Anthony LaPaglia

He is arrogant.

He makes decisions without thinking things through.

He has trust issues.

He bottles everything up.

But he is sexy as hell.

Call me crazy, but I have fallen in lust with that loose cannon, Jack Malone on Without a Trace.

Then again, I have always had feelings for those renegade like confident Men who just get shit done.

Hmmm I wonder if this One spanks?

Whisper

Grace made graphics today while she had some downtime at work, one for all three of us (Grace, Pixie, and myself). Grace has become so incredibly perceptive over the last year and a half, two years. Not only did she create this breath-taking graphic for me, but she also found a powerful song to match it. These lyrics made me feel vulnerable. . . exposed. . .

Whisper
Sung by A Fine Frenzy

Running the race
Like a mouse in a cage
Getting nowhere but I'm trying
Forging ahead
But I'm stuck in the bed
That I made so I'm lying

But if you keep real close
Yeah, you stay real close
I will reach you

I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me still

Eager to please,
Trying to be what they need
But I'm so very tired
I've stopped trying to find
Any peace in my mind
Because it tangles the wires

But if you keep real close
Yeah, you stay real close
I will reach you

I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me
Can you hear me still

The sound tires on my lips
To fade away into forgetting

I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me
Can you hear me

I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me
Can you hear me still

Lingering Scars

I am reading a book by Christine Feehan (I LOVE her!) and one of the characters just had this revelation that until she deals with her ‘issues’ in a healthy way, they will continue to take her off guard and come out of no where. But once a person has worked through the problems, the memories will be from a place of strength because the person is no longer slave to those memories. Instead of a victim, he or she becomes a survivor.

Like so many other people, I have had my trust violated in the past. Abusive relationships and non-consensual events happen every day; as much as I wish they didn’t, they do. As much as I would like to think that the abuser is also left with scars that . . . never seem to heal, it seems it is only the one who was abused. Even after the nightmares stop, the event becomes a sometimes thought in the background instead of constantly in the background of her mind, some form of disfigurement still remains. Especially with those who foolishly believe they have finally become free of it.

This girl’s physical scars healed a long time ago. The mental scars took a bit longer, but they too have been cured. Until this week, the girl had no idea her emotional wounds have gone untended. I always thought that it was natural to take a long time to develop trust, opening up emotionally is difficult but especially after everything in my past. I go to the extremes, either the person does not reach me at all or I become this emotionally raw nerve that cannot handle the stimulation.

On some level, I knew that intimacy is difficult for me . . . but now I realize that I am and have been completely emotionally disconnected from being physical with someone. Yes I have engaged with another person since the violations, but it doesn’t really mean much to me. It has been this animalistic hormonal need for release, not an act that is an expression of love respect and affection. Talking about it is like talking about the weather to me, it doesn’t touch or reflect anything about my personality, thoughts or feelings.

Perhaps being able to admit that this is an area I need to work on or become more conscious of is the first step towards emotional healing. What gives me comfort, though, is that in the book, Feehan’s character (who had the same problem) had a partner that understood. Then again, that is imaginary and this is real life. . . .

Love

To be brave is to love someone unconditionally,
without expecting anything in return.
To just give. That takes courage,
because we don't want to fall on our faces
or leave ourselves open to hurt.
~Madonna


Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, only with what you are expecting to give, which is everything.
~Katharine Hepburn

I really like both of these quotes, the message is close to my heart. I think, though, that in addition to loving someone else completely we must love ourselves unconditionally. Otherwise, how can we truly embrace who the other person is? I think that both of these are about very best friends or sisters, not just a Significant Other.

I am a Tree

Storms make trees take deeper roots. ~Dolly Parton.

The last forty-eight hours have been totally chaotic, emotionally draining, and hurt more than I ever thought possible.

I don’t know what in the hell is going on in anyone's mind, but everything in my world has been turned upside down. Yet the only way I can express my pain right now is through verbally explosive anger. Not at my family or anyone at work, but I think its my medication that has been causing me to be . . . mean. (Poor Spanker and Trucker are getting most of it right now.)

Grace took me aside today and listened, she has been amazingly mature about everything. She has been supportive and hasn’t given me her opinion or try to influence my thoughts one way or another. She did give me something to think about though. . . and it has helped a lot.

I am like a tree, my spirit/personality/heart is the trunk. The tree presented to the world and experiencing everything, good and bad.

Some people are my roots. Keeping me grounded, giving me nourishment. No matter what happens, these people are absolutely there to keep me safe.

Some people are the branches, extensions of myself, my thoughts, my needs, my interests. These people reflect my attention, desires, and where my focus is. Storms come and go, yet the branches flex and sway with the winds to remain intact. Sometimes, when the connection between trunk and branch weaken, the branch can break. . . if not removed from the tree eventually, the dead branch will smother/kill the tree.

Some people are the leaves and will be there for a season, before falling away. Not really connected to me in a way other than through my branches.

People are in your life for a reason or a season. Grace said that sometimes we need to wait and see how things go. . . that if it works out, then the person was a root after all. But if it falls apart completely, never to recover, then the person was a branch and. . . it was time. I understand where Grace is coming from, she is trying to help me remember to be patient yet observant.

Grace hugged me so tight, and said the very same thing I had been thinking “Elana, I know that Pixie is a root. Maybe you both just needs some time.”

And I cried. . . and I pray she is right.

With a broken heart. . . .

"We like to think that we are rational beings; humane, conscientious, civilized, thoughtful. But when things fall apart, even just a little, it becomes clear we are not better than animals. We have opposable thumbs, we think, we walk erect, we speak, we dream, but deep down we are still routing around in the primordial ooze; biting, clawing, scratching out an existence in the cold, dark world like the rest of the tree-toads and sloths."
~Greys Anatomy

Many people like to believe that we are better than animals, human beings capable of complicated thought, intoxicating desires, fierce anger, and extraordinary adventures. . . But once we are hurt, we all respond the same. Lashing out to everyone, anyone in our path, guarding ourselves with a blinding fierceness so that anyone without range is attacked and destroyed. Spewing venom and using whatever we can to assault the other, suddenly. . . this elegant thoughtful animal is after blood.

Tonight I got the call I never thought I would never get. I accept pixie’s choice to end our 8-year friendship. I don’t agree with her reasons but I will accept her decision. To put it in her words, "I will email you in a few days after I think and after that I want no more contact with you."

In the past, I have fought to get her back, chased her through emails and phone calls until she could call one day and it would all back to normal. If it had been anyone else, I would have ended things between that friend who hurt me so badly and I, or would have checked out of the friendship. But because it was pixie, I didn’t. I always believed that whatever happened was not intended to hurt me as badly as it did. I always gave her a chance to explain and believed her reasons, no matter how thoughtless they sounded or what little sense they made to me at that time. I knew, deep down, she wouldn't hurt me intentionally. Apparently she doesn’t have that level of faith in me.

I think the part that hurt the absolute most, was when pixie said “I didn’t think anything of it but my daughter spent several hours until I realized what you did to me.” I’ve been nothing but good to pixie and her children, and knowing pixie as I do, things were presented out of context to the daughter. . . who doesn’t understand the connection pixie and I share. . . shared. . . share?

I changed my blog address yesterday, so that isn’t related to what happened. But yes, I have removed her from my author's list. Yes I deleted the speed dials link to her contact information. Yes I will eventually take her number from my cell. . . but not because I am feeling guilty. . . because I miss her already. . . I’m trying so hard to respect her decision to end our friendship, and on some level. . . I’m not strong enough to do this later, so it has to be done now. . . . while I am still hurt from her attack.

I always thought she loved me unconditionally, as I love her, but it seems she found a way to push me away. I have always trusted her completely, yet she has no faith in me at all. And if this is what she truly wants. . . I will honor that request.

When Spark turns to Fire

How precious and beautiful, I thought, is a woman, how unsurprising that a vital man, without compromise, simply wishes to own such a fantastic, delicious creature, how unsurprising that he wishes in the full and glorious heat of his blood to overwhelm, devour, dominate, and master her.
~John Norman

I think this is part of the ultimate fairy tale, a Man with the fire to own and possess that matches a girl's blaze within to serve and obey. . .

Each look is kindling, each touch a spark, fanned by interest until it blazes into a wild fire of passion. Eventually the newness wears off and this amazing relationship between Master and slave becomes the routine life of John and Jane Doe. Real life interferes, urged on by overdue bills, odd job hours, prying relatives, car problems, and grocery shopping in the rain. I imagine the only way that relationships make it through all of the hectic distractions is to have the inner drive to succeed. The need to remain that level of power exchange, embracing the role and truly finding peace in one’s position.

As a woman, I have this unwavering longing to serve, be found pleasing, obey, and be malleable. Its like this fire deep in my heart that blazes uncontrollably, so that each thought is on Him and His wishes. For a Man to understand this, He must also burn with desire to control, guide, and own such a girl.

Happiness

This has always been a quote I hold close to my heart... I love the imagery of it.

Becoming Real

‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you…’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt… It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly... except to people who don’t understand.’

~Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Service isn't easy. Surrender isn't pretty. It means completely letting go of who you are, what you like, and what you want. His needs become your needs. His desires become your desires. His focus becomes your focus. You no longer think of your own limits, your wishes, or your own appearance because everything is about Him, centered around Him, and you are just a vessel for pleasing Him.

Slavery isn’t being prim and proper, or even whorish and wanton. Slavery is being simply a reflection of Him. So many things suggest that the slave is polite, made up prettily, and make this grand decision to submit. But that isn’t the truth, not in the least. True slavery occurs when she is lying at His feet, crying, begging, nose running, flesh on fire from His use, heart pounding in her ears, coughing from trying to breath, licking his boots. . . thanking Him for allowing her an opportunity just to serve Him. Having all concept of self stripped away, all images of her own vanity broken away from the core of who she is. . . simply becoming His.

As the Skin Horse explains, you have to go through the tough spots to become real, your focus is strictly on providing that service and not caring what becomes of you ‘hair rubbed off, eyes hanging loose, etc’. Once you are ‘real’, that is when you become truly beautiful. . . . to the One who owns you. And that’s what it is all about.

Prescription for Evil Deeds

It is not at all a fault that I am how I am. Yet, it is a flaw of the universe that I exist in. Am I wrong for longing to bring the wickedly naughty into submission of a passionate decadence? Am I wrong for firmly laying hold upon the neck of the subject and impaling her tonsils which thirst? Is it a fault if my every thought screams for flesh to be under my fingertips?

To do with as I wish, to mead into the perfect vessel filled with every evil desire. Is it prudent for me to lay heavy upon, lie up, and lay in, while laying all over, inside and releasing this glory that warms the very nerve endings through out this flesh that willingly gives itself to my evil deeds?

I am evil in deeds for each lash, the next stroke, the prying open of cavernous spaces, which beg not to be opened yet give to my continuous probing? Visions of oil leaking through and over skin so soft, so tight, so supple that marks from the crop seem out of place, bordering on wrong.

Evil me, to put this scrumptious flesh through so much pain for evil me, so much pleasure for evil me. So much for the scrumptious flesh, for nothing comes before my evil needs. If not this flesh then it shall be another, but none that has been known is as ripe, none is as fresh, none squeezes and holds tightly sending rivers of waves through the essence of man as this flesh has.

Evil me shall not relinquish this flesh to another, as it sucks, swallows, devours each inch into itself. Ever harder, ever faster, the flesh rages and moans, bucking wildly back and forth. Roaring, lasciviously withdrawing the power from evil me with each stroke, each thrust, each bead of sweat and oil that trails down the arched back towards the shoulders.

Evil flesh quivers as it is pushed and pulled and made to do my bidding. Flesh spread wide so wide, hands slippery as the sound and smell fill the air. Euphorically evil, strenuously intense my evil essence seemingly ready to leave my body and enter into this flesh, this deep dark orifice. I have been seduced, yet I was the seducer. It was not her yet my own evil thoughts and deeds that are the seductress.

I have been enchanted into believing it was my bidding that was being done. Senses leaving me, my mind strains to gain control yet, her flesh will not allow it. For her flesh is pounding me, and pounding me, and pounding me. Hands groping and grabbing yet unable to control the movement, because evil me wanted the oil cascading over her body, all over her body, inside her body to make it pliable to my evil need while gleaming in the light upon each thrust.

I am my own undoing, as she leans back sweat pouring off her brow, bridle in her mouth, whilst my moans betray me. Without thought my hands reach for her throat gripping, clenching, squeezing harder and harder mad at what has transpired, my chin resting upon the back of her wet neck, yet she knows that this is the very thing will spill this seed and finish my evil deed…

Author: Daddy Treacherous

Shared with elana by pixie

Topic Exercise

Hey sis....

We know I have been in this weird inquisitive mode lately so I wanna see what your thoughts are. Take your time and give it all you got....Choice which ever jumps out at you.....(love you sis) ~pixie

“A standing prick has no conscience.” - English Proverb

“What one has not experienced, one will never understand in print.” -Isadora Duncan

Driving Home

The way I see it, there is only so much room inside one’s head. The brain takes up most of it, and within that organ there is even less space. It is very necessary to decompress our stresses and frustrations. . . The more I allow myself to get lost in this act, the less room my problems will have.

A rush of excitement as the glass lowers, warm caress of the breeze tickles something deep inside. A smile starts in the stomach and giggles it’s way through the body.

Fingers curl and flex around the smooth circle as the rush of speed teases my form. Once soft locks whip and sting nose and neck as they dance within the wind.

Power pumps through my blood beneath the disco beat of headlights from behind. Radio belts a victorious melody while weaving amongst the others, not controlled by the lanes, as if acceleration taunts them all.

Fragrance of the gust invades my car, a hint of fresh asphalt, dusting of exhaust, and a big ol’ helping of 70mph. Quiet reflection beneath the concrete structure, deceiving calm of the lake below, pure power simply sleeps as we race above.

Magic flash of red draws a halt to speed demon’s path, crossing beneath it transform the competitor to a chug-a-lug that putters me all the way home. Glimpse of the girl in the mirror, teeth capture a lip sadly yet glint of excitement in her eyes, eager to drive again soon.

Domestic Discipline

I saw an episode of ‘Wife Swap’ where one of the families seemed to be based on domestic discipline. That family was horribly smothered by the Dad’s almost nazi like level of control. Yes I know that I need my partner to be in control, but not to the point of making the whole family miserable. Then again, I keep telling myself that they are showing one of the extremes... or is this pretty much the norm?

Don't get me wrong, I ache for that Person who will keep me within His discipline, giving me structure, boundaries, and guidance each day. Allowing me to focus on pleasing Him, being obedient, supportive, and treating Him with the utmost respect at all times.

Someone said it best: It is the roll of the dominant to help her become the submissive or slave she feels she was born to be. He can help guide her, and help her discover things about herself that she has yet to realize, and give her the acceptance she needs, but it is her job to take the steps. All he can do is try to make that path as easy for her as possible by providing a safe loving environment for her.

Dismemberment

I have a lot going on in my head lately, there are so many decisions that I have to make. . . and soon. There are some medical issues going on in regards to my fibromyalgia/lupus, a specialist feels that an unusual surgery may help things in the long run. Of course I am terrified of going under the knife for anything, but this procedure has honest to goodness risks. Even though the doctors believe it may help in the long run, it’s a greater risk in the beginning. If I actually survived through the surgery, the chances of infection is extremely high. Having the lupus/fibromyalgia combo, my body doesn’t fight off infections well. . . so that will be very tricky. If I make it through everything, then eventually I may see a chance in my pain levels.

There is another couple of things that make work, if done all together. Yes the chances of this are low, but I’d much rather give these new things a try than to make that much of a gamble. Its been a very difficult decision to make, and unfortunately my support system seems to have . . . had other things going on. I cannot and do not expect anyone to be at my beck-n-call, but it would have been nice to talk this thing out with someone. . . It just made me feel very alone, but. . . I am the only one who can go through it.

Modification or Mutilation?

How do we separate body modification from body mutilation?

The online encyclopedia defines each word as:

Mutilation or maiming is an act or physical injury that degrades the appearance or function of the (human) body, usually without causing death.

Body modification (or body alteration) is the permanent or semi-permanent deliberate altering of the human body for non-medical reasons, such as: sexual enhancement; a rite of passage; aesthetic reasons; denoting affiliation, trust and loyalty; religious reasons; mystical affiliations; shock value; and self-expression.

It seems to be if the act is done on purpose, it seems to be classified as body modification. If something happens is negative, then it is mutilation? I was hoping to find definitions of both that were not based on the perspective of someone else. It seems like it would be too easy for an act to ride the fence between both adjectives. For example, circumcision has been seen as both, new parents are wishing to have their son circumcised, and as mutilation (perhaps from an adult male who is not circumcised).

What about a surgical procedure that can have both positive and negative side effects? Something that could completely totally ultimately change my life if it worked... or kill me if it doesn't? Cound this be a form of genocide, since the procedure is focused on only one group of people? Hmm that may be a topic later on.

Dominance...

Dominance is not taking out the wall,
that’s what rapists do.
Domination is removing a brick or two and reaching inside,
and touching her in the heart.
So that she pulls the wall down herself,
and cedes dominion.

~Written by Kana, used with His permission.

Submission

Surrender to His control. . .

Obedience to His boundaries. . .

Yielding to His will. . .

Pleasure in His service. . .

Submitting isn’t just an act. . .

Submission is a state of mind.

~Author Unknown