Submission to a Madman

I mentioned I’d give you a little taste of just one of the pieces I’m working on. As we all know, you can hire anyone to do anything your heart desires – as long as you have money. What keeps those who are dark souls from acting on this practice as well? If you’re sexy, good looking, wealthy and savvy, you can find exactly what you’re looking for. What if you’re a monster in disguise? What if there’s only one person in the world who can break the chain of violence, hunt the hunter? What if SHE is lured into his den of extreme kink, submitting to the one man who could end her life? Yes, what if…

Coming soon…

SUBMISSIVE FOR HIRE

Destiny heard the insistent tone. Swallowing hard, she blinked several times before easing 1Power Exchangeback in her chair. After a few seconds the fog slipped away. She scanned the perimeter of the room. There was no mysterious man invading her privacy or controlling her actions. Dear God, I’m losing my mind. His face, the man she hungered to find, remained in the forefront. She shook her head and glanced down at her skirt. The rumbled material had crawled up to her mid thighs. She stifled a gasp. Her panties were missing. No. This is insane.

“Doctor? Are you alright?”

I will taste you. I will own you and when I do, you’ll understand pure ecstasy…

Seconds later, she shut down the fantasy. She was a strong person, capable of protecting the woman buried deep inside. She’d been damn good at doing so for almost thirty years.

Tick. Tock.

Glancing at the oversized, old-fashioned clock, she grimaced, unable to remember the majority of the conversation. A patient. She was a doctor. She was…

He cleared his throat. Only this time, the sound was no apparition, no formidable monster, hungry to chain her in his basement, performing unspeakable acts. The man seated in front of her was desperate for help, lost in a system she claimed to understand. Go away!

A strand of dark hair fell to his lips. He was a patient. Still, she continued to read her fantasy man’s lurid thoughts, sensing his required possession of her. Why? Why was she so special to him?

A blip coming from her phone brought her up from the foggy haze. Panting, she fingered her iPhone. Two messages. Okay. Break free of this. He’s not real. Sadly, no man was coming to claim her.

She forced a smile and pushed a file across her desk, breaking the psychic connection. “I’m sorry and of course I’m just fine. What were you saying?” She wasn’t certain she’d asked the question loudly enough. As she centered her gaze past her desk, her thoughts cleared.

The chair was planted in the middle of the room. Her client was only comfortable if he was surrounded by air and nothing else. The poor man had fallen into an abyss. For a few seconds she thought about ending the session, but his imploring eyes and slacking mouth reminded her that she was his only hope. He was a loner. Then again, so was she. Concentrate. Her patient needed her expertise to pull them back to reality. Hell, they all did. Lately she’d felt like nothing but a farce, a woman incapable of helping anyone. Michael. You have to help Michael.

Michael’s expression was pensive. He tapped his foot as he wrung his hands. “Okay. Okay. SlaveI just thought…”

A full minute ticked by. Destiny glanced at the clock as she pressed down her skirt. She wiggled and slipped her fingers inside her waistband. Where the fuck had her panties gone? Had she actually taken them off at some point? She patted her hand on the desk and plastered on a smile.

“Michael, we have just a few more minutes in our session. Is there anything else you can remember about your dream?” Her professional training made certain her expression was comforting. Her patient was even more of a nervous wreck then he normally was during their typical hour-long sessions.

Michael’s eyes shifted, his gaze unfocused. He picked lint off the sleeve of his dress shirt and hummed. The heel of his foot continually tapped against the tile floor. Every body movement exuded raw emotion, complete discomfort, yet he’d only offered four full sentences during the last fifty minutes. She adjusted her suit jacket.

Even from where she was seated, she could easily see the sweat beading across his forehead. He reeked. His body odor was a putrid combination of garlic, stale cigarettes, urine and vomit. She’d never seen him this anxious in the nearly two years she’d been treating him. “Michael. Stay with me. What’s going on? Why are you so distraught? Did something happen at work?” Back on track, she breathed a sigh of relief.

He shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands. “No.” There was zero inflection in his tone.

“With your lovely girlfriend? Did you guys have a fight?”

He’s lying and you know this. A demon lives inside of him. He’s being eaten alive as he should be.

The voice filtered inside her brain. Go away. Go the fuck away. She heard him laugh. His scent remained and the combination of the two men was nauseating. She shifted again.

Laughing, Michael shot her a quick look. “Do you really think a model is going to stay with a beast like me?”

“What?”

“You heard me, doc. I’m a puss sucking slug.”

The demon rises…

Destiny exhaled and stole another glance around the room. Her legs shaking, she rose to her feet, moving slowly to the other side of the desk. Michael certainly had his insecurities, but he’d never spoken this way. Confidence bordering to the point of pure arrogance had Masking herbeen a downfall his entire life. This was…unexpected. “You’re not a beast. You’re a professional with an excellent career in a well-known accounting firm. You have a better than average salary, a house in your name and a brand new sports car.” The majority of people would be jealous of the amazing attributes Michael had obtained in his life. She wanted to hate him for his pompous bullshit, but she couldn’t. She’d seen inside the man, straight to the dark side.

We all have a dark side, especially you darling Destiny, my good little slut. Soon you’ll learn your power, understanding my command. Listen and learn…

Fuck you! Hissing, she willed her midnight lover back into the trenches.

As Michael snorted he shoved both hands through his hair. “No woman will stay with me because of who and what I am. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch!” Enraged, he shoved back in his chair with enough force the metal legs slammed against the edge of the glass coffee table.

Did I mention I have a dark and evil mind? Lick…

Cassandre

Posted in BDSM, creatures of the night, Domination and submission, Dubious Consent, horror, serial killer | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Exploring Our Darker Needs

We all have a dark side. I’ve been reminded of this during the last few weeks. We desire sex and passion. We long to be thrilled by movies that give us nightmares. We long for… You fill in the blank.

When I first met John Patrick, he mentioned right up front that he knew he had an extremely dark side, one that kept his thoughts and desires locked away. I certainly knowI am totally His him better than anyone else and why? I’ve talked about this before. We live in a very vanilla society. This precludes sharing aspects of our deep hungers. I’m not just talking about sex either. Kink is often seen as deviant or loathsome. We criticize what we don’t understand. We snicker when sex is mentioned at the office then spend time on our computers enjoying porn or websites catering to servicing absolute pleasures. Of course we don’t tell anyone, do we? The mask is tightly woven around us. The majority of humans are followers, preferring to hide in their own shadows, no matter how monstrous. Yes, I used the word.

Why? Because during the course of the last few weeks, I’ve tried to push aside my own thoughts for various reasons. Of course I know why. I attempted to shove the real girl into a box. I haven’t been able to write more than a few thousand words. I haven’t allowed myself to blog for fear of… Well, the answer disgusts me. Months ago I chastised JP because he told me that entering into the darkness (in his case being a Dominant and longing for the D/s lifestyle) was nothing more than a choice. He not only pushed his darkness into a big, black box, but also locked it with a double chain and padlock.

This frustrated the hell out of me. I talked to him, cajoled him more than once then finally I realized that he needed to accept if he’d be able to embrace the truth and the man inside. After months of talking about everything under the sun except the lifestyle, he finally broke free. The frank and rather heartfelt discussion one beautiful December afternoon was eye opening for both of us. He told me he’d come to understand what I’d been telling him for almost two years. The darkness isn’t a choice. Unbridled, intense hungers are something every man and woman has. Whether our desires center around sex, love, helping our fellow man or in some cases, violence, if you search your soul, you’ll understand. Embracing and allowing is the choice.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m in no way suggesting that if you have a penchant for murder that you should act on your vile thoughts. However, if you’re an author, you can certainly explore various methods, utilizing creative implements. That doesn’t make any of us a murderer. Penning stories where you have heroes and heroines who maim and kill is nothing more than using explosive imagination. Sometimes this is a delicious exercise. Writers challenge themselves and that’s how we’re able pen better books.

Just followSex and the draw of submission or domination are no different. For JP, he told me that he finally accepted the fact he must share this aspect with someone he can trust. At this point he has no one else he can talk to or trust with his yearning but me. I feel honored. He’s no different in real life than the rest of us. He goes to work, pays his bills, purchases groceries and enjoys football on Sunday afternoons. He enjoys music and books and we talk about every concept that intrigues him you can imagine. BUT…there are days he simply enjoys being able to discuss frankly his need to own a submissive. This is a powerful draw for him and as I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs, not something he invented when we first talked. This has been with him his entire life. He simply had no idea what his dark needs meant or how to express them.

On this sunny day a few weeks ago, he opened up. He understands he’ll never be able to fully live the life that makes him happy, but at least he can enjoy aspects with me. We talk about his bag of implements. We talk about his desire for polyamory. He has no fear I’ll feel jealous or threatened. Why? Because I totally understand him in every way.

I feel the same about him. There is nothing he doesn’t know about me – good or bad. His full admission forced me to think. I’ve been pushing so hard against my own demons that I allowed outside distractions to keep me from the love of writing and the joy of sharing. That’s just wrong. I’ve never been one to be lured into a closet, tossing away the inner girl and her emotions. This has been my strength my entire life. I realize many don’t understand me, even through the vision of my stories. I can understand now how others feel. Fear. Blinding terror of the unknown.

What now given my newfound realization? I write again. I mentioned weeks ago that I was bored to death writing sex. That statement certainly rings true, however in certain stories and books, sex is a way of telling at least a portion of the story. There’s nothing wrong with a steamy moment in the shower, sharing passion during a picnic or in some cases, savoring a hard spanking. For me, this just needs to be tempered. I started writing science fiction, then moved to horror stories and finally romance/erotic. My true love is all about thrillers and the last pieces I was working on center around a combination of horror, thriller and some aspects of kink.

For two years or so, I haven’t watched television (other than The Walking Dead) or read a book. Over the course of the last three months I’ve watched movies, some extremely bloody and violent. I have friends who tease me because they know I have books about how to create the perfect kill. I do indeed. These fabulous creations are books for authors, allowing us to write real methods of using firearms and knives, poison and gas. Some might say this is a perfect setting for real life killers. Oh come on. The Internet is a fabulous tool, even for psychotics. There’s no need to read a book any longer. You simply pull up a Google page and viola, you’re an expert on injecting pesticides into the body or purchasing the correct knife for cutting through the carotid artery.

With regard to sex, the same thing applies. You can learn about the art of using rope to tie Bad Thingsan individual. You can read about every implement used for a hard spanking, when and where. I do ask though, are our imaginative minds enough to re-create the moment a knife is thrust into someone’s neck, or the way a leather belt feels slapping against a naked ass? Interesting questions, don’t you think?

The best authors can bridge this gap by watching movies, reading books and imaging the event. We learn the craft by talking to others, exploring ideas and continuing to write on a daily basis. I know when I’ve hit the mark. I’ve cried reading my own work. Then I know the love scene or the darkness of death is damn good. I’ve shuddered when I go back over a gruesome murder and the way I’ve embodied the spirit and ugly soul of a monster. I also laugh when I imagine the bantering scene two women have when discussing the hot guy in the restaurant they’re at. This is when writing is at its best.

Thankfully the writing is freer now. I don’t have nearly as much time but I’m writing again. I’m finishing up some very creative pieces regarding D/s and I just couldn’t let them go. I always finish stories and I plan on doing so. What’s helped unlocked my personal dungeon? John Patrick. His bravery at being able to accept the man inside has given me perhaps courage again. That sounds a bit odd, doesn’t it? Think about the notion. When was the last time you had a heart to heart with a friend or family member in which you were allowed to truly open up? When was the last time you were able to be yourself without fear of retribution? A long time? Then it’s about time.

The joy of writing is paramount in my life. The need to speak my mind, both in books and in real life, is a part of me that I can’t and won’t deny. Sex and kink. Bad words? Oh come on. Violence and murder? We all race to the latest gruesome horror flick with a candy box in hand, salivating at the extreme amounts of blood and gore. Mmm… Now I’m ready to write.

I’ll share a couple of rather gritty and sexy pieces over the next couple of days. I think you might like where my rather warped mind is taking me. We shall see what creative images I have during the next few months. Ready for more?

Kisses and spanks…

Cassandre

Posted in BDSM, creatures of the night, Domestic Discipline, Domination and submission, horror, murder mystery, serial killer, Spanking, thriller | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Reflections on an Interesting Year

As so many of us do, New Year’s Eve is a time for reflections of the past year. I can tell you that it certainly didn’t end how I anticipated, nor am I in the same place as I was this time last year. In truth and for the most part, I’m glad. I’m also very grateful so many things have changed for the positive. However along with good portions of any aspect of our lives, there are negative ones. I’m not going to bemoan but so much but there are a few things to be said.

Writing

Writing books and stories over the last six years have been a Godsend for me, allowing me to push away the often difficult portions of my life. Most authors will tell you that escaping through the pages of a book is fulfilling and peaceful. No matter our demons nestledwoamn-with-champagne-small inside, the ones fighting to breach the surface, we find solace in our writing. Unfortunately the business of writing has taken an ugly turn over the last few years.

From publishing companies who suddenly refused to accept their responsibilities and pay their authors to others who made promises they couldn’t keep, the industry has far too many black marks. Then there are authors who bash others, as well as their groupies who revel in doing so, in order to achieve more success. Really? What goes around comes around folks. How about reviewers, who have no business reviewing anything period giving bad reviews based on the fact they hate the genre? The new trend to try and inflict their grammatical style to a book and words they consider errors (which often is colloquial language) and in doing so give one star reviews. This doesn’t just obtain a ‘really’ but a how dare you? Can you ever simply enjoy a book and the plot?

Authors put themselves out in their books. We use imagination, often waking up in the middle of the night, to try and entertain. Let’s face it, there’s a hell of a lot of bad shit in this world including human monsters. Books, like movies, are escapism. To have naysayers constantly nagging and biting, spewing words of hatred because of our imaginations or our words is debilitating. I’ve certainly experienced a lot of this kind of feeling this year. In fact, for the first time in years, I stopped writing for a time. You bet there are people to blame but sadly, I have to look in the mirror first. I allowed lies and deceit, assholes challenging what I write and those who simply have nothing better to do than to try and drag authors down to do just that. For a while.

No longer. I’m tired of writing for the commercialism of writing. I’m through with listening to lies and bullshit. I’m also done with working with those who are nothing better than cynics. Writers work hard. So, 2016 will bring about perhaps a different style of writing for me. That’s my choice – not based on the crap I’ve had to go through. Erotic I’ve done to death. There are few other sex scenes in any combination that I can do. D/s is still intriguing but who cares any longer? Fifty Shades might have jump-started the genre, but indianajones3the books and the movie also gave it a silent death. Everything about the stories is so wrong, but people believe everything they read, right?

I’m bored, however it’s a legitimate genre that deserves all the kudos any slick little romance or bloody horror book does. There is an art to all styles of writing. Try it folks before you quash the spirit of another author. There’s also the misnomer that writers experience everything they write about. Right. I kill people in books – you bet I do, but really folks, you think I’m out there at night, conjuring up creative methods of actually killing people? Leave that to the monsters walking our streets.

I’m award winning and best selling – whoopdy do and a Scooby treat too. Making money is something else entirely. I go back to the advice I’ve given other authors for years – write for the love of writing. Don’t listen to the critics who have nothing better to do than to bash you or your writing style. Learn your craft and enjoy the process. Whether or not lightning strikes is unknown.

I was listening to Disturbed and their song “The Light”. The line “sometimes the darkness can show you the light” is so appropriate. When you go through what you think are your darkest hours, remember there are others suffering much more than you are. All you have to do is turn on the news. It’s a sad state of our humanity right now.

People

People and our relationships can be wonderful or they can drive us into madness. I’ve had a bit of that too this year. I enjoy being alone much more than I did, but I still have confidence in the good of some people. Some. I also believe that there are relationships that can withstand the test of time and various difficulties. I believe strongly in a couple that I’ve developed over the last two years. Even when shadows cross over our paths, I know what’s really there, what could happen in the future. The future is a mystery, right? Enjoy the path along the way for you never know what might happen.

Bullies seem to have emerged and are the way of the world right now. If you don’t like something, bully your way to the top and you’ll eventually get what you want. People don’t like challenge and they especially don’t like confrontation. So many people are followers in this world. That’s why we have copycat killers. That’s also why so many jump on the bandwagon when there’s a lifestyle or career that goes against the grain. Let’s gang up together and make fun, see the poor soul suffer more. Sounds great, doesn’t it? That’s human nature. How sad. What did your mother actually teach you? I shudder at the thought.

What happened to caring for others, helping those in need? Yes, of course there are still incredible stories, but they are blocked out by the disgusting path some humans have chosen to take. I hope we can learn to change.

Well, enough of the soapbox. I’m not going to reflect on the negativity in the new year. In fact, I’m very much looking forward to the future. I have so many things to be thankful for including my healthy five year old Golden Retriever, MacGyver and my new little fur ball, Indiana Jones. They look at the world with only love and compassion. Every day they are Champagne and raspberrymy constant companions, showering me with unconditional love. In return, I’ve been reminded that love, friendship and kindness are the true methods to happiness, not money or clout or powerful positions.

I’ve lost a couple of amazing friends to death and despair and these incidents are additional reminders that life is too short and too precious. So on this last day of the year, I’m celebrating life and love, good friends and my little family. I’ll drink a toast or two, share some good food and listen to incredible music. I’m also writing because I am an author. No one can take that away from me. Ever.

I wish all of you the best in 2016. I’m forever changed by the adversities as well as the amazing times. I’m certain all of you are as well. Take a step back and remember those around you who make this life worth living. My wish for you all…

Cass

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And So the World of Indiana Jones Begins…

No, not the infamous character or movie I so loved as a young adult. I’m talking about the new Golden puppy arriving in our house tomorrow. The timing is quite honestly heartbreaking given my beloved Goldie Hawn left us on Saturday. Of course we had no idea we’d lose her so soon. She was only twelve. We simply knew that we were ready to have a furry little third, one who could continue to delight Mac and his youthful years while giving Goldie a motherly role. Things often work out differently than you often think.

Indy is a true little special breed with a gorgeous face and I can tell, a willful spirit. I hope he’ll dry the tears and give Mac a reason to keep on being the adorable dog he’s grown into being. We pick Indy up tomorrow, right after attending a funeral of a good Indy 4 plus weeksfriend and one who helped DH through his cancer – even convincing him to go to a doctor at the time. Life can be very cathartic. Don’t you think?

The picture here is of Indy at only four and a half weeks. I haven’t seen a picture since and he’ll be almost eight weeks tomorrow. I have a mommy dog’s instinct that he’ll be very wild and HUGE. I don’t mind a challenge and my guess is that he’ll rummage through the Christmas presents like a little trooper. During our sadness last night, we had to begin dog proofing the house. You know – electrical cords and making sure there are no low ornaments on the Christmas tree. There was continued sadness as we performed the task. Still, we need to protect him just like we did when Goldie and Mac arrived.

I’m quite disillusioned lately on everything from life to the world of writing. The publishing industry certainly has taken a dark turn. Writing has become more of a chore than anything and I’ve grown bored with the normal books I write – no matter how many genres I currently write in. DH suggested I write about Indy and his entrance into our lives. Perhaps penning funny and crazy little bits about him and the way he adopts his ‘rents’ will help soothe another pain. We shall see but I can tell you that I have over 4k in words written about waiting for him to come into our lives.

I never would have thought I’d have to include a death. Life like people can be very cruel. But a mommy dog I will be to the little fur ball. As far as any other writing – we’ll see. I have lots to do in real life and I’ve learned what’s important. It’s not about making money or pleasing the world. What is so vital is enjoying every day with family and friends. Maybe I’m more melancholy given the time of year. Maybe my heart is really broken. Maybe I just need a break.

I’m reminded of the first time I read the book, Marley and Me. DH actually read many of the chapters as we were cuddling Goldie – ironically enough. I laughed and cried, wished the movie would have been a little better, and genuinely experienced the story. I hope to bring Indy’s (and Mac’s story) to life and I’ll post some of the passages along with pictures as the months continue. For now I’ll just say I long to hold Indy but wish more I could bring him home to love and enjoy a bigger family – one complete with Goldie Hawn.

It’s a magical time of year. I hope you remember to be kind to those around you and if you have furry babies, take an extra dollar or five and buy a special gift. They give unconditional love without condemning or questioning your motives. They simply want to lick away your tears, give you reason to laugh and to move forward in this crazy concept of life. Indy will be another special baby, but there are many out there who need good homes. If you have it in your heart, adopt for this holiday season. You certainly won’t regret and you might find the kinder and softer side of yourself along the process.

To Indy, I raise a glass and hope for a long and healthy life. To Mac, I wish for a wonderful companion to call his friend. To all of you, I wish you Merry Christmas.

The tears continue to flow…

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Mending a Golden Retriever’s Broken Heart

It’s a sunny and very warm day here in Virginia, certainly not the norm around Christmas. Usually this would be a day of splendor, relaxing outside while the babies play. Today my heart is broken. My Golden/Sheltie mix, Goldie Hawn left us prematurely from tumors crushing her liver and gall bladder. Words cannot express how sad we are. She quickly went downhill and we were forced to make a difficult decision. While I know it was the right one, I can’t fathom the last few days. Our other baby, a Golden we named Macgyver, is suffering and looking for his buddy. He won’t eat or drink goldieripwater.

I’m also angry, filled with a dark rage. The week was destructive in several ways, forcing me to loathe people once again. I’m enraged for various continued condemnations of the fact I’m a writer. I’m furious with intolerances and ‘know it alls’. I’m ready to lash out at basic stupidity and the realization there is so much bullshit in this world. I’m mostly angry with myself and wondering if there was anything more we could have done to protect Goldie. Could we have been better parents? Could we have given her different food? Could we have prevented the terrible seizures that required daily pills? I suppose we’ll never know. What I do believe is that she came into our world for a reason and I know this little girl was a precious gift.

We were lucky enough to stop at a Food Lion in January of 2004. The holiday decorations were still up and we were stopping to get the basics for dinner. A sign located outside offered free puppies. One sweet, angelic face caught our attention. We weren’t planning on getting another dog. We had three at the time, but as fate would have it, we couldn’t resist her tiny licks and her imploring eyes. This would be the first, and at this point, the only girl dog. We had big boys. They were rough and tumble. They were all male. Then there was Goldie. Daddy dog took over. He named her Goldie Hawn because of her gorgeous coat. I’ll never forget when he came back from what was Petstuff, having purchased a purple bed and pink and purple toys. From then on she became our little princess.

Over the years she took over, wrangling and controlling her brothers. She witnessed the loss of the three and the inclusion of Mac into our lives. She kissed away our tears and always managed to look straight into our very souls. We quickly realized she was part Sheltie so her little legs kept her from running as quickly as her brothers, but that never stopped her. She took over the roost. She had my assertive personality. She wrestled through the many presents under the Christmas tree, knowing exactly which ones were hers. She knew the exact bag in which I’d purchased yet another toy – and that happened on a regular basis. Then she was able within minutes to surgically remove the squeaker and the stuffing from a tiny hole she’d created. She never tired of being nuzzled or mouthed by Mac. She never became angry with the fact others received attention. She did maneuver her way into our beds, taking over the leather sofa and always waited by the window for one of our returns. Her sweet muzzle nestled on the bay window sill will forever remain a picture in my mind.

Goldie had more than her share of challenges. Her first seizure took us by surprise. It was goldie-againMac who knew something was very off. In the middle of one night, he growled in a low hiss unlike anything he’d ever done before. Merely seconds later her furry body began to convulse. By the miracle of a good vet and pills she’d be required to take for the rest of her life, we were able to control the episodes, but not before one wretched weekend nearly three years ago. She began convulsing first every few hours, then finally every twenty minutes. We couldn’t get her help fast enough and we thought we’d lost her. The resilience of animals is amazing. She returned with a vengeance, never letting the terrible experience alter her sweet personality.

A short time after this we noticed tumors. After a few weeks, her lovely tail, her golden feathers began to die. Amputation was the only acceptable method of stopping what was growing. Our special tailless wonder never looked more beautiful.

Last year my DH went through cancer. The growth was aggressive and he was forced to be away for a week at a time for chemo for several months. When he returned from each treatment, Goldie and Mac never left his side at night. They watched over him like hawks, alerting me when things weren’t going so well. He credits their constant attention and love for helping him through the arduous ordeal. Dogs are amazing creatures. They sense when something is wrong. They knew when cars are miles away, but coming home to be with them. They lick away sadness, nuzzle to keep you sane and fight to the very end so as to not disappoint you. Goldie was no different. She didn’t want to leave us. She needed to be here. Being our support was her job and one she took seriously. She fought death like the trooper we’d always known her to be.

Yesterday was a fog for the three of us. With her gone, our attention turned to Mac. He won’t drink or eat and looks for her in and out of the house. He’s so sweet and I worry about him more now than ever. I know he’ll regroup but it’s heart breaking to see him in so much pain. All we can do is love him. I pulled out her stocking yesterday – one of two she has. The pink velour special piece was embossed with ‘princess’. I couldn’t stop crying. I’d already purchased toys for Christmas and I’m afraid to look at them now. The tears won’t stop. Oddly enough, we have another baby coming on Tuesday. Indiana Jones is another Golden. We decided it was time to bring a third baby into our lives weeks ago, never knowing this would happen to Goldie. She was only twelve. While I’m happy about our decision, the timing is horrific, or perhaps it’s not for Mac. He can’t be the only dog in the house. That we learned very early on. He thrives on companionship. Perhaps Indy will bring some joy and stop the pain. Perhaps.

When you lose a family member, and Goldie was my daughter, you are reminded very quickly of what’s important. It’s not the soulless bastards who strive to destroy lives or livelihood of mankind. It’s not money and fame, clout or personal possessions. What matters is selfless love – the kind only animals seem to know how to give. I will remain angry. I want to lash out. I need to break and smash things. I long to Goldie at endbeat my back neighbor to within an inch of her life for chaining her dog for hours outside. But I won’t. This kind of behavior won’t bring her back. All I can do is remain true to myself and my love of animals. I will say that the majority of people deserve a special place in Hell. If the meek shall inherit the earth, animals are quite possibly our only means of salvation.

Love on your children, your friends and family and light a candle for my little girl. Her passing has forever changed me. Today I’m not an author, a manager where people condemn others for creating stories or even a woman. Today, I’m just a broken-hearted mommy dog.

Bethany

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A Service Dom for Needed Discipline

The thought is intriguing and one posed by my very good friend, Laurel Laskey. This lovely lady has seen me through some good and really wretched times – and all virtually. She’s an avid supporter, a talented author and always there to give me support. After my blog yesterday on spanking, she wrote asking if I’d ever considered a service Dom. For me, that’s someone you don’t develop a true relationship with, other than a certain amount of trust. You in a sense use each other via texting, phone calls and When only a spanking wil dosometimes various meetings to live a bit of the D/s lifestyle.

I’ve written about this before given many singles and couples go and “play” at clubs and different groups. I honestly don’t think I could do this. I’ve had plenty of offers, don’t get me wrong, but as I mentioned in an earlier blog, I’m into the mental aspect of submitting as much as the physical. I just can’t do that with a basic acquaintance. Still, I’m certain it works well for others. I laughed though because a sexy idea came to me in the middle of the night a couple weeks ago. There are some women (and men too) who thrive on discipline. I’ve written about this many times. The basic release of tension, perhaps allowing yourself to cry, is cathartic. What if you did indeed hire someone?

Of course as you can imagine, writing a story with this concept has to have a few twists and turns. For the majority of my readers, they want a HEA (Happy Ever After). Hiring someone to take care of discipline needs doesn’t necessarily lead to a romantic and passionate relationship. Or can it? There are various Doms/Dommes splashed all over the Internet in which they offer punishments for a price. They come to you, wherever you are and provide this service. Their methods of providing discipline is professional, unbiased and there are certainly no attachments made. As long as you have the money and the time, you can get your bottom blistered to your heart’s desire.

Sounds kinky? Weird? There are plenty of people who engage. The business seems to be growing in leaps and bounds. There are a whole lot of us who need the release only a hard spanking can give. So my little piece, with a twist of course, is well under way. I thought you’d like a small taste of 1-800-SPANKX. Let me know what you think.

“Interesting. You’re blushing just like you do every time our illustrious boss is anywhere near you. I think you might just have a bit of a crush on the man in charge.” Briana reared back in a fit of giggles.

Cassie tossed a pen in her direction. “Very funny. He’s an arrogant ass with an attitude and… Shit! I mean he’s a busy guy and not my type.”

“Honey, you can say anything you want around me. Get up. We’re going to lunch.”

“No can do.” There was no way she was going to any event with Dillon involved. None. Zero.

Briana placed her hands on her hips. “Fine. Be that way, but you owe me. We’re going out Friday night. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“If I still have a job after Friday, you’re on.”

“Party pooper.”

Cassie waited until Briana left her office then eased nonchalantly out of her chair and closed the door. Exhaling, she closed her eyes briefly and counted to five. She could use a little privacy. A cold shiver trickled down her spine. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about John in at least a couple of weeks. There was no need to. He was the past. He would never be allowed back in life. He was… Wonderful. Sexy. Perfect. “No, he’s an asshole.” He’d opened up her world, dragging the shy girl from her shell and introducing her to kinky aspects involving submission and spanking. Then he’d found himself a younger version, one with bigger tits.

She growled and walked to the window. Even the beautiful view couldn’t drag her out of her doldrums. She was a lost puppy without John and his staunch requirements, rules he’s imposed after only a week of dating. Infractions resulted in spankings and corner time. Palming the glass, she thought about how much she’d blossomed under his tutelage. Now Submitting classyshe had no one and no rules to follow. Good riddance.

If only she believed. She longed for a strong man in her life and strict obedience. What she needed was a hard spanking. “What am I saying? You are a strong woman. You don’t need a man to fulfill you.” The mantra said far too many times, she desperately wanted to accept her new life. Maybe a night out on the town would help. First things first. She had work to do.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the small refrigerator, she sat back down, determined to finish a rough draft today.

Ten minutes later and she slapped her hand on top of her desk. She’d typed a single sentence and it was crap. What in the world was she going to do? Shopping. Purchasing a few panties or a teddy from Victoria’s Secret used to work. She hadn’t used her credit card since her move. Today was the perfect time for a treat.

She shot a look at the door and clicked on Internet Explorer, typing in Google. Her fingers hovered over the keys. Hitting the ‘V’, she hesitated as an idea hit her. A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. Why was she so nervous? She glanced over her shoulder then typed in ‘spanking’. Instantly her screen filled with numerous titles, blogs and forums, porn videos and various sites listed for disciplinary needs.

Two more drops of perspiration slid down from her forehead. She wiped them furiously and bit her lower lip. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Looking at porn sites on company time and on her employer’s computer equipment was a sure fire way of getting herself fired. Well, she wasn’t actually looking at porn, just at Google. There was no harm in scrolling.

Cassie hummed as she looked at first page then a second. By the time she was on page 8 she’d grown antsy. There was nothing appealing. What did she think she’d find anyway? About to give up, she decided on looking at one final page. “What the…” 1-888-SPANKSX. The single sentence underneath the listing was intriguing. One stop shopping for a disciplinarian in your area. She’d heard of such things, but had never explored the option. She hadn’t needed to. Until now.

“Bad girl,” she whispered. This was ridiculous. Besides the fact she certainly would never consider hiring a stranger to spank her, let alone could afford such a service, Montana certainly couldn’t be prime BDSM territory. Still, the concept was far too tasty. “Just a look.” A simple click took her to an elaborate website, vivid in color.

She laughed out loud and clicked out then selected the link again. After another darted look toward the door, she read the single paragraph that promised to find the ‘right disciplinarian in your area for a reasonable price’. There was nothing but a single drop down box. “Find one in your state. Right.” She wrinkled her nose, took a gulp of water and slid her mouse on the pad.

Click!

As she scrolled down the list she grew excited. Her pussy tingled with longing as she thought about the last time John had spanked her. The passionate night had been a single day before she’d discovered him in his office, and he hadn’t been alone. The girl was between his legs, sucking his cock while he was on a conference call. The scene was one she’d never forget. The temper tantrum she’d thrown would be a story his entire staff would tell for years to come.

Montana…

“What?” She jerked up to the edge of her seat and couldn’t resist. There it was. There were several listed in Montana, including the Missoula. This had to be fate. There was no additional information, only a number to call and a Members Only box. She scribbled down the series of digits in red ink. This was borderline insane behavior. She was out of her mind. Go for it. What do you have to lose? It’s a phone call. The little jabbing voice seemed to ring in her ears.

She tugged her cell phone out of her purse and fingered the screen. There was no harm in finding out information. This wouldn’t mean a commitment. They didn’t have to know who she was. Or how desperate you are. “Ugh.” Against her better judgment, she dialed Taking down her pantiesthe number.

“Thank you for calling Spanksx. This is Marty. How may I assist you today?”

The feminine voice was pleasant enough, very businesslike. “Um, I’m not sure why I’m calling.”

“Are you inquiring about a punishment expert?” Marty asked. There was no condemnation in her voice, merely a professional tone.

“I’m not certain.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me which state you live in then we’ll go from there.”

“Montana,” Cassie blurted out, regretting her stupid spontaneity.

“Excellent. And the city?”

“Missoula.” The word was little more than a whisper.

“Fabulous place. I used to live there. Let’s see what we have.”

Cassie shrunk in her chair. Nausea crept into her stomach, bile rising into her throat. She was going to throw up.

“We have six that are close enough. Would you prefer a man or a woman?”

“What?”

Marty exhaled. “Would you prefer a male or female disciplinarian?”

Cassie hesitated.

We will see where this goes…

Kisses and spanks…

Cassandre

Posted in BDSM, Domestic Discipline, Domination and submission, Spanking | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Holiday Maintenance Spankings

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted. There’s a lot going on in my life, including pretty heady stress. The job is killing me. It’s daunting to say the least. New positions being created, new staff, retraining staff, extra hours… Well, you know what this can lead to – bouts of frustration, anger and tears. Yep. That’s me right about Submitting another over his kneenow.

I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been a bit over the top with my staff. I’ve cried several times. This doesn’t bode well for running a corporation. What do I need? A hard spanking. I have to laugh in thinking about this because just a few years ago I wouldn’t have even thought about the concept. Why would an adult need to be spanked for being in a foul mood? What I’ve learned is that there are many ways to release tension, but most of them aren’t good for body or soul, let alone the people around you. Normally calm people can explode for seemingly no reason.

So imagine the scenario. You come home after a long and exhausting day. You’re snarky, snippy and nothing your partner has done is right the moment you come in through the door on a Friday evening. You toss your bags, grumbling about everything under the sun, and immediately pour a tall alcoholic beverage. In the next several minutes, you pick an argument about the dirty kitchen, the fact you have to go to a holiday event and pretty much everything else. This tends to lead to a full-blown and very nasty yelling match between you and your spouse. Maybe you have dinner or maybe you just drink the night away, falling into a non-restful slumber only to awaken in the same mood. Don’t you see yourself in this? I can certainly envision the remainder of the weekend. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.

For those involved in a domestic discipline or D/s relationship, this kind of behavior would never be allowed. The concept of stopping or curtailing such ridiculous emotional outbursts isn’t about punishment for the most part. It’s about love and the necessity of respect. Women do tend to be a bit more emotional and prone to falling into sadness or even depression, especially at the holidays. We’re all taxed, attempting to take on the world. We’re super women at work, at home and with family and friends. We worry about the perfect gifts, the holiday decorations and dinners we must prepare for family. We frustrate over the way our children or pets seem to be even more high-spirited, vying for our full attention. There are extra hours, long nights, additional duties and every single moment leads to utter disorganization. What women need is a solid and heartfelt release. Of course men do as well. What I can tell you is that men who are HOH (Head of Household) find release in spanking their spouse or significant other. I never realized this until my conversations with John Patrick. He told me on more than one occasion that turning me over his knee or when he out his belt, he felt a sense of peace enveloping his very soul.

I know you might find this hard to believe, but he was adamant that spanking me was cathartic for him. He knew when I needed strict discipline and for him, the realization of my need to submit, his need to control and the closeness we felt was highly emotional for both of us. Let’s imagine the Friday night scenario again.

You come home, drop your things, reach for a drink and start in on the arguments. Your loving spouse allows you the few minutes to spew as he remains quietly in the dim lighting, sipping on a drink. Then he emerges from the shadows, giving a look of confidence and determination while he takes the drink out of your hand and gives you a hug. You shudder knowing what is going to occur next but melt into his arms. As he rubs your back, telling you that bad behavior won’t be tolerated, you close your eyes, tears slipping past your lashes. In a soothing voice, he explains how much he loves you and that everything will be all right. Minutes later you take his direction, going to the bedroom to remove your clothes and stand in the corner. You begin contemplating the week, the level Submitting Pulling her pantiesof worry and fear you have about making everything work just the way you want. You enter into a calm space, realizing you aren’t super woman. When he finally comes into the bedroom, placing pillows in the middle of the bed, anxiety and anticipation becomes a slice of fear, but you’re ready for the discipline you so need.

He instructs you to lie across the pillow with your arms over your head. In what seems like hours, but is truly only seconds, he places his hand on your back, stroking lightly. You can hear the sound of him removing his belt, the way the stiff leather pops past the various loops in his pants. You’re terrified but longing to get your punishment over with.

Crack!

The first strike draws your body up from the bed, an anguished cry pushing past your lips.

Whoosh! Slap!

The second and third are placed directly on your sit spot and tears spring to your eyes.

Crack! Whack! Slap! Pop!

He directs the spanking evenly across your bottom and the tops of your thighs. You cringe as your fingers dig into the comforter, trying to be a good girl. After a solid ten strikes, he stops and caresses your skin. “Good girl.” His deep voice resonates in your ears. You wiggle, your hand moving to try and stop any additional discipline. But it continues.

Whack! Pop!

Ten more are issued and suddenly you lie still. Your buttocks are on fire but there’s a sense of relief and you float into a quiet blanket of peace.

Crack! Slap!

Ten more and every part of your body is tingling. The pain is extreme and you begin to sob. Relief flows and tension eases. You no longer struggle, merely lying quietly as the tears flow.

Whoosh! Slap!

The sound of the belt swinging through the air is the only thing you can concentrate on. You pant as the tears rush from your eyes, the soft material now soaked with wetness. Every part of your body is tingling. The touch of his hand, kneading the small of your back is comforting. You know he loves you, wants the best for you. Another ten strikes of the belt and you’re wet all over, goose bumps popping along every inch of your naked skin. Then he tells you only ten more. You squeeze your eyes shut and remain in position – just as he requires.

When the last second of the belt, the last strike is finished, you know he’s now sitting on after the spankthe bed and you sob openly, crying until you gasp. Then he gathers you into his arms, holding and caressing while you calm down. He kisses the tears away as he strokes your hair, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your mouth. As he helps you off the bed, guiding you back into the corner for “think time”, you feel nothing but love and complete peace.

Can you imagine how much better the weekend is going to be?

Spankings. They are something I honestly believe should be a part of a couple’s routine. I know for me, the rather intense woman, I thrive and learn to let go when I’ve received a hard spanking. What do you think? Is this something that might just help ease the holiday blues? This might not be for everyone, but you might want to ponder the aspect, perhaps asking your husband or partner for a change in your relationship. Hmmm…

I hope you’ve enjoyed.

Kisses and spanks…

Cassandre

Posted in Domestic Discipline, Domination and submission, Spanking | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments