I used to hate Photoshop. I don't anymore. I'm not happy with it, but I don't hate it. The next iteration you see will be an introductory foray into banner design. So save any negative comments.
I had a good day at work, was productive, got trained, and ate cake. Not too much else to ask for during a lull.

I also dreamed someone I lust after from afar asked me to flog him. I was coy, but since he's my current crush, I, of course, deigned to honor him. It wasn't my usual rush, but it was pleasant. What I found scintillating was leaning against his back, and whispering that he'd better not utter a sound. Then I played "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode, and did some creative flogging. I'm working on my double-handed method with the stingies.

Mm, and I had on Aveda Pomegranate Lip Gloss, and was wearing "Exotic" by The Body Shop. Yummy forbidden goodness!

What I want.

Is not easy to reveal. Partly because I don't know everything I want. Partly because I don't know how to share it. But what I share below, are my musings, my opinions, my thoughts. Not commentaries on society, kinky or Teddy Graham.

Right now I have ideas, desires, and revulsions. Personal hangups are still close to My surface. Some things, however, I don't truly enjoy witnessing. I don't want to see a great deal of bloodshed. No piercings, cuttings, rendings. No golden showers or the other stuff coming out of an adult. So, I'm thinking no baby play, because no one makes babies clean themselves, right? I don't make my godson clean himself after poopie. (Yes, poopie. Go with it.) And I sure as hell am not cleaning up anyone else's fecal matter, urine, blood, or semen. I actually might beat someone as hard as I could, if I had to see that. And I know someone would try it, just for that reason.

I don't want to be objectified because I'm an African American woman who wants to dominate. I can't avoid that, I guess, but that whole "exotic Nubian Goddess" thing annoys Me. I would also look at a man who specifically wants to be beaten and/or humiliated by a Domme of Color. Is it guilt? We could discuss it politically, but at the end of the day, if you're a white man, you're going to be okay in the Teddy Graham world. I still face prejudice. Thus, I cannot condone the term, or the bavior surrounding "slavery." Submissiveness is great. Slavery, I can't deal with. I don't want slavish adoration or actions. Adoration, of course, it's My due, when I've entered into a relationship with a sub. Courteous actions and proper etiquette are mandatory. I just can't take it to that level.

I do want discipline. I want manners. I want to lovingly dispense corporal punishment. I think I might like some bondage. I'm pretty sure I'm capable of D/s and B/D. I think I could like it. I could love it. Easily.

If I go with feelings, I like seeing men pushed to their physical limits. When I watch commando training, I feel a charge. For two separate reasons. I am aroused by the instructors, who've gone through the hell they supervise recruits attempting to defeat. They are some coldblooded, physically fit, ironic/sardonic hardasses. Goddess love 'em. But I'm positively gleeful when I watch the recruits shivering, straining, almost crying (but not actually shedding tears, an important factor), grunting, cursing. It's great! I'm pretty sure it sends me into topspace, because I feel dreamy, a little smile on My face, and I think of ways to implement the mental games I observe. Mindfucking. That does it for me. Add a dose of teasing, well, hell, really, a gallon of teasing, and I almost have to find my bunny.

I also have this headmistress thing. But I'll save that for another time.

~Red Velvet~


The meanest sub I frickin know! But her site is cute.

Alphabet Meme. Do it!

I got this meme from James in the Sanitarium. Keep on keeping on, James.

Yeah, yeah, it's for Fridays, but I just got started yesterday! Sheesh!


Accent: West Coast, with a hint of properly-raised Dixie.
Booze of Choice: Vodka. Preferably GG, Belv, or Ciroc. I have been doing well with Level lately!
Chore I Hate: Cleaning toilets.
Dog or Cat: Bichon.
Essential electronics: Cell, laptop, PDA
Favorite perfume/cologne: (if nekkid man and jergens lotion doesn't count:) Givenchy; of course, I can't find it anymore! :'(
Gold or silver: Platinum.
Hometown: Santa Clara, CA
Insomnia: Yep, and The Sims don't help!
Job title: Coordinator
Kids: Not anytime soon!
Living arrangement: Bunking in with fambly.
Most admired trait: In myself? Others? I admire intelligence, ambition, sensitivity.
Number of sexual partners: 8. Not sure if that's a good thing.
Overnight hospital stays: Never. Always outpatient.
Phobia: Roaches.
Quote: "Oh HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYLE naw!"
Religion: Lapsed Baptist who likes to learn about other belief systems.
Siblings: 2 and I'm a typical middle child.
Time I wake up: Between 8-9:30 on working days, 10-11 when I'm off.
Unusual talent or skill: I can give B. Smith a run for her money!
Vegetable I refuse to eat: Squash.
Worst Habit: Self-doubt.
X-rays: Chest.
Yummy foods I make: Chicken Tandoori. Yep. That's what I wrote.
Zodiac Sign: Pisces.

Wifedom is NOT the Hotness

First of all, I'm not a wife. I'm a daughter of an invalid. But I feel like a wife. I worked a full day, came home, woke her up, made dinner, and all I got was "The turkey is tender!" And a chipper nod.

I thanked her after meals, because I knew the effort it took to make dinner, especially after a hard day of work. Eventually I started cooking, before I moved away. Eh. I've already wound down.

I do feel flogging practice coming on, tonight, though.

Reiteration

I seem to do better when I express myself, so I'm going to give Blogger another go. Good thing I never cancelled my account.