She’s not the woman she was a year ago. The world crumbled beneath her and she’s done what she needed to survive. Where she is now dull and hollow she was once vibrant and full of life. You stole that away like a thief in the dark.
Now she looks for ways to feel anything outside of numb, but she is lost.
She tries to convince herself she’s bent not broken but she knows the truth inside.
Adrift she floats from one experience to another knowing that each is more destructive than the last, but at least here in the sandbox she can feel the grit between her toes.
She builds castles each day knowing that the tide will sweep them away. They aren’t real and neither is what she feels, It’s easier than real emotion though and she’s still hollow inside so when they call her a toy she pretends not to care.
She guards her heart but spreads her thighs desperate to prove that she isn’t the naive girl you made her while you fucked whores in her bed in between whispered words of devotion.
It’s all fake love but she soaks it in because if it weren’t for that she’d get nothing at all.
Can you share an experience with someone else while still maintaining your core relationship with your partner?
You desire to please them, want them to be happy and yet can you share them with another to bring them that happiness? Or is it simply too good to be true?
Humans at our core are animals just like any other species and by in large monogamy is a difficult ideal to uphold. After all we are genetically coded to spread our genes, but is it healthy to open your bed to another partner or even several?
What does the search for a potential play mate do to your partner? How do you navigate the mines and pitfalls of such a situation? Can you truly have your cake and eat it too? Or is it all too good to be true?
Dress a certain way. Talk a certain way. Behave a certain way and you’re deemed a good girl or a good time girl.
A lady in the street but a freak in the bed? However the old concept that good girls don’t is played out and tired. In 2019 why shouldn’t a woman be able to have her cake and eat it too?
Women are expected to fit into boxes though, we wear labels and if you’re unlucky enough to be branded with the dreaded scarlet letter it’s often something that sticks with you no matter what you do to shake it.
The reverse is also true. Don’t like sex? Or at least don’t advertise that you like sex? Then you’re frigid. Like sex too much and you’re a prude. Is it any wonder that a lot of women spend their lives unfulfilled and unsatisfied? They are too busy trying to be all things. Wife, Mother, Business Woman, Sex kitten.
Is it better to own your sexuality? To know your body and say this is what turns me on? In the age of #metoo and amid the abortion debates and what feels like an endless attack on women’s rights I would argue that it is better.
I would argue that it’s vital that all women know their worth don’t settle for less and be proud to live in your truth.
It’s the worst. Let me say it again THE WORST.
Picture a brick wall every time you try to put words on paper. My characters aren’t even talking to each other never mind talking to me. Someone said just write. Put your hands on the keyboard and just write, and I’ve tried oh man have I tried.
Let me tell you it isn’t for lack of ideas. I have one character ready to submit to her alpha and another ready for adventures in the sex club.
I’ve tried everything I can think of meditation, relaxation, writing on a schedule word association and nothing.
Now that’s not to say that I can’t write a provocative sex scene but how do you get to happily ever after when your focused on breathing and survival\?
How do you beat the brick wall?
She kneels, waiting for him. Waiting to give herself over to his desire. She longs for the way he’ll take charge. She craves the way he’ll touch her.
She doesn’t speak of what goes on behind closed doors. She knows if you saw her on her knees eager to please him you wouldn’t understand the peace it brings her. You would see the slut, the whore anxious to be used, but there is beauty in her submission a quiet strength.
Her will doesn’t cease to exist when she steps into this space. She merely yields it to him and trusts that he will keep it safe.
Her submission is a gift she has granted. It is hers and hers alone to give.
You can’t see the grace with which she kneels there and so, you will never understand the strength it takes to bend her will to his, to wait in patience, silence and anticipation. You will never know the joy that sings though her nerve endings at first contact when they begin.
I remember the taste of your lips on mine and the bite of your hold on me as I lay here in the dark.
You shaped me then. Did you know you’d left your mark? The way you tangled your hand in my hair and tugged is seared into my memory and years later I struggle to forget.
I still crave your touch like a fever in my blood, your tongue licking the salt of perspiration from my skin. I ache for the way you owned my body and made me burn.
I knew when I bought the train ticket that you would cancel.
Knew it in my bones, but it’s hard not to hope for something that consumes me.
You don’t belong to me, you never did but as I gasp and cry out your name that hardly seems to matter.
Is it something that makes you uncomfortable? The thought of someone seeing you naked. The thought of two men sharing an intimate embrace? Is it something considered wrong or dirty by society?
Maybe it’s something that invokes a thrill. Something that feels naughty or dark. Something you can’t look away from. It could be putting on a show for a lover not knowing if strangers are watching. Maybe you’re the voyeur watching the woman slowly taking off her clothes to entice her lover. Over time though things that were once considered taboo change. Is it only by exposure that these things become more acceptable?
It may be taboo, but it’s OK to fantasize about a stranger while your lover takes you. It’s OK to want to be bound helpless and unable to move forced to submit to someone more powerful than you.
Many people feel repressed and unable to accept how they really feel maybe they just want to be told It’s OK to want to walk the edge of what’s socially acceptable, to dip your toes in and test the waters.