happy isn't interesting

and we all have our tragedies. some are bigger than others.

i have tragedies and sadness on my mind tonight. nothing personal, you understand. but i'm drawn to it, i fear it. the car crash true crime mindscapes that hide in the gray matter in our heads. not the drama - that isn't what i mean. those are false tragedies: pretend incidents we use to pin-prick ourselves to remind ourselves we're alive. an experimental pinpricker is not a cutter, you see.

pricks.

funny how i can get from tragedies to incidental pain to sex.

my mind works like that.

it's not friday

but i'm bored. i stole this from sake of sanity.

1. Please don’t tell me about your drama. i've finally cleaned out most of my own, and i think the trash is full, thanks.

2. Can youget up out of the nice toasty bed and light the fires and start the coffee for me in the morning please? just once?

3. The color twilight blue makes me feel at peace.

4. I have a craving for plantains. like, a whole bunch of them, fried and sweet and all mine. no sharing.

5. If my life had a pause button, i'd pause it indefinitely right now. i'm pretty fucking content.

6. Eyes are the scariest part of him.

debatable

"have you blogged lately?"

no, not really. okay, barely. i gave myself permission to stop thinking about the questions i've debated over the past two years. i stopped thinking about what was the right word for things, what was the right way at all, and just did it.

for the record, i do want to state this: living together is different from not living together. but also, i always, always agreed with that. i think the problem occured with the definition not of TPE, but with 24/7.

i guess i've always interpreted "24/7" to be a state one existed in all the time. for example, i am, 24/7/365:

- female
- short
- irreligious
- literate

and...

- owned

am i in active service all the time? of course not. i'm not at his feet, sucking his cock, preparing his meals, keeping the house (and specifically, his bed) warm all the time. there are times when i stop to breathe and rub my painful shoulder. when i take a teensy bit longer in the bathroom than is absolutely necessary because i like how quiet it is. or when i decide to eat that second apricot because i can't believe how tasty the first one was.

in the entire time i have been involved in bdsm (i'm older than you think), i have only once met someone who claimed to be in active service 24/7/365. One. it involved chains, rope, absolute micromanaging, including surveillance cameras. If it's true, than that i believe to be 24/7 active service.

but really, when it comes down to it, who the fuck cares what someone else does in their dungeon? why is it so important that someone agrees with one's definition or someone else's? what is this, junior high?

this goes beyond a need for commonality in language. this becomes a power struggle between the holier-than-thou, and really, i'm just not interested. i don't do well with competition - i'd rather bow out gracefully. i think i figured out why the second most-popular topic of discussion is always "where are all the real people?"

they're not online. they're busy doing it.

recycled trash

okey dokey. i need recommendations. please comment with a blog you love that i may not know yet. please. i need smut. and full sentences. please.

perceived

The Rules:
1. You must link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share seven facts about yourself.
3. Tag seven people.

swtbriarros got me. but i ain't taggin' no one. y'all can fend fer yerselves.

1. i used to have 8 body piercings. now i have 3.

2. if i thought i had the figure for it, i'd be a porn actress. i'm totally serious. i'm well suited to the business model, but not well-figured for the masses. C'est la vie.

3. i'm determinably bi-forced. not "bisexual" or "bicurious". i think it's hot that my owner makes me do anything i do not inherently find erotic, and that's one of 'em. just take one look at his face when it happens, and you'll know why this works for us.

4. i believe the term is "cuckqueen" - a female cuckhold.

5. i have been removing completely the hair from my bikini area and beyond for about 18 years. i barely remember what i look like otherwise.

6. there are very few things that offend me, except for lying. lies are gross. they are the opposite of my kink.

7. i'm not who you think i am. the character of luna_lux will never be the same as the person writing it. that's the difference between online play and real life bdsm.

kaya's tag

funny to see people i'm so much like and yet so different. i love these things.

1. Do you like blue cheese?
yep. i gotta be careful though not to drown whatever-it-is i'm eating it with or i get the evil "i'm gonna change your diet" eye.


2. Have you ever smoked heroin?
uh, no. gross.

3. Do you own a gun?
nope. i have on occasion wanted to, though.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic?
i don't think i understand this question.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
inexplicably, yes. i think it's just 'cause i hate interrupting my so-called life with them.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
filler food for munchkins. they are on my "not allowed" list.

7. Favorite Christmas Song?
"have yourself a merry little christmas", but that's about it.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
flavored coffee. a lot of it. with cream and splenda. which is on the endangered list, since my owner hates flavored.

9. Can you do push ups?
if i had to.

10. What was the name of your first girlfriend/boyfriend?
darren? i think? in, like, 7th grade?

11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
my "live, love, laugh" ring. and my nose ring, since it doesn't come out. (i like stability)

12. Favorite hobby?
sleeping. ha. no, um, reading.

13. Do you work with people who idolize you?
i used to. but not anymore. now i'm on the lowest rung of the totem pole. ("right where you belong," says D.)

14. Do you have A.D.D.?
nope.

15. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself?
my occasional bouts of insecurity.

16. Middle name?
n/a

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
a)i should really be soaking my (injured) back in the tub right now instead of sitting at a desk typing
b)i really, really need to squeeze in some background-research type work today.
c)the garbage smells and i need to get to the dump. today.

18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday.
a) dinosaur egg oatmeal
c) hamburger
d) peace of mind.

19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink.
a) flavored coffee
b) seltzer water
c) sperm

20. Current worry right now?
my hurting back and when it's going to get better.

21. Current hate right now?
the windy wily process for getting health insurance.

22. Favorite place to be?
i used to say the olympic peninsula in washington state. now, mebbe a particular place in update new york. but that might be too sappy.

23. How did you bring in the New Year?
in front of a beautiful fire with incredible music and a lot of loving people making it.

24. Where would you like to go?
back to visit in seattle. san francisco to see the armory in it's new glory.

25. Name three people who will complete this?
uh. K, M, and M?

26. Whose answer do you want to read the most?
i love these things, i'll read 'em all.

27. What color shirt are you wearing?
heavy gray sweater that used to be my dad's, glasses, pajama pants.

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
no - they make me feel moist. gross.

29. Can you whistle?
yep. very well, thanks.

30. Favorite color(s)?
green.

31. Would you be a pirate?
nah - i'd rather be the abused pirate captive.

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?
hippie folk songs.

33. Favorite girl’s name?
? i dunno. never thought about it. madeline, i guess. that's pretty.

34. Favorite boy’s name?
i always liked owen.

35. What’s in your pocket right now?
no pockets.

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
my owner "boinking" my nose in the middle of a conversation just because he could. it was hysterically funny, although it really doesn't sound funny when i write it.

37. Best bed sheets as a child?
the only ones i remember had big orange cabbage roses on it.

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had?
i've sprained my ankles so badly so many times it's a miracle i can even walk sometimes.

39. Do you love where you live?
it's okay.

40. How many TVs do you have in your house?
2. one we don't use.

41. Who is your loudest friend?
as in volume? i dunno. B, i guess. but that's because i mostly talk to her on her cell phone when she's yelling so i can hear her. loudest personality wise? would have been A, but i haven't really seen her in a loooong time.

42. How many dogs do you have?
nada.

43. Does someone have a crush on you?
i sure as hell hope so - it's very flattering.

44. Who is your favorite president?
carter, i guess. i'm not so much a politics fan.

45. What is your favorite book?
the mists of avalon. but more recently, ahab's wife.

46. What is your favorite candy?
i'm not really a candy fan, but i do on occasion get to have fancy dark chocolate in tiny pieces fed to me from my owner's fingers, which i really really love.

47. What is your favorite sports team?
i don't do sports.

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
something happy. i could never choose - too much music in my life is beloved.

49. What were you doing 12 AM last night?
sleeping.

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?
should i take my freebie orgasm now, or later?

the right phrase

"...a love so violent it was almost it's opposite."

-A.S. Byatt, "Babel Tower"

notes from the world

just a brief stop during my whirlwind summer vacation. lots of bites (from both bugs and owner), a little sunburn. i tried catching up on all the various blogs and discussion groups i'm usually on top of, but you know what? i'm in a nice place - i know who i am and i've gained some footing lately in my life, and i just don't care that much to keep saying it.

i'm reading A.S. Byatt's "Babel Tower". She has a lot to say about language and it's uses. it makes me think instead of speak so much. these days i'm getting fond of the "actions speak louder than words" theory, so i'm sort of trying to put it into practice.

no, i'm not done writing. i'm just spending some time practicing what i preach: Be Here Now.

the introduction

sometimes i say things that later come back to haunt me. so i have no doubt that this one is in the making.

we've planned this weekend for weeks. we don't have much time, usually, so the few moments we have alone and unscheduled, you jump on with excitement. a dinner, a show with loud music, and i'm wearing thigh highs in the summer heat. frantic dash for a cab and we're laughing at our escape.

it's a long drive, and it gets quiet as you close your eyes for a rest and i'm watching the city moving along the glass window. my eyes are lulled by the glittery night lights, and my body is lulled by your steady breathing, and i fall asleep.

you're shaking me awake, gently. i wake up quickly, as your hand snaps out at my cheek. i grab my cheek, in shock - "but i'm awake!", and you smile, big, teeth, saying "i know. i just want the handprint there. come on." and we're out of the cab, in front of a tall building. we may be in the middle of a big city, but suddenly i feel like we're in the middle of nowhere, alone. no protection. and my skin goes cold despite the summer heat.

the entryway, the elevator, you're silent. i'm staring at you, my hand on my cheek. small ding, and you push me off the elevator, and grab my shoulder to push me down the hallway to an office. too dark to notice the name outside, but my heart is my throat because i know where we are, now, although i've never been here before.

"there you are! i was getting a little worried..."

"sorry, the show ran a little long. good to see you..." and hugs between the two men who haven't seen each other in a long time. i'm standing there nervously, looking at him, looking at the floor, my feet, nowhere for very long.

"so, this is your new property." he's taller than i expected. he's looking at my face, and grabs my chin. i'm much shorter than him, so he pulls it up to stare into my eyes. "one glance, bitch, and then you're not to look at me anymore." i gasp a little, my eyes drink in his face, and shut tightly. he laughs. "she responds well. i think this might work for a trade."

"yes," you say. "she's born for this."

his hand lets my chin go, and reaches up my skirt, stabbing fingers. "spread," he says, and i do. i hear you laugh. "she's wet, isn't she."

the man laughs. "soaking."

"a born whore."

i wonder

most of my life i've been in love first with language. maybe it comes from being encouraged/forced through high school latin, but for whatever the cause, i eat words and sentences and paragraphs and plot lines up like sugary treats. men always came second to whatever book i happened to be reading. i've never gone so far as to depend on my writing or reading for a living, though. while i'm sincerely not opposed to prostitution of the body, i'm opposed to prostituting my first love. but i'm straying from my intended topic: doubt.

one of the challenges of having an unsuccessful love life in the past is one's lack of experience with extended relationships. i hesitate to call it "long term", and won't ever be able to call it "permanent", but it seems like D and i have passed through some relationship humps over the last year and are comfortable enough with what it is now to not at least constantly worry about the crash-and-burn potential for ending. well, at least i'm more comfortable.

i don't ever doubt that what i'm doing is "right", or "good" - i don't think either of those words even apply, because of the inherent value judgement made by using those words. and i don't doubt that the relationship is positive for me. i hope it's positive for him - it's one thing i *do* assume.

where does the doubt live, then? i doubt my ability to keep up. i doubt my ability to not falter, and rather to succeed. i doubt that i will always be as valuable as i am.

my only exit possibility, if i ever felt that i needed it, is to simply stop obeying. and even then, my owner has the right to come collect me from my disobedience.

so what am i doubting? that he would?

i have no intention of playing that possibility out on purpose, i should be clear. but i'm caught up in the definition the slave register puts out regarding what slavery is, about the relationship being one in which you cannot remove yourself. i'm wandering around in the limbo of the fact that i do not want to remove myself, but if it is never proven, am i never a slave?

i know. it doesn't matter, really.

YKINOK

most of life is compartmentalizing. before or after. old or young. pretty or ugly. vanilla or kinky.

good or bad.

one of the inherent differences in western philosophy as opposed to eastern philosophy is the concept of opposite things having different values. things that are "good" have a high value, and things that are "bad" have a low value. eastern philosophy as i understand it doesn't necessarily make that valuation - it's more about understanding that opposites exist, and that one has no more value than the other.

in the last few weeks, i've written some things that have caused controversy. not surprisingly (to myself, and anyone who knows me personally) this was surprising to me. i come at issues and topics of discussion fairly neutrally, from an "eastern" perspective: both sides of the discussion are neither high- or low-value (since that's really only relative to each other) but being unaware of all the facets of the issue and/or ones' own self is the lower valued perspective to me.

okay, i'm getting to the kinky part ("finally," you're thinking.)

when i started playing publicly, and acknowledging more about myself and the life i wanted to lead, the community i was in had a term called "YKINOK": "Your Kink Is Not Okay". when people used this term, it was usually meant derogatorily, against someone who was making a value judgement when they had no leg to stand on. "calling the kettle black," kind of thing.

there are so many different ways of playing that don't work for me: puppy play, sensual eroticism, religious role play, mummification, scat play, incest role play. finding someone who likes (mostly) the same things i do is obviously high on my list - matching up sexual chemistry is pretty damned important to someone who's lifestyle is based on sexuality. i'm lucky in this regard - i've made zero compromises with my owner about what works and what doesn't (although that's a larger conversation), and i like to think the same is true for him.

your kink is just fine with me. and while this would, literarily speaking, be the place for me to say something like "so please be respectful of mine," i'm not going to say that. because you're right;

i don't care what you think.

pet peeve #2

maneuvering through the internet is like bumper cars. you're just zipping along nicely, not really with any destination in mind, once in a while gently bumping, backing up and going again, and then BLAM! sideways, and you're suddenly outta the car and hafta figure out how to get back in while not being run over completely.

i've learned a few things, small tiny things, that help me filter through to the folks i can somehow connect with:

1. if you refer to submission as a gift, we're not on the same page.
2. if your primary picture is of your genitals, i'm probably not sure where your head is at.
3. if you write in all caps, then you're too old for me to have much in common with.
4. if you write in sentences that include "u" for "you" and "r" for "are" you're too young for me.
5. if you feel the need to write a novel in your introduction, i'm probably reading it with a huge sense of enjoyment, and marvelling at the time you've got on your hands.
5. if you include physical motions in your writing like this:

:::smiles:::
:::smiles softly:::
:::rolls eyes:::

'nuf said.

all worked up

funny - i wonder if i have a horny cycle along with all the other cycles.

i read a friend's blog the other day that spoke volumes, and i haven't shaken the drowsy humid lust feeling since. makes me want to crawl and beg and all that stuff, but i'm too dreamy about it to get out of bed. a scheduled event today was one of the most emotionally difficult i've had to go through in a long while - perhaps the languor is just the counterbalance for the manicky panicky thing from this morning.

but it doesn't matter. nasty vicious porn is being designed in my head as we speak, and if the fates smile on me, sometime soon it'll come true.

i love my life the way it is, warts and all.

a new place

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a taste

my owner is a sex god. yes indeedy, he is. look what he gave me.

okay yeah i feel like one of those cheese-o-rama "subbies" warbling on and on about how wonderful Master is, but hell. my owner is wonderful.

(and i swear my boobs are not as big as they seem in this pic.)

wonderful. sex god. don't forget.

over the hill and through

i remember exactly when i realized how it felt to be owned. it's a graphic moment; there was a wash of something like i didn't want to be doing this, being violently moved back and forth while fucked on my living room carpet, my hands flailing around looking for purchase. my eyes rolling in my head and my teeth clacking from the force of it. i know i was wounded, both inside and out, and something broke slightly, as i felt the first prick of wet in my eye.

i tried to ignore it, because i knew what it was. i knew then that whatever defense i'd had, whatever walls i'd put up had cracked somewhere along the way and it was pointless to pretend i had any control left. the word "slave" echoed through my head with a voiceless sound, until it burst out.

funny, though, because i don't remember any cracks. i can read through my own writing and see them now, but at the time i didn't realize it had already happened.

i'm examining the words now, slave. property. owner. Master. thing. (no)thing. control. power. they're just words for other people to use, because really the only truth of it is what happens on the floor and the vicious things you whisper in my ear.

babygirl begins (for K)

the whispers followed her, a trail of smoke down the street. she stalked it off, unconsciously shaking her shoulders as she went. when she had turned the corner, no one could remember if she was tall or short, small or large; it was just her presence, and a scent that wasn't quite flowers that they remembered.

"i was never a little girl," she said, and she looked up at him through her eyelashes, thickened.

he paused. he touched her shoulder and her skin grew hot, and then cold. she couldn't look at him anymore, so her eyes aimed downwards at her knees, peeking out from the short skirt he told her to wear. his hand left her shoulder, and grasped her knee, so tightly she knew there would be violet marks later. it didn't feel - good.

"no," he said, pulling her chin up. "no, you never were before." her breath came hot and fast like she was choking, although she could clearly see one hand gripping her knee and his other one calmly resting on the bar. before she could take a new breath, it grabbed her chin and pulled her face to his, and again, she felt the tiny fingerprints starting to pool on her jawline.

"no. but you will be. my babygirl. fuckpuppet. whore." and his fingers let go of her jaw and inserted themselves into her mouth. her tongue lapped at them, her eyelids fluttered closed, and her knees parted. he took his fingers out and wiped them on her cheek.

"what do you say?"

the words formed themselves before she knew what she'd said.

"thank you daddy."

photo of tori amos as gothgirl, aka babygirl. K knows what picture i wanted to use instead.

a sorta fairy tale

i just figured out that Yaldah Tovah means "good girl".

be my wolf
be my black knight
i never wanted to be rescued
i'm just a wanderer in the forest
your little girl
is dirty and lost
all ready to be
broken and torn
are you watching?

image courtesy of jerricai on deviantart.com

and in addition....

a comment received on my other blog regarding my previous post, about my writing and reasons:

It seems that your blog has been your diary.
You tell us how you feel and what you are going through.
You also seem to want to communicate with D through your blog. Acceptance and love.
I do hope you find/achieve these.
It seems this is what you desire.


hi there - thanks for your comment.

It seems that your blog has been your diary.
eh, sorta. there's a *lot* that doesn't go in here, because i'm hyper aware that this is a public forum. my actual diary has even more personal stuff, if you can believe that. but that being said, i'm not ashamed of what i think and feel, so i don't have an issue writing in public about it. the things i don't share here are either a) so close to the core of luna that i can't share it without exposing something only my dominant sees, or b) would reveal something about someone else nonconsensually.


You also seem to want to communicate with D through your blog.
i do, sort of. part of my writing style is something of an open letter to my dominant. but there isn't anything i've written "to" him that he isn't already aware of. believe me, nothing gets posted here that doesn't have prior approval in some fashion. by sharing what i write to my dominant, i hope to give other folks a sense of what our relationship is like, and maybe give words to what they might be feeling themselves. a lot of it is universal, i think.


Acceptance and love....It seems this is what you desire.
hm. i find it really, really interesting that you've chosen those words, because those are the two things i'm ambivalent about the most. acceptance? not sure i need that from anyone except those closest to me, and more importantly, from myself. love - i've got that already, but i think you mean this in a different way. sure - we all want love. i'm just not yet sure what kind works best for me in addition to what i already have.

wow - i think i might repost this as a separate post...

thanks.

everyone's an angel

and a demon. you just never know who will see you as which.

She said, What do you want me to be? Do you want me to be her? Blond wig? Some puka shells and cutoffs. It's not my style but whatever.

I said, No, no. Gargoyles and demons. Succubus.

Kinky, she said.

I said, Get on my chest. Crouch on my chest. Like that painting. You know. The dream. That thing is on the woman's chest. Suck the life out of me.

She said, Oh, I get it. So you want me to punish you? You want me to call you a bad boy? Is that it? What did you do that was so bad, boy?

She was the furthest I could get from you. That's what I wanted.

- francesca lia block, "Wasteland"