Thanksgiving

The past few months have been tumultuous for both J and I.  Not in our relationship, but separately, in our lives.  I don't know who I am kidding, the past couple of years have been fraught with stress.  What hasn't been stressful or tumultuous or causing any problems at all?  Us, J and I.  We are good, we are perfect, we are twin souls.  He is my rock, my anchor, my perfect love.  No matter what else happens in my life, my thoughts of him, my love of him, my submission to him keeps me grounded.

Today, in the United States, we celebrate Thanksgiving.  No matter that the origins of this holiday are very different from what it is today (aren't they all), no matter that the Christians have hijacked the holiday to make it "theirs", it is (for me) a day to be still, reflect and offer gratitude to God, or the Universe, or Mother Earth for all the blessings in my life.  There are so many I cannot count them.  I am grateful for everything I have and everything I have gone through.  All that I have is a gift, all I have experienced has made me the person that I am.  I am humbled and I am blessed.  I am just as grateful for the bad things as the good things.  The trials have broken me and wounded me, they made me become open and acknowledge my dependence.  I had to be cracked open to accept what the Universe had for me.  I had to be broken in order to be healed.  I had to become who I am in order to be who I am to J.  J and I share a soul, we are opposite sides of the same coin, yin and yang.  I never believed in that sort of stuff before, but now I could never deny it.  I can feel what he feels, I can sense him.  He can look into my mind and heart and know my fears and my needs and my joys.  A a part of him is inside of me and me in him.  That sharing, that bond makes us stronger, helps us go on.  I am thankful for J.  He is my greatest blessing, he enhances everything else in my life.  Together, we are greater than we could ever be alone.  Thank you J, for choosing me, for accepting me, for loving me.



If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.
When the mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

Little drops of rain whisper of the pain, tears of loves lost in the days gone by. 
Our love is strong, with you there is no wrong. 
Together we shall go until we die, my, my, my...
Inspiration's what you are to me, inspiration, look and see...

For the more of the story of what is going on in my life...read my other blog, Life in the Dog's House.
I have been lax in posting there too, but it is a peek into the vanilla side of my life.

You are my purpose

There are days, when the longing is so consuming and the ache inside is so strong, that tears dampen my eyes and I am driven to distraction.  There is nothing I can do to lessen the craving, my attempts merely fuel it.  It is more than a need to satisfy a desire, it is a need to be completely owned by you.  I am adrift in meaninglessness, my only purpose is in your pleasure.  It is not your touches or my own physical release that I seek, it is your dominance, your presence, your control.  It is not accomplished by force and show, you are very subtle in your use of me.  Your fingers clamped on my nipple, your hand at my neck, your fist wrapped in my hair, sometimes my cue is a touch so light and gentle it is barely felt.  Your commands of me are just as concise.  Few words, softly spoken, "open", "suck harder", "be still", "tell me", "cum now".  Yet, it is your look that makes my heart skip a beat, not exactly a reprimand, but it bores into me and stops me in my tracks.  It makes me shut up mid-sentence and demands complete and immediate submission. 

You are my meaning, my reason, to serve you and give to you all that I can give.  My reward is your use and ultimately your pleasure.  Feeling you move me and position me to your satisfaction.  Servicing you with my hands and my mouth.  Being devoted to you, as your slut and your pet.  Sinking deeper and deeper into my submission as your presence washes over me and encompasses me.  Craving the marks of your use and possession, needing the sting of your hand and your belt that signifies your acceptance of me.  Hoping for and dreading the bite of the cane and the smack of the brush.  Longing for and savoring everything you give me, from the way you expertly make orgasms spring forth from me and the sweet flood of your cum in my mouth, to your hot piss running over me.  I luxuriate in your nearness, curling up next to you with delight and contentment.  When you are here, all is right in the world.

But when you leave, before you even pull from the driveway, it begins again.  That ache, that need.  I become an addict, counting the minutes until my next fix. Watching, waiting and hoping, for your voice, for your text, for your next visit.  For my chance to greet you, serve you, adore you.  I really am your pet, counting time til her owner's return.