The face inside is right beneath my skin

I know I’m not the only one who will occasionally go back in the music archives of the mind for a song that just sums it all up. I have found that most of the greatest emotional music comes from my teenage angst years (mine lasted from ages 14 to 19). Today, I sat through two Linkin Park albums reliving how I felt back then and comparing it to now. The lyrics still permeated out of my pores while I heard them, my head bowed, sometimes singing, mostly just sitting and thinking.

It brought me back to a darkened room. I’m fifteen, and just had a bad day at school. I’d come home, close the shades, the curtains, and choose a CD to play in the radio. I’d lie down on the floor, and just smoke a cigarette, replaying the events of the day in my head, and the letting the music play. No one interrupted me, and I could stay that way for hours. But I’m not fifteen any more, yet I still feel plagued by the some of the same issues I had back then, mostly insecurities about myself and my future. I won’t detail them because I’m not brave enough to (yet). But, they’ve clung to me, these ghosts of my past, and over the course of these few weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about things, how much changing I need to do and want to achieve. I have been keeping mostly to myself, both online and in the real world, taking my son to the park and back, and keeping off the phone. I just need this time to myself.

I’m approaching week five since my last session with Sir Dre, and cleaning my home has been the only way for me to deal with the stress of what is going on at home, as well as in my mind. I haven’t had sex with Henri in weeks. I found that at this point, I can only function as much as my mind allows. I don’t even miss sex with Sir; but I do miss the whips, the spanking. I am not a woman who cries for every single thing. I will myself not to. I need another way of letting out my frustrations and emotions, and instead of crying, I get angry. I haven’t felt this way in months, and since that realization, my withdrawal symptoms have kicked into over drive. I haven’t masturbated since last Friday, and haven’t wanted to. It’s 11 pm and Henri is still in the gym; it’s his way of dealing with the stress, but that leaves me alone, and by the time he gets home and showers, I’ll be asleep.

However, things are already beginning to look up. But like all good things, it’s going to take another few weeks for the dust to settle back to ‘normal.’ Until then, I’m going to try to handle it the best way I can. But, I think that darkening my bedroom every once in a while, listening to songs from my adolescence, can be another way to de-stress until I get my shit together.

-Scarlett

TMI Tuesday: Navigating Sex

1. Answer Yes or No:
I Regret My First Kiss: Yes
I Miss My First Love: No
I Married My First Love: Yes
I Loved Someone That Didn’t Love Me: Yes

2. Do you consider yourself monogamous or polyamorous or some other category which you will explain or define for us now?

After doing some research so that I may put it under a label, what my husband and I have is considered an open-marriage, under the broad umbrella of Polyamory. As defined by Wikipedia:

Couples in open marriages may prefer different kinds of extramarital relationships. Couples who prefer extramarital relationships emphasizing love and emotional involvement have a polyamorous style of open marriage. Couples who prefer extramarital relationships emphasizing sexual gratification and recreational friendships have a swinging style of open marriage. These distinctions may depend on psychological factors such as sociosexuality and may contribute to the formation of separate Polyamory and Swinging communities. Despite their distinctions, however, all open marriages share common issues: the lack of social acceptance, the need to maintain the health of their relationship and avoid neglect, and the need to manage jealous rivalry.

Many open couples maintain rules forbidding emotional attachment, illegitimate children, extramarital sex in the marital bed, extramarital sex with those known to both partners, and requiring use of barrier contraception.[citation needed]

Some open marriages are one-sided as well. One partner who may need more sexual gratification than the other is free to seek it out where he/she sees fit, all while maintaining a functional emotional relationship with their full-time partner.

This is basically what my blog is about, and it existed on Wiki this whole time. Most of this I found out on my own and still learning.

3. Your partner is in the mood for sex and you are tired – what do you do?

a. Start snoring. There is no way I’m giving it up tonight.
b. Trade. You give me a massage… and we will see… (a foot massage will get any man a long way!)
c. That would never happen!

4. Does your partner mind if you masturbate, in bed, when they are there?

Nope. I’ve been doing it for years. He didn’t know about it until last year, but now that he does, there’s no problem.

5. Describe your typical sexual romp:
a. You are playful and tame
b. You have occasionally introduced a few things like outfits and toys 
c. You love trying new things and shocking your partner

Bonus: What was your best ever masturbation experience. Why was it the best? Describe.

The best masturbation experience happened a few weeks ago, right after my first infraction with Sir Dre. When we finally spoke again after two days, he told me all was forgiven. I had been so sad those days we hadn’t spoken, added with my husband having worked late as well as feeling like I had no one to speak to. But on that day, when all was forgiven, the Masturbatory stars in heaven aligned. Fully invigorated from the blessing of Sir’s forgiveness, I was newly set on fire and ready to pounce on Henri. When we were done, that flame had not fizzled but engorged itself. I went to the living room with my Mr. Marcus and Hitachi, ready to have one really hot fucking orgasm. I prop myself in front of the window on the sofa, in the dark. And yes, this is a front facing window of our home. Some one looking up could definitely see me, but that only adds to the moment. With a pillow propped underneath me, and my pussy still slick from making love to Henri (and still emitting his cum), I slipped onto my Marcus dildo and held the Hitachi at the nub of my clit. I had two minor orgasms and didn’t realize it until I laid down on the sofa and had the third. I felt utter wetness and I kept going until the Hitachi began to warm up in my hand and I had climaxed one more time. It was my first time EVER having multiple orgasms. But, the best part was turning on the light and noticing a round wet puddle where my bottom had just been. Not only did I cum four times, I’d also squirted, my second time ever (the first time was also through masturbation). Best solo moment of my life thus far!

TMI Tuesday blog-Scarlett

The Violet Hour (Fiction)

I was exhausted. My body was beginning to ache from lying in this position. My wrists and ankles were screaming to be released from their restraints.

“Water, please Sir.” It felt like I carried the entire Sahara on my tongue. I heard the sloshing of water in the plastic container come  close and I lifted my head and opened my mouth to receive the cool liquid. He didn’t stop until I was sure to have my fill, which happened when I emptied out the bottle, having drank more the half of its content.

“Thank you, Sir.” I said, relief settling into my throat.

“No problem, baby-girl.” The soft, deep, steady voice filled my ears, and my heart beat picked up speed, the water not only hydrating me, but also reinvigorating my insides. As a wetted flower would, I seemed stronger now, my senses heightened and with my ears sensitive to his voice, my noise smelled the essence of his skin, though he stood feet away from my constrained body; I could feel the retroactive sting of his flogger on my breasts and cunt; and despite the water, the taste of his cock still swirled on my tongue. The one thing I could not do was see him.

My eyes were covered with a special handkerchief today. Usually, Sir would place the one that he carried in his bag of tricks, a simple, soft, black cotton kerchief that always smelled like him. This one also smelled like him, but was meant especially for me. He presented it to me in a box, similar to a square eye-glass case, expect larger in dimension. It had thrown me for a second, since I hadn’t expected to receive anything at this meeting.

“Open sub Scarlett; it’s for you,” and in his eye was the devilish twinkle, his voice sounding what honey tastes like.

I clicked open the velveteen box to gleefully discover that it most definitely was not a pair of glasses. Folded and lain across neatly, on what felt like sateen plush, was a silk scarf. I held onto it, tears welling in my eyes because I knew this meant something really special. His first gift to me, an acknowledgement of us, and our relationship as Master and submissive. I looked at him, and said “Thank you Sir,” but the words were lost to the oxygen in the air, falling out in whispered whimpers and beaten by two tears.

“You’re welcome, baby-girl. Unfold it,” his voice was soft and gentle, but under it I could hear His dominance. I always do.

I began to spread the scarf out on the bed, and when fully unraveled, lay before me an image vivid in color. Sown into the folds of this kerchief was a mixed bloom of flora in different shades of my beloved color. It was beautiful.

Now, though I could not see him, I also do not have a black darkness in front of me. From now until this all ends, from the moment it is placed in my field of vision, until He chooses to remove it, I will know that with this scarf on, I find with him safety, passion, lust, and love submerged in these soft layers of purple.

-Scarlett

P.S: I didn’t want to re-post the song twice, so here is the link to the song that inspired this post (and this post too). -S

A Masturbation Monday Post

Women turn to steel and keep on coming

Reblogged from Gorgeous Company:

Click to visit the original post

I've always loved strong women, which is lucky for me because once you're over about twenty-five there is no other kind. Women blow my mind. The stuff that routinely gets done to them would make most men curl up and die, but women turn to steel and keep on coming. Any man who claims he's not into strong women is fooling himself mindless; he's into strong women who know how to pout prettily and put on baby voices, and who will end up keeping his balls in her makeup bags.

.
― Tana FrenchFaithful Place

Read more… 5 more words

A quote I may need to paint on my wall. -Scarlett

The Violet Hour (Poem)

Purple or violet assists those who seek the meaning of life and spiritual fulfillment – it expands our awareness, connecting us to a higher consciousness. For this reason it is associated with transformation of the soul…In the meaning of colors, purple and violet represent the future, the imagination and dreams, while spiritually calming the emotions.”

*   *   *   *   *

My life is broken glass,

Encased in violet wax.

Inevitably, the passive hand of Fate

Lit the wick of my life,

And the sharp crystal floated,

Ready to cut.

Icebergs that drown the Helpful

And destroy Loving Affections.

No, these are not allowed;

Not at first.

Will you bleed for my life?

How will you navigate these

Treacherous waves when I am lost?

I descend beneath the glass,

Only to glance upon my reflection.

I break past the jagged mirror,

Pushing my way towards the Flame.

I must protect it and keep it bright,

So that the blaze may disintegrate

My surroundings and perhaps

Cause the glass to sink to the bottom.

And I hope, for everything that is in

The Fate’s design,

That the shattered reflectors remain

Submerged and always underneath Me.

*   *   *   *   *

violetplaytime

After two weeks of no play, I finally brought out my Mr. Marcus

sinfulsunday

Let’s all be Sinful…

May 10th 2013 is Boobday!

Again, I’ve been true to my zodiac sign and have been hiding in my shell. I want to be brave and write down why, but I think I need to wait a bit and continue to sort things out in my head and heart first.

Still, very few things can keep me away from Boobday!

boobday592013ATU

I was in a pinch to take this photo *wink wink*

I used to have a problem loving my areolae. Of course my mind was damaged by porn, and I thought that what I saw on-screen was what ’perfect’ breasts looked like. That was until I realized that my breast are bigger than the usual average (I’m now a G cup), and that no man I have been with has ever complained about them. Besides, they are the only ones I got and I’m going to have them for a very long time, so I might as well love them now.

I hope everyone has an amazing weekend. Stay chesty my friends!

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-Scarlett

Movie Night

I had popcorn in my hair, I was sure of it. I didn’t bring a comb or brush with me, and I could feel the kernels nesting in my hair. I ran my fingers through it while looking at the bathroom mirror.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Is that all it takes—one look? One lift of the eye brow and flickering of lashes and I’m ready to go?

I wash my hands with mocked disgust. Oh please, I want to regret it but I can’t. That’s the real problem. I flatten out any loose hairs with water, and dry my hands on my pants.

The same pants that had touched the floor, anchoring my legs together like bulky cloth hand cuffs, while other hands were placed right where the wet prints are beginning to fade…

I had to hurry and get out of here. I peek out and check the concession stand; with the attendant’s back turned, I walked quickly by.

My own hands had touched that same back, the smell of popcorn lingering in my nostrils; of Snow Caps, soda, and Slushies. I had the taste of butter and salt still fresh on my lips. No matter how many times I swiped the back of my hand across my face, I couldn’t make the smell disappear. It made a home for itself in the grooves of my skin. It feels like everyone knew why I smelled this way—

“Excuse me! Please watch where you are going young lady!”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” What I really wanted to say was “Aren’t you a little old to be at the movie theater?” But I have been delayed enough. I want to run back to my seat, but being out of breath would only entice more questions. Where have I been, what have I been doing…?

And like the opening trailer of any movie, the last half hour came in screen captures.

A hand in my hair.

Teeth on my ear.

The breath of another man on my back.

Foreign hands on my body.

I walked faster to the theater, and in the dark, swam through the dense lit space until I found my seat, next to my husband. I pretended the movie held my gaze, the fight scene so intense and ‘cool’ that perhaps he wouldn’t ask me any questions. And he didn’t, his own eyes never leaving the ginormous scene playing in front of us.

But while he watched one movie, behind my eyes, another completely different performance of events was playing. Later on in the car, while he fished out a kernel of popcorn from my hair, he asked me what I thought of the movie.

“It was better than I thought it was going to be.”

-Scarlett

A Masturbation Monday Post

The Devil’s Backbone

Long ago, I saw a film in college and later with Henri. “El Espinazo del Diablo” (The Devil’s Backbone) is a Spanish horror film by Guillermo del Toro, and the reference that inspired this photo.

devilsbackbone

Henri’s back has always been my most favorite part of his body. It wasn’t something that it evolved, like my adoration for his derrière.  His back has always brought me comfort; strength when he wrapped his arms around me; and in soft light, his taunt skin shines luminescent. When I see it, I have a desire to cover it with scratches and bites or to caress my bare breast against it. I think of good and evil things when I see this part of his body, and the title sprung to mind with this contest in question and the correlation of the two.

I took the photo to show my most revered part of his body; I altered it with the spine to reveal the visceral core underneath.

sinfulsunday

Come be Sinful...

-Scarlett

May 3rd 2013 is Boobday!

Here has arrived another Friday, and you know what that means…

BOOBS!!!

I had not planned on participating on this one because I had shut down this week due to stress and other inner emotional bullshit. I haven’t been myself lately, but that shouldn’t be a reason not to show some breasty love!

I chose to take a snap shot with a man who gets my insides burning. I love to soak him up like a sponge; to feel him inside of me, making my core writhe in pleasure and lowering my inhibitions until I am an untamed beast ready to pounce. His name happens to be Jose, and he is my secret lover.

tequila tetas

As I told Hy, nothing gets the weekend started like Tequila!

I’m going to have fun with him tonight!

Because I had taken this photo at the last-minute, I didn’t edit the one I gave Hy. To see that one, click here. Or better yet, go see the unedited photo plus many more fabulous boobies by clicking the button below. And remember, stay chesty my friend!

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-Scarlett

Glory Hallelujah

Reblogged from rougedmount:

I woke up with a soft smile on my lips and an unfamiliar, stiff soreness that accompanies an intense session of lovemaking. My first thought was that my hips and buttocks were achy. My thighs were so tight and bunched above calves and feet that felt like I had walked from one side of the Garden of Eden to the other or fallen down a long flight of erotic stairs.

Read more… 176 more words

I had to read this a few times for it to sink in. So beautifully written, it had me reminiscing about some amazing moments with Henri. But deep and spiritual as this, well, it has been few years... -Scarlett