This is a blog of things I like and probably some things I don't. You be 18+ and in touch with some sort of reality, really any reality will do...
On Occaison Epilogue: Cue Music! Fade and Roll Credits!
I’d like to take this opportunity to say a few words about “On Occaision” now that the story is complete.
When I started this, longest of all my writing, back in January, I had an idea of what I wanted to write. I had a very good idea of why I needed to write it. I had no idea how to end it. Sure, I had all the various “scene” elements already in mind, but no proper stopping point.
This lack of an ending was pretty true in my life generally in January.
“On Occasion” was intended to transition my writing. Closing older subject matter, and opening the possibility for new inspiration. That is exactly what the process of writing this has done for me.
Some of you who read my stuff closely may have noticed the differences in style when the woman in the story got her voice in Part V. This is because Part V was a writing collaboration with a good friend… Madamoiselle Michelle.
A special “Thank You!” goes out to her for lending a voice that I could not write, that I never could have. Additionally I thank Her Man, for his tolerance and support of this collaboration, I owe you a beer…
Michelle helped me a lot during the writing of this piece. She encouraged me to keep it going, both in writing and in life. She encouraged me to stay true to myself and keep my eyes open, when I wanted to close them the most. I am very grateful for that help and encouragement and advice. Because of it, I was awake when the time was right, and open for something truly wonderful and amazing to happen.
I am very excited about the future. I am truly inspired anew. Some of you may have already noticed the change. Thank you too, Mia Bella… There’s so much more to come.
So… Here are the links to all five parts in one place. I’m pretty proud of the way it turned out. I’m very proud of the way it ended.
Thank all of you for following and reading these “Acts of Hubris”…
Here’s to whatever comes next… ~H
On Occasion Part V: Fly On…
“When I’m sad, she comes to me. With a thousand smiles she gives to me free.
It’s alright, she says it’s alright, take anything you want from me…Anything…
Fly on little wing.”
Artfully, you tuck in a stray curl and reapply your lipstick. As you finish, I am again at your shoulder nipping lightly at your flesh. Your head bows slightly, to make more room for me. Your quiet purring, disappears when you look up into the mirror. My eyes meet yours, as I slowly turn you to face me.
The moment I glance up in the mirror, I am immobilized. The surety in your eyes is the most persuasive and inescapable of bonds; the quiet but expectant weight of their intent is almost palatable. I shiver in very real apprehension and delicious anticipation, an unseen mantle of breathless yearning settling about me in a softly weighted veil. I cannot look away. I couldn’t if my life depended on it. For one heartbeat … or was it two? Three?
Hand resting on my shoulder, you turn me to face you with a gentle decisiveness that brooks no response; not that I am capable of giving one, anyhow…
“For…Our dance.” I lower my gaze drawing your eyes down to my hands. They hold a compact, u-shaped, vibrating toy, and a small single button remote, to control it. I press the button, and the purple curl springs to life, another push and it goes still. Your eyes dart between my hands and my face for several moments…
It wasn’t a question, I know… but I hesitate, uncertain.
Nervously, I chew my bottom lip, weighing my options. My bottom still smarts with the reminder of my earlier misconduct, and I in no way need a repeat demonstration. With something akin to apprehension, I peek back up at you… seeking reassurance.
Time itself is suspended in your eyes. Hanging, a stilled pendulum, a motionless artifact of stored energy held captive by the inference reflected there.
Certainty, quiet expectation… Indulgent tenderness, patient empathy… A promise…
My eyes widen at these revelations, these priceless gifts. I take a surrendering breath, mollified and staggered at the reverence and intensity that I witness. Mute with intent but still clinging reassuringly to your gaze, my hand creeps down to my thigh, bidden only by your desire, a silent command.
Your right, elegantly clutches a handful of ivory, and you open your stance as I kneel before you. Your eyes brighten at the sight, taking their moment to enjoy, my upward gaze. I place the vibe and position its curl to caress inside, and out. Remote in my left, my right lifts a caress flowing from ankle up through inner thigh and over the toy as I stand. I kiss your lips lightly, and offer my left…
Kneeling! You! The surprise takes a heartbeat to register and I stand there, lips apart, in stunned silence… Before a delicious, guilty tendril of pleasure steals to the forefront of my mind.
Yes, you… kneeling.
A satisfying thrumming starts at the base of my skull, rushing slippery and insistently lower, pooling unbidden in my groin. My face flushes hot, first with the treasonous murmurings of my mind and then with trepidation as I become acutely aware that the aforementioned heat has now bludgeoned a path directly to your fingers on my moist flesh below and is now disclosing the shape of my thoughts better than I could ever have articulated them. Abashed, I lower my eyes, afraid of incriminating myself and the brazen things I am musing… But you know me too well. Chuckling, probably at the absurd futility of my thoughts, you position the vibe in situ, trailing light fingertips along the inside of my leg in a tender tracing arc as you rise. Soft lips brush mine, an acknowledgement and a reaffirmation of ownership in one simple act, and I almost meekly assume my position to your left.
You stride into position as we enter the hall, quietly retracing our steps to the ruckus below. As we get to the stairs, I tap the button on the remote, a wave passes through you and flows into my arm. I look into your eyes and press again. You gasp a little as your breathing returns to normal.
I didn’t see you push the remote… but I did certainly feel it, a simultaneous pulsing deep within and also without, jarring me and steadying me at the same time. With your usual perceptiveness, you had recognized what was coming long before I did. You read my posture, the flounce in my step, the cocky switch of hips and what it bespoke… and acted accordingly. My demeanor had begun slipping into something less meek and more bold — and without a word, you reminded me where I was and who I belonged to.
Oh, how quickly I needed admonishing!
Guiltily, I turn to you, my eyes searching yours and finding naught but gentleness and encouragement. You carry my gaze for a moment before silently tapping the button again… and the hungry cadence was still.
I bow my head and we continue down the stairs, smiling…
We continue down the stairs and around the corner into the throng, still munching and sipping, they are completely unaware of our absence. We grab two more tall glasses as we pass the platter, stroll out to the pool, and pause at our spot near the portico again. It’s a beautiful clear night the air is cooling nicely, perfect for a dance. I grab your right hand in my left this time and head out for the dance floor tugging your arm. You giggle through the last quick sips of Champaign and your glass comes to wobbly rest on the arm of the chaise as you are drawn away. Never to be outdone, I nod to the DJ as we approach. Red light washes over the dance floor and the sound of Texas blues, caressing a Hendrix classic, envelopes us as we step into an open space. The remote is cupped in the palm of my left as I take your right hand. I curl my right around you, stepping in close and swaying, half time, with the soulful guitar.
The patient tenderness of your arms encircling me is almost my undoing. Once again, I am startled at how you can silently and yet so fervently remind me of to whom I belong. A cool glance, an eyebrow raised in knowing response, the quirk of a smile playing about the corners of lips, soft yet decisive hands… all make me ache with slippery need and the unquenchable desire to please you, to yield to you.
I squeeze your hand. The leading edge of the wave passes through us. Your movements are more serpentine now. You writhe against me in perfect half time. Your breathing shallows, I move in to kiss your cheek and squeeze your hand once more. I pull you tighter to me and reel with you. Your eyes have come completely alive. I squeeze your hand again and you sigh and press into my arms tighter, I can feel the waves in your every touch, you float and reverberate. I squeeze your hand, and bring my lips close to your ear.
“Good girl. Do you think you can let go? Can you erase everyone and everything? Can you melt right here in my arms Little Wing?”
The music rises to crescendo and we part and you twirl outward, then back into my arms.
“To let go. Or to play it safe? I want you. I want you to melt. I want you to fly on…”
So often, there is my need to test you, to push you. I long for the tranquility that the knowledge, that you are there, and that you are guiding me, lends me. I yearn to be reminded that you are my rock of immovable fortitude, reminded that you are resolute and unchanging. That none of my contentiousness or contrariness or sulkiness or petulance has any affect whatsoever on you. That you can raise a questioning eyebrow upon my tantrums with a patient tolerance and then, with a knowing look, snap me back immediately to where I should be. I thrive on this.
I give you this ability because I trust you.
And, trusting you here, I sink against your chest, my body helplessly confessing what words cannot. You are my anchor, my safest harbor. Whatever belligerence and resistance that had been left was now rendered into something completely malleable and pliant, supple with an eagerness to please and experience and share.
“Yes, Sir” I murmur, low and with need. I squeeze your hand in mine…Then, louder, “Yes.”
“Good girl…”
The Butterfly Effect…
“Wired and I’m tired, think I’ll sleep in my clothes on the floor. Or maybe this mattress will spin on its axis and find me on yours. Don’t say a word, just come over and lie here with me…’cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see… Steady my breathing, silently screaming I have to have you now.”
My stomach flutters as I write. The memory floods back, the moment of discovery. Such a captivating set of words, such a lovely sentiment, its tug could not be denied. Then soon after, came the news that changed everything fundamentally, permanently. The rush like that first big drop, prospects and promises all tied together in a fluttering knot. Could this really be? What course has brought me here, here to this most amazing place?
A theory exists that states, events and outcomes are incredibly sensitive and dependent on initial conditions, where a small change at one state can result in large differences to a later state. A tornado’s formation may be contingent on whether or not a distant butterfly had flapped its wings several weeks before… I felt the gentle wisp of air. I felt the rising storm in its wake. You have made your presence felt so deeply, so quickly, the butterfly has surely flapped her wings, and I am blessed by it.
She’s inside you. She’s fluttering around my stomach too. She’s summoned the winds. Take my words, my bonds, my arms and my heart as your cocoon. Rest there, be comforted there and grow there. This is not a change, it’s a metamorphosis. A turning of the inside…out, and a safe place to do it. She is there inside you. I know you feel her too. Let her spread her beautiful wings and dry them, in my care. And when she takes flight in all of her fragile strength, remember that first wisp of breeze. Remember that first moment we knew, a storm was coming…and it was going to change everything…
…for you My Butterfly… ~H
A Beautiful Mind
I can only speak of the women I have been with and spoken to at depth… But, there is a common thread among you all. These women represent a bit of a spectrum of experience. But, all of you are strong women. Be it in business or education, whether it comes from physical stature or characteristic beauty, or more internal artistic and creative expressions of strength. All of you carry a weight to show your strength, responsibility, power, the “image” itself.
As a result, you are busy people. With very busy minds. Minds that constantly throw challenges and critiques at you. Minds that constantly, cope with those internal drivers too, spending even more energy. But those “demons” drive you, successfully too. Your success reinforces your strength.
Submission is a journey, so is Dominance. We are all trying to get ‘somewhere’. The women I have met are all looking for a place to drop the weight you carry, not permanently, but for a while, and often. Tear down all that pressure and posture from success. And in doing so, silence all that activity going on in your heads. Silence even the good activity like thinking of a good solution to a problem at work. You want all of that gone. You want a place to feel more than think. That different mindset, purely incidentally, has sexual benefits. When you let your walls that far down, you are at your most intimate. You are most you. That’s why the heart is never left behind. You leave your hearts behind in your strength. You return to your heart when things are much quieter on the inside. You are all looking for someone worthy of delivering you there.
How you get there, and what you need, to do so… That’s the journey and brings in the trappings. And it is a different journey each time you try with a new partner. A good Dom only guides the submissive where she already wants to go, and needs help to get to. A good Dom bridges the gaps you are afraid to cross on your own.
~H
(via curiousmuse)
On Occasion Part IV: In Your Eyes…
“…I see the light and the heat…in your eyes. Oh, I want to be that complete. I want to touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes…”
The second floor is deserted and darkened. We swing into to the bath, in the middle of the hall. I let go of your right, and quietly close the door behind us, it lock with a faintly satisfying ‘click’. I turn to see you already at the mirror, primping and re-perfecting. You are just slightly bent over the vanity, getting just a little closer to your work. The fabric of your dress clinging delightfully around your pose, amplifies the feeling you have been creating in your wake all night. I burn for you, like all the others, unlike anyone else in this world.
The bathroom is spacious, and crisp. Earth tones and granite surfaces surround the fine porcelain and nickel finishes. It’s resonant. I hear my own footsteps, before I realize I’ve begin to move toward you. My eyes seeking yours in the mirror as I approach, they meet there just as reach your back. My right encircles your waist and slowly pulls you upright as we stare into the mirror. My lips fall onto the exposed skin near the base of your neck and I savor your scent and the warmth of that place for a moment. I feel your breath catch. I grab a full handful of ivory from the slit in the dress and unwrap its folds outward and around. Just the slightest nudge into the center of your back and you begin to move in response. Our eyes are locked in the polished glass as you bow onto the vanity. They widen perceptibly as the cooler air meets the warm skin exposed by my movement of your dress.
You are a hurricane, an earthquake, the singularity. You are mine. I bend slightly over you pinning your hips to the counter. Your eyes never leave mine.
“You created quite a stir didn’t you love.” I whisper into your ear. “You carried that wave beautifully.” I kiss your neck lightly.
“Just one thing… when in your place…”
Our eyes locked. Yours, spring wide. They flash, even before the sound and its multiple echoes bounce around us. The sound of the crack, of skin on skin, is unmistakable, as is the moan that follows it. A high note counterpointed by a low one.
“I lead.”
My body slides down behind yours. I trace the growing ridge of your reddening skin with my lips and the tip of my tongue. Your scent is different now, and the glistening lines running down your thighs, catch the light. My fingers catch a streaming line and draw it upward back toward its source. Our eyes meet in the mirror once again. Yours are black, wide and moist, open to your soul. You widen your stance as my hand approaches, caressing you, there, inside you, there. Your heat pulls my touch deeper. Your sigh hangs lightly among the hard surfaces. I withdraw my touch and show you my glistening fingers, before tasting the tips of each one. Our eyes locked, no words. Yes my love, you are so very delicious. You struggle to keep your pout, from showing as you watch me savor you. I couldn’t possibly want you more than in this moment. My belt makes a low ‘thunk’ as the weight of it carries my pants to the floor. My hands fall to your hips and in an instant, I’m inside you, pressed smoothly and deeply, again pinning you to the counter. One motion, to pause, to hold you there, to hold me there, our eyes together in the mirror.
“I know you want a taste.”
One graceful motion… Intricate and intertwined movements to withdraw, spin, move along the counter, slide you down onto the closed lid of the commode, and bury myself in your mouth, still dripping with our juices. Complicated choreography, carried out under our locked gaze. Even now, I am held fast by it. You are more than an earthquake. You are so much more than your outward appearance, far more than a decoration. You are my sheathe. My home. You protect me, and carry me, balance my dangers, but keep them honed. All this passes between us, all this in my eyes. You are perfection, and I am the blade hidden inside.
“Good Girl…”
Again, I withdraw, and take your hand as you rise. “Ok my beloved, finish primping, I have one more surprise left for you tonight.”
“Out there…you still owe me a dance.”
On Occasion Part III: Specific Gravity
“How can I put this in a way so as not to offend or unnerve. There’s a rumor goin’ all round that you ain’t been gettin’ served. They say that you ain’t you know what, in baby who knows how long. It’s hard for me to say what’s right… When all I wanna do is wrong.”
Our Host is a man of means. He has earned every shred of power and respect he receives, and all the trappings that go with it. He extends a hand to me as we greet each other and polite introductions are made. “It is customary for the host to enjoy a dance with his finest guests.” He’s talking to me, but he’s looking at you. His tone is not lascivious. He is earnest and disarming. You can see the charm that helped propel him. My eyes meet yours and a silent discussion takes place. “Of course” you answer, and offer him your hand after handing me your glass. He smiles like a school boy, and leads you off after glancing at me and nodding slightly. I settle back into the column of the portico, set your glass down on the arm of a nearby chaise, and watch as he leads you to the dance floor. The DJ sees him approach with you and the current song fades. The voice of Luther Vandross fills the back yard. “Smooth.” I think to myself as you step into his arms, his right hand low on your waist. You move into him slightly and gently swirl your hip until his hand is at the small of your back. “But not as smooth as you.”
The dance continues as I sip my drink, you are smiling and chatting as you move in time with him. Our eyes meet occasionally, you are comfortable and charmed. I sip my drink and smile. Have you noticed yet? You are a singularity. The entire world is trapped and revolving around you, the things closest, most rapidly so. The song fades and you separate, you take his hand, and this time, you lead him back to me. He looks, ecstatic, more than happy to follow you, anywhere. You return to your place at my side, and he folds your hand in mine. “T-Thank you for the dance. P-Please enjoy the evening.” He turns and heads back to his rounds. I have heard that man speak at hundreds of engagements. I’ve never once detected a hitch, until now. “My my”, my smirk is no disguise as I hand you your glass. Our eyes meet, yes… you felt us all in orbit. Your heat is radiating off of you. As you drain your glass we begin to walk, heading for the house. “I think it’s time to freshen up a bit.”
Left on right, we weave our way back to the foyer through a maze of chattering guests. Trays of food and drink are everywhere you look. The front door is now closed and the party echoes off its surface. It’s perfect. It’s perfect cover, for the light clicking of your heels as we ascend the stairs. You’re off the runner and you nudge into me to hide your steps, so demure. I make room as we continue our ascent, silent and unnoticed. At the landing our eyes meet again. My right curls low around your hips, tightening you to my side, the fabric taught and transparent to the touch. That’s right Miss Singularity, a few more steps…and your ass is mine.
On Occasion Part II: Entre Nous
“I’ve been really tryin’, baby…Tryin’ to hold back this feeling for so long. And if you feel like I feel, baby…Then, c’mon… oh c’mon.”
Together, we cruise through city lights. There is little traffic this evening, perfect for stealing glances as the colors of the night play across your skin. Your countenance appears relaxed and perfectly content, ready for this evening out. The caress of your palm tells a different story, entirely. There is a heat, a moist heat and a subtle vibration there, an anticipation and excitement that resonates through every atom of me. We need no words, as we communicate through interlocked fingers.
Before long, we arrive at the entrance to a long horseshoe drive, laid out before a house. More than a house really, it is a postmodern antebellum tribute to veiled opulence. We pull up to the valet stationed in the drive and he opens your door and holds out his hand. Our eyes meet as I kiss your knuckles before releasing your fingers. I can see you in that moment, you are ablaze inside. I chuckle as I turn to get out of my side, that poor boy has no idea what he has just taken by the hand. As I step up onto the walk, a tremor snaps through the valet as you rise from your seat holding his hand. His eyes are wide, his face beams. His hands are still shaking as I hand him the keys. You take your place at my left side and I whisper to you as we stroll, “Look what you did there… That one is going to need a break now.” You are stunning. There is no hiding that fact tonight.
The door to the house is open and inviting as we step through, into the wood of the foyer. A grand staircase rises away to our left and to the right a short hall to an open living room where guests have gathered and Champaign is being served. The guests are spilled out through the living room, out through French doors into the back yard. Smooth jazz pours in through the open doors. We follow a trail of smiles and small pleasantries until we are again outside. I catch your eyes and it’s hard to tell if you even notice your wake, the widened gazes and subtle knocking of knees you created as we passed through the house. You are an earthquake here. The whole house shook at your arrival.
We find a cozy spot to stop and look out over the pool and we enjoy our drinks. I raise my glass. “To Us.” You respond in kind and we enjoy a sip lost in each other. We turn toward the pool again, my left hand drops casually to my side. One…two…three heartbeats pass and I feel the warmth of your thigh against my palm. “Good girl.” You melt into my side, arm on my shoulder, my touch on your flesh is almost imperceptible to the party at large. Under my palm, under my rising caress, there is another rhythm thrumming, it is matched by the hitch in your breath as you take another sip from your glass. You are ablaze, there can be no doubt.
On the patio to our left, a small dance floor has been set up and decorated for tonight’s festivities. A few couples have ventured onto it, to sway together in the moonlight. Our host has made his way to the French doors. He is making rounds and has picked up on your scent. His eyes catch mine, and he makes a turn and heads in our direction. Heads up Earthquake Girl… I feel another tremor coming…
On Occasion Part I: Are You Ready?
“People get ready, there’s a train a comin’. You don’t need no baggage, you just get on board. All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin’. Don’t need no ticket…”
There is just a hint of stiffness in the cotton as I fold the collar down. A pleasant slap felt against my neck; crisp, but not too stiff. Still fiddling with the black knot I turn from the mirror to catch you in profile, hunched delicately, a cascade of ivory at your feet. I pause transfixed as you extend first one leg, then the other into the pile of fabric, rising slowly as the dress unfurls. It’s long, clingy and so very lovely. The black accents on the ivory field perfectly match my jacket. They perfectly match you as well, darkness emphasizing light. You stand and turn in a hopeless attempt to find the zip, my cue. A hand lightly on your hip pauses your spin. My breath on your shoulder stills you completely. I stifle a small sigh as the pleasant vibration in my fingers gathers the dress close around your hips, your form perfectly lined and defined by the caress of it. I hear you echo that same feeling in your breathing; we don’t need words at all.
I step back as you turn, radiant, so light in the darkness of the room. Your hair piled intricately, your make up expertly applied and flawless. You smile and lift a silver chain from the dresser. I take the ends from you and fasten it behind your neck, a tasteful charm, a diamond butterfly, hangs perfectly on your chest, again, mirroring your own perfection and taste. As you slide on your heels, I gather the last accoutrement from the top of the dresser, a silver bracelet with an intricate clasp. One you could never fasten or unfasten yourself. One you need me to fasten for you. Instinctively you hold out your wrist and I slide it on. Our eyes lock for the moment of that satisfying “click”. As a symbol of our bond, there is nothing more fitting. Nothing more fitting…for the public, I chuckle to myself.
I offer my left, you curl your right and take your place as we stroll to the car. Your place, on my left, close and just slightly behind me, placed so that if I were to drop my hand to my side, I could feel your skin as you stride through the generous opening your attire provides. You are simply elegant, simply exquisite, simply…perfect. We make our way to the passenger side and I hold your hand as you lower yourself into the leather, so discreet about keeping the climbing dress in place. I chuckle again, for I know you are instinctively covering the fact that there is a very good reason this form fitting dress leaves no lines. The fabric tells no lies. I sigh again without the attempt at cover, close the door and smile as I walk to my side. Tonight, my precious one, we dance…
Venom Part II: A Moment of Weakness
“Some say the end is near. Some say we’ll see Armageddon soon. I certainly hope we will ‘cause… I sure could use a vacation from this… Learn to swim…”
Seeing that you are the main benefactor of most of my work, boy, one would think you would address me with a modicum of respect. But not you. He who lays in the cradle of his Father’s craft. Life is not a participation sport boy. There will be no trophy for your simple existence. In the end there will be no quarter for your pretty face, or what hangs between your legs. All you have managed to glean, from that which surrounds you, is a plain penchant for consumption. You feed off her like a parasite until she has nothing left. How do you figure she gains replenishment?
A man would ask her to choose. I can assure you boy, she would choose you in an instant. But what happens when no one comes to refill your cup? You already know don’t you boy… The world has already returned you to your Father’s cradle one time… You dare not risk another. You dare not risk another attempt to stand on your own.
What you don’t know is that she’s a sleeping dragon, boy. Curled around a treasure that you can’t even fathom, let alone, possess. I’m poking at her with sticks and all matter of things, trying to roust her from her slumber. She may yet wake on her own. And when she wakes boy… When those eyes are fully open and those wings are unfurled… You are all gonna burn boy… Nothing will save you then, mark my words.