Monday, January 16, 2017

Shoe-nicorns



This would probably come as a surprise to most people, but I am 26 years old and have never once owned a pair of high heels. This is partly due to the fact that they are horrendous torture devices and I like comfortable shoes. It's also partly due to the fact that the shoe industry hates people with wide feet, so finding a pair of cute shoes, heeled or otherwise for my chubby hobbit hooves is damned near impossible.

Wide shoes are the rarest of beasts. Wide heels are the fucking unicorns of the shoe world.

I am, however, a dancer, and spend a great deal of time in relevé (raising of the body on the points or demi-pointes). As a belly dancer who dances barefoot, this would be demi-pointe as my feet are not strong enough for a full pointe even in block shoes. Basically what this means is I spend a fair portion of my dancing in imaginary heels.

There is also a portion of the belly dance world that dances in heels. This is particularly popular in Turkish and Lebanese belly dance. Many belly dancers across the world do wear some form of shoes, but many also perform in these phantom heels made of air.



I often wonder, because I've never danced in heels, how one would perform certain steps and turns with a heel in the way.

Heels have never factored into my kink life. I'd have to find a pair that fit first. In the meantime, I'll content myself with flats and dancing on air.



Saturday, January 14, 2017

Serve First

Long time no see, reader peoples. Along with general holiday craziness, Daddy and I have been laid up with winter plague. He was the first to succumb to what in the American South is known as "the crud," which is a delightful colloquialism for a head cold and conditions of a similar nature. I fell victim about a week later.

I spent New Year's weekend caring for my malarial master, despite the almost guarantee that I would also get sick. He was concerned that would happen. I didn't really care if I did or not. It was the first real opportunity I had for domestic service beyond simply fetching a drink when he would shove an empty glass at me.

I arrived quietly, armed with four cans of chicken noodle soup, two boxes of tissues, and a bottle of Mountain Dew (his soda of choice). He had advised me to let him sleep if he was doing so when I arrived, so I went about picking up trash and dishes and cleaning up the kitchen.

It's interesting, trying to navigate someone else's kitchen without guidance. I hadn't really been given any sort of domestic tasks in his home before. We typically switch off who cooks based on who is hosting during each visit. This time, I brought up food I'd already cooked and was trying to determine what could go in his little dishwasher based purely on instinct and what I could remember from watching him on previous visits. I don't think I managed to destroy anything.

It's interesting to me how much of a motivated housekeeper I am when I'm doing it as a service. I look at my own kitchen or my own room and just kind of grimace. I procrastinate like a son of a bitch when it comes to cleaning up my own spaces. But when I'm cleaning for someone else, I keep finding new things to do when one task is finished.

Which, by the way, is hard, when your master is a bit of a neat freak.

He warned me the house was trashed because he'd been sick. His idea of trashed is more like mildly cluttered.

Fortunately, as I've mentioned in the past, he's wonderfully observant, so he noticed pretty much if not everything I did, regardless of how unnoticeable I thought it would ultimately be. I spent the long weekend fetching drinks, cooking soup, making two dinners from the mess of food I brought with me.

Amidst that, he might rattle off a list of tasks, and I might get a little frazzled trying to get myself organized. I particularly have this issue when I'm cooking a meal with multiple dishes. I kept thinking "serve first, then do [x]."

I've never really had that thought before, but then, I've never had much of an opportunity for service before. The few I can remember have been sparse with perhaps years between.

One thing I do know from those few experiences is I'm much better at taking care of others than I am at taking care of myself.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

e[Lust] - #89


Photo courtesy of Sex is My New Hobby

Welcome to Elust 89-

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #90 Start with the rules, come back January 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

When the Tears Finally Came

The pure and simple truth

One Down


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Disabilities & Submission, Part 2: I Say No

UnRepentant Darkness


~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Hoar Frost…

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Hold me down
Keeping me chaste
Say My Name
The Little Things
Struggle...
Learning To Truss
A New Use
My Mania is My Drug
Life as a Laissez-Faire Domme

Erotic Fiction

Watching
Candy, Caned
Jax and Rickie’s First Kiss
New Collar

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why You Should Make a Sex Tape
And the winner is...doggy style!
Pleasantville: The Promise of Trump's America
Bdsm reasons for not hitting children
An Open Letter to MrHankeysToys.com

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Fun Of Being Stripped Of Wet Running Kit!
I want to lick your pussy some more
KIDNAP - a story of fear, pain and sex
Sybian
Well, that's new...
Objectionable Hair - A Lady's Taboo

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

UnPartnered
The Cub
I still have hope
A Baker’s Dozen #fucketlist

Poetry

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Elust 88

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Thief in the Night: Part 3: Mischief



"Wonderful," Professor Raycraft said, continuing to scribble away at the papers on his desk. "We have reached a bargain." He blew the ink dry and folded the paper, slipping it into an envelope from this desk drawer. He plucked the signet ring from the pile in front of him and a stick of sealing wax from another drawer.

"Fetch me a candle, Miss Kraus." He sat back in his chair, watching her steadily to see if she would obey.

Diebin hesitated a moment, gauging the look in his eyes. There was amusement glittering in the lamplight, perhaps smug satisfaction at having caught the spider in her own web, but there was steel also. Hard, unyielding steel. She let out a shuddering breath, from what emotion she could not place, and rose from her seat to collect the candle with which he'd lighted the lamps. He continued to stare at her as she brought it back and set it lightly on the desk.

Raycraft held the wax over the flame for a moment or two before dripping it onto the envelope. He slipped the ring on and pressed his seal into the wax, leaving a perfect impression of the spires and scrolls in crimson relief. He took up the envelope and stood, looking down at her.

"You will stay here until I come to fetch you. Do endeavor to restrain your kleptomania. I will know if you take something else." He left the room and locked the door behind him.

Diebin continued to glare at the door after he left. What had she gotten herself into? It was perhaps too late to renege, but she might always find her escape another night. In the mean time, she might as well appreciate dwelling in a fine house. It was no lord's manor, but it was certainly finer than to that which she was accustomed.

She wandered around the room, taking in the contents now that it was illuminated by the lamps. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with numerous tomes and foreign curiosities. One shelf was dedicated entirely to tiny models of famous buildings from around Europe. The Parthenon, the Colosseum, St. Basil's Cathedral, the Arc de Triomphe, all sat in miniature splendor on the slightly dusty shelves. They were beautifully intricate. She smirked a bit and switched the places of a few of the figurines.

She moved down the line of books, dragging her finger along the spines. They appeared to be arranged in alphabetical order by author. She snickered and moved several of those as well, careful to match the height of each book with its replacement. Diebin wondered how long it would take him to notice, and how long it would take him to blame her. To her credit, she hadn't stolen anything.

Mischief managed, she returned to her seat, awaiting the return of her would-be jailer.

He soon strode back into the room, two articles in his hand. One appeared to be a thin linen shift, the other a thick leather hound's collar with a silver plate upon it. He held them out to her.

"Your livery, Miss Kraus."

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked