Tag Archive: romance


[ This is perfect. Find me, My Knight. ~RynPhx ]

A dominant man’s preferences for his perfect Strong, Powerful and Intimidating Woman.

She’s a human being and therefore imperfect, but not to him. To him, she’s perfect!

She is:

  • The Most Beautiful with no rival.
  • The Most Revered for her beautiful personality.
  • The Most Loved by him, because of her loving ways.
  • The Most Worthy and Deserving of everything he has.
  • The Most Interesting and Fun.
  • The Smartest and Most Desired.
  • She’s the Most Considerate and Caring.

She isn’t new to the world and she’s found herself in more than one place wondering how the hell she got there, like everyone. The advantages she’s had in life already, have had limited advantages.

She is a dominant Lady, who has accomplished great things all on her own. Life has not been as kind to her as so many others presume. She does what she must, but she is her own person and is self-made. Her true self is known to very few people. The rest see her public persona.

She is extremely tough and resilient, but she is also much more feminine than some realize, including those closest to her. She doesn’t presume everyone understands her perfectly, but she rightfully expects certain people in her life to basically understand her, without her having to mention everything.

She remembers every preference and detail of those closest to her. She has every right to expect they do the same, especially with easy things.

The amount of consideration she shows is incomparable to anything he has ever experienced. It is impossible to overlook this. While part of why she is this way is to receive it herself, she should.

He is a very dominant man. Unlike others he does not follow certain traditional and invisible protocols. He believes there is much more to being a secure person than that. In his mind, scripting oneself is contradictory to truly being dominant.
He notices everything about her. A couple seconds in sight and he can see if her mood has changed by any indication of her posture, expressions or tone. He observes her in a natural way and not overbearing. She leaves the slightest hint and he gets it the first time, or he at least knows to ask more. She is so very important to him and his happiness hinges on hers. How can he be if she is not…

He is human, made mistakes and he is a man and knows there are many beautiful women in the world, but there is none like her. Those others are for other men to concern themselves with and all will be made keenly aware of this. He knows how lucky he is to be with her, he wants everyone to know. There is no awkwardness to show this to anyone. He will make sure she is the envy of all women. There is nothing any woman can do to take away any amount of his attention from his Princess. He will be cordial, but if he must, he will state that straight out so there is absolutely no confusion.

She will get everything from him he can provide her with – all of himself and all of his efforts. He knows she deserves it and will provide him with all she has. He has lots to give and wants to give his all. He never quits or becomes fatigued.

Life is imperfect and everyone makes mistakes. People argue, tussle and fuss. These are not deal breakers; these are part of normal life. They have those issues and overcome them every time in very positive ways. Each is very independent, but will depend on each other many times in life. Sometimes that comes with companionship and understanding alone, and no action. Other times it takes a lot of effort to help, but nothing is too much.

She is incredibly intelligent. She “gets” things before he ever does. She is very shrewd and can be very playful. She will use this extraordinary ability to tease, taunt and satisfy. It won’t always be that way for him at first, but eventually he’ll get it. When she has pleasure; so does he. Their connection provides for intense compersion. Despite allusions to the contrary, she does certain things to provoke him, for them both together. She reads him better than he can himself.

She’s a woman and she knows and feels certain things a certain way, he has lots more trouble with. Her sexuality profoundly affects him………..she’s a woman and she is the woman with the most sexual power over him. She need not raise her voice to affect him; she can just whisper or leave a hint of something. He may not know exactly what it is, but he knows it means something. His confusion worsens and the more it does; the more pleasure she has.

Everyone is vulnerable. It takes a lot of trust with another to make themselves so vulnerable to them. The strongest man says one thing, but he feels it, whether he attempts to deny it outright or just inside to himself as he picks up a bottle. His Princess has that power over him and can dominate with that. It matters not how dominant he is. It takes a lot of strength to admit and permit that. She’s the only one that can affect him this way. She’s the only woman he loves.

He will love to love her. He has needs to show it. He will, by remembering all of her preferences. He will be proud to exclaim those things to others, without fear of being perceived as less masculine. Only the insecure man feels such weakness as that.

When she’s away, he will watch the clock tick and when she comes back……

…She will be pampered like a Princess from the highest kingdom. He will take her to town and buy her every toy and goody she wants. He will court her years into their relationship, as if it was just beginning. He wants her to be treated better than any other. He wants to be the man with that opportunity and he will keep his promises.

She is human and imperfect and has lived a portion of her life already. She, like all people, will have frustrations and other emotional aspects of life she deals with. She may have a need for outlet, but she has no place for it, except with him, the one who understands her best. She may, in her sneaky smart ways, design situations to achieve that for herself and for him too. It won’t be obvious to him at first and she will enjoy every sadistic second of that, but not because she hates him, just the opposite.

She is the woman and sexually, they focus on her.

She may push that bar a little too far sometimes. She might try and take too much and revel in her wickedness, and in his face, however so softly and subtle she speaks. He will be beside himself. He will become very angry and will think things he never thought he would. He just won’t get it right away, amidst this “attack”.

He sees her smile and her aloofness and can’t make sense of it right away. Does she do this on purpose………eventually he thinks… Yes, of course she does, but that understanding makes it no easier at the moment. She pushes more and more. Why would she? He can’t understand yet. She knows full well why. She has him half mad. She also knows he would never react like this with anyone else and if another women pulled this; he would have left without a note. Now he can’t pull himself away.

His state of mind bears every emotion possible, plus intense arousal. He watches her writhe and moan in ecstasy. Her pleasure is his, but not this way is it?

She says things he can’t believe. He wonders if everything was an act until now. He feels embarrassed he ever told her anything so private about himself, but then he feels that is wrong. Back and forth he goes. He is so dominant. A little pretty lady has him tied in knots without laying a finger on him.

But why is she provoking him……..why not just do whatever it is she wants to do……..he fights within to maintain that thought to answer his own question.

When her time riding the top is done……..he has it figured……….she did all of it on purpose and he knows why, but he still can’t bring himself not to act………..he must have her and he will, just as he wants……………he’s dominating?

She knew the outcome 8 days ago, when she started acting “funny” and was always extra aroused.

She’s the woman…….the only woman that can provoke him this way. This is not an easy accomplishment. No one has ever had this affect on him. She is the only one he focuses on and she created a situation, where it seemed divisive, but was more connected than any other two people ever are.

The only lady that can do that is The Princess.
© A.A.C.T.E.

 

No Thank You: The Blue Balls Serenade

Call me a cunt, call me a whore
I just could not take one second more
Of the plodding, the pleading,
The groping, the gripes
While we kept weeding,
Kept doping our pipes
You’re good for nothing you unreasonable prick
And you can’t even keep any blood in your dick.

Cultivating Ego This Spring

I’ve taken to leaving the house looking a little nicer than I usually attempt, just to see what happens.
I have observed that people look at me more.
Once, I might have feared it was because they couldn’t look away from the train wreck that is my endearingly haphazard bohemian ostrich.

I am coming to realize however that indeed they look because they desire.
Either desire to have or to be.
I am a tall, shapely, raven haired, with porcelain skin and cherry lips. I darken my lashes and brighten my cheeks and braid my hair and I am transformed into an aloof, enigmatic, confident woman. I need not wear heels, or else they’d stare more than I am comfortable with. Already there is an element of intimidation that comes with my height.

Professional life rolls along, gaining snow and speed.
Honey Jay has returned, although remains in the wings.
I’m about ready to put out a want ad for a real sub, just to see what that’s all about.
I also seem to have acquired a new GGG, 2.0 if you will, incredibly swiftly after the exit of version one. I am on the fence about what and how it will work … Seeing as we are coworkers. And he’s older. And a Dom. Among other things. We’ll see. It is fun for the time being. So that’s what we focus on.

Self-Evaluation: The Winter Slogs On

I was cavalier in welcoming spring, such that I forgot to cover my heart chakra and look where it got me? My body fails me at the time my schedule cannot allow, and my heart tugs for someone equally busy and it is too soon for that kind of hope. 

I’m ready for an overhaul. I’m ready to leave these jobs that I’ve been experimenting with and to find one money maker that allows me to pursue my art in the meantime. I’m ready to let a few of these plates finish their spins and then pack them away in boxes. Good for me for saying yes, I will, and for staying open to the idea that other pursuits might be useful. I have tried it and now I know. The problem is whether I will remember I know as such the next time someone asks me to do whatever it is that is similar enough to what I’m doing now and hating; I am the number one culprit of “Maybe it will be better this time. Things are different now, after all.” I am a serial optimist, after all. 

Honey Jay seems to have disappeared. My other dancer, however, is interested in continuing our dalliances, and his suggestions of where we could go are enticing. The complication is that a new gentleman has entered the picture and I don’t know what to do. Let’s call him Gorgeous Gentle Giant or GGG (and for those of you who know Dan Savage, you will understand how else that acronym could be applied and I will happily tell you that he embodies that too) and guess what! He may or may not be a reader of this blog. Meh. If integrity is to be desired, then I suppose the secret sexcapades blog may be a good thing for him, or future honeys, to stay abreast of if so interested.

I hadn’t thought I’d be so ready to jump back on the relationship wagon, but I think that checking in with my notch number and having to reflect on all those experiences has jolted me back into alignment of what I’m looking for. 
It’s never changed, for the record, because it always was kindness and affection from interesting and dynamic individuals, but I have been suppressing an integral component in my defensive and healing phase and that is devotion. I want to pour all of this affection I have here, brimming at the edge of my fingertips and my cherry lips, into someone else. Let it course through his veins, protecting him and invigorating him and fueling him to be the best possible person he can be. Let him caress me and kiss me and care for me in whatever way I need, enough but no more than that. Someone with whom to pack survival packs with for an epic romantic adventure to … I don’t care! The mountains, the valley, the Europe, the city, the family farm, the tundra, the bush. Come with me. Hold my hand. Help me up and I will kiss your eyelids as you fall asleep in my arms. 

In the meantime,
I’m struggling to breathe without a wheeze,
to maintain my aim when the weapons I’m being handed are made out of rubber,
to find that men are kind and not just looking for a naked grind.
To remember what I’m good at,
to distill out what is innocuous,
to render myself spent but not weary,
busy but not frantic,
and valued but not idolized. 

I’ve been pondering Self-Care v Motivation a lot lately, most recently as I dragged a razor blade against shins for the first time in weeks. Do I shave for me or for the idea of him later? The answer is both, and then of course the feminist in me asks is that okay? And you know something? I think the answer is yes and here is why:
I already know he finds me beautiful and desirable with healthy active hair follicles. 
While I enjoy the phenomenon of being smooth, trim, and together, frequently there are other items that take precedence like sleep, work, Lionel Vincent, Ron Swanson, or Baby Beluga. But the anticipation of being touched, with skin as soft as a baby’s, is exciting and I am happy (especially in this sluggish snotty slump I’m in) to indulge in self-care, especially if I know it will add an extra oomph to my delight in being delighted in. It gets to happen for me because it could be for him because I would like to be in such a way should he decide to shuffle his stuff to be in my life. And even if he doesn’t, I’m still one sexy beast. So there. 

I Do Declare Devotion Has Happened Upon Me

I have a sub. 
Remember that time that I wasn’t going to be tied to anyone? … In spirit?

Well … in a way, I’m not. This is not a vanilla relationship. There is no obligation, nor any necessity for compromise or any of the other things I have been conditioned to dish out.
That doesn’t mean that there aren’t rules. Instead, service and aftercare. Devotion and care. Good intentions and healing and support. Aren’t these the things I’ve been seeking? Yes.

He keeps being confused at the amount of dominance I allow him, however. And does things like ask if I’m sure I’m as much of a Domme-in-training as I claim to be to which I respond that I’m definitely a switch, but that the crux of it comes down to who says what gets to happen where. I’ve just posed to him, in fact: My sub serves by delivering what I ask for does he not? Who’s to say it can’t be that I ask for domination, on occasion, in the same way I might ask for adoration, worship, or massage? A blow job can be because all I want is to suck the shit out of a beautiful cock or maybe I want to reward you for excellent service? It’s all about the flavor and intent.

I was told on a Fet date once that the biggest giveaway to my being a Domme was that I won’t take cum in my mouth.

I think these sorts of statements are simultaneously fascinating and arbitrary.

He also is older than I. This is manifesting in very particular ways such as being far more burdened, both in life and spirit. It means far more experienced and educated, in play and profession. It also means far more defined in himself and his tendencies which include fretting, stubbornness, and fierce protective instinct. This is the spark to ignite the fuel that courses through his veins of nurturing and care. Which make our time together like a voracious fire of warmth, worship, and wonder. Oh, how I wonder about this inexplicable excitement, giddyness even, at the attention. I have never been such a coquette and yet it flows naturally; I am thrilled to reward and reciprocate because the care came like the slam of warmth upon your frigid cheeks upon walking within the cozy proximity to the campfire. I am enveloped. 

I feel him watch me; he peruses my body with his fingers and he peruses my psyche with his assumptions. Many of which are correct. And that was what was shocking. You paid that much attention to me? To see beyond the layer of the obvious I share with the rest of the world into the far more lush, jagged, seductive place of my self?

Do you know what I anticipate? I would not be surprised if he became the first to make me cum all on his own. Such a feat that would be; I say that without an inkling of the facetious. 

And yet, at this very moment, I am gchatting (of all things) with PM, Problème Maestro, who is making some very logical arguments to the way that this hostile, hurtful, and primarily silent time has unfolded. The thing is though that now I am armed with the wider horizon to be able to say (perhaps I even will, later!); 

“What I would like from you, PM, man to whom I gave an important, significant moment often signified by colloquialisms known as VCard: is the freedom to get what I need. Because you cannot, or maybe just do not, give me what I want or desire. And yet I do still desire you. And I am tired of pushing. So you may give what you wish to give. And if that’s enough, then that will be enough. But in the event that it is not, I will be able to go elsewhere. It means that I no longer initiate. You will come to me, if you want to be with me. The others do. You do not need to know about them, although I have to tell you my sub could show you a thing or two. Maybe even about massage; I think if you felt what he can do if you allow yourself to be vulnerable through pain breathing the whole way and trusting that the person has your back and there actually is a reason to be pushed so hard, so intensely, so intently. And maybe you still won’t care. 
I want you to be open to open. Because probably there are other women you’d like to be with and you can know I’m trying on the idea of Pad Thai v Chilli. If I make the best fucking Pad Thai that you love and one day you wake up and want Chilli … somewhere else might have the best chilli. And that can be okay. Because lord oh lord do I prefer his Crepes sometimes. Mmm. So do what you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do, and if what we need to do is each other then wonderful!”

I don’t think PM is ready for that yet, which means I’m sure as hell not ready to let him back in. He will earn it with opening and understanding, but I imagine that he does not want them. And that is his choice. That will be when I change my mind. 

And yet, I am testing him to see if it is happening. Or at least on its way? Because the silence has been stark. And I have built up a lot of anger. Against all the times of discontent, heartache, betrayal, and indifference. Indifference will not do. Passiveness will not do. I am inquiring in a cyberfrantic manner of why he hasn’t asked me anything if he was wondering anything or if he just is so over it and ambivalent that he doesn’t wonder anymore. 

RynPx: ‘ are you sad or are you over it? are we fighting right now? do you feel resented? I can’t tell if you care or not or are projecting this resentment on me or would be interested in knowing if it’s true or not or why you haven’t just asked me what you wanted to know or if you just don’t care enough to want to know anything? ‘

Manic, but articulate even so. If you are paying attention. 
Pay attention to me. 
I will answer and then some. 
This goes for anyone. 
I am easily flattered,
accessibly charming and charm-able,
and believe in positive reinforcement and reward
and gifts if I believe they will be appreciated
because I am worth something
I forgot the currency for a little while and how it fits within the wider market
but I’m the catch of the year
there’s just one small spark that will either
make you fun or make you run
and that is 
I know it. 
Je suis délicieuse et dangereuse. 

 

Spitting is not something I’m usually inclined to do. Saliva is horrifying. 
And yet. That is how I’m feeling about you. 

But how can it be that, after all of the understanding I’ve come to… Your birthday came and I let down my guard and had to pour a little bit of the good me back into you? Why did I do it?
It was because I didn’t need anything back. A birthday greeting of the true form is something that you give, without expecting anything in return because it is for that person’s day. (This is, of course, assuming that you’re not the manipulative, obligatory, calculating kind that only gives gifts in accordance to those you receive from.) I was able to remember only, vividly, on that birthday the other birthdays and cakes and sweaters and … tried to convey it.   
And he responded with daggers.
I am hurt. 
Alas.
He received my gift as tepid and insincere. Did he find me out?
No. Because truly deeply I wanted to hand him back a little something in a reminder of what we used to share in intimacy and affection. It was there, sometime. Some time ago. 
But no. 
So then he prodded and poked and I called him a martyr and he threw it back in my fact rhetorically. 

PM:
I didn’t ask you how you were because i (rightly) didnt expect a response.

Maybe that’s being a martyr, but so is not talking to me.

Ray:

Of course you didn’t get a response bc how am I to respond to such blatant self pity? Christ. Well calculated. You really are a fortune teller. 

I’m not talking to you bc you make me feel shitty. So when you stop doing that (like dumping your ‘no one will love me or even bone me on vdayyy’ moaning on me) then I’ll be happy to know you. A bientot.

 

No response.
I hope one never comes. 

Last Night, At The Sea

Last night I dreamed we went to the shore
Everyone we know, and then a few more
Some folks of old, some folks of new
All I know is that I wasn’t with you

Lovers spurned attended with new fucks in tow
Which then brought up rows from long ago
There you sat on the grass, with arm candy to show
With someone else, someone I do not know 

As you both walked away and up the hill
I dove into the ocean, expecting a chill
The sea of my youth, save me from my ill
Let me swim off my pain, I am a slave to your will

But my friends, they made sure to follow me
Bearing the salt and the soak of the sea
They yelped and hollered, with shock and glee,
But mostly to make sure I knew if I needed them, there they’d be 

Cherokee Proverb, I Don’t Necessarily Disagree…

“A woman’s highest calling is to lead a man to his soul,
so as to unite him with Source. 
A man’s highest calling is to protect woman,
so she is free to walk the earth unharmed. “

– Cherokee Proverb

…I wish, however, to remove the gender and have it be a Soul Lover’s Highest Calling. 

my heart won’t go on

my heart won’t go on

i must not have been listening
when they said it was so hard
except that from the beginning
i’ve let down my guard

to each i open my entire heart
brimming full of love potential
but i’ve been wondering from the start
if it’s because you’ve been too influential

who said you could still hold on so tight
when i am not the one that you hold at night
it wouldn’t matter much if at least you’d admit
you love me most rather than trying to forget (‘forgit’)
how much you adore me and how much i’m right

 

 

 

What I Want Even Not I Know

Let it be known that PM is once again a free agent. Little did we know that all those tumultuous feelings would be felt and then shed so shortly after. And so what did we do? We had cyber sex. Twice. Am I full of poor life choices? You bet I am. Do I feel great? You bet I do. Not only did I cum twice, but we were kind and flirty and teasing and then I worked out and felt great about myself.

Yeah, I’m still in love with him. And I’m a little worried if simply bc there is a young man who has invited me to the X[]M (a shwanky hotel indeed, paid for by his company) this Monday night for ‘Netflix, Candlelight, whipped cream, and a steamy bath.’ Those are his words, verbatim. To which I balked and said you are seducing me, sir. And he didn’t deny it. Did I mention this man is an artistic, positive, well hung, less hairy version of PM? I’ve been typed and I’m living it out well. But as long as I’m clear, I’m in the clear right?

I’ve joined fetlife. My mother fears for my future life of sin on the burlesque stage, when really her concern should be the actual naked pictures of myself on the Internet. Not like she’ll ever know. *fingers crossed*

I was reviewing my belt notches earlier today. Two months ago, I had one. Now I have eleven. That’s pretty good. But what I realized in the notching was that of course I’m good at sex. I was good with only one notch. I was good before that notch and then when it happened that hunch was affirmed. So go me and now I get to do it where it feels good and you had better believe having his newly shorn virtual face grinning at me with glee as I lollygag about on my bed, trim and toned and naked as a jay bird, nothing he hasn’t seen before, but certainly what he wants to be holding… That feels good.

The problem is I’ve never stopped wanting him. The problem is I don’t only want him. The problem will be solved either when I get him the way I want him or when I do not want him anymore. Until then, I will take what I can have of him and of everyone else until I am able to figure out what, of what I have, is what I want.