shocked

i'm a gift, a sacrifice, a negotiation. a solution. a puzzle to be solved, passed from hand to hand until someone either figures it out or sets it aside. never sure if it's something i want - to be given away - you neatly removed me from having to decide. i hadn't gotten far enough to notice the choice was even missing.

does the jealousy alchemy solution work towards me as well? because one puzzle may be solved, but i'm made up of parts to a whole. there's more to solve, and more hands will be at work, i'm guessing.

[photo credit to Una Ros "missing piece"]

value

a quick stab again of needle-thin jealousy.

jealousy, as pointed out somewhere recently, is not the same thing as betrayal. jealousy is fear, and fear turns me on. risk, turns me on. it starts low in my belly as a cold sweat panic until i identify what it is, and then it becomes something wholly different, something masochistic and gasping.

an invitation: i know i would suffer for her, too.

kiss and tell me

i'm still getting off on the memories of last week. well, "getting off" being an operative term because i've actually been cut off from getting off in the traditional usage of the word. no, i don't know when this particular interlude will conclude, i only know that whining about it won't help my odds.

but back to the subject at hand: kissing. i've long held a fantasy about being the toy between a couple. there's a scene in laura antoniou's the slave where robin is blindfolded and used simply as a sex toy for her trainer, chris, and his friend rachel. of course, in *my* version, it's much more violent and degrading, but still. it's a taste. at any rate, i keep circling back to this inner photograph of the couple kissing above me.

i do like kissing. it's not my favorite aspect of intimacy, or sex, but i do like it. but the intimacy of face-to-face contact, the general lack of aggression, makes it a more egalitarian part of the act than seems worthwhile, when i could be enjoying myself enormously more as an object instead. in fact, one of the absolute-hottest-moments-of-my-life was last week when my owner was sharing this lovely intimate moment. with someone else while fucking me violently.

i can't get this out of my head. i now know what it looks like, the way he moves and touches and hurts and fucks. and for some people, the intimacy of kissing is a giant no-no, even in the world of polyamory, because of exactly the vanilla connotations. usually folks don't like to see their partner sharing that with someone else. but for me, watching this, thinking about it, imagining it over and over and over has become my favorite goddamned porn movie ever. and i'm a lucky, lucky bitch - for a moment or three, i really was just the toy.

(for a much more pornographic reference to the scene itself, please refer to a beautiful girl. i don't think you'll be sorry.) (pic by thesescarz on deviantART)

nincompoopery

sometimes i just want to take someone by the throat and shake them until they see reason. or their eyes fall out. one or the other.

i am so done with drama.

she's a good girl.

discussing a good friend's new submissive:

me: i know what kind of girl she is.
him: oh? what kind of girl is she?
me: she has a huge sense of humor (she'd have to, to be with you). a basic if not good understanding of polyamory. and a very deep need to serve, but that probably isn't obvious externally.
him: yes, that's about right. and really smart.
me: of course.
me: and she's a good girl.
him: what do you mean by good girl?
me: the priority is making Him happy, and that means suffering for Him.

(long pause)

him: yes. she is a good girl.

beginning

do you remember the beginning of what you have now? how did it start? were there tiny tendrils reaching out through the air between the two of you, small touches and pricks and a small joy each time you connected?

when did it become big? when did it become something larger than you intended, carrying more dimensions and weight? or, alternatively, when did you feel it start to end - where was the endgame's beginning?

a chess game has a beginning, a middle, and an end, you said. a beginning when you assess, check your targets, their strengths and weaknesses. the middle, when you make your move, your strategies begun.

and there's an endgame. when you know you've reached the point when there is nothing left but success or failure.

i saw it

i saw the look on your face. the tightening of your jaw. the set of the way your eyes looked up quickly to grab mine. you looked back down at my thighs and your finger touched the marks lightly. small ovals the color of raspberries slowly turning purple. and then the questions.

"what did he use." "did you like it." and then as your fingers forced their way into me, "tell me what you were thinking about when it happened, when he was fucking you." your voice was harsh and angry, your fingers brutal and unforgiving. i did not want to see your eyes, so there was a small kindness of letting me squeeze my eyes shut against that.

with my answers, you abruptly let go, suddenly silent.

i didn't know what to do with that. so i told myself it wasn't what i saw there, that it was not.

jealousy.

i wouldn't give this up

right now for cash.

between the two of you, i have more than i could ever have imagined. i imagine myself strung up, suspended and spread between two poles.

it's amazing the power you have by giving up control.