Pen and Ink Memories

[Two and a half years ago, I met MJ for the second time. (I met her for the first time two and a half years before that, funnily enough.) This is what I wrote in my paper journal the day after we parted.]

I need to write, because I don’t want to forget. There are so many things, so much gorgeous detail packed into three days of living.

The biggest, most vivid thing is the night we went to Madame’s. MJ was radiant. She was so excited, thrilled to be out. Her eyes were just glowing the whole time, and she was practically vibrating. So happy and I am so glad to be the one to do all this with her.

She really is gorgeous. Big brilliant blue eyes, big brilliant smile that lights up her whole face - that’s [boyMJ], too of course. I know he hates his smile, because it’s so big, but I love it. It’s funny, the things he doesn’t like about himself are the things I think are lovely. The freckles covering his back and shoulders, the bumps of his vertebrae, those fabulous angular hipbones (I love the way his body feels - such marvelous contrasts…), his tiny, adorable little rear, which he thinks is too small for [girlMJ]…

Anyhoo, back to [girlMJ]. It’s hard to put words to what I want to say, oy. I loved taking her out. She was… so much less nervous than I would have thought. She had surprising confidence, poise. She’s long, beautiful, elegant. Adorable.

This writing is going too slowly. There are so so many things - big things and tiny details, and I don’t want to forget a single bit of it. Perhaps it will be easier, faster if I don’t try to be organized or cohesive.

From the trip two years ago, the sensation I remembered so clearly was the curve of MJ’s waist and hip when she was laying in bed. Even two years later I remembered so vividly how it felt to slide my hand under the flannel pajama shirt and over that warm skin. The strongest tactile memory from this trip is similar. For such a slender person, MJ has the softest little belly. Skin as velvety soft as flower petals. I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Even walking down the street, putting my arm around her waist, was a sensual pleasure. Even her feet on my legs in bed felt good. I love the way she slept curled up in my arms. Her head pillowed on my arm, my cheek to her forehead, her legs hooked over mine, my arms around her waist, or her shoulders, or caressing the soft flesh of her belly, her waist, the bones of her hip. Dropping kisses on her forehead, her ear, the tip of her nose.

She was so delighted with Madame’s. Terry, our waiter with jeweled eye makeup, glittering chest, red beret. They served us salad and the most luscious warm chocolate cake with ice cream, even though the kitchen was closed. Everyone there was really friendly and welcoming. The tiny stage with red lights around it and the little curtained alcove next to it. They sat us right in front of the stage. We were the last customers there, and they still performed for us. MJ had a sour green apple martini and got drunk - I had to help her walk out of the restaurant to the car, amidst much laughter (ours and the staff’s XD). I found out that she loves beets, esp. pickled ones. She was nervous at first, and kept shaking her leg. She was giddy, and told me she was in love, those gorgeous eyes shining at me.

We got lost on the way there. I drove home in the giant pickup truck while wearing my huge boots and sitting too far from the steering wheel.

We kissed a lot in the restaurant. I really liked that. I liked that we were happy lovers, I liked that she was mine. I liked showing the people around us that she was mine. But mostly I liked it because she was so open.

That was Monday night. We went shopping Monday afternoon. We bought several things, including the sweet little pair of jeans she wore that night. MJ absolutely loved them and had to have them as soon as she saw them. They were perfect. Tight, low-riding, definitely showcasing her sweet little ass. She kept looking at herself in the mirror when she was wearing them in the room, arching her back and posing. *grin*

She straightened my hair each day, and her own. We both liked the way a few strands sort of fell into her eyes. I did her makeup every day. I do wish we had had good concealer though.

She slept for a few hours yesterday after I penetrated her and made her come all over her little plaid skirt. She was curled up in the nubbly blue blanket with her head on my arm. I didn’t sleep at all, just held her and petted her, and watched her sleep. I whispered in her ear that she’s beautiful. I wish I could have photographed her like that. Her profile in the dim light was achingly gorgeous. And she purred while she was sleeping. ^_^

I wish I could write more now. I wish I could infuse these pages with every memory, every sound, taste, touch, sight. I wish I could put down every word that was spoken, every inflection, every smile, every sigh. Every emotion stirred by those things.

Yes, I’m smitten, though I know it’s not wise. It’s worth the tears.

 

old diary: "a brief and sparkling time"

more old diary:

Monday, October 20, 2003 & 18:23 PM

Aaah, so much to write about and not the words or time to do it, as usual. Weekend was.. good. Spent most of it with the girl from my last entry.. I’ll call her Lex. Went to a Halloween party Saturday night, and I looked fucking fabulous, if I do say so myself. Though I wasn’t terribly social. Mostly I just kind of observed the other people at the party and watched Lex socialize. She’s quite talkative. Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. We were going to do a bit of needle play, but it didn’t happen. Shame. Not the right time yet I guess.

I’ve been thinking, and have come to the conclusion that (at the moment at least :P) I’m more of a dom than a sub. I do have very strong submissive feelings sometimes, but I only feel that way with very particular people, or if I’m really tired or depressed and want to feel safe and loved. Though maybe I’m kidding myself because I just don’t want to be submissive. Maybe the fact that I don’t want to means that I’m really not.. Heh. I think my submissiveness is just more.. focused? particular? than my dominant side.

The beast in me is hungry. Famished and snarling for fresh and bloody meat to tear into and consume. Lex and I have been talking a lot and making plans for playing with boys, and oh has that ever whet my appetite for domination. Hopefully we’ll have a boy for Halloween. Dress him up, tease him, torture him a little. Put him in his place and have him serve us, make sure he’s properly grateful. Should be a hell of a lot of fun. The current prospect for that position seems really cute, smart, subservient, interested in crossdressing, all that good stuff. And he’s a virgin. *rubs hands together gleefully* Almost too good to be true.

I’m keeping my guard up about this whole situation with Lex though. Something’s telling me I need to be very cautious. Or maybe I’m just paranoid and worry too much. How does one differentiate between instinct and fear?

*sighs*

[...so restless and impatient and ravenous. It's almost time, and the beast knows, it smells it, tastes it on the air. I feel it clawing at my insides, roaring to be let free, if only for a brief and sparkling time. ]

 

old diary: "making my mark"

another diary-x entry:

Monday, May 17, 2004

His face looks so angelic when he’s.. at my mercy. He was here last night, stretched out in my bed.. Leather cuffs linking his wrists above his head, my collar around his neck. I told him I loved the way he looked like that.. “You look like you’re mine.” In a small, little-boy voice, just above a whisper he replied, “I am.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The toy came over last night. I didn’t let him come for the first time in a long time.

I feel good about that. He was originally supposed to help me move furniture around, but when the time came, I just didn’t feel up to it. I wasn’t intending to do anything hot n’ heavy, but we of course started making out on the couch.. He was rather close to coming I believe, and in that adorable little-boy voice that gives me the warm-fuzzies he said, “Will you tie me up?” (This is supposition of course, since he never really talks to me, but) He wants that so bad. I think he really wants to be helpless, truly at my mercy. I think he wants to really be able to let go, to really be controlled and dominated..

He wants the intensity that I so often hold back.

Near the end of our time together last night, I pushed him over and bit the back of his shoulder (that fleshy part where the neck, shoulder, and back meet.. god, I love sinking my teeth into that part of a boy.). I was a little rough, and I bit him pretty hard. Mmm.. {I have to admit, thinking about that right now is more than a little arousing.} After I took off the cuffs and collar and he was pouting because he didn’t get to come or stay longer, he said, “I really liked when you pushed me and bit my back. Do it again?” Hooray, feedback! He said once before that he could feel that I was holding back, and he wanted me to be able to let go and really do what I want..

I like biting him, and boys in general, because it satisfies this very deep, almost feral part of me. It’s the same kind of feeling with leaving bruises or scratches.. marking him, in all senses of the word. It’s claiming and overpowering and devouring and owning.. It’s physical and primal and real on a deeper level than most people live in. That’s the beast in me, and she’s only had a little taste.

I’m getting rambly and somewhat obtuse here.. This is something that I want to ponder and need to put into words, to record. In leather&lace She talked about “the pull of the dark.” Thinking about that entry of hers and also slaveheart.. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.. It is nice though to read about others’ experiences of this sort of feeling. (Oh lord, if only I could have a soundproof room with adequate equipment, and a few hours with the toy.. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? :P)

 

old diary: "Annhilation Fantasy"

an entry from my old diary:

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

This was posted on the forums at bondage.com (emphases mine):

lately, I have this violent, roaring fantasy, I call it my Annihilation Fantasy.

Its like this,

This time, I don’t want to submit. I want to fight back, I want to be fought, overpowered, and forced. I want to be fucking held down, beaten into it, taken, totally dominated. Beaten, chocked, fucked, sweaty screaming, held down, bruised and bloody, I want to say “no” (but mean “fuck yes!”) and I want to hear “too fucking bad” right back! Make me! Fucking make me!

There is just something so hot about being forced. Having your clothes ripped off, being held down, and trying honestly your hardest to resist. It becomes a game, “can I push him off?” “could I get away?” the fear becomes real, but just enough to make it exciting, because you know he would never REALLY hurt you… Maybe tied down, eventually, to free his hands for other things…

I want to be destroyed. Do you understand? Beat me till I cant move, fuck me till I bleed, take me and own me and do what you want with me, gag me, choke me, tell me I’m your slut, your fuck toy, make me feel it! When I moan no, I want to hear “Shut the fuck up”

Just take me and everything you want to do to me, want from me, want to see me become, and just fucking MAKE me.

That hidden, feral part of me knows exactly what she’s talking about.. only I want to be on the other side of it. I… can’t really find the words for it right now…

I want to be aggressive, violent… I want to see their eyes widen, hear “No!” and smile when I ignore it. I want to be pitiless and cruel and harsh. To fight and struggle and ultimately overpower someone and make them feel completely helpless and taken. Completely, soully, mine.