The Inner Slut

Talked to my Dale today on the phone. He was having problems printing an email attachment, a graphic, some spoof of the MS Explorer menus.

"I keep getting this Photo something or other program..." he said.

"Photo Something?" I asked, my brows coming together. "Are you downloading to Yahoo Photos?"

"Ah -- yes. Why?"

"Sweetie, why don't you just download the thing to your harddrive, and open it and print it from there?"

A moment of silence.

"You know," he croons over the phone. "You're not just a pretty face."

Ah, me. He, a highly accomplished industrial engineer and me, a mere lawyer-wanna-be. But he's so lovable.

The Alex/Felix Experience revisited

I've finally understood why Alex/Felix "rejected" me, i.e., refused to be my Dom. (See post of 28 August 2003.) Surprisingly, it was Pia, that silly little tart (see post of 3 February 2004), who gave me the answer. At that time, I didn't realize the import of her statement.

She asked me that night if I knew how long Alex/Felix had been a Dom. I said it was something like 15 years, either that or since he was 15 years old. I couldn't remember. She had smiled and shaken her head. I didn't pursue it anymore as it was starting to feel strange that she apparently thought it significant that she knew more about him -- and the rest -- than I did. I figured that one out some days later. Thinking about it some more, it suddenly hit me: Alex/Felix "rejected" my offer to be his sub because he got scared.

He hadn't been a Dom too long, from the Silly Tart's insinuations. And there I was, thinking I'd found a real Dom and so, offered to be a real sub. What an idiot I was. I just had to take it as rejection. I really have to teach myself to point the finger at the other person and ask myself: What's wrong with him?

Alex/Felix, just like the rest of the worthless lot, got scared of me.

Amazing.

And Mau?

Ah. Now, that one I get the feeling got scared because he realized, after reading my blog (this one in particular), that I was into this alternative lifestyle in earnest. And I did lie to him. I did tell him that I'd met only a couple of guys from this website. Which was true, in a way. Of course, there are other websites...

That was bad, I know. But I don't think I'm cut out to be a pure sub. Mara's right: I'm a switch. Or perhaps I should make my own category: a spoiled brat. I love to be spoiled and whipped playfully on the ass, my hair grabbed and pulled, my pussy punished, my ass fucked against my will. But I will do only what I feel like doing. If I don't want to suck cock, no amount of forceful words will get your cock sucked.

Bill

There are some men that you just don't forget. Bill the Ex-G-Man is one of those. He is such an intriguing and mysterious guy. He's the type who's going to live his life exactly as he wants to live it, and you cannot in any way interfere with that. I'm just play for him, that's for sure. His life is not open to me. No vacancies there. So I might as well settle for rare visits.

That's alright. I love his pale blue eyes. Cornflower blue. His mild southern drawl and quick wit. He loves words. Words, words, words.

Dig a little deeper, baby, I muttered to him when he complained that I'd taken away my breasts from him (they were under the covers). And he proceeded to make up a few stanzas of rhymed verses from that. Gads, but that man's appeal is just too strong to resist.

He called the night after, sounding so very sweet on the phone. I guess I sounded a little uncertain, uncomfortable -- withdrawn. I hope that didn't turn him off. I so desperately want him to so desperately want me.

I want him to think of me as more than just a pretty face.