Reset Password
If you've forgotten your password, you can enter your email address below. An email will then be sent with a link to set up a new password.
Cancel
Reset Link Sent
If the email is registered with our site, you will receive an email with instructions to reset your password. Password reset link sent to:
Check your email and enter the confirmation code:
Don't see the email?
  • Resend Confirmation Link
  • Start Over
Close
If you have any questions, please contact Customer Service
Jo's Fantasy Blog
 
Read the sticky first. This blog contains fantasies and adventures, rendered in the best detail I can manage. I hope you enjoy the stories and if there's a fantasy you'd like me to portray I can do my very best. Being a submissive I get just as much pleasure from helping others live out their fantasies as I do from living out my own. I'm an open and talkative person so feel free to talk to me. Even if we don't match that doesn't mean we can't communicate and have a good time. As long as you can laugh... the world will be your friend.
Keywords | Title View | Refer to a Friend |
My Blog... hmmm...
Posted:Apr 3, 2009 6:59 am
Last Updated:Jun 7, 2011 2:50 pm
16697 Views

I always thought Blog was a funny word. It's like a diary, I mean you write your feelings and opinions in it. But then other people can read it. It's like the most basic voyuerism. So if a blog is for Voyuerism then lets atleast make it interesting. I'm going to start by posting fantasies. And as I get a little braver and see a few more people live out a few of my fantasies then they'll become adventures. But I won't tell you when one becomes the other. Good luck guessing. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

I have to encourage you to look around, it seems I've gotten several pages worth of rants and stories now, so please feel more than free to go through the other pages, there are several good stories and a few good rants, if you can follow them.

J
2 Comments
It's really gonna happen
Posted:May 31, 2011 3:54 pm
Last Updated:Oct 13, 2014 12:16 am
14804 Views
I have pulled off the epic
5 Comments
Chapter 16
Posted:Jan 30, 2011 10:08 am
Last Updated:Jul 13, 2011 9:00 pm
14590 Views

I was beginning to get feeling back in my toes and fingers, the fire of healing fading to be replaced by the burning of hunger once again in the limbs that were healed, both fires equally unbearable. I could smell that wonderful smell again. The scent of blood, now that I knew what it was, both repulsed and intrigued me. Different people smelled different ways. Like different entrees at a great feast. Each person had a bouquet all their own. The person dragging me had a bitter scent, but it wasn’t unpleasant. They dropped me against some hard surface. I thought it might have been a wagon wheel, it had spindles beneath my back, but it was cold and felt like metal. Someone grabbed my broken leg and jerked it straight with a sickening snap. What would have been a scream came out as a loud hiss through my sundered throat. The ankle was quickly clamped to the side of whatever I had been dropped on. I began to squirm, thrashing as much as I could with my unresponsive limbs.
Pain roared like wild fire through my ravaged body. The three fires nearly consumed my sanity. The rib bones that had broken through my chest when I hit the ground were bending themselves like snakes, seeking their broken halves. My neck had nearly been cut in two. Mischi’s sword had stuck in the bone of my vertebrae, it was too dull to cut through bone, but all the tiny minutiae in between had been severed and crushed to destruction. Veins and vessels and muscle had given way under his sword, and now they burned with the fires of hell to knit themselves back together. My other leg was jerked straight, followed by each arm. The hands that griped me were strong, and weathered, aged with time. Beyond that and the strong scent of their bitter blood I had no idea who had me now.
My mind shrieked at my body, willing it to move. I could hear whispering in my brain, murmurs of want and desire. The bitter smell filled my nose and made that burning center that was my core plead for a taste, the bitterness was becoming more welcoming, like cinnamon or cloves, bitter and yet flavorful. A soft gurgle sounded from my opened throat. Whatever I was chained to began to move, I was being dragged. I could no longer hear the sounds of battle, the ring of steel on steel and the cries of the dying faded into the night sound of owls and crickets.
More smells began to fill my nose. I wasn’t sure if the smells were coming from real items or if they were the ethereal smells of people. I could smell cheese and meat, burlap and leather. The smell of animals invaded my senses, and somehow even that made my mouth water, their blood scented with earth and hay. I heard the groan of metal and wood as my platform was raised and loaded. I wasn’t sure the purpose of whoever had me. If they had meant to kill me then surely Michi would have done the job when he was attempting to cut my head off. I heard whispers, just outside my range of hearing. I assumed that I had been strapped to a board or wheel of some kind and then loaded into the back of a wagon. My destination and what was to become of me unknown. I mourned the last night’s events. I was damned. I had lost my love, my family, and my life in one fell swoop. I was a danger to my people, to all people. A sob left my throat as a gurgle as the wounds slid shut.
My mind wandered to the terrified face of my father, his acceptance, his reaching for me. I was forgiven for things I did not wish to do. The look on Mischi’s face spoke of no such forgiveness. He would hate me for the rest of his days. I knew this and I deserved it. My heart screamed in agony as I lived the pain I knew he must feel. I had taken the life of his love. Part of me knew that in that moment I had lost my own love. Setrel baffled me now. Was he vampire as I was or something different?
When he was outside the Lord’s hall earlier this night, it was like a transformation took place. His limp was gone, his rage like nothing I had ever seen. Being in this place full of monsters had tainted him somehow. From the moment I had had that vision it was like a demon had been unleashed in his soul. The look on his face when he ripped his father’s head from his shoulders chilled me even now. There was so much death, so much evil in this place. It seeped into the pours of the people. Had I truly damned myself so long ago in that far away churchyard? Perhaps the curse was Setrel’s to bear and I had merely gotten in the way. Now I longed for death. I was evil, alone and tainted. The hunger burned in my heart and demanded blood.
As my body mended it burned through the blood I had already consumed, the reconstruction process slowed as it ran out of the fuel it needed to change my broken body into a new, fresh killing machine. Tears of blood pooled in my eyes and traveled in crimson rivers down my cheeks. This was hell and I had no hope of salvation. As my throat sealed it’s wounds shut the whimpers of my sobbing escaped my throat. My words weren’t sensible, I didn’t even know if anyone could hear them. I cried out in vain for my father, for my mother, for Setrel. No one came.
There in the darkness under a tarp in the back of a wagon, I prayed for death to take me. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep mid sob. It was the same time that the sun breached the horizon.
I knew the instant the sun sank behind the western mountains. My eyes opened, still buried beneath the rough canvas that had helped to hide me from the sun. My body burned with hunger, I felt like I was in the middle of a bonfire. My body wanted to twist in on itself. The broken bones no longer protruded through the skin of my chest. Sounds of movement and voice filled my ears, and scents assaulted my nose. It was like being chained to the wall at a fine banquet all the wonderful smells of fine food and you could not taste.
I could feel my body trying to consume it’s self, the hunger in my veins consuming my flesh and withering it. The speed that the fire ripped through my body was beyond any pain anyone could ever feel.

Through a throat still half open I screamed. The sound echoed louder than I would have thought possible, and silence fell beyond my canvas prison. The sound of my own voice startled me, and I sobbed. Footsteps approached and the canvas was ripped from my face. I screamed again, the dim firelight burned like a thousand suns. It was brighter than anything I’d ever seen, and what was more, without the canvas covering my face, the smells of the people assaulted me even harder.
I let my hair hang over my face, and instantly regretted looking down. The feeling that my body was eating it’self was no lie. In the process of healing it had burned more blood than I had consumed. I looked starved like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. I was a skeleton with skin stretched over bone. My breasts hung like limp sacks of wasted flesh. My legs turned at impossible angles and my ribs stood at attention, each one accounted for. Tears coursed down my cheeks and little drips of red like paint stained my skin, and then absorbed.
My mind was in danger of cracking, I was too absorbed with the light, the pain, the vision of myself in my deathlike state to notice when they pulled me from the back of the wagon and stood me up before the entire caravan. I had the strength but not the will to raise my head. I had become some kind of grotesque side show attraction.

I had been beautiful, I had been a princess in my own right, and now…

I screamed my terror to the moon. That bright full moon had watched in silence as I had died at the hands of a monster. That hateful ball of light that had watched me kill in a stupor of hunger and said nothing. I thrashed at my bindings, hearing the frightened murmurs and whispers that echoed my own terror, I could not free myself. My starved frantic mind remembered a passage from my youth. Something a priest had spoken over the funeral rites of a that had died of starvation. My lips moved and began to speak and silence fell.
“O God, thou art my God. Early will I seek thee: my soul THIRSTETH for thee….” My voice growled out of my ruined throat, angry boot steps approached, but I continued. “My flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is…” The slap that echoed across my face silenced the prayer and nearly snapped my neck. I fell silent and by sheer will forced my eyes to focus on the man who had struck me. Mischi glared at me in livid silence. The purple hue of skin was unhealthy as if all his blood had reached the surface and longed to come out. Oh, how I longed for it to come out. An inhuman snarl left my lips and I continued the passage as I stared him down. I moved to the part of the passage about vengeance.

“But those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. They shall fall by the sword…” Mischi swore and struck me again, he skinned his knuckles on my cheek bone. My own flesh came away and left the bone exposed. It healed nearly as quickly as it happened, aided by the blood from Mischi’s knuckles. The hunger burned ever brighter as it tasted a sip of sweet nectar. I fell silent, brooding on the small knowledge I had just learned. Mischi glared at me for a few more seconds and then he turned to, what I assumed were, his people. As he spoke of the evils this abomination, I can only assume he meant me, I turned my head and brushed my cheek against my shoulder. It no longer stung from his blow but I saw what I wanted to see, no blood stained my shoulder. I smiled softly as I turned my face to the ground, I had felt no bone against my withered flesh. The hunger snarled through me like demon wolves racing a forest path. I wasn’t dead yet.

I glanced up at Mischi as he stalked between me and his caravan. He was preaching speaking of how I would be an example, how he would show everyone man woman and the evil that existed. I idly noted that even my hair had withered, it looked like old lace brittle and frail has if it might break off and fall away. I blew a breath to knock it from my face, my wrists twisting in their bonds, the bones grinding together painfully.

The chains around my wrist pinched my paper thin skin and tore at it. My mind was hazy with hunger, but I was not going to die this way.

My thoughts ran red with the blood I longed to spill. Setrel’s face loomed in my mind and I could not suppress the cat like growl that boiled in my ruined throat.

The red haze cleared and I caught Mischi’s glare. I knew what I would do.

I parted my cracked brittle lips and croaked, “Let he who…” I gasped, “who is without” I forced air into my lungs.

“Sin,” I hissed, hiding my grin behind the fall of my hair as he blustered forward already pulling back his fist as I finished the passage.

“Cast the first stone.”

His fist flew and instead of cringing from it as he had expected me to I leaned into the blow, his fist grazed past my cheek again and landed a blow in the steel contraption that held me. I turned my head and bared my fangs and sank them deep into his throbbing forearm.

I inhaled his blood, like sweet ambrosia I feasted upon it taking his strength and for a moment he filled my brain. His thoughts, his feelings, his memories warred with my own until I wasn’t sure if I was Mischi or Liliana. I felt rage at all vampires, at the bloodsucking demon that had stolen my beloved wife, within hours after I had felt her touch and tasted her flesh. When her dew still anointed my length, and her breath was fresh on my cheek.
I felt his pure terror as I fed, rather than tempering my hunger it increased it. I longed to curl myself around him and feed until I absorbed him into myself. The terrified screams of the caravan barely reached my ears over the high tempo staccato of his failing heart, as the blood coursed through me, I felt myself swelling and my wrists pulled at the chains that bound me. With an inhuman shriek of twisting metal my arms came around the slumping body of Mischi. His warriors moved in to save their leader but the twisted wreckage of their metal wheel was wrapped around the two of us like a cocoon.

It was like it had been before, my eyes were blind to the moment. I was somewhere in the past, in a past that was not my own, reliving the memories of another person as if I had lived them myself. I remember the pain of an arm I never broke. I felt the odd sensation of a male erection. I felt the rage of paying a handsome price for a well bred bride, and then having her stolen from me on my wedding night by a demon. A demon so beautiful I was angry that she was not mine.

I was both disgusted and repulsed by the sensations that traveled through me. His greed and his hate and his inhumanity, it turned my stomach and made me want to vomit up the life I had just stolen. This was a true monster. This vile twisted thing that looked like a man was more of a villain than I could ever be. Through his own eyes I saw him kill, for no reason greater than jealousy. I threw him from me as far as I could with in the shell of steel that kept his men at bay. I screamed as fire burned through me. His blood coursed through my withered muscles and damaged flesh. The life I stole from his blood knit me back together in a firestorm of pain and agony.

The memories flashed through my brain in pure horror. This was a man who accused many of being a vampire, knowing they were not. Placing false accusations so that he could take what was not his. I screamed in pure terror as I relived the of a young girl, her father’s blood still fresh on my hands. I had accused him of being a vampire and cut off his head and ordered my caravan to destroy his home and family for harboring him. He had not been a vampire. But his was beautiful, and she would not give me the time of day. As my stomach churned as Mischi’s glee washed over me. He had secretly relished in her screams, the sight of the bloody hand prints over her face. His words echoed through my lips, the sounds of spears on steel died away, Mischi’s voice echoing in the night made everyone back away in shock and terror. “That’s right, taste the blood of your father on your lips.” His words and his grunting, wheezing breath hissed from between my lips, my hips thrusting against his now lifeless corpse, as I repeated what he had said and done. “You shouldn’t have turned me away, you bitch. How does it feel to know I’ll win anyway?” I barked out a laugh in Mischi’s rasping snarling hate filled voice, my own mind numb with terror and screaming.

I trailed my tongue over his cooling cheek placing a kiss on his open sightless eye, in echo of his actions in murder. “I told you what would happen.” Each word was punctuated with a thrust, in the back of my mind I could hear the girls sobs, slowly the turned to gasping, choking, as his hands circled her neck.

I shuddered violently willing this torture to end. My own hands circled the neck of his corpse, squeezing with a force that he never possessed in life, I snapped the head from his shoulders and cast it away from me. The memories began to fade and my eyes were again my own. I gagged, but the blood I had consumed was already far from my stomach flowing into my limbs and giving them life and strength undying.

The memory of death fresh in my mind, I heard another laughter not my own. Echoing in the back of my mind as the girls death rattle had. A snarl curled my lip as the fading memory turned it’s head and smiled over it’s shoulder at another man. This man watched, his manhood in his hand as I ravaged the girl and choked the life from her. Even though she was dead beneath me, as I moved he came forward. The fading memory spared me from what I knew would come next. He was coming for his turn.

I blinked violently, fighting the dry heaves that shook my frame. I pried my wrists and ankles from the metal shell. The men stood outside, I could see them through the spindles, they looked from one to the next, uncertain if Mischi had some how defeated me within our tiny steel cage. My eyes focused, there to my right was the same vile man from the vision. He was aroused by the memory, the voice, the words. He alone in this crowd knew where they came from and what they meant.

I snarled and it turned to a steady growl as I threw myself against the steel, ripping through it in one violent motion. I pounced upon the sick twisted soul with my fangs withdrawn. I had been learning quickly. If I tasted him, I would taste his memories and I already knew enough of his memory to know that he needed to die. I shoved my long taloned fingers deep through his breast plate and gripped his lung, pulling it forward. Like a blood eagle, when it was free of the muscles of his chest, the lung began to inflate like a balloon, larger and larger until it burst, spraying blood over him, me, and the stunned few that stayed to watch.

I snarled and dropped the gasping man to the ground. Echoing memories of wrongs done fed my fury as I hunted the members of Mischi’s caravan. In the darkness, on that night, I became a demon. I feasted on their blood. The , the innocent, I let them run. My stalking sense of death claimed those of evil heart and cruel intent.
0 Comments
It's too lonely
Posted:Jan 20, 2011 11:40 am
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2011 9:11 pm
14269 Views

(song lyrics)

This bed seems alone
Since I came back home
I know that it's quiet
But this house is a tomb

The are tucked in tight
Down for another night
and that's when
the lone-ly sets in

Sometimes I miss you
Sometimes I love you
Sometimes I wish
I could turn back time

Because it's just too lonely
Here in this big bed
Just a cold spot
on your side of the frame

I remember the anger
I remember the heart ache
I remember the time
I needed you most

Sometimes I miss you
Sometimes I love you
Sometimes I wish I
could turn back time

Because it's just too lonely
Here in this big bed
Just a cold spot on
your side of the frame

We all move on and
Find a new heart light
but sometimes I wonder
what might have been

A on my hip
and home full of happy
a dream of a new life
with love on my side

Sometimes I miss you
Sometimes I love you
Sometimes I wish I
could turn back time

Because it's just too lonely
Here in this big bed
Just a cold spot on
your side of the frame

But here on my couch
The cushions they snuggle
and sometimes I forget
that your even gone...
0 Comments
Ye Olde Faire
Posted:Jan 10, 2011 10:09 pm
Last Updated:Mar 28, 2024 5:57 pm
14377 Views

Women in the middle ages walked around in a mile of fabric, come heat or snow, or rainy day. The dress probably weighed more than the armor their gallant knights wore. Or atleast that was how I felt about it after wandering around this Renassaince Fair for the past three hours. The bodice was lovely, a deep royal blue with gold embroidery and tiny hand stitched fleurs. 48. I knew there were 48 of them, I stitched every one of them by hand over the past 6 months. I didn't know how to use a sewing machine and I didn't really want to learn. Atleast the skirt had been simple. The long juiliet sleeves on my chamise tickled my wrists and the back of my hands. My sister had pulled my hair up high onto my head until I had screamed for mercy and slowly wove little pearlesque beads into the curls. I sighed, the things we women did to be beautiful.

I really just wanted to grumble and pull the corset stays out of my hips but I had to admit, I looked good. There was so much to see and do. From the craft tables to the shops, the food the entertainment... I was looking forward to that. I had paid extra to sit in the "king's box" to watch the jousting. It sounded like so much fun. I stopped by the blacksmith's shop and admired some of the hand crafted weapons. I knew for a fact that the blacksmith of this shop had made each of these himself, in the oldfashioned way. Pumping a billows and twisting hot metal. My eyes strayed across a beautiful twisted dagger.

Several layers of silver had been twisted together to make the handle and at the end, buried at the top of the hilt, was an absolutely perfect piece of onyx, it positively glittered in the inconsistant light of the forge. I trailed my hand over the hilt feeling it's weight, it was light but sturdy and the edge was sharp. It shouldn't have been. Weapons like these were supposed to be decorative only, It may have an edge on it to start with, but it would lose it if you tried to use it. This one wasn't made that way, the slope of the blade was too smooth, the angle to shallow for it to lose it's blade. And it had a beutifully crafter leather sheath. I found a price tag and I had to bit down on my lips to keep from swearing. It was nearly 6 months rent. I sighed softly and wandered back out into the blinding sun.

I hadn't been inside long, but it was long enough to temporarily blide me when I saw the sun again, I nearly collided with a large steelplated chest within a few steps. The knight caught me by my upper arms to keep me from falling. He blustered a moment and I looked up at him, my eyes wide and an apology on my lips. He stared down at me a moment, his potential rant about airheads dying on his lips. "My lady, you should be more careful, I would hate to see any harm come to a beauty such as you..." He caught my chin in between his fore-finger and thumb. My lashes feel over my eyes and I could feel heat rising up from my chest to taint my cheeks scarlet. He towered over me, He had to have been 6'3" at the very least, putting him nearly a foot taller than me.

He wouldn't release my chin and I was forced to look up and meet his gaze. "Such a haunting shade of amber, these are eyes that could slay a man" He seemed mesmerized by my eyes and the look was so intense I had to drop my lashes again. "The are just a simple shade of brown, Sir Knight You can find my eyes on any maid" He gave my chin a gentle shake so that I would look at him again and when I did, his nose was nearly touching mine and his lips were so close to mine it made me tremble. His voice had a treble that made my knees quake and threaten to drop me when he said, "I'd much rather that they be on me, Lady...If you look at every man the way you're looking at me now, I think I may have a hundred or more foes to fight for your hand." I longed to lean in another inch and press my lips to his, and I felt him dip a little closer to my lips when someone called his name.

He swore softly and leaned back a bit, still far too close for me to relaxe or for me to trust my knees. He trailed his fingers over my blush tainted cheek, they were firm and calloused and made my heart skip a beat. "Are you coming to the joust?" I nodded slowly, swallowing to find my voice, "I'll be in the kings box...." He smiled slowly, "A Lady as beautiful as you SHOULD be in the royal court, and a dress as lovely as that, I'll have no trouble finding you." He slowly slid his finger tips from my cheek and stepped away, turning and following the boy that had called to him. My knees shook and it took me a moment to trust myself to take a step. I found my way to a stall and got a drink of water.

Damn I felt like a school girl, I must be out of my mind responding like that to some random guy. I think this damn corset was affecting the way I breathed and making me dizzy... or ditzy... hell it might be both. I had a little time to kill and I wandered the stalls, seriously considering turning around and walking back to my car, joust be damned. I knew he'd be there and a guy like that, he'd probably wiggle his way into the seat next to me. He didn't seem like the type to be told no.

I sighed, I wasn't going to miss this, lord only knew when the next time I would catch a fair would be. The trumpeteers sounded the start of the joust. I sighed and lifted my skirts to take my place in the box. I made my way up and seated myself in my seat a few places down from the King. it was a great view and the seat was comfortable. I was glad and I didn't see my dark knight anywhere so I settled into my seat with a small sigh of relief. My Brother and sister in law took their seats next to me and I was about to tell my SIL about the knight when the damn trumpets sounded again and the first knights round out before the king to pay their respects before they took their places.

There was some speech they each gave about fealty and honor to the king and then they were supposed to turn and go to their respective ends up the arena, but the one closest to me moved his forward and stopped directly infront of me. I looked up from my seat to the top of the , and beneath the helm who grinned down at me but my very own "Sir Knight" I felt a blush creep over my cheeks and I knew, before he even said it, what he was going to do. "My Fair Lady, would you do me the honor of giving me your token, something that says I fight for your honor?" The deep crimson flush had reached all the way to the tip of my head as EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THE BOX including the king, turned and looked at me.

My eyes were wide as saucers and I looked at my SIL, her eyes were like mine but she had this goofy grin on her face like oooooooo JoJo what did you do. He wasn't moving and everyone was watching so I stood up and took off the simple cross I wore around my neck, I held it out to him and as best I could replied "Dear Sir Knight, I pray you take this favor, and that it bring you good fortune." I even kissed the necklace before I gave it to him, He was half laughing because I was really glaring daggers at him for doing this to me. He leaned forward and I slipped the necklace around his neck, He breathed in my ear. "I'll want more than your bauble around my neck before the day is done, Fair Lady." He half purred and I stammered as he spurred his down to his end of the field.

I tried not to look at anyone as I returned to my seat. My SIL was yammering in my ear asking me what that was all about. But I was too busy watching him. His was a powerful charger, stamping and chomping on it's bit, my heart was already pounding from his actions and his words and now as the flag dropped and the men charged my hear leapt into my throat as charger and charger plowed forward long lances stretched out before them seeming suddenly deadly. I nearly screamed when I heard the scream of twisting metal and saw the lance shatter against his sheild. But he fared better than his opponent, and his lance hit true, it's force catching the other man's shield and dragging him backwards off his saddle. His opponent lay still on the ground and two pages hurried out to help him up and take him to the the tents.

My "Champion" strutted the field and bowed to the King before he did the same for me. He nearly melted me to the chair with that look. He went to change out his shield and lance while the next competitor got on his . I watched him take my necklace and infront of the crowd, much to their amusement he kissed the cross exactly as I had, in a strange sort of way I felt his lips press to mine and I blushed again. A boy dressed as a page made his way to me and handed me a program. Scribbled on the inside, right next to my knight's picture was a hotel room number. I was staying at the same hotel. I had the page wait a minute.

I knew that since he was with a travelling group he was probably sharing a room and had asked for it to himself that night. I had the page wait long enough so i could scribble back. I could see my knight watching me closely. I handed the page the program, and sent him back. My knight looked very unhappy. He'd perk up a bit, when he saw that I'd marked out his room number and put myown. It was a good thing my Brother had asked we get seperate rooms so he could spend some time alone with his wife. It gave me a little time to get some time myself.

The little page handed him the flyer and he quickly read what I'd wrote, a large grin broke out on his face, only to be hidden by his visor a moment later. I glanced sideways at my SIL she was gawking at me like I'd lost my mind.

This was just one of those days, where you didn't waste a missed oppurtunity.
0 Comments
A Submissive Woman
Posted:Jan 10, 2011 9:11 pm
Last Updated:Mar 15, 2011 7:07 am
14635 Views

I had someone comment on my tattoo today. It was someone from one of my social sites and they happened to catch site of the tattoo on my left wrist. For those of you who didn't spot it or if you did, didn't know what it is. The stylized letter K in the middle of my wrist is a symbol from a series of books by a man named John Norman. This stylized letter k stands for the word kajira which is roughly translated to mean "slave girl". Traditionally this mark is "branded" into a girl's left outer thigh when she becomes "owned" I put it on my wrist because i wanted it to be visible(at the time) and I wanted it kind of as a flag to like minded people.

I spent several years now studying "Gorean". There is an entire sub-culture of BDSM practitioners who folow a varying degree of Gorean. If you tried to be Gorean like it is in the books, it wouldn't work and someone would be dead or arrested, it's fiction, it doesn't translate 100% into modern life. This whole thing also causes an issue between "traditional" BDSM and "Goreans" BDSM hates to be associated with Gor and vice verse, but it helps to get my point across.

Anywho. It got me thinking. While I'm still kind of a goto on questions about how things were done in the books, I've kind of shied away from the whole concept in the past year or so. Part of it is because I don't have a Dom/Master. I had someone who wished to be, but we soon developed some trust issues in the relationship. You CAN NOT have a BDSM or Gorean relationship of anykind with someone you DO NOT trust 100%. It kinda faded into more of a kinky past time then a perspetive on our relationship. I still know all the quirky little ceremonies, and the proper diction and Gorean has specific positions you are supposed to sit in(lay in) for certain situations, it's gotta lot of little rules and such. I know how to be, but I'm not what I was.

A Dom, who happens to be Gorean noticed my tattoo and commented on it, and also voiced an interest. He doesn't live to far from here, and I had to give myself pause here. Being with a real Dom/Master has kind of been one of my biggest fantasies for a very long time and now that it's presented it's self as a possibility I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it.

It's that kind of apprehensive, jittery, wow someone's interested kinda feeling. Point blank, I don't date. I've met all the guys I've seen (there aren't that many) either at work, or at a repetative social gathering like a club. I really hate the whole dating thing, especially if it's someone you just met, don't know that well. I have a horrible tendency to ramble, and I really don't want to cross that line into annoying. *sigh* Dating, Mating, and potential keepables all suck. I'm sooooooo out of place lol
1 comment
Hazards of Personality
Posted:Jan 3, 2011 9:28 pm
Last Updated:Jan 7, 2011 9:55 am
14449 Views

Anyone that's met me or even talked to me on here, knows that I'm fairly friendly and definately personable. Problem is that right now it seems to be a bit of a problem. I started a new job, I'm working as a bartender and there's a gentleman that has become infatuated with me. He keeps asking for my number, has made a point of stopping in several time to chat. I've been friendly, sat down and had a drink with him when I got off shift. I haven't given him my number. I told him I'd rather not right now. He still asks.

After I left the other day he kept asking the other bartender to get my number from the phone tree in the managers office. He hasn't been overly pushy and he is a nice guy. But I'm just not in a real sociable state right now. I've thought about dating but I just can't seem to really WANT to. I keep coming up with excuses and the thought of being with someone just doesn't make me happy. It's not like I'm even seeing someone for a "hookup".

I'm getting to where I'm kind of dreading seeing him. It's not that he's doing anything really wrong. He's just persistant, and I like him a little. But I don't want to date anyone right now. I really don't like to date and the situation of the past year just makes me not want to even more.
0 Comments
Trimming Down
Posted:Jan 1, 2011 2:49 am
Last Updated:May 11, 2011 4:01 pm
15115 Views
Added a new pic tonight, I imagine in true Horny.net fashion it will show up sometime tomorrow. I've lost around 17 lbs. It's showing in several places including my rib cage and waist line. I'm kinda proud of myself. I'd like to see my tummy a little smaller lol who wouldn't but I thought I'd share even though I'm really tired just now lol later!
5 Comments
A Christmas Tale... (N.S.)
Posted:Dec 16, 2010 10:18 pm
Last Updated:Oct 19, 2011 10:19 am
14500 Views

I rubbed my aching back, putting toys together for the better part of three hours sitting in the middle of the living room floor was always grounds for a back ache. I sighed and looked up at the clock, it was nearly 3:30. I looked at the three stockings hung from the dresser that served as a fish tank stand, to the modest, 4 ft imitation pine that sat twinkling infront of the window. Packages of all shapes and sizes sat in front of the tree, half in Spiderman paper, the other half in pink and green Disney Princess paper. The stockings were full of random goodies, The blue and white Lightning McQueen one was stuffed with chocolate and matchbox cars that had a life expectancy of twenty minutes out of the package before "Stinky" the talking garbage truck ate them.
.
I shake my head and chuckle. It was the one thing that little man had begged for this year, hopping up and down excitedly as he conspired with the mall Santa.
.
The purple stocking next to it featured Belle from "Beauty and the Beast" Inside was an equal share of chocolate a small "I Can Read Myself" book and a barbie. For Christmas this year my big girl wanted a Princess ZhuZhu pet play castle. I don't get the appeal of mechanical hamsters that coo and repeatedly smash themselves head first into the nearest object but ok. When I was her age I got a toy race track and an erector set. How on earth did I get such a girly little girl?
.
I sighed, everything look right and I was dead tired, the tree would stay lit when I went to sleep tonight, it was the one night we left it on all night, that was tradition. My stocking hung inbetween the two with cartoon smiles, a simple burgundy stocking, no flashy colors or bright characters. I really didn't even like burgundy, I just picked it late in the Christmas season a few years ago, and went with the one I liked best. It served my purpose to house the two chocolate oranges that I would refuse to share with my tomorrow, for a while. I picked myself up and gathered my tools, the screwdriver I'd been changing batteries with, the scissors, the tape, and the left over paper. Time to catch a little shut eye before the poof in the morning.
.
You know, 6:30 comes awful quick when you didn't lay down until 4 and toss and turn until the ache in your back gives way. I pull myself groggily into the living room and smile as my start playing with their "Santa" presents. At our house, you get one or two presents from Santa and whatever is in your stocking comes from Santa, everything else is from Mommy. Santa presents don't get wrapped they just sit, ready to play with, infront of the tree. Later we'll go over to grandma's and trade presents with the siblings/cousins. The start making their individual mountains of presents, maybe 20 or so each, Nothing too expensive, new DVDs from the 5 dollar bin, clothes, a few toys. Santa had dibs on the biggest and most expensive toy of course.
.
Their mountains divided, the tree bare, and mommy settled onto the couch with the digital camera to capture every moment. The fray begins, paper goes flying as they dig into the gifts. It takes a little encouragement to get little man to move on to the next package, each thing he opens he thinks he must play with right now, and his eyes keep going to that talking garbage truck that Santa brought. Big girl is an old hat at Christmas, she keeps digging for the presents she hasn't opened yet. At some point she stops and looks at her brother, his presents, herself and her presents and mommy sitting there with the Camera.
.
"Mommy?" I set the camera down and stop proding little man to open the next one. "Yes, baby?" She looks very confused, "Mommy.... where are YOUR presents?" I smile softly, "I'll open my presents at Grandma's later." She looks a little more confused, "But Mommy, those presents are from Grandma, and Aunt Ka, and Uncle Brian, and Aunt Beth, and our cousins, and stuff. Where is your Santa present? I saw you talk to him, I know you asked for one." She stops to think and her eyes go wide. "Mommy were you on the naughty list this year?!?!?" She asks.
.
I pause to chuckle, "No, baby." I hold out my arms and she scrambles into my lap, little man realizes something is serious when sissy talks about being on Santa's Naughty list and he comes over too. "Mommy, you can play with my Stinky..." He ponders for a minute, "for a while." I chuckle and give him a hug, "Thank you, bubby, but Mommy doesn't want your Stinky. He's very cool, but he's not what Mommy asked for for Christmas." My big girl tilts her head, "What did you ask for, Mommy?"
.
"Mommy's present isn't something that Santa can wrap, or something that can sit under the tree, atleast not really. You see Mommy asked Santa to make you smile, to make sure you got the things you've asked for. That's what Mommy wanted for Christmas. Sometimes Mommy worries, because we don't always have the things you want, and you ask me for things all year long, when you see a commercial, or we're in the store. Alot of times, Mommy has to say no..."
.
My big girl chimes in, "Because we can't afford them." I smile a little sadly, "That's right honey. Mommy has to buy you warm clothes that fit, and food for your grumbly belly," I tickle her belly and she giggles, "And soap to make our clothes smell nice, and shampoo to make your hair pretty. If Mommy buys you all the games and toys you wanted all year, we wouldn't have the things we NEED to live everyday and be clean."
.
"But at Christmas time, Santa helps Mommy just enough, that we get some of the things that you've been wanting all year, new toys to play with, and some clothes, and some new movies to watch. It's one of the only times of year that Mommy can say "yes you can have that"." I give her a big hug. "These things makes you smile and Mommy is really happy when you smile. Since Santa gave you these things and these things make you smile, then Mommy got what she asked Santa for, you see?"

My big smart girl pauses for a minute. "But don't you want things too Mommy?" I smile, "Honey, things are nice. They can make us happy, but sometimes, it's not things that make us happy, this is one of those times, Baby." Don't feel bad that Mommy didn't get things, can you help Santa give me what I asked for?" She thinks back over all the things I had said, and little man is eyeing that talking garbage truck again, after a minute or two she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a great big hug, Little man isn't sure why but he gives me a bear hug too. My big girl leans back looks up at me and SMILES
1 comment
November 14, 2008
Posted:Nov 13, 2010 9:05 pm
Last Updated:Mar 28, 2024 5:57 pm
14802 Views

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of the day my nephew died. Justin was two years old, he had been born with several birth defects, including a malformed arm, a missing ear, and the biggest was a malfunctioning heart. His heart was too big, it pumped backwards, and it had a large hole between the left and right ventricle. Odd as it may seem it was the hole that kept him alive. When blood pumps backwards you don't get any oxygen in your bloodstream, between lungs and brain and limbs. The hole let enough oxygenated blood to get where it needed to be. Poor little trooper went through many surgeries, and lots of PT, and a spot on a transplant list, but one day it just got to be too much and he couldn't hang on anymore. I'm sitting here streaming tears. In another hour it'll be the day, it's like a replay you don't want to see. I miss my little Just-a-buddy. His name was Justin, and he's in haeven, and he doesn't hurt anymore. I just have to remember that...

Godspeed by the Dixie Chicks
Dragon Tales and the water is wide
Pirate's sail and Lost Boys fly
Fish bite moonbeam's every night
and I Love You

Godspeed, Little man
Sweet Dreams, Little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on Angel's wings
Godspeed
Sweet Dreams

The rocket racer's all tuckered out
Superman's in pajama's on the couch
Good night moon, we'll find the mouse
and I Love You

Godspeed, Little man
Sweet Dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel's wings
Godspeed
Sweet Dreams

God bless mommy and matchbox cars
God bless dad and thanks for the stars
God heard Amen, where ever you are
and I love you

Godspeed, Little man
Sweet Dreams, littleman
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel's wings
Godspeed
Godspeed
Godspeed
Sweet dreams
0 Comments
That... That... That... MAN!!!
Posted:Nov 3, 2010 7:26 am
Last Updated:Dec 10, 2010 9:13 pm
15451 Views

Sometimes I wish I hadn't given up my house phone in favor of my cell phone. Especially when dealing with people like this. There was nothing more satisfying then the old school slamming the reciever into the cradle. Snapping your cell phone shut just didn't have the resonance, but it would have to do. I slammed my slider against my thigh and cut out the grumbling heated voice. I tossed my phone down on the floor and hung my head between my knees, fighting the urge to scream at the phone. It wouldn't have done me any good anyway, I'd hung up remember? The were at school and I was sitting here slowly contemplating how to murder a block head. First I'd kick him really Really REALLY hard somewhere that he would not appreciate it. The shin maybe. Then I'd randomly put paper clips on all his sensitive areas. I was feeling a little better already. I chuckled at the idea of trying to figure out how to put a paper clip on one of his nipples. This pleased me.

I picked up my lap top and sighed down at the screen. I just didn't see it. The evil man that needed to be shot drawn and quartered was my editor. The agent loved the book, the publisher loved the book, I loved the book. But the agent and the publisher agreed, my English sucks. I needed to correct things like spelling and grammar that Microsoft had missed. Stupid software, supposed to save me from myself. But the editor, that sleazy little weasel, he didn't like my "flow" the way my characters came together. He wanted me to change certain parts of the book. Razz and Frazzen sucky bucky little of a Monkey's ass bone. I was looking at the scene in question, trying hard to see whatever the hell he was seeing. He said the scene was too busy, had too much going on. What was too busy. She enters burned out building, finds a still alive but badly hurt boy her own age, she screams... end scene. Ok so she is really wrestling with her emotions here, she's imagining what it was like when it burned... but those things she's imagining are important to the story line. It sets up the idea that she has foresight later. I grumbled. Did he bother to read the rest of the book before he nit picked this part?

I looked up at the clock it was only a little after 8. I had time. I picked up my phone and slipped it in my pocket, picked up the print out version of the book that I'd been going over( it was COVERED in his red ink stupid hand writing) and headed out the door. Mr. Smartass's office was only across town. It didn't take me long to get there, there was probably more swearing at other drivers than necessary.

I stormed in his office and past his fumbling secretary. He was sitting at his desk with his feet up on it reading a manuscript. He looked up startled when I came in. Ok so this wasn't the best choice of business attire. I was wearing my jogging shorts and a tshirt, and a hoodie. My hair was up in pigtails. I had been jogging before he called and ruined my morning. "It's ok Miranda, I'll deal with it." He said to his huffing assistant. She glared at me and stormed out, I walked up and tossed the inked up copy of my manuscript down on his desk. "Did you even READ the whole story before you started suggesting changes?" I asked him, barely containing my anger. I planted my palms on his desk and glared at him. He slowly took his feet down from the desk and picked up the manuscript, flipping all the way to the very last page slowly, every single page had red ink on it somewhere.

"I guess in order for me to have marked every page, I would have had to have READ every page, don't you think?" He said calmly. I glared at him harder, "Looking at it doesn't mean you read it. Shortening the scene in the village is like cutting this story's balls off and telling it to have a happy new year." He'd been about to take a sip of coffee, I could see it ALMOST spray out his nose, but he kept control and swallowed. That just made me madder. Him being able to calmly disect and destroy something I'd been working on for nearly 10 years. He calmly put down the cup, probably deciding that it would not help his disposition if he burned out all of his nose hair with hot coffee. "I think it is just too much, Jo. You have a tendancy to ramble. Talking about a boy that isn't there and he sobbing and crying over the little sword is just more than is necessary." I snorted. "She's got foresight and psychic touch, she picks up the sword and sees what happens, it's part of how she recognizes Gregorio later in the book. Without that scene there is no reason why she would know who he is." He sat forward in his chair, "But why does she need to know who he is, couldn't if just be spontaneous, a chance meeting, instead of a massive bloodbath right from the start?" I threw my hands up. "It's a VAMPIRE novel, there's bound to be blood and guts SOMEWHERE." He shook his head, "It's everywhere, this is one long blood bath from around page 120 on to the end of the book." I wrinkled my nose at him "Well the PUBLISHER likes it the way it is." He stood up and mimicked my posture, leaning across the table with his palms flat, "If the publisher liked it "the way it is"" he mimicked, "then why are you paying me to fix it?" I snarled, "Because I speak English and bad English and I have a little trouble with the English... that's why. Your not being paid to fix the story your being paid to fix my crappy spelling and grammar. You want to write a story write your own!" I smacked my hand down on the desk for emphasis.

He snatched my wrist and pulled me forward his lips crushing into mine. I was pulled off balance and for minute didn't know what to do. I was completely and utterly shocked, his hands found their way into my hair and urged my head to tilt just enough for him to deepen the kiss, his tongue probing into my mouth and stealing whatever else I had been about to say. Slowly he eased back looking over my face like he was trying to decide if I was going to hit him or not. When I didn't do anything but look at him breathlessly, he came around the desk and lifted me so I sat on it. He planted his palms on either side of my hips and pressed his forehead against mine searching my eyes. "I'm not trying to take anything from you, I'm trying to help you." I started to say something and he got me with another earth shattering kiss. His VERY skilled tongue stealing whatever protest was about to escape my lips. I whimpered softly and slowly slide my hands up his chest, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. I grabbed ahold of his tie and pulled as I leaned back across the desk my legs winding around his waist in a way that was unmistakable. It also made it perfectly clear that he wanted it too. The bulge just beyond the fly of his smart dress pants rubbed teasingly against my inner thigh.

His hand slid down and twisted one of my hard nipples through the thin material of my tshirt. He slid the zipper on my hoodie down a little lower and slid my shirt up his lips and fingers teasing my breasts over the top of the cups that held them. I moaned softly and he cast a glance over his shoulder. He pulled his tie off and quickly stuffed it in my mouth. Much to my suprise. He then pressed the button on his desk to call his secretary. "Miranda, Ms. Desamado and I are going to be going over her manuscript, please hold my calls." "Yes, Sir." came the prompt reply and he turned off the intercom. His teeth raked harshly over my nipple and another muffled response came from behind his tie. His fingers slide down my stomach and inside my running shorts. Quickly discovering there wasn't anything under them. He moaned against my breast and slowly began to tease my clit. His free hand slid up my arm and urged it above my head, doing the same with the other. I clung to the other side of the desk and arched my body closer to his. It wasn't long before his fingers were sliding within me. testing my wetness as his lips, teeth and tongue ravaged my aching breasts. God it'd been so long I could hardly hold back.

My leg went up over his shoulder and He pulled aside the shorts leaning back to look at my wet sweet center. He released himself from his pants and I blinked at the size of his shaft. My eyes grew wide and he half smirked as he trailed it up and down my slit getting the head good and wet before urging me open I moaned the entire time he SLOWLY slid into me. It seemed like an eon had passed before he was all the way in. For a moment or two he didn't move, his hand slid up my inner thigh and his thumb parted my lips around his shaft. He seemed to enjoy the look of his shaft buried in me so deeply for a second and then his thumb brushed over my clit making my jump like someone had hit me with a live wire. His thumb teased an agonizing circle around my clit and the feeling of him so deep inside me I orgasmed hard. That sly grin still played around his lips as he slowly began moving his hips back and forth. Sliding far out of me until his head was barely within and then pushing forward with infinite slowness until he was completely buried again. My body longed for him to go faster and I arched towards him. He seemed to be enjoying this erotic torture he knew he must be putting me through. I whined and whimpered and he kept his slow pace, still terrorizing my clit with his thumb, one of my legs over his shoulder and his other hand on my breast. I whimpered and began to tremble beneath him, one long continuous orgasm he continued to stretch out. He stopped moving all together. His thumb pressed down on my swollen clit. His fingers pinched around my nipple and his cock just barely inside me. I looked up at him pleadingly.

His smile grew and he pushed forward quickly. Slamming into me so that the breast he didn't have a grip on bounced hard. His hands slid around my hips for leverage and he pounded into me. I couldn't help cumming again and again and again. When he was spent he rested his forehead against my thigh and slowly pulled out. Just leaning there catching his breath for a few minutes. I blinked in sheer amazement. I came in here hating this man and that was the best fuck I'd had in months. I pushed the hair back from my forehead as he backed away and straightened his clothes. I pulled his tie from my mouth. It was wrinkled and wet from me biting down on it. I sat up and pulled my bra back up over my breasts before pulling my t shirt down. He looked at me with smokey eyes and I picked up my red inked manuscript. I walked over to him and slowly pulled him down for a kiss, his hands came around my hips and pulled them against his. His spent shaft spasmed inside his pants, stirring perhaps for round two. He smiled down at me. I smiled up at him.

"The village scene. Stays as is." I patted his cheek at the shocked look on his face and walked out past a very confused Miranda.
2 Comments
Late Night Whispers(random rambling)
Posted:Nov 2, 2010 10:26 pm
Last Updated:Dec 2, 2010 11:23 am
15078 Views

We all have something we do by ourselves, with no one else watching. For me it's porn. I love to watch porn, but I just can't enjoy porn with other people. Even if it's my lover. I've got this deep seated fear of being labelled. Whether that label be freak, or the more dreaded words like slut or . I'm not sexually deprived, I've had my experimentations. But some of my more daring adventures are profound secrets between me, and whoever acted with me. They are never spoken of in public or referenced unless it's in the most covert manner. It sounds more like some spy story than just me enjoying being tied up, or enjoying the occasional role-play fantasy. But that's exactly how it is.
.
I've been contemplating the best way to approach what we all dread, dating. At what point in a new relationship do you share things, I mean it's certainly well beyond the first date and most assuredly well beyond the first sexual encounter. There's always that lurking fear in the back of your mind that you'll tell your partner a fantasy and get that glassy eyed, "Oh my god, I can't believe this freak just said that to me" look. In the realm of the female dater, people assume that if you tell your guy a dirty little secret, he'll be more turned on than repulsed but that's not always the case.
.
Sometimes it feels like you're afraid to be YOU. In a way with online dating being a more social norm you can be the inner YOU and if someone flips out that little red X in the corner is so tempting. You can just close the window and pretend they never existed.
.
Sometimes you reach this point where you're tired of being alone, even if it doesn't seem like you've been alone very long.
.
Sometimes you feel like it's too hard to date and you worry about the new person, what to expect and what's expected. Suffering from your own insecurities until you drive yourself nuts. Caring so much about what someone else thinks that you stress yourself into being alone when you don't have to be.
2 Comments
Keeping the Fantasy
Posted:Oct 21, 2010 6:44 am
Last Updated:Oct 24, 2010 10:32 pm
14831 Views

You've all had ample oppurtunity to read my random bitch rants, and some of them are silly funny, but in order to keep up with the fantasy title better I'm going to be removing some of the bitchiness and leaving the stories.

Smoochie kisses

Jo
1 comment

To link to this blog (twindragonsoul) use [blog twindragonsoul] in your messages.

  twindragonsoul 38M/38F
38/38 C
May 2011
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
1
 
2
 
3
 
4
 
5
 
6
 
7
 
8
 
9
 
10
 
11
 
12
 
13
 
14
 
15
 
16
 
17
 
18
 
19
 
20
 
21
 
22
 
23
 
24
 
25
 
26
 
27
 
28
 
29
 
30
 
31
1
       

Recent Visitors

Visitor Age Sex Date