Isn't it odd that the sexual menu choices on Collar do not include the staple, but essential choice of cock-sucking? Neither does it include pussy-licking, but I am more inclined to feel the lack of cock-sucking as unacceptable. 

There are some men who do not like to be sucked off. Really. It's true. However, it is my observation that most men need to be sucked off regularly. Indeed, this seems like such a basic necessity that one wonders why the duty to suck off her husband is not part of the wife's wedding vows!  I guarantee that if every wife performed this duty daily the divorce rate would plummet.

Although I call it a duty, it is also a

All things wax and wane. Desire too has its season of heat and moments of respite. For the unattached submissive these cycles are tidal forces that exhaust and deplete. Taking matters into one's own hands merely underscores what is missing. No orgasm can substitute for the succulence of real flesh probing the wet warm spots. Nor abate the longing for devoted prostration, licking at the feet of the master who wields the flogger that marks her as his own.

With that first hitch of the leash, her spirit leaps up anticipating all the ways in which he will use her . Leashed, she settles into that compliant space he has liberated her into. The tether connects the two, securing her within the comfort of his desire. All thought leaves her. Her movements are an extension of his masculine will and drive. She becomes an open vessel for him to pour out his primal longing to stalk, to capture, to ravish.

Deeply content, she bows before him in a rapture of worship, adoring the mystery of his flesh, how it blooms and grows and twitches; how his sac rolls in her mouth – she would like to carry him there forever, a safe warm place for him; his earthy aroma so different from her own. But he needs much more than this and she is eager for him to take what he wants.

Behind her he works himself into her, burying himself physically and emotionally and she is elated that he is inside her, mindful only of his own sensations, his own primitive need to exhaust his seed. She wants one thing – that his assault leaves an afterglow of sore and tender flesh. In this way he will stay with her until his desire rises up again and refreshes her flesh. With every movement she wants to be reminded of how he took her, how he marked her; in this way he never fully leaves her.

    Hmm. Why is it that some folks here, read that as Male Doms, suddenly disappear?

Now I'm not talking about the obvious hit-and-run hosers. They are always from Illinois for some reason - same guy, multiple identities?- and have no conversation, no etiquette, and usually start off with something highly original like, "Do you have a Master"?

Those are not the guys I am talking about. No, I am wondering about those few who seem to be sensible. They have a literate and reasonable profile, a sense of humor, and are well-mannered. And without warning - poof- gone, as if they never existed.

What is this game?

Signed, Naive One

And another one bites the dust.

How do others cope with this cycle? The overture. The initial fumbling for the right key.

The brief allure of the proper chord struck. Tempo shifts. Rarely, a crescendo. Introduction of dissonance.  Then, pause.  Tinkling away into cybermist.

Repeat.

Ever notice that people frequently use journal features to rant, whine, and complain? Then there are those who use this public form to extol themselves, to preen, to promote the superiority of their POV. Well, preening is not my style, but I am a ranter par excellence.  This isn't a real rough and tumble rant though, just a few observations.

I have profiles on lots of sites.  On one vanilla site I have even posted subsumed's CM profile word for word.  And what does this get me?  Generally, two types of interest, and frequently the types are in the same person: really young men, and really, um, oh gosh how shall I put this, really illiterate men.

Okay, so I have the advantage of an education and some genetic quirk of native intelligence. This is just a factoid and I don't take credit for it any more than I can take credit for having green eyes or radar-like hearing. So I'm not trying to boast or to belittle those who haven't had those specific advantages. Believe me, there are many days when I wish I could trade my book smarts for long legs or the talent for making lots of money. Thems the breaks. You are what you are. (Ain't I profound?)

Okay, here's the point.  Anyone who reads one of my profiles should notice that I can actually write a cogent sentence, then another, and another, until I've built a paragraph.  Except for stylistic devices, I follow the rules of grammar, punctuation, and SPELLING. Spelling is a big deal with me. I know there are brilliant people who can't spell, just as I can't do math, but consistent spelling errors scream out to me. Painfully.  One can conclude from this that I am not a dumb blonde.

Now where was I? Ah yes, I was weaving towards my point. I'll be blunt:I'm literate and I know a lot of useless stuff. So why oh why do these young fucks who can't spell 'the' try to seduce me?  Why aren't they intimidated by my obvious intellect and my advanced years?  I forget that I am no longer the flaky hippie chick until some 23-yr old contacts me  with his tweetspeak and then I realize what an old fart I am.  And no, it is not flattering. These boys just want to get laid and they think granny knows some arcane sexual secrets that will make their cocks explode - it's a to-do on their bucket list.

Not all of these illiterates are youngsters. And don't get me wrong. Degrees and formal education are grand, but they are not always an indication of an active mind. 

I'm gonna interrupt myself...this just in...one of these older twits (not CM) has just informed me that based on my profile the typical Dom will dismiss me as not being a sub.  Hey, that's fine with me because I am not interested in dense Doms. 

Sheesh I keep getting interrupted....................................just when I was gonna go off-rant and explain what I learned about quantum mechanics last night -

I enjoy reading some of the journals here, but often wonder why anyone bothers. I also wonder if there are others who  peruse some of these scribbles in the void. And that is one of the reasons I've avoided indulging my penchant for blathering - I don't write to be ignored, but to challenge and be challenged.

But this evening....where the heck is everybody?  The law of contrariness: when I want to talk, the internet is deserted; and when I least expect it I am inundated with multiple conversations.

Oh, did I say conversations? Silly me.  Page 7 of the Official Dom Manual strongly discourages the uber-Dom from engaging in anything other than terse one-liners. Then there is the ever-popular Dom interrogation.  And if you are new to Dom theatrics, you need only turn to page 20 of the manual to find the list of queries that every real Dom must pose to any submissive he deigns to honor with his 15 minutes of attention. 

This pretense of control is counter-productive. Don't you knuckleheads realize that when the dance begins, I the sub, am the one in charge? I will decide who leads me in the waltz foxtrot tango jitterbug watusi ritual. After all, what you want from me is not something that can be given on a whim.