like remembering my dreams.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

just 'cause

I started writing a post, but it just wasn't coming together and I decided that since tomorrow's my birthday, I'm gonna instead wish myself

! Happy Birthday! "


Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Kinky Quiz

Your result for The How Kinky Are You Really Test...

Master/Mistress

You scored 85% Kinkiness!


Whether you are a top or bottom, you have Mastered the kink. Maybe a bit too much for most people. You know about everything I covered and much, much more. If you have a critique or would like to talk to me more about Fetish/BDSM/taboos, please feel free. Congratulations, you've peaked my interest.

Take The How Kinky Are You Really Test at HelloQuizzy

Sunday, November 2, 2008

My First Ex-Con (part 2)

There’s nothing like a humid Houston day in a kitchen to make a body feel like the skin’s melting. I could smell myself over the cooking burgers and wanted nothing more than to get away from the hot grill. But the day manager, Greg, had decided a busy Saturday afternoon was a great time for some cross training.

Joe was on drive-thru with him and I was on the grill with Al.

“It’s pretty simple,” Al said handing me the spatula. “Unlike when I worked as a chef, all the meat here gets cooked the same way. Just make sure there’s not any pink anywhere and your good.”

I nodded, smirking inwardly at his sideways bragging. We went through all the steps of putting a sandwich together and, accompanying each step, was an anecdote about a past profession or life adventure. According to Al, he’d been a chef in a fancy restaurant, a short order cook, on the maintenance crew for the Empire State building, a musician with his own band, a soldier, on a landscaping crew, a lifeguard and the member of a biker gang.

“But now, I’m just trying to rebuild my life.” He pursed his lips and regarded me as I continued to slap patties into their beds of lettuce and buns. “I, um, kinda lost a good portion of my life for a while.” His regard turned into a hard stare. “Do you know why?”

Placing a hand on my hip, I turned and looked him in the eyes. “Is it because,” I cocked an eyebrow, “you were in jail?”

“Yes.” He looked away from me. “And now you probably want nothing to do with me.”

“Um… Actually, Monique told me on my second day. I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.” I turned back to putting orders together.

“Oh.”

I could feel his eye on me, but I didn’t turn around. I practically jumped as a hand touched my shoulder.

“Oh sorry!” Greg yanked back, his stubby mustache twitching. “I’m just giving you my headset so I can take my break. I’m leaving Joe on drive-thru and I think he’ll be fine, but if he’s having trouble, you be sure and help him out. Al’ll be fine on the grill by himself. Won’t you Al?”

Al snapped his heels together and saluted. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Greg rolled his eyes, handed me his headset and walked away. Grabbing the wet wipes from under the back counter, I cleaned the earpiece and mic before putting it on.

“Hey Al.” Joe motioned out the drive-thru window. “She’s back.”

Al handed me the spatula. “You got things here?”

I nodded. He rushed over to the window and stuck his head out into the bright daylight. I heard a woman’s hearty laughter coming from the window. Quickly throwing together the last order, I inched closer to the drive-thru area.

“Hey beautiful! Where were you the other night?” He managed to squeeze an arm and a shoulder out through the window and I could just make out a woman leaning in to kiss him. I didn’t know what she was saying but her voice sounded familiar. I moved closer and peaked out the window as he pulled back in through the window.

I couldn’t be sure, but the girl in the jeep looked like my sister’s friend, Sunshine. As she drove away, Joe and Al talked about her. Or rather, Al talked and Joe nodded. They seemed to have forgotten that I was there at all.

“Those freckles, man, they’re like a treasure trail! I followed that trail.” He shook his head and sighed. “That trail was worth the follow. The treasure… her treasure…” He closed his eyes and spoke with the reverence of a priest. “I nibbled from her collarbone along the V into her cleavage then kissed all over as they scatter over her breasts and ribs. I bit them as they circled her belly. I licked the arrow of freckles that led from her bellybutton to her panties.” He licked his lips. “And man, let me tell you, there was quite the treasure in those panties.”

Joe cleared his throat and, when Al opened his eyes, jerked his head towards me. I had gone back to the grill to work on the front counter orders and was pretending like I wasn’t paying attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Al nod. “To be continued.” He whispered then returned to his work at the grill.

I rolled my eyes. “Listen, I’ve got things here if you wanna keep talking to Jo about Sunshine.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You know her?”

I gulped wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have revealed that fact. But it was too late to take it back now. I shrugged, not looking at him. “She goes to my church.”

He looked back over at Joe and they shared a laugh. “I had no idea a girl like her went to church.”

I shrugged. I went to church because my parents made me; Sunshine went because she actually wanted to.

“Well, I shouldn’t talk about things like that in front of a sweet thing like you.”

I mumbled, “Maybe I’m not so sweet.”

He leaned in until I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. “What was that?”

I stepped away from him and flipped around. “Look, I’ve got to go to the bathroom. I’m sure you can handle things here, right?” I mock saluted him and walked away to the sound of him and Joe laughing.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

My First Ex-Con (part 1)

I met my first ex-con when I was 16.

I had just gotten my first non-babysitting job at a fast-food chain a few blocks from my house in Houston, Tx. He worked the kitchen while I was on the front register and drive-thru. I'll call him Al since he reminded me so much of Al Pacino in "Frankie and Johnny". He had a slight New York accent, a gravelly voice, drove a navy blue truck and he was fascinating.

My first day, I didn't even notice him. He was quiet, cooking up burgers, while I was getting the finer points of French frying potatoes.

The next day, as I was being trained on the registers, my trainer decided to enlighten me about Al. While he went into the walk-in freezer getting some more patties, she looked around the empty diner then motioned me to come closer to her. I didn't want to 'cause she had bad breath, but she was my supervisor, so I leaned towards her.

"Now I don't want you to get scared or nothin', but the cook we have is an ex-con." She nodded her head several times opening her already bugged out eyes wider.

I waited for her to continue, but she just stared at me. I leaned back. "Um, okay. Thanks for the heads up." She again nodded sagely then put a finger to her lips as we heard banging around in the kitchen. We returned to my training and I forgot her odd statement.

It was a few weeks later before Al and I worked the same shift again. I'd been trained on drive-thru just the day before and my manager had, in her infinite wisdom, scheduled me to run it by myself on a Saturday. About half an hour before the dinner rush as I was clocking in, the girl who was on the front register's shift ended and she left. There were supposed to be two other employees coming on, but neither had shown up yet. Fortunately, the dining area was deserted and usually stayed that way for the first half hour of the dinner rush. My headset crackled a hello as I put it on. Thinking it was a customer I stumbled through the spiel and asked to take the person's order. A sexy chuckle met my ear.

"It's okay sweetness. I was just making sure you could hear me." I flipped around from where I was standing by the drive-thru window and saw the deepest brown eyes staring at me over by the grill. Al had a cocky grin that flushed my cheeks red. "What's your name, sweetness?"

"Ninian," I mumbled, looking away from him. He mouthed my name, licked his lips and nodded.

Joe, a cook I'd worked with a few times, came in. He nodded at me then wandered over to Al and began talking to him. I watched them, curious. I'd never heard Joe talk much, but he seemed to have a whole lot to say to Al. Al pulled his mic away from his mouth so I couldn't eves drop on their conversation. A car pulled up, taking my attention away from them.

"Have a nice day!" I waved to the older woman in the large Buick as she drove off.

"So here's the deal, sweetness," Al's voice was again in my ear. I turned from the window and my body jolted, shocked to find him practically leaning on me. He stood up, suppressing a grin and took a step back. "Did I startle you?"

"No... I mean, yes. I wasn't expecting you to be standing right there since I'd heard you over the headset." My fingers pinched the bottom edge of my shirt and my toes fidgeted in my shoes. He moved back a bit more.

"Sorry. Anyhow, Joe told me that Ala, who was supposed to be on register, called in sick and Tom, the shift supervisor, was running late as usual. So Joe's cool with taking over the grill and I'm good with the drive-thru if you're okay with running the register and fries." Without picking up his feet, he moved a bit closer. "Okay?" I nodded, brushing past him as I scurried over to the register where two customers were waiting. As I took their orders, I could feel his eyes on me.

That evening, as we were closing up the store, Joe, Al and Tom were all smoking in the back going over the craziness of the day. I was mopping the dining area and listening, chiming in with one or two of my own chaotic anecdotes. Joe stepped out of the kitchen, placed a large hand on my shoulder and grinned at me. It might have been due to the darkness of his skin's, but he had the whitest teeth I'd ever seen.

"Nin, you're alright." He winked, then whispered. "Don't let Al's rough past fool ya, he's really a great guy. Take care now." He walked out the door as I said goodbye and locked the door behind him.

"Well, I've got to lock myself in the office and finish up some paper work." Tim sighed, stepping behind the registers and collecting the money. He looked up at me. "You okay to get home, kid?"

I nodded. "I've got my bike."

His eyes narrowed. "Call me old fashioned but I don't like the idea of a girl peddlin' home in the dark." He called back over his shoulder. "Hey Al, you've got your truck, right?"

"Yeah?"

"You think you could give Ninian and her bike a ride home?"

I shook my head. "It's really not necessary. I'm only a few blocks away and I prefer to go home by myself."

Al came wandering up from the back. "It's no problem. We can toss your bike in the back. I do it all the time with Zack."

I felt myself blinking fast. "Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't feel comfortable. I don't mean any offense, but I'm not about to get into the cab of a truck with some guy I barely know. Call me paranoid, but I'd feel safer on my bike."

Tom pursed his lips then muttered, sorry, before rushing off into the office and locking the door.

I sighed, feeling like an asshole and leaned against the wall. "Seriously, I meant no offense."

Al grinned. "No offense taken. It's refreshing to meet a girl who speaks her mind. I applaud you!" He clapped and I blushed. "Seriously. I get so sick of these southern belle types who'll be so nice to your face then bitches behind your back. If you're uncomfortable with someone or with a situation, say something for Christ sake!" He shook his head then stared hard at me. "Sweetness, promise me this. Promise me, that if I do or say anything that you're not comfortable with, you'll tell me, okay?"

Biting my lower lip, I nodded. "Okay. Don't call me sweetness. And you have to promise me the same. Okay?"

His grin grew even bigger. "Done and done!" He extended his hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

Pushing myself off the wall, I took his hand. It was warm and calloused and his handshake was firm. I felt a tingle run through me, so I quickly took my hand away.

He absently rubbed his hand as he asked, "would it be alright if I walked out with you?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice to answer.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

What is the purpose of dating?

On the polyamory community blog that I read they referenced this article: 10 things NOT to say on a first date. While the focus for the community was on the the advise not to share that you are poly on a first date*, I found the entire article to be rather distasteful. But then I got to thinking... Perhaps my view of what dating is for is different than the author of this article and possibly different from many others as well. Personally, I see dating, especially a first date, as way of not only finding what is in common with this potential romantic entanglement, but also a venue in which to weed out the undesirable.

This is my question for you, dear readers. If you date, what is your purpose for dating?


*'cause it should have come up before that... right?
Not the article's point, but my thought about it.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Musing on Characters

The Artist and I are watching "Pride and Prejudice". We do that sometimes. I am paying particular attention to the action going on behind the focus of the scenes. The maids and servants and all the secondary and tertiary characters. Some of the expressions and the background scenes are grand!

At one of the early ball scenes, there is a moment between Mary Bennett and William Collins where they are talking with each other. I always thought Mary would have been an even better mate for Mr. Collins than Charlotte. But what did they say to each other? After that talk, you never see him even look at her again. Perhaps her pious talk disguised a wicked mind. Perhaps Mary grew up to be a Courtesan.

Then later, when she is playing the piano, Charlotte's younger sister, Maria Lucus, is sitting next to her singing then helping her with the music. After Maria sets "Grimstock" that Lydia requested in front of Mary, Mary gives a quick but stern look at Maria. This got me to thinking about a relationship between these two characters. Do they like each other? Do they know each other from school? Their sisters are good friends, are they thrown together often?


Mary - in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display. [She] had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached.
Quotes from Mary:
  • "I admire the activity of your benevolence,'' observed Mary, "but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.''
  • "Far be it from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleasures. They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for me. I should infinitely prefer a book.''
  • "This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation. Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable -- that one false step involves her in endless ruin -- that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, -- and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex." Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.
Maria - a good humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight as the rattle of the chaise. (I could find no significant quotes from her, but I've only perused so I'll have to look deeper.)

I am thrilled at this discovery and think I will use them as the bases for two characters in an erotica story as lovers. Now should I call it "Wounded Bosoms" or "Sisterly Consolation"? What different stories each of those titles would hold!

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 5)

Sheri-Lynn squinted in the bright sunlight as she gently pulled at the loose end of the red bow and took off the top off of the pink box. She clasped her well manicured hands over her mouth and squealed. A couple of starlings flew from the tree beside their outside table.

“Oooh Daniel!” She crooned, lifting the lacy pink sheer panties out if the blue tissue paper. “They’re sooooooo pretty! And just my color!” She hopped up from her chair and minced to the other side of the little bistro table and kissed the blushing muscle-bound boy. She whispered in his ear. “I’ll go put them on.” She winked her heavy mascara laden eye, twirled the panties on her lacquered nail and minced her way into the restaurant section scattering pigeons before her.

She slipped into the bathroom stall and slid the cotton white panties she had been wearing off and sang, “don’t need you anymore!” then tossed them in the trash. Giggling, she slid the new pair on. But before she’d gotten her pink stilettos back on, something that felt like a tongue was licking her clit. “What the…” A sucking sensation threw her back onto the toilet before the thought was completed. She felt the tongue penetrate her.

“Oh my!” Sheri-Lynn had never had an incredibly sensitive clit, but this… this was different. It felt so good it hurt, as if she would be ripped in two. She braced herself against the stall walls as an orgasm exploded through her. A flood of sensation flowed over and up through her loins. She moaned and groaned and screamed.

Outside, Daniel heard Sheri-Lynn’s scream and practically knocked over the wrought iron table in his hurry to reach his lady. Pushing past the little man in his path into the bathroom.

“Get out of the way!” He roared, exploding through the door. Seeing one of her feet sticking out from under the stall, he practically ripped the metal door off its hinges. “Baby!” He wailed. He gathered his shaking, drooling girlfriend into his arms. “Who did this to you?”

“The panties,” she whispered before she passed out.

*****

Picking himself up off the floor of the bistro where the bull man had pushed him, Underwood brushed himself off and licked his lips. He smiled.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

I'll be reading Wear Panties!

Wednesday, OCTOBER 15TH at 7 PM
RAW Reading Series
with Featured Readers & Open Mic


Cost: FREE!
(donations accepted & appreciated)

WHERE
Mercury Cafe
1505 W Chicago Ave, Chicago, IL 60622

www.chimercurycafe.com

there will be FEATURED READERS & an Open Mic!
if you want to bring something to read, keep it 5-7 minutes, or a maximum of 5 typed and double-spaced pages and have FUN!!!

Note: We do not censor our material, so PLEASE use discretion if you bring children along.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 4)

Underwood woke-up not sure where he was. He had a throbbing headache and an aching jaw. Lying on the floor, it slowly came to him that he was on the rug next to the manky couch and the green haired person from the corner was sprawled face down. He blinked. The music had stopped and daylight was coming in through the French doors.

“Oh shit.” He jumped up and… tripped over green hair’s shapely leg. He fumbled trying to put the green high heel he’d knocked off back on. “I’m so sorry ma’me.”

“’da fuck man?” Green hair’s soft words were muffled by the couch cushion. As green hair fliped over, Underwood noticed a pert breast peaking out from the side of an oversized green vest. He stared. Green hair cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

Underwood lowered his head and mumbled sorry as he tried to get to his feet. But his legs were wobbly and he ended up falling forward.

“Oh sweety!” Green hair was immediately by Underwood’s side helping him onto the couch. “You must of drunk even more than I did. I tell ya, I was wasted before the party even began.” A burst of laughter shook the vest wide open, revealing two perfect A cup as the skirt rode up, revealing the tip of a penis. Green hair followed Underwood’s gaze. “What? Is it the breasts or my dick?” A grin met Underwood’s blush. “Here, let me set your mind at ease. The name’s Bernice and I’m a male to female trans so the pronoun you’ve been sweating over would be her or she. But honestly, I’ll answer to whatever.” She snickered. Looking down at herself, Bernice gasped. “Look at me sitting around without any…” She grabbed the neon green panties off the ground and pulled them on under her skirt. Pausing, she narrowed her eyes on Underwood. “I don’t remember hardly anything last night but did you happen to see someone going down on me?”

Underwood pursed his lips, feeling how sore his jaw was, tasting the saltiness in his mouth and shook his head.

Bernice shrugged. “Oh well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a busy day.” Bernice pecked Underwood on the cheek. “See ya around.” She stumbled towards the front door, adjusting the strap of her left heel, grabbed a green purse from the banister and flew out the door.

“There you are!” Mack wandered into the room with a plastic bag in his hand. “I’ve got the panties and it’s morning so let’s get back to the house pronto!”

Underwood nodded and walked over to the door. He wondered if he’d ever know what had happened that night.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Short Notice, I know...

Hey folks! I tried to post this earlier, but blogger or my computer / internet provider has been goofy or maybe they were having a fight, so it's just now taking. But here goes:

I'm going to be reading an erotic tale (I haven't decided which, probably "Wear Panties!", but it'll definitely be something from this blog) TONIGHT!!! Here's the info:

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 9TH at 7 PM
OPEN MIC
Cost: FREE! But it’s a POT-LUCK, so bring vittles!
WHERE: Top Shelf Books, 47 East Northwest Highway, Palatine, Il 60067
www.topshelfbooks.org

WHAT TO READ: Well, we’re not particular. Poetry, prose, memoir, fiction, music, rant, journal, letter, grocery list... (If it’s the latter, just make sure it includes stuff like: "cheese, bread, milk, trip to Mars, olive oil, eggs, a harem, etc.")
Keep it 5-7 minutes, or 5 typed and double-spaced pages, longer if there are fewer of us (bring "ENCORE!" material, in other words! But be respectful of Time!), and ENJOY YOURSELF!
Note: We do not censor our material, so PLEASE use discretion if you are bringing children along.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

An Erotic Meme

An Erotic Rendezvous

1. A man or a woman?
Since I'm bisexual, I'd say a bit from column A, a bit from column B. But lately, I've been leaning more towards women.

2. Who would be in control? As a switch, it would depend... though I've been feeling rather Dommey... not dummy, bitch! Lick my toes! NOW! ... Hmmmm, yeah, I'd be in control.

3.
Location, location, location... Where would you want this rendezvous to take place? I'd like to start in a fancy restaurant. Maybe fondue. I like getting dressed up and my girl would like that too. Then, if it's nice out, we'd go for a walk. Maybe we'd go to a dance club where I'd watch her flirt with several men and women, then make out with her and take her home. There'd be a bit of scene playing and we'd see where things lead.

4. How about some dirty talk? Dust, mud, soot, dirt... (sorry, couldn't resist.)

5. Who would undress first? Why she would, of course. I may stay clothed the whole time. It's my prerogative as Mistress Ninian.

6. Hair pulling? I love to pull hair. Such a great leash!

7. How about licking and biting? I'd lick and bite her all over. I might allow her to do the same.

8. Marks & hickies? Absolutely! (okay, it's negotiable... but that would definitely be my preference.)

9. How important is foreplay? Very important and very kinky!

10. Would there be a sleep over? It's a possibility... I'd be willing to consider it.

Now I have a question for you, dear reader... What would your rendezvous be like?

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 3)

Mack, who had disappeared, trotted back into the front hall where Underwood was standing. He smacked Underwood’s shoulder, almost knocking him down, and grinned. “I’m gonna go find Carl. I might, uh, be a while. Why don’t you relax,” he thrust a red plastic cup into his new friend’s hand and motioned to the party going on just past the room they were facing and through two large glass French doors. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll find you when I’ve got the panties.” He winked then practically skipped up the stairs.

Underwood wandered further into the house, coughing as the air’s acrid mix of smoke, booze and hormones wafted into his lungs. A lonely strobe light lay on its side and flashed against the wood paneling of a far wall. On a different rhythm, the bass bounced the loose floorboards and cups just like his with varying degrees of beer graced almost every surface. The room he’d wandered into, while cluttered with mismatched furniture including a life sized golem statue, seemed to be pretty empty as the actual party was outside with the keg. Despite the loud music, he could hear shouting, laughing and even singing. He thought about going out there, but the idea of being around that many people made him nauseous.

I’ll just wait right here, he thought taking a sip of the stale keg beer. His boots were sticking to the floor, so he made his way across a rainbow shag rug to a large plush couch the color of moss set in the middle of the room. Settling into it, he noticed a faint odor of urine. He was facing a cluttered media center that held a huge TV, multiple games and DVDs and the booming twelve disk CD changer. As the rotation of music switched from one CD to another, Underwood sighed and drank his beer.

KUR-ACK! Underwood jumped sloshing beer down his gray shirt and onto the couch.

“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!” He hopped up; his eyes wide as he tried to see into every corner of the large dimly lit room. Fortunately, there was only one couple making out in a corner oblivious to the rest of the world and a green haired person passed out in another corner. He scurried past the French doors where he caught a glimpse of oddly dressed partygoers setting off fireworks. Finding the kitchen he marveled at how much better lit, furnished and immaculately clean it was. It didn’t look like it belonged in the same house as that dingy living room. He cleaned himself off in the sink, grabbed a handful of paper towels and hurried back to the couch.

It took a moment to even find the spill. Once he did, he wiped at it furiously. But while the paper towel did absorb some of the liquid, it seemed to do a better job of shredding into little wormy looking things.

“Oh shit,” he sighed, picking the bits of paper off the fabric. One bit kept getting away from him, sliding between the cushions as he tried to pull it up. If he had been in the house where he was pledging, he knew the punishment for spilling was to clean the entire room the mess happened in with a toothbrush. He had no desire to clean this room. Yanking up the cushion, he brushed the last of the paper towel remnants off, flipped it over and shoved the wad of moist paper into his cup.

“There,” he muttered, “That’ll have to do.” He sat back down and faced the blank television screen, determined not to do anything else that might get him in trouble.

After a few minutes, his eyes wandered to something lying next to his boot. Leaning down to get a better look, he realized that it was a pair of neon green lacy panties. They must’ve been shoved in the couch and come loose when he flipped the cushion. He picked them up.

As soon as his skin touched the delicate fabric, he felt a tingle. It was as if the surface of his fingers were getting little pulses of energy then going numb. The sensation traveled up his arms, to his head and chest, down his abdomen, into his legs and feet then up the back of his legs, over his ass and into his spine. The feeling traveled through his body three or four times, each time faster and faster, until the numbing coalesced in his balls. He doubled over as it changed and became sharp pinpricks that throbbed and shot through his penis causing him to cum in his pants without the pleasurable sensation of an orgasm. Holding his crotch, he whimpered, glad that the party was outside and Mack was upstairs.

Then he passed out.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Why I'm posting today instead of Thursday...

So Thursday night the Artist & I went to the Mutiny to see the Professor's band, Saint Aviator. They freakin' rocked! They're pretty good recorded, but live... they explode on stage. And then they have a song inspired by yours truly called "Nina took a Lover". (One of my nick-names is Nina.) Sadly, I couldn't figure out how to upload a song onto here. Blogger's set up for links, pictures and videos but not music. Ah well... Hopefully the link to Saint Aviator will give you a feel for their music and they might even put "Nina took a Lover" on that page.

In the meantime, I have to share this ---

Chorus:
Her Daddy said "Oh, baby,"
The Philosopher said "Maybe"
The Artist said "You're crazy,"
The Professor was just lazy,
Her Mentor said "Seduction,"
The Mad Monk said "Destruction,"
When Nina took Lucy last night...

--- it makes me smile.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

A bit of a rant

"You just haven't made up your mind."

As a bisexual switch, this sentiment is brought up at unusual times and, often, from unexpected quarters. I've met a few people who don't believe switches exist... You're either a Dom or a sub. Of course, I've also been told that bisexuality don't exist either. "You'll make up your mind when you meet the right person" is a comment that's been given to me by different folks - straight, gay and even one bisexual. Maybe it actually works that way for some people. I don't know, I'm not them. But as a poly person, I never want to have to choose.

And yet...

And yet lately I've been feeling the opposite of all of that. I don't want to engage in any sexual activity... I have little inclination to be romantically entangled. Perhaps I haven't gotten over the couple. I felt that I was doing well, that I was recovered or, at least, recovering. I even thought I could handle an intimate relationship with the Professor. After all, he is quite a wonderful person. But not now... not yet. I need some time for me. I need to focus and center.

The problem is, it's difficult to focus and center with three jobs, a writing career, working on a business plan, the holidays (including my birthday) coming up, etc., etc., etc. I did some of serious work during my camping trip with the ritual I performed. But upon coming back to the world, I've been exhausted and I seem not to be able to catch-up. Perhaps I'm putting too much pressure on myself to be "okay" without really being okay.

But to wrap back up to my original point (there was one, I swear!)... If I'm not sexually or kinkily active with either sex, am I still a bisexual switch? Perhaps I'm now just monosexual...

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Delay

Hopefully I'll have time & not be consumed by work tomorrow. Today's post didn't happen 'cause I was eaten up by work.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 2)

The first time Mr. Underwood discovered his powers was in college. The fraternity he was pledging decided that the pledges should perform a panty raid on the local Freak House.
“What’s a Freak House?” A pale red headed pledge squeaked. The poor kid was getting redder and redder under the hot Georgia sun and his peeling sunburn was already starting to blister. But he diligently scrubbed what he suspected was a cum stain out of some red sheets.
All the pledges were sitting on the walkway to the frat house cleaning sheets with a bucket of water, a tablespoon of detergent and a toothbrush. He looked from one sweaty face to the next but only receive shrugs all the way down the line.

Joe, the laziest and the richest of all the pledges, had bribed Underwood to do his work. Underwood didn’t mind, though he knew everyone else thought he was a sucker. Instead of working with them, Joe was lounging in a patio chair under an umbrella with a beer and some nachos.

“You know,” Joe said in his deep Louisiana drawl, “I don’t reckon what a Freak House is, but I do know about panty raids. My Daddy said he did a few in his time when he was pledging.” Joe was always bringing up the fact that all the males in his family had been members so he was sure to get accepted. Plus, the fact that his grandfather had donated the fraternity house didn’t hurt one bit. He leaned forward excitedly on his seat. “What happens with a panty raid is a group of guys rush into one of them sorority houses and takes their panties!” He grinned like he’d just given out the winning lottery numbers to a million dollar jackpot.

Mack, one of the biggest guys Underwood had ever met and was in fact called Mack after a Mack truck, stood up. He tossed the sheet he had finished into the basket and lumbered over to Joe, casting a shadow that enveloped the chair and the table behind it. Joe coward.

“We’re not stupid, we know what a panty raid is. What we need to know is what a Freak House is.” He grabbed Joe by the collar and pulled him up until their noses were inches from each other. “Now why don’t you trot your happy Louisiana ass into that house and find out?”

“Bu-but...” Joe sputtered.

Dropping him, Mack cocked an eyebrow. “Or is all your legacy talk bullshit?”

Joe adjusted his shirt and stood up. “I don’t have to take this crap!” He stormed into the house.

Mack turned to the other boys with a goofy grin smeared across his face. “Ha! That didn’t take too much to get rid of that little prick.” He threw himself down onto the lawn chair, one leg dangling over the extended portion, and laughed. After a few seconds of his great guffaws, he lifted his head wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and said, “now, who wants to know what the Freak House is?”

It turned out that the Freak House wasn’t a sorority at all. It had once been a frat house that a group of gay guys had purchased to be the head quarters for the GLBT community a few years back. So when the frats sent their pledges on a panty raid the Freak House, they were stealing the underwear of gay guys, lesbians, transsexuals and cross dressers.

He didn’t tell anyone, but this intrigued Underwood. He’d always been awkward with women, they never seemed to really notice him, and had never had a girlfriend, not even in high school. The only person he’d even really kissed was Lara, his Uncle’s girlfriend’s sister. Only Lara ended up being short for Lawrence.

“So here’s the deal,” Mack was saying, “I know this guy who lives in the Freak House…”

“Dude! You gay?” Charlie, the idiot of the group, was in a headlock before any of them saw Mack move. For such a big guy, Mack could move quite quickly if he wanted to.

“Listen you little rug munch. If you think you’re going to intimidate me with your prejudice bullshit, you’re quite mistaken.” He twisted Charlie’s head until the boy squeaked. “Now, what the fuck were you saying?”

“Nothin’ man, ow! Nothin’! I’m sorry, okay? Come on, put me down!”

That evening, Underwood stood with the rest of the pledges in the stark light of a street lamp. They were all dressed in black and camouflage. Tim, one of the pledge masters, was dressed as a drill sergeant and marched back and forth in front of them taping the ground with a cane and spouting trite military platitudes.

“Men! For this operation, we will need to be strategic in our strike! Some of you may not make it, some of you may lose your nerve, and some of you might even be captured. But for those of you who have the power and the agility to navigate this battlefield, there will be a reward for each pair of panties you come back with!” He smacked the cane against his palm and grinned.

“Now, move out! Hut, hut, hut!”

The squad of pledges goose-stepped down the block and around the corner away from their pledge master before busting out with laughter.

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Mack waved his hands like he was conducting a group of seventh graders. “I have a plan. My thinkin’ is, as long as some of us raid the Freak House and all of us bring back panties, then we’re golden. So I was thinking, there’s more chance of us not getting caught if we were to split up and raid different houses. Who wants to raid one of the sorority houses down the street?” As expected, Joe and Charlie’s hands were the first to fly into the air. Everyone else voted to go with them, except for Mack and Underwood.

Mack slung his enormous arm across Underwood’s shoulders and noogied his head. “Guess it’s just you and me, bud. You boys better get goin’. We’ll see ya back at the house tomorrow.” He saluted with his free hand. “God’s speed, men!” Then cupped his hand over his mouth as the guys crept off towards the row of sorority houses.

Squirming out from under Mack’s hold, Underwood cleared his throat. “Um, I thought you held off on telling us about the Freak House until Joe was inside so he’d be humiliated?”

“Man, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak!” Mack grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Thing is, Joe found out about the Freak House while he was inside. I guess he has as much pull as he pretends. But what he didn’t find out was that all the sorority houses are on high alert tonight for panty raids. They’re bound to get caught.” He turned and strode towards the front door of the Freak House. “My plan is to walk through the front door, go to the costume party they’re having and, after getting drunk and having lots of fun, taking the box of panties my boyfriend Carl is holding for me.” He held the door open and looked back at Underwood with a large grin. “You comin’? I’ll share the panties with you.”

Laughing, Underwood nodded and followed.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

"Even gay men like boobs"

This statement has been made on more than one occasion to me by, well, a gay man. Actually, more than one gay man has made a statement like that to me. They give some quick comment about how breastfeeding conditioned them to like boobs or how they just like them aesthetically. Personally, I adore boobs, breasts, titties, racks... whatever you want to call 'em, any shape or size, I think they're great. I like to touch and fondle (mine & others) and lick and suck. They're fun to play with, to lay on, to brush up against...

But what's so great about boobs?

There are a significant number of websites on just boobs. Here are a few of the free blog dedicated to boobs:
www.tittyblog.com
www.mybigtitsbabes.com
www.juggser.com
www.nakedprotesters.com
(Okay, so the last one isn't just about boobs, but it has naked breasts and it's just fun.)

www.tera.ca
- Is a website for the Topfree Equal Rights Association, a movement that "helps women who encounter difficulty going without tops in public places in Canada and the USA, and informs the public on this issue." One of the thing that this website addresses is how as soon as they hit puberty, and sometimes earlier, girls are shamed into covering their chests even in situations & places where boys & men are allowed to go topless. (This is mostly in the USA, but there are places throughout the world where the exposure of breasts are shunned.)
This attitude often leaves woman with weird relationships with their own bodies. As if there's not enough mental anxiety over body images!

I am sad for women who don't enjoy their own breasts. Hell, I'm sad for anyone who doesn't enjoy their own body! Of course we don't all look like models. It would be sad if we did. We are unique individuals with delightfully different bodies including our boobs!!

I must admit, I'm still perplexed as to why the statement, "even gay men like boobs" is true.*


* I realize that there are gay men & others who don't like boobs,
so the truth is in that there are gay men who like boobs.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

My First Enema

As part of the cleansing ritual I did while I was at Lothlorien on the Pagan camping trip the Artist & I took this past weekend, I decided to give myself an enema. Now I've played with removable shower heads and high powered spray jets before, but I've never had an enema. Yet I wanted to clean myself physically before I did any of the spiritual cleansing.

The Gypsy and I were out shopping already, so she helped me find a disposable enema kit in the local drug store. She'd had to have one when she was a little girl, so she gave me a few pointers about having a heating pad handy and staying close to the bathroom. She also warned me that the easy flow and cramps would continue for the next few days. (This was helpful in that I'd originally thought to do it the evening before the long journey to the camp ground. Would that have been hellish!)

At home, I waited for an evening when the Artist was away. I began by reading the entire box which seemed pretty straightforward. I decided on the side position where my top leg was curled up to my chest while my bottom (left) leg was stretched out. Having already removed the lid, I reached back, shoved the long nozzle up my anus and squeezed. It made a crinkly smooshy swooshy sound as I felt the liquid filling me up. Once the bottle was practically empty, I removed it.

The box said that I should "maintain position until urge to evacuate is strong (usually 2 to 5 minutes)", but I had other plans. Along with a physical cleansing, this part of my ritual was all about reclaiming my anus. So, full of liquid, I masturbated. I pinched my nipples as I rubbed my clit and came really hard and fast. Then, even though my evacuation urge was strong, I waited just a bit longer so I could masturbate & cum again.

I carefully made my way to the bathroom and released everything. Up until that point, I had been enjoying the enema. But as soon as the water started to flow out of me, I cramped up, worse than period cramps.
My closest comparison is like the one time I dropped acid. While I was tripping, it was the best experience in my life! Even though I had promised myself that I would only do it that one time, I began to wonder if it wasn't something I would do over and over again. But the next day... and, actually for me, the next week, I was in so much pain that I swore never to do it again. The enema wasn't quite that bad nor did it last quite as long... but it is similar since the enema itself was much shorter.

That night, I was exhausted! The next couple of days, every time I pooped it felt like all of my insides were being scrubbed clean. I'm glad I did it and I might do it again, but I don't think enema's will ever be one of my favorite things to do.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Companion in Compersion & about Thursday...

I just spoke with the Professor about the date he had tonight. He had such a good time that he called to share it with me. I was delighted to hear it & am so happy for him! I'd share it here, but it's his story, not mine. (Now if he tells me more details and says it's okay to share his exploits, I just might have another blog post.) He had so much fun, he's decided we should meet. Just dinner... no pressure... so he says. Mmm-hmmm... He's shown me her picture and she's quite cute, but I'm not really getting involved with anyone right now. Still... at some point we're going to have a date where we peruse possible playmates. It should be fun.

I will not be posting on Thursday since this week I started three new teaching gigs and the Artist and I leave for Wild Magick that evening. (The Artist should be posting on Wednesday.) In lieu of a post, I would love to know what my readers would like to see more of. So if you have something you want to know more about, a story you want me to finish / add more too or more about my personal sexual history, be sure to leave a comment on this post. Thank!

~ Ninian

Sunday, September 14, 2008

the Professor & Friends

I am glad that the Professor & I started seeing each other before my trust was broken. It's weird, when I was mono, I wouldn't even consider pursuing someone else this close to a break-up. But being with the Artist changed that drastically 'cause while we're not sexually involved, I couldn't just hide in a hole and expect her to "understand" even though she does. We take care of each other... emotionally &, in some ways, physically. So since I'm poly and a relationship had already begun, I'm not about to set it aside until I sort through my emotional issues 'cause that wouldn't be fair to the Professor since what we have has nothing to do with the relationship(s) that ended.

And what can I say about the Professor except that he's pretty freakin' awesome? Even though we had started to become sexually involved before my relationships with the philosopher and the photographer ended, he was respectful and understanding about my need to back off and slow things down. We haven't stopped things 'cause he's super yummy to cuddle and kiss, but he is also becoming a friend. And right now, it's so good to have friends.

I have been very fortunate in that department. I have some wonderfully understanding & supportive friends. I appreciate them more than I can even express.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 1)

Mr. Underwood was not a conspicuous man. He was 54, about 5’6”, average build, mousy brown hair, hazel eyes and medium brown skin. His voice was neither nasally irritating nor compellingly sexy. It was… average. Everything about him was average. Most people didn’t even see him or they would forget him as if he were part of the scenery. But Mr. Underwood had a secret.

Every Friday when he got off work, Mr. Underwood would head over to the mall where he would stake out a lingerie section of a department store. He’d choose a different one every weekend and play the timid husband looking for something sexy for his wife. Mr. Underwood didn’t have a wife. But that wasn’t his secret.

He’d wait for it to be crowded before he’d go in then he’d find the busiest female sales clerk and stand to the side as she finished with her last customer. Then, with a stuttering voice, he’d ask, “I-I’m s-s-so s-s-sorry to bother you, but I have to get a present for my wife. W-where do you have the, ummm, bloomers?” He’d blush & not look into the eyes of any of the women assisting him.

If another clerk was near by, they’d exchange, “oh, isn’t he adorable?” looks. If the saleswoman was alone, she would get this half smile on her face that said, “you’re just too precious!”

Most often, the girl would gingerly lead him over to a table covered in panties then leave him alone. Every once in a while, he’d get an overly enthusiastic sales clerk who would promote the best deals or try to get his wife’s measurements. In those instances, he’d amp up his embarrassment then leave the store. But more often than not the woman would forget him as soon as she left the table.

When Mr. Underwood touched the fabric of the panties, he felt his secret tingling inside him. If anyone had been looking directly at him, they would see him shimmer. More often than not, they’d rub their eyes, blink and look back again. It was within that moment that Mr. Underwood would become a blur then, disappear. But he didn’t actually disappear; it just looked that way. The more attentive observer would notice that a there was an extra pair of panties folded neatly on the top of the stack. If it had been anyone other than Mr. Underwood, someone might have noticed.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Still Feelin' Rather Low...

I received a letter from the Photographer in which she apologized for the misplaced blame. It was good to get that letter.

I've been thinking a lot about that situation. My head hurts from all the thinking. How could I have been so wrong... again? I thought I was done with making such egregious errors when it comes to my love life. How could I have been so mislead? How could I have been so foolish? Why is my trust, which I do not give freely, abused so easily?

I can count on one hand how many men with whom I've had sex without a condom. Each one has a negative memory attached to it... I don't want to write about this... this is a path I'm not ready to traverse. I keep trying to write... I keep trying to write about something else... but my stomach is a pit of acid and my head feels explosive. I can't sleep much and when I do, I have terrible dreams in which I have to deal with him in person.

Each time my trust is broken it takes longer and longer for me to feel alright with the world. It is going to take a long time to get back to where I can trust someone enough to have sex. And I may never be able to trust anyone enough to submit ever again.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Trust Broken

Hard Limits are there for a reason.

If any limit is violated, a trust is broken, but there is a possibility of things being put right. But if a HARD LIMIT is violated, there is no way of fixing that. One of my Hard Limits is that I DO NOT have unprotected penetrative sex. It's not an unreasonable limit & it also happens to be a hard limit that the Photographer & the Philosopher agreed on. We discussed this, it was well discussed.

The Philosopher broke that sacred trust. I wouldn't even know about this if it weren't for an incredibly accusatory and passive aggressive post by the Photographer.

Here's what happened:
When we were down in the dungeon and I was blindfolded and chained to the ceiling with lube over & up my ass, I found out that he removed the condom and came in my ass. He said, "In the dungeon at one point I asked, 'I'm going to cum in your ass, ok?' (or some similar wording, I'm not sure how I worded it) and waited for your response which was a nod, but I had not in the slightest considered the fact that most people would not take that question to be about removing the condom."

(a) I was blindfolded & chained to the ceiling.
(b) I DO NOT have unprotected penetrative sex.
(c) You DO NOT renegotiate limits in the middle of a scene.
(d) You NEVER violate HARD LIMITS!!!

I'd only just recently become comfortable having anal sex & this happened. I am so hurt, so angry, so scared. Who else has he done this with? The Photographer said she had to push for this information. When did he do something like this yet not tell his wife about it? I cannot trust someone who claimed to care about me but then would abuse my trust like that.

The Philosopher had the nerve to ask that I not post about this...
"I request one thing, if it is not to much, that you not write about this all in your blog. I realize that your blog is an important project, but you also recognize that even with the use of fake names it is still easily enough traced to me and I feel bad enough at the moment without worries about my associates reading details of my breakups, as well as the fact that I am easily embarrassed..."

I hope this embarrasses, humiliates & upsets him enough that he will NEVER do anything like this to anyone EVER again.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Anal Play

I'm squimish about anything to do with anal play. I've only just recently become comfortable having anal sex with the Philosopher & posting about it was a HUGE step for me. But for a long time, it was something I wouldn't even consider doing. The Philosopher & I talked quite a bit before he even attempted to touch me there. He was very gentle and patient with me... the only way to be when dealing with something so delicate.

My issue with anal mostly stems from the fact that I had a guy try to anally rape me several years back. We were having sex so he assumed anal penetration was fine. When I said no, he pinned me down and forced entry without any lube. He ripped me up a bit before I managed to throw him off and slam him against the wall. I was so angry! While holding him down, which had to have been funny to see since he was taller, broader and much more muscular than I, I gave him a long lecture, with intermittent slapping for his being such a prick. I told him no means NO in any language (the lecture was mostly in Spanish) and just because someone gave him the gift of their body on one occasion, it doesn't mean he had the freedom to do whatever he damn well pleased no matter what they said. And if I EVER heard of him doing such a thing again, I'd come back and chop his dick off.
By the end of the lecture, he was sniveling and profusely apologizing and begging for my forgiveness... which I wouldn't give. He even called me a few times after that, but there was NO WAY I was going to give him any satisfaction. (I just hope the lecture stuck.)

For a long time, someone unexpectedly pressing just the tip of a finger against my rear opening would get them kicked or punched or simply thrown off the bed. I've come a long way from my feelings of violence towards anything to do with anal to where I enjoy it (with the right partner and loads of trust) and I'm willing to write about it.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Missing the Mistress & musings

Not that I have any time... but I miss being Mistress Ninian. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy those I'm involved with. I'm glad I have a wrestling partner who likes to bruise me in the Philosopher as well as finding the Professor who has been able and willing to accommodate my Daddy/daughter fantasy. But the Mistress in me feels... neglected. It's very similar to how I sometimes ache to have a sexual relationship with a woman when I'm only physical involved with men and all the women in my life are not sexually attracted to me. There is nothing lacking in my men, I simply yearn for something else as well. It has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. And, as I have survived without on many occasions, I will survive this too. As my mother says, "you're old enough for your wants not to hurt you."

I had a potential sub, but he pulled a disappearing act on me after our second date. Now I'm not bitter. I understand people get squirrelly, life gets complicated or sometimes the connection I feel isn't felt on both sides. But I just wish I knew why. I hate not knowing the why of things. On the back of my head is a tattoo that reads, "question everything." This is a part of my life's philosophy. Sometimes my desire to question is good... it drives me to research, to probe, to refuse to be spoon fed. But sometimes, my constant questioning merely drives me through the brink of sanity because sometimes, no matter how much I question, I will not reach an answer... even when there is one.

This is the first time in my life when I'm involved with more than one person and one of them isn't more subby. But I'm so busy with three to five jobs (depending on how you count them), working with the Artist towards getting our shop, writing and just the regular tasks of life that I feel I'm neglecting those I'm already involved with. So I'm not about to go searching for a sub or a female lover... not anytime soon, at least.

Even though the wanting may not hurt, it does distract.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

An old friend drops in


I drew this for Ninian many ages ago when we first starting hanging out, getting mightly close to a decade ago! Now I share him with you all.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Scheduled Spontaneity

It amuses me how incredibly disorganized I used to be. Now, I'm all about scheduling. I do too much and have too many jobs to be flighty about what I do with my time. Even when I'm not feeling well, I can't just call someone up to fill in for me because (a) there's no one, and (b) I get no pay for missin' a day.

Almost a year ago, I went on a few dates with Puck. Puck wanted to keep things free and open and told me that he and his wife were very by the seat of the pants type people as far as scheduling went. What that came to mean for me was that he wanted the freedom to cancel on me at a moments notice. His wife would say they needed to go shopping or that she was making a dinner he just couldn't miss or that she needed him to drive the kid somewhere, and he'd postpone, postpone then cancel. He had no respect for my time. It was incredibly frustrating!

I derive my freedom from the fact that things are scheduled. If I want to spontaneously do something, it has to be at a time when I don't have anything else going on. Scheduled Spontaneity? I know... it sounds like a contradiction. But it's a contradiction that works for me.

Needless to say, but Puck was out of luck.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Rant lost...

The Artist & I got home after midnight from the Gypsy Den so I didn't get to my Sunday post. I had an idea for a sexy rant (or, at least, a rant about sex) but it got lost in my day and I cannot for all the tepid tea remember what it was. But since I'm behind on sooooooooo many things since I just started two new jobs & am starting my third on Tuesday, I'll hold off on beating myself over it. No self flagellation tonight!

Maybe another night. ;P

Thursday, August 28, 2008

the Professor

The Professor and I met online. His first email began, " ...this may be too forward, and certainly seems like an unusual context for this type of conversation, but what the hell..." then he proceeded to ask me about views on feminism since I put that I was a feminist on my profile... But he started this conversation on a kink website. That pleased and impressed me. We had some fun back and forth e-mailing. In one of his emails, he included three pictures. One was of the pictures was of his face, the second was of his tattoo but the third was censored by the site. I teased him about it, asking if it was naughty.

And then he sent me a picture of his dick. I responded, "yep, that's a dick."

But the dick was a slip. He'd sent a long e-mail before the picture that explained that it was a teasing response to my "was it naughty" comment 'cause the pic he'd originally sent wasn't naughty. There was a screw up with the site where not all of his e-mails were going through. And he was mortified that he had offended me. He was a dom who was worried about offending me. I was intrigued.

We wrote a few more times before we met in person. But before we got to the actual meeting, which I'll write about in a separate post, we started having certain e-mails that were reserved for Daddy/daughter play. The fact that he knew how to separate real life from playtime was wonderful! And it was a good indication of how he would be in real life.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

A bit of Rambling on Letters

There is nothing that excites me like a beautifully written and passionate letter. Over the years, I've had the fortune to be involved with several excellent letter writers. The Mentor, the Mad Monk, the Philosopher, the Professor (who I'll soon be introducing) as well as a few others have written me some incredible letters and e-mails. It has challenged my own letter writing prowess and for that I am grateful.

It's been a while since I last thought about the origin of my letter writing fascination. Then, just the other day, I received an e-mail from the Mentor. Even before we dated, the Mentor would write me the best letters. I even managed to save them when the basement I was living in flooded. At the beginning of August I'd written him about my Under the Seats post, not necessarily expecting a response, so I was delighted when he did respond. The thing is, he never responds with a few lines. No. The Mentor always writes a full letter. He wrote about his life, his wife, his daughter, his work... He wrote about the direction his life has taken and how it is so different from the path I am on and how, even though he loves his life, my writing allows him to live vicariously. This made me smile.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Punishment for the Spastic Girlfriend

I freaked out on my boyfriend, the Philosopher, this past week. Freaked out in the worst possible way... I broke up with him. I broke up with him and within three hours recanted. There's a lot going on in my life right now and I have a tendency to overreact at the worst times. (My mom calls me her all or nothing girl.) Fortunately, he allowed me to retract my ending our relationship as he is so awesome. He understands the pressure I've been under and is willing to deal with having a spastic girlfriend. He came in town to visit and we talked. Things are much better.

Yesterday we went into the basement, the dungeon, for my punishment.

He removed my shirt and bra, put my wrists in the cuffs suspended from the ceiling and used my shirt to cover my eyes. He began with a bare handed spanking over my jeans, scratching my back and biting the flesh above my collar bone. I moaned and whimpered as his teeth and nails dug into me. He then began beating me with my wooden switch. There was no slow build like he usually does. But it wasn't the pain that made me cry, it was the fact that I had been such a jerk and freaked out and put him through this. Yet, even with the heartache of hurting someone I love, being bound and beaten was turning me on... my panties were becoming rather moist.

He removed my pants and my dripping panties then continued spanking me with his hand. His hand slid between my legs and he fingered my clit. He grabbed the switch, slid a finger up inside me and began swatting my ass lightly. The switch hit harder as his thumb found my clit and he slid another finger in and out of me. He paused to come around and nibble on my nipples. He bit hard, causing me to cry out. He continued biting and chewing at my breasts for a while as I squirmed and panted high pitched whines.

Grabbing the rubber flogger, he flicked me several times before going back to spanking. He paused and kissed my mouth then pulled away. I stood there for a few seconds, naked and trembling as my ass cheeks throbbed. A cooling liquid was squeezed onto my lower back and dripped down over my ass. After the momentary surprise, it felt soothing. He rubbed it around gently, cooling my butt then slid a finger into my anus. He slathered more lube onto my ass. I moaned, cumming as he plunged his finger deeper into me.

I heard him slide his pants off with his other hand as he worked a bit more lube up in me before pressing his penis into me. Very gently, he plunged in as he rubbed my clit with his non-lubed hand. Fingernails clawed into my ribs and teeth bit my shoulder as his thrusting found a rhythm. I howled in ecstasy cumming over and over again until he was cumming with me.

After he took me down he said, "Now no more calling yourself a jerk." I nodded as we kissed.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I don't often bitch but...

It's recently been brought to my attention that there is another "Crumbs in my Cleavage" blog/journal. It irritates me because it was started in April while I began mine in January and it's getting top billing on goggle search. (Where's the love google? You OWN blogger, why you gotta dis me like that?) Before I began my blog, I perused the internet for other blogs, websites or whatever that might already have this name so that I would not infringe on them. The other writer either did not search or did not find mine.

The two things that bother me the most is that the other writer seems to be incredibly self-deprecating and critical of her body. This is merely my opinion, but from what I've read, her journal seems to be made for the purpose of tearing herself down in the guise of self improvement. And that, dear readers, is almost the complete opposite of what I do here.

I write in celebration of my body, my sexuality, my lovers, my kinks, my fantasies and, if it just so happens that my erotic adventures get you off in the process, I'm ever so pleased.

I've also been having issues with blogger's adult content warning (it's big, ugly & clunky) but I don't want there to be any reason to delete my blog.
Edit: after a bit of research, I've discovered that as long as I keep the disclaimer at the top, I don't have to have the blogger's "adult content warning" page.

Okay, enough bitching. Back to the erotica on Sunday!

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Austere: part 7 (fiction)

After calling Constance and finding out that she would be with a client for the next hour or so, Ladderis went to the Buddha CafĂ©. He hadn’t been there since that first meeting with Mistress Constance. The place was practically empty so he sat in the same booth that he and Landon had been sitting in when she strolled into his life. So much had happened in the past three months that he was having trouble wrapping his mind around it all. Constance was exactly the kind of woman he wanted. She was smart, self-assured, sexy, fun, kinky, easy to talk to… there was just so much about her that he liked. The only thing that gave him pause was her profession. But even that…

He sighed.

He wanted to be okay with it. He wanted to be so cool that the idea of dating a professional dominatrix was a point of pride, not vexation. But he just didn’t know if he had the fortitude to be the boyfriend of a dominatrix.

Of course, he mused sipping his third cup of coffee, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it had been just a one-time thing and she seriously regretted opening herself up to a client. Maybe she wouldn’t even show up and she’d just stop returning his phone calls. Maybe….
The thought was lost as a pale squat man in a business suite wiggled his way into the booth across from him. The man smiled, revealing glowing white but crooked teeth. Ladderis found himself compelled to smile back.

“Good evening,” rasped the odd little man. “I come on behalf of Mistress Constance. She told me… wait, you’re Ladderis, right?”

Ladderis nodded.

“Good.” He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “She told me to tell you to take this,” He handed him a thick manila envelope, “and meet her. The time and location are in the envelope.”

The man stood.

Ladderis grabbed his arm. “Wait!”

Shaking a bit and trying to pull away from the younger man’s grip, he squeaked, “What?”

“She isn’t coming?” The man’s eyes bugged out as he shook his head. Dropping his hand, Ladderis whispered, “Why?”

Regaining his composure, the strange little man shrugged his shoulders and scurried out the door.

Pulling the envelope towards him, Ladderis gingerly opened it and slid the contents out onto the table. There was a note folded into a star, the nipple clamps she’d used on him the time they’d played at the theater, an adjustable cock-ring and the picture he’d taken of her. He quickly slipped the clamps and the ring back into the envelope and opened the note.

“Dear Ladderis,
While you are not the first sub to wish to be more than just a client, you are the first one I would very much like to have as my real-life slave as well as a lover and a friend.
But is that enough?
I have a policy… I do not date clients. Thus far, it’s been useful. Yet here I am, a 35-year-old woman who hasn’t had a proper relationship or even a proper fuck in over five years because I fear letting anyone close to me.
But is that reason enough to take such a risk?
Yet you… YOU have permeated past the mask I wear and forced me to show you parts of who I really am. I feel compelled to tell you things I’ve buried so deep inside me I’d almost forgotten they were there. I’ve only known you for three months, yet I feel that we have been dancing around each other for eons.
I have no idea if any of what I’ve written makes any sense to you. If it doesn’t, I’m sorry if you feel I’ve wasted your time but I will ask you not to call or contact me in any way ever again. If it does, then you will know what to do with the things in this envelope and you will meet me at 3 pm on Saturday in the place that I have indicated.
No matter what happens, I wish you the best.
Mistress Constance”

Ladderis read the letter three times and studied the picture intently before folding it up, putting it and the picture back into the envelope, paying his bill and going home. His apartment was dark when he arrived. Landon was either out or already in bed. Without turning on any lights, he quietly went to his room and threw himself onto his bed to cry… with happiness.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Bondage Boy Pin-ups

The Artist, who has her own website: tattooheathen.com, is going to be joining me here with Bondage Boy Pin-ups. She has been lamenting the fact that there's a lot of female bondage art and very little male bondage art. "I AM the female objectifying gaze!" She'll be posting on Wednesdays. Yippy!

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Chocolate Shell (fantasy)

When I got home from work today, I decided to take a nap because I was headachey and tired. My room was hot, so I stripped off all my clothes and turned on the fan. On the verge of sleep, my mind wandered to an idea I've had about the chocolate shell people put on ice cream. As I slept, I dreamed....

I dreamed I was in a large metal vat, completely naked. My wrists and ankles were tied to the outside handles of the vat with licorice whips. I could easily break free but knew there would be grave punishment if I did. As I lay there, vanilla ice cream was being scooped into the vat all around my body. My teeth chattered as I felt goose bumps prickling my skin. I started to say something, but gloved fingers quickly covered my lips.

"Do we need to fill that mouth so that words won't escape?" The deep voice resonated from the figure in a dark hooded cloak. I shook my head. "Then keep your thoughts to yourself!" He smacked my cheek as I nodded.

After there was ice cream outlining my entire body and in the gap between my thighs and my arms, the hooded figure left the room. I breathed his lingering musky scent in, trying to keep my mind off the cold.

When he came back in, he was carrying a few brown bottles and a bowl. He set the items down, put his hand into the bowl then ran ice cube after ice cube over my flesh. I tried to hold still, but shivers ran through me. He ground two of the cubes against my nipples then swirled the last remaining slivers over the fullness of my breasts.

"And now, for the topping!" Beneath the hood, I could just make out a smile.

He picked up the bottle, held it upside down over my left breast and squeezed. The smell of chocolate filled my nostrils. The liquid was warm after the ice. I relaxed into the feel of it as he squeezed the rest of the bottle covering my neck, chest, shoulders and upper arms. The bottle sputtered so he tossed it aside, grabbed the next one then continued to pour chocolate over the rest of my body and the ice cream. The liquid began to harden on my flesh, squeezing tightest on my nipples. I moaned with pleasure.

A rattling woke me as my phone vibrated. It was my mom. I let my voice mail get it and rolled over to go back to sleep, but my chocolate affair had left me.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Writing troubles & a little something fun

Life's been a little distracting and busy and a bit overwhelming. If only I didn't have to sleep... If I didn't sleep, I could get soooooo much more done.

I've been working on the ending for Austere and I've almost got the next part figured out... almost. So part 7 will most likely be posted on Thursday. In the meantime, follow this link to YouTube for some fantastic...


Sunday, August 10, 2008

Canoes, canoes, canoes!

Three friends and I went canoing today along the Fox river. It was so much fun! The day was beautiful, sunny with a nice breeze. There were quite a few people out on the river, but it wasn't too crowded. In fact, we had moments of seclusion away from the rest of the canoes and their inhabitants. All along the edges of the river where rocky bits of hillside that jutted out. Some of these outcrops created caves.

In one I saw a boat with a couple kissing. As we floated past, they sunk further down into their boat until the boat looked empty.

On one of the banks, another I saw a guy untying the bikini top of the woman he was kissing while a group played a game of butt grab tag in the water just off the opposite bank.

Further down the river there were three people, two older women and a guy in his 20s, in inner tubes. The women tried to bribe us with $20 so their drunken friend whose tube was losing air could ride with us. They laughingly asked if any of us knew first aid or that thing that starts with a C.
"CPR?" I asked.
"Yeah that's it!"
The other woman laughed. "No, he'd like that too much!"
So we paddled on.

As I watched these events, my mind began to flash onto other possibilities of sexual adventures along the river and, in particular, in a canoe. Canoe bondage? Hmmmm.... sounds dangerous. But it is fantasy... I think this is gonna be almost as fun as the canoe trip itself was!

Friday, August 8, 2008

Wait for it... wait for it...

I hit my 100th posts!
Woo-hoo!


Actually, I got to there a few posts ago, but I didn't notice 'til today. I think that for my (pseudo) 100th post, I should do something a little bit different. So here's a look into the things I'm working on for the future of Crumbs in my Cleavage:
  • putting together swag to sell on CafePress.com
  • putting together chapbooks to sell through Lulu.com
    • I've been editing & adding to "The Cherry Chronicles" to put together in a chapbook.
    • Bek of tattooheathen.com has agreed to illustrate the cover.
    • I'm adding to & editing my fiction as well as other bits of real life erotica to put into chapbooks.
    • Depending on how the sells on Cherry goes, I may be able to get Bek to illustrate other stories as well!
  • begin a "choose your own erotic adventure" story either on this blog or through a different medium
  • set up "personalized smut" that people can order through....
  • a website beyond the blog-o-sphere!
If you have any comments, questions or suggestions, feel free to comment here or e-mail me at talesoftaboo@gmail.com

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Psssst..

I'll be posting Friday night this week. Just thought you might like to know! ;D

~ Ninian

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Migraine and power outage

The lack of post on Sunday is due to a migraine that was incredibly painful for three days, manageable one and is still buzzing in the background today. Then, to top things off, Monday's storm (the reason for the migraine, damn my barometric brain!) caused a power outage for about 16 hours. But there's a post today! Enjoy part 6 of the continued adventures of Mistress Constance & Ladderis in Austere.

Austere: part 6 (fiction)

“So did you have sex?” Landon was standing in the kitchen frying some bacon, his back to the living room where Ladderis was lounging on a large cushion playing a video game. Ladderis wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt pig meat. Even when he was a meat eater, Ladderis had never been big on pork products.

He paused the game and threw an angry look over his shoulder. Unfortunately, Landon’s focus was on the bacon, so the look wasn’t even seen. “Dude, that’s not what it was about.” Exasperated, he sighed, unpaused his game and turned it up so the apartment was filled with explosions and grunts.

Landon flipped his bacon onto a plate, turned off the stove and wondered into the living room. He crunched his meat thoughtfully and sat on the couch to Laddaris’s right. “So let me get this straight. You’ve been paying this girl to, how should I put it, fulfill your fantasies when your actual fantasy is to have sex with her.” He shoved the rest of the first piece of bacon into his mouth. “And last night, you spent the night at her place and you didn’t have sex?”

Ladderis paused the game again. “Look, I respect her, okay?”

Landon chuckled, “so you can’t have sex with someone you respect?”

“That’s not what I was saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not just lookin’ to get laid, okay? I really like this girl and I want something more.”

Landon shoved the last of the bacon into his mouth, ran his finger through the grease on his plate and licked it. “You wanna date her? You wanna date a whore?”

Ladderis glared at his friend. “She’s not a whore.”

Landon shrugged, “Good as.” Ladderis punched him in the knee. “Ow! What the fuck, man?”

Ladderis stood up, furious and ready to fight. “Don’t you EVER talk about her like that, okay? She’s the woman I love and I will not have anyone speak like that about her!”

Rubbing his kneecap, Landon waved his hand to ward off any further attacks. “Okay, okay man. I get it. But think a minute. People are going to say things like that about her. I mean look at her profession. Dude, you’re gonna have to deal with it, whether you like it or not.”

Ladderis shook his head. “No, you don’t get it man, I’m gonna save her.”

Landon laughed. “That should be interesting… I don’t think she wants to be saved.”

Ladderris sat back down. He put his head in his hands. “Saved isn’t the right word. I don’t know, I want to help her, I guess?”

Landon walked into the kitchen and grabbed two beers. He popped the tab on his as he tossed the second one to Ladderis. He sat down again and studied his friend. “Dude, you know I’ve got your back, no matter what. But if you’re gonna date her, I mean really date her, you’re gonna have to accept the fact that she is a professional dominatrix and, because of that, people are going to perceive her as a whore.” He took a swig of his beer. “You know what I’m sayin’?”

Ladderis nodded. “I think I need to go talk to Constance.”

Landon raised his can and tapped it against the one Ladderis had forgotten he was still holding.

“Thanks man,” Ladderis muttered. Sighing deeply, he set down the can, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.