Mad Crying


Mad crying.

It is exactly how I felt last night. This morning I feel an indifferent sort of mad, but yesterday, it was pretty much mad crying.

I had gotten to work a bit early yesterday, so I was able to skip out sooner than usual and get to the indoor track to do my stuff. I was in a great mood; smiling at everyone as I did my laps, smiling at the kids I could see on the basketball court, smiling bigger when people smiled back at me because I was smiling at everyone. It was ‘that’ kind of happy day.  I was on the verge of looking  happy foolish, not caring at all if I did.

I had been asked earlier that day via email if I was available to go on an unexpected road trip to a neighboring city  and do an overnight with a play partner I’ve dabbled with on and off over the past 9 or so years. He is a good guy, and I am always happy to hear from him. He has a wonderfully and dastardly kinky mind, and has used it beautifully on me in the past.  But I have also long known he is one of those tortured souls who will forever feel terrible guilt for being kinky, and while his cock often do lots of his short term thinking, his conscious has always has the upper hand. In other words,  the ratio of cancellation-to-play has always been a steady 20:1.

After about a three year hiatus where he disappeared, explaining to me that he was finally putting aside kink for good, I ran into him again on the internet. He was back, he was thrilled to find me and we quickly and excitedly concluded that playing again would be good for both of us. We could jump right in where we left off, which was on the edge of some deeper, darker play….just the way I wanted it.

He is dominant. No chance of switching with this guy. I thoroughly like bottoming to him. Not submitting, because those kinds of bones never grew in my body, but I am….and can be…..good at bottoming, especially if it is for the short term. I very much enjoy bottoming to him, for him. He is wicked with his ideas, and his heart is huge. Exactly the ‘one-two’ kind of punch I love.

Except that at the last minute, he bailed. While I was alternately walking/running the track after work and before our date, I got the text that said, “Sorry, something came up”.  In an instant, all of my smiling vanished. All the good joy I was feeling disappeared. I’m still mad about it now, actually. Damn me for getting excited. I should have known better. That’s one of the big parts that upset me. I let myself get hopeful.  I knew the risk with this guy, I said yes, and then I got upset for being disappointed. I was running the track and felt that tightening in my throat. I was mad. And I was close to crying. Because really….I was being blown off. Again. By a dominant. It’s always the bottom part of me that gets the blow off. Not usually my dominant side. Or if my dominant side does get blown off, I seem okay with it. At least not vulnerable. But that tiny part of me that likes to let someone else be the boss? Yep, that is the side that takes the hit. And not the good kind of hit, either.

The good news is that it reminds me that I am forever grateful to have john. He is still the best top ever for me when the occasional use of him in that way gets called into action. He knows what I like and how I like it and he still knows how to push  my happy buttons.  I  know that all I have to do is ask, and he’ll do it. Or, I can order him. That could be fun…..instruct him to be the exact service top I want now and again. But I only like to play that particular card with him very selectively. It’s not one I want to overuse. Or misuse.

So, there it stands. And….I will share the good that comes of out of this self pittying story: It makes me a better dominant having experiences like this. I really think I am more careful with people because I have been blown off a lot by dominants. I do not want to resemble the bad ones… all.  I still don’t get it 100 % right (thinking about “P” right now….), but I do try pretty hard to be considerate and caring. I do not do to others what I would not want done to me….that is how I try and play it. Results do vary on occasion.

But motherfucker……..being blown off like that sucks. I still feel mad. In truth, when I pull apart the emotions of what I am feeling (I am risk aware, after all…..), it is rejection. And who likes that, really?? I am being rejected by a dominant that I really like who continues to pull me in and that drop me cold at the 11th hour. No wonder some submissives get bratty sometimes. I think they are really expressing rejection at some level. And ya know what…? I totally get it.

I know that people get blown off all the time. I know that I get to do more things in a month sometimes than a lot of people will ever get to do in a lifetime. I am not unaware of that. But I also expect a higher rate of return because I show up. I don’t sit on my couch, surfing the net, watching the world go by outside my window. I am there, I am in the game and always have been.  I have taken steady, calculated, articulate chances since I started this entire course. I take pride in being a good person who tries to do things the right way. I am a sadist with integrity and heart. That is how I’d label myself.

It felt good to email him a ‘fuck you’ email last night. I was not kind when I wrote him. I pretty much had a dominants version of a temper tantrum on paper. And I don’t care. It felt good to write it. “Here. Take that, asshole!”.  But I was able to admit that I am as mad as I am because I actually like him a lot. I know he is good. And I know he liked me back. I think in a way he represents what I fear most in myself in some way….the paralyzing inability to feel as though you can’t do something, mostly because you haven’t even tried. I feel very solid in my kink, but perhaps less so in other areas of my life.

Not a great post, I know. But a truthful one. Thank goodness most of my days are good. And that I have two wonderful boys who I can’t say enough good things about. I am lucky. I wanted an itch scratched, and it continues to elude me. So be it.

I was excited. And then I wasn’t. But I will be better tomorrow.

The end.





Date with a stranger


So, yes….back to the story of my whirlwind adventure…..

I do enjoy Collarspace from time to time. It is one of those sites where I will not log in for many months, but then I do, and it’s entertaining and fresh and fruitful. And then it gets old, and I disappear from it again.

It is nearly always the way someone writes that gets and holds my attention. This one in particular that squeezed my brain had no picture attached to it, had no descending order of likes and dislikes, and really didn’t have much except a couple of well written paragraphs that pulled at all my pink bits. Don’t forget that I fell head over heels for john because of how he engaged my mind. He figured out early on how to play with my biggest sex organ, and he played vvvvery well.

This guy wasn’t quiet like that (you never do get over your first, do you??), but it was reminiscent of that, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

I have had my itches to bottom satisfied by john. I do not always feel the need to search outside of that, but I do every once in a while. I am at risk often for wanting to ‘top from the bottom’. I am very prone to that sort of thing. If I do search for a playful top, they can really only get and hold my attention if they take no shit from me. I can’t tell you how many times I have tried to bottom and ended up topping midway through. I don’t generally mind that….but it’s a pretty cool thing when someone starts on top and stays on top.

Many tantalizing emails went back and forth between this stranger and me. And not tantalizing in a way that would make anyone else notice, probably, but they worked very well for my particular set of likes. I was hooked. All of my senses were alive and in overdrive…..including my sense of intuition.

A seed got planted about a month ago. It basically said, “Hey. I have to travel to Philly for a night. Take the train down to Boston, hop in my car, spend the night with me in a hotel, I’ll do terrible things to you, and then you can head back to Maine the next day. What do you think?”

What do I think, he asks?? Meaning, you want me to…..

Hop in a car with a stranger?

Travel 7 states away where I don’t know anyone?

Spent a night, and we haven’t even met for coffee?

Terrible things??? What sort of terrible things?? Define ‘terrible’. Please.

Of course I said yes.

<insert big smile here…..>

I am NOT advocating this. This is not typically how I behave. If a friend came to me and said, “Hey, this is what I am thinking of doing with a stranger….”, I would grab them by the shoulders, shake hard, and say, “Are you nuts??!!!  You can’t do that!!!!” slapslapslap…..

But the point it, I did it. I am resisting about writing about all of the behind the scenes precautions I took, the conversations I had with john, the wrestling back and forth, the emails that implored “Please don’t be an ax murderer”, the fact that he never did actually say that he wasn’t (I’m smiling), and all that factored in. I am not going to write about that, because I would be doing it for the wrong reasons. I don’t want anyone to think I am careless beyond reason. I am not. In the end, I figured that my chances of getting killed by a car as I drove in my home town or crossed a street were about as high as me being killed by a man who has a great career and kids in college.

The fact that he stopped and bought rope and a knife with me standing by his side only confirmed this for me.


So, away I went. I hopped on board, bought the ticket, took the ride, ended up in Boston, stood facing the sun at the terminal, and waited for the stranger to come pick me up.

John had me on friend finder; he could see exactly where I was. He could see the buildings all around me. He knew I was nervous too. I could feel john watching me, and watching out for me. We had our time and tested precautions in place. I was ready. Nervous as hell, but ready.

I was missing john as I stood waiting. The sun felt good on my face. It felt familiar, warm. It felt good to be communicating with john. That too felt familiar and warm.

And then both were gone. My concentration in my writing broke and the sun went away, replaced by a sudden and looming shadow.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, he just appeared…stranger danger man. He stood before me, upon me so quickly, I didn’t even see him coming. I couldn’t even really focus quickly. I stared up at him, saw the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and heard the question, “Chloe??” and that was it….our game of thrones had begun.

to be continued……….






When I’m on fire…..

I want to make a few comments on john’s post from yesterday, “Switching“.

For me, I thought it was hot as hell. I know that’s a very personal observation, and I am being purely subjective, vs objective.

It’s personal because when I took my first, terrifying, tentative steps into the world of BDSM, John was there. He was, and has been, my primary partner and my most trusted everything. I learned my entire platform of learning from him.

I started as a submissive, or, at least, I thought I was submissive. All of my fantasies….the ones that turned me on, the ones I’d reach under the covers and touch myself to when when I was a teenager…. all had me as the heroine in distress, where I was rescued, held captive, and loving tortured for the rest of my happy days. For years and years (like, 25!), those were my fantasies.

Then, I met John, and he was the exact embodiment of those fantasies, and I swooned.

I still swoon over this guy, and it’s been a decade.

We learned very quickly that there is nothing submissive about my personality. I simply can’t hack being submissive and being told what to do for more than about 9 minutes. But bottoming? I didn’t know there was a difference, but once I learned the difference between bottoming and submitting, I clearly knew that I was a dominant who liked to bottom on occasion.

Really….the absolute best of both worlds, if you ask me.

As I learned and saw more within the BDSM world, my fantasies became deeper and darker.  They became darker because I included things in them I didn’t even knew existed. Who knew you could actually apply  lots of fire to a human body and have it be sexy and amazing??  I didn’t know that at age 20 or even 25. I didn’t know until I did fire play….one of the nicest things ever! I’ve tried so many things, things I never, ever thought I would try.

I am also very content knowing that some things are much better left in fantasy than in reality but for the most part, so much of it is simply amazing!

So it goes.

But John was always the exact cornerstone of my fantasy base. When I met him, I lost 40 pounds because I forgot to eat. I am not kidding, at all. That is how much I was captivated.

So, about John’s post from yesterday, his dominant side: I know it is there. I know how turned on I get when I get to see it. It’s the best aphrodisiac in the world for me.

But reading it also make me realize something that was hard for me to admit. Sad, even.

What hit me when I read his post ‘Switching’ was that I am simply not brave enough to handle his deepest, sadistic side.

I really don’t think I will get to be that girl, because I just don’t think I can hack it. I don’t think I could handle what I know he could mete.



These are particularly deep, kinky places that we are talking about. They are not for everyone. I don’t know that they are for me, even.

I have  been in professional dungeons more times than I can remember, and I have seen everything I can think of seeing, including what I would call “the most extreme” while still remaining SSC (safe, sane, consensual). I really don’t know what John means when he talks about the deepest aspects of his sadism. I haven’t asked, because I don’t actually want to know. Because what if we did decide I could handle it, or try handling it? Then I’d know what to expect, and I don’t want to know those things, I don’t want to remember them. If I am able to have that experience with him, then I want it to be brand new to me.

Knowing that John loves me as he does, it makes my head tingle knowing that we can do these things to one another. How deeply, deeply sexy to create loving torture on the one we care about so much??  John could, if we played out that scene, do terrible things to me, but defining ‘terrible’ is in the eye of the beholder.

And if that were happen, I would want to be sexy about it. I would want to be tied and gagged and immobilized. I would want to be retrained from screaming and running away. Because, I have struggled to handle when he has been particularly hard on me, and with snot running down my face, I have tried to get up and run. Not very sexy at all. I dislike the mental image of that. In my mind, I am strong and stoic and sexy as I endure. In reality, I am a blubbering, sloppy, begging mess. Ugh. Very Unsexy to me.

But I also know that this  messy image is a turn on for others. Again, all in the eye of the beholder.

I just happen to be my own beholder, that’s all.

I don’t have to decide now. But we have not really talked about this level, this side, of his kink in years. Until, that is, he posted about it yesterday. And I smile, knowing we still have so many stones unturned, so many places we can still visit if we so choose.

When I get an itch to bottom, I will crave  him pull my hair, rough me up, spank my ass, boss me around, and fuck me hard and it is enough.  He can intimidate and scare me with his strictness, which I love (ok, it makes me verrry wet). He is a very strong guy, and he can literally do what he wants with me, if he is allowed to. It completely satisfies. And really, I can handle an evening of it, and the itch is scratched, and I am done. It is so incredibly interesting to me, because when nights like this happen, I can literally feel my dominant side (we call her Madame) standing off to the side, tapping her foot, getting impatient to return. I love that she is standing there, as though the bottom of me were getting its tires changes, and Madame is eager to hit the road.

I get that bottom fix, those tires changed, and I am done. Those bags are packed, and I am out the door, as quickly as I came.

Bottoming to me is like vacationing…..nice place to visit a couple of times a year, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

I love living in the land I do: where this female rules the roost, where I am queen of the hill, and where that complex, loving, submissive, loyal, sexy boy john awaits me. That is where I live.

It’s been nice posting about this, thinking about it, and getting roughed up a little bit by John as of late. Such a lovely vacation. Back to reality.

Reality is, it’s 9am, and my boy john is still sleeping, and I am itching to wake him.

<Insert evil smile here>

Good and painful and chocolatey

Yesterday was a good day. For the very large part, it was fantastic.
It had really great moments in it, ones that I didn’t expect to be that good, and ones that made me really happy.

And, it had in it too a few minutes that hurt. I almost cried. I didn’t, but almost.

Date number one was very successful. I am not going to say too, too much in this posting. Not yet, anyway. But suffice it to say, it was really good. I liked him immediately. He had an openness, a happiness, an ease about him and a smile that I found very comfortable to be around. We only had a short 45 minutes to meet because I was teaching a class all day, and didn’t get to take much of a break during the day, but I did scoot out during lunch and meet with him.

He is cute! “Cute” doesn’t matter if you’re an asshole, but this guy did not seem to have any of those qualities. He just seemed…..I dunno…..excited. Curious. Willing to give it a shot.

Our schedules meld perfectly. We live ridiculously close to one another. He does not appear to have any baggage, any bullshit, any reservations that lead me to believe that this does not have potential. I know it’s only the very first meeting, but it would feel a whole lot different if my first impression was shaky and guarded. It was anything but.

Of course, we did not get to talk specifics, and I really wanted to.

I honestly don’t know how he’ll feel about the sexy and  exciting details of what I’m looking for. I did outline those things pretty specifically in my ad, so he must have an idea, but talking about them is another thing all together.

I wonder how he’ll react when he learns that during lunch, I had a hard desire to know what his face looks like when being spanked. That I wanted to see him on his knees, looking up at me, as I looked down upon him, smiling at my new toy.

I wondered what he’ll think when he knows how my imagination is so very amped up right now. I thought of our cute little winter nest here in Maine, me doing some writing while the two are naked in the kitchen, cooking, preparing a cocktail, working together in nothing but flesh and collars. I imagine looking across the room at such a thing, and feeling very delighted.

It’s only the very beginning, yes. And anything could happen, I know. I absolutely need to have a deeper, more detailed conversation. I need to start slowly, thoughtfully and carefully. ‘Cause really… only get one chance to make a first impression.

Date one did an excellent job at this. I am delighted. It really couldn’t have gone any better, for the 45 minute date that it was.

I have plans to meet person number 2 tonight. I am curious to see how it goes. And then there is the lovely sounding stephi on friday afternoon. I think this is plenty. Meeting these fine people is just the beginning. What to do with a new toy such as this is totally different.

The painful part of my day?? I’m not even sure I want to write about it. But I will. It’s ridiculous and I’m slightly embarrassed about it, but here it goes.

Last night I was alone, john was out with co-workers, I had my pool league later in the evening. I stopped at home for an hour or so. I needed to do something for dinner. I didn’t want to deal. I didn’t want to go out by myself. So…..I did what any idiot would do…..I finished off the last two inches of the Ben and Jerry’s container, and then had a coke.

What. The. Fuck.

Who does that? Ice cream and soda for dinner?? Jeeze…..I have not done that in I don’t know how long. It was awful. As soon as I did it, I thought, “What the hell, Chloe….that’s disgusting”. But I did it. And then I took a 15 minute power nap before pool.


I was feeling a little tuggy at john. Sometimes I just crave him to take me. So, I texted him and mentioned my crappy choice for dinner. I specifically said, “The last bit of Ben and Jerry’s and a coke are not good dinner choices, and not healthy. I hereby order you to sternly lecture me against such choices”. john is very good at being stern when he wants to be, and I know this. And kinda of like it.

Ok, I like it a lot sometimes, to be honest.

Anyway, that request somehow turned into an over the knee spanking that he administered to me. And then a paddling. Damn, I hate paddles. But, he was fast, not terribly hard, and he caressed my ass cheeks very sweetly with each stroke. I liked it. But I didn’t like so much was taking off my”Mistress” hat, if even for 3o minutes of switchy fun. I am still figuring out how to maintain the small switchy part of our relationship, because I don’t feel submissive in any way.

Sometimes I just want him to take me. End of story.

For a finite period of time, I just want to be overcome by him.

And then it needs to be over. I want and need my power pack after that.

This morning I gazed at his beautifully sleeping form, and immediately secured his collar back around his throat. Right where it belongs. I smiled. I love that my ass still feels a tiny bit warm, and it’s a great itch that I get to get scratched. I love that I can still switch at times with him, because it makes me happy. I am glad that we can do this, and that I can ask for it when I want it. This is good.

I think I might go reward myself with a spoonful of chocolate cake.

Chocolate cake is a good breakfast choice, isn’t it??


Consequences and Truth

I know what I am getting myself into. I have a rough idea.

I know it is exciting.

I know it can hurt.

I know it can be thrilling.

And dangerous.

And deeply arousing.

I know what it means to hear the low rumblings of a throaty growl.

I know I can slay, or be slain.

I know I can choose both.

Or neither.

I own the control.

It’s the moment I cannot control.


Consequence: I have not allowed my boy any sexual clemency in nearly a month. I have teased him, taunted him, used him, played with him, hurt him, grabbed at him, squeezed him, aroused him, stroked him, fucked him, fucked with him, and slapped at him, all without any sexual release.

A month is not a long time. He has been denied for far greater periods of time than 25 days. He has been locked in chastity for longer than this, with very little touching or teasing or torturing.

But there is something about this period of time. Twenty five days. Long enough to make him very, very hungry, but not long enough where his sex goes into a sort of dormancy. The golden age of desire. It’s a danger zone. For him. For me, even. Passion seems to go to new heights, knuckles turn whiter, the throbbing is more intense. Something seems to build within him and grows stronger as he becomes sexually depraved and starved.

There is a consequence to this sort of teasing. It is as though some animal-like tendency awakes within him, and it’s an animal that is hard to control. I can sense it before it takes over. It is a critical time. I can either slay the emerging beast in its tracks, putting a stop to its narrowed resolve, or, I can take my chances with it.

I know the consequences of those chances. I’ve taken them before.

Truth: The truth is, I like taking that chance. Not all the time, for there are times when I will stop that beast in its tracks, putting an immediate end to its advancement. But I don’t do this all the time. Not even half the time. The beast is calculated and aloof. A lone hunter who will almost always return from hence he came, satisfied and satiated, slipping back into the dark only to return when hunger consumes him.

I enjoy being devoured at times. If I consent to it, there is no turning back. My consumption will be complete, and the intensity of unspeakable acts will leave me without voice, unable to order a command of retreat.

This, I know.

This, I understand.

This, I enjoy.

This, I allow.


At times.


Tonight may be one of those times.




Every once in a while, Chloe gets a feeling that she wants my other persona to come in, give her a good and thorough fucking and then leave. But, like Riker stepping down from the Pagh, I don’t leave easily. I’m not doing it to make it hard on Chloe. I’m not doing it to be an imp in any way. I am doing it because I feel that she needs to claim her submissive back.

light switch

Switch on? or off?

She knows where the collar is. She knows the words I like to hear. She knows the ways and words that will capture me back to her as he submissive partner, her slave. Sure, I know, if I’m saying that it takes that much effort, then I’m not really a slave. Well, maybe. Kink your own kink, as it were.

But I like her to take command back. And we’ve been a little bit in flux since the move at the end of August and I’m looking forward to the changes we expect to have as we’ve moved under a different roof. I suppose I’m just waiting for the demand.