Real life vs fantasy
Traveling for business sucks. It is not glamorous or fun nor does it mean one is successful. It outright sucks.
But I am home. Just in time to revive my half dead blog and nibble on my sweet’s cooking. Right after I nibble on my sweet.
Hot damn is it good to be home.
From my blog, BDSM: Things You Need to Know. Tips on how to interview a prospective dom/master. Submissive women must ask the right questions, early and often. Excerpt:
It’s one of the hardest chores for many submissive women. After encountering a gent she feels…
There were two very important items I wish to elaborate on in an otherwise beautifully inclusive list. First:
Have you ever made any mistakes?
When pushing further ask if the dom has ever broken a limit or taken things too far.
Ask what happened.
Any dom worth more than a glance will straight up own their mistakes.
This is not a dom to eliminate. Rather, based upon their answer, this is a dom to consider.
Look, making errors happens, is critical to learning, and there is No Such Thing as a Perfect Dom.
If your potential dom states they have never made a mistake, it is time to wrap up the interview and find a new canidate.
The very idea that they think they are flawless should be worrying if not frightening.
Secondary, a dom should be interviewing you with similar questions. And, should they have any tact whatsoever, you may not even know it’s happening.
Be happy, be safe and remember to have fun!
Because we are, Lisa. We are.
Girls, when you’re feeling sad, just remember:
- a vagina can go back to it’s original size after taking something 20x its size
- a penis will end up looking like an empty potato sack that’s been run over quite a lot if it does
you can do this girl
be as resilient as your vagina
shine bright like a ‘gina
Because nothing banishes depression like useless orifice knowledge. Thank god my bits are magic, now life has new meaning.
Trusting in Him <3
The one on the right looks a bit more, “dafuq did you just say to me?”
And miss left has the focused stare of “bitch, I will fucking cut you. I will cut you and dine on your fucking kidneys and dance in your tears.”
That’s not quite trust.
But then again, maybe I’m just projecting.
I blame the scotch.
Mon chaton gave me a new black ring in honor of this week. (and I’m feeling boastful)
It’s perfect and beautiful, my sweet, but it pales by comparison to you. You are forever my most precious gift.