Heart Storm

Destroyed, gutted,
Knocked down and weak.
Holding back tears,
And fighting to breathe.
Digging deep for center,
She tamps down her turmoil,
Dons a cloak of inner peace
Slides on her masquerade.
She’s fitted herself for battle,
Fierce warrior to arms,
Unaffected, not untouched,
She battles strong and true,
Sharing hope, giving strength
Even when she’s nearly empty
Unrelenting, ever protecting
Unflinching, she faces loss
Vulnerable, yet powerful
She powers on,
To be the backbone,
A pillar of strength to lean on
For those who own her heart.
She hides away,
They need not see
When she breaks,
The tsunami that sweeps through,
Wrecking her.
Standing amidst destruction
She finds renewal,
Rebuilding herself…
…to start over.

Fuck You, Cancer!

Insidious,

You sneak in,

Like a thief,

Unseen.

Entering the body,

Forcing it

To wage war on itself,

Sapping strength,

Muscle and bone,

Like a pestilence,

Stealing health.

And much needed time.

Confusion, devastation,

Questions and doubt…

“Why me, God?”

Or maybe

“Why them?”

Like a vampire,

You suck life and vitality

Leaving behind

A hollow reflection

That reverberates,

Aftershocks of destruction

To crumble

friends and families;

Those left behind,

And think you’ve won.

But that’s the battle,

Not the war.

Some things you can’t

Take.

They belong to the fighters.

The fierce warriors

Who stare you down,

Refusing to let you take

The love they give,

The life they live,

They never back down.

They fight and believe.

They are heroes,

Fortitude and fury

They battle until the body grows

Weary.

They teach…

Love, compassion,

And take back

What you sought to destroy.

For friends, family,

And mankind.

Help and hope–

To restore faith, belief,

And healing.

The beauty of sharing strength

Of loving support,

Of community and humanity,

And remind the world…

It’s not how you die

But how you LIVED!

I lost a dear childhood friend to cancer today after a 6 year battle. Even more, two amazing kids lost a mom and a loving husband lost his wife. A brother lost his baby sister and two parents lost their baby girl.

A year and a half before that, there was my father-in-law. And before that there was another few friends and an uncle…and the list goes on. Cancer has reared its nasty head in nearly everyone’s lives, but the miracle is in their relentless pursuit of life. Of living. Of never giving up, even if their bodies give out.

https://youtu.be/AHZCAcSh7ls

Feminism and Submission: Kinky Coexistence #BOAW2018

In the last couple of years there has been a huge resurgence of attention and activism placed on feminism and women’s rights. We’ve had coordinated women’s rights marches, much more discussion around equality in pay, education, and career opportunities.

Yes, as a group we’ve become loud and proud, creating campaigns like #metoo and “Fight Like a Girl” designed to encourage our fellow woman to speak out and share in solidarity to the female sisterhood.

Even in movies we’ve been a force to be reckoned with….bringing out badasses and heroes like Arya, Khaleesi, Rey and Wonder Woman… and other movies like Black Panther and Hidden Figures where the women were strong, smart, and powerful. And this is all amazing. Really!

But I wonder sometimes if, in our battle for equality and power, we’ve lost some sensitivity and somehow managed to push others in our sisterhood into a deeper closet…made them doubt themselves and their acceptance in our new, fierce world.

Submission in a time where we’re calling on the badass women must be so difficult. I mean, living in the often highly misunderstood BDSM world is already tough. They already get the whole…blah, blah, blah…”abuse”,….blah, blah, blah…”Stockholm syndrome” crap from people with no understanding of the “Safe, Sane, and Consensual” lifestyle.

But now, when we’re talking about powerful women, I’m sure that there are many women fighting against their nature because somehow submission in this new world (not that it wasn’t already there a little bit) might make them seem weak or the ‘unfeminist.’ Or maybe their sisters will think maybe they’re not living up to their gender/power roles and are somehow encouraging female oppression, either silently make them feel like an insult or embarrassment to the cause, or outright say it…because they don’t understand.

And they’d be WRONG!

“A submissive is free to do whatever they desire, whenever they desire. Yet even with all their freedom, they choose to kneel. That is why submission is so beautiful.” ~ Unknown

My first contribution to Beauty of a Woman GirlBoner edition was Sacred Sexuality. At that time, I discussed my thoughts about being both a Christian and kinky. Why do I bring it up? Because I believe there’s something pretty sacred about the power exchange, too. Heck, people like to throw around the “wives submit unto your husbands” verses as a reason NOT to embrace Christianity, but I believe they don’t fully understand (or choose not to) the difference between submission and subjugation. Plus, the scriptures also say submit to each other, so it also doesn’t limit itself as a one way path down a gender specific street. Pronouns CAN be exchanged, in my opinion.

“The idea of submission is never meant to allow someone to overstep another’s boundaries. Submission only has meaning in the context of boundaries, for boundaries promote self-control and freedom. If a woman is not free and in control of herself, she is not submitting anyway. She is a slave subject to a slave driver, and she is out of the will of God.” ~ Henry Cloud

Submission is a physical, emotional, and mental act of consciously and deliberately giving oneself over into the loving care of another. Far from weak, it’s one of the hardest things to do, and only the strongest of soul and purpose is capable of giving up so much trust and placing it into a worthy Dominant’s hands.

“Fight for freedom when someone suppresses you.. Be submissive when someone gives freedom for you.” Shivaranjani Murugesan

I think that probably speaks to the strength, beauty , and power of submission pretty well. It takes a strong, self aware woman to willingly and knowingly walk this path. Isn’t that also what being a feminist is about? Knowing and understanding your needs and fearlessly reaching out and grabbing it? Being a trailblazer on a road less travelled? Knowing your true self and knowing what it takes to make yourself happy, then fearlessly reaching out for it, screw the voice of public opinion?

I mean, there’s something exquisitely beautiful about BDSM… It works because there’s an honesty to the relationship that you won’t find in many places. They realize that no one gets through life without a few wounds and scars, fears and insecurity. And it’s about building such a strong foundation in honesty and communication that you don’t hide the realest, ugliest parts of you. Because somehow, in the give and take that happens in such a surrender, they want those parts of you, too…and help you learn to accept and love even those darker parts of your soul that make you uniquely you. And it’s true on both sides of the relationship.

“I want the parts you’ve tried to throw away. The parts you were convinced no one could love.” ~ unknown

To me, the fearless strength a submissive has…to take their power and willingly, knowingly hand it over to someone worthy…well, if that’s not both powerful woman and feminist, I don’t know what is. It’s scary, sure. Misunderstood by many, absolutely. But true to your inner self? A beacon of strength that leaves many a Dominant in awe and grateful for the amazing gift? How could they not be?

Submissive, please don’t let yourself be stifled, squashed, or afraid because of the feminist message. YOU are the embodiment of EVERYTHING that makes a woman both powerful and a survivor.

Be fearlessly you!

This post is part of The Beauty of a Woman BlogFest VII! To read more entries, and potentially win a fun prize, click HERE. on August’s McLaughlin’s site between today and 11pm PST March 9th.

Sending you all Love and Empowerment!

Lost, Broken, or Hope? Which Are You?

My heart hurts today. I just can’t sit here and say nothing. Am I the only one who feels it lately? All this hate, rage, toxicity oozing out of social media?

Can you not feel its destructiveness to your bones? I can.

There’s already so much pain and desolation and fear in the world. Must we really rabidly spew more hate into it? For the first time in a long time I hid someone’s posts from my Facebook posts from my feed because I couldn’t stand the hate messages wrapped up as “activism” anymore. Every message was filled with vitriol, spewed hate, and fanned the flames of extremist behavior while denigrating anyone who might value something other than what she believed.

I felt sad. Sorry for her. That she was so unhappy and filled with poison and looking for someone to blame. But I couldn’t be in her universe anymore. For me. I couldn’t condone her messages of verbal violence against others. That’s not a solution. That’s not helping make this world better. That’s just more of the horrible cycle of fear and hate and violence.

Listen…

I live in Florida. My heart broke for all the lost young lives. I ache for their families. It hit very close to home. The violence is not ok. I think we all agree on that. Gun control? Maybe it will work, maybe it won’t. I don’t pretend to know. Do I think mental health issues play a big part in the violence of today? Absolutely. Do I think teachers should have to carry guns? No.

Billy Graham, who has been a religious leader to many, also died this this week. He lived to a ripe old age. Good for him.

Death isn’t death. Everyone finds their strength to move on from different sources, faith in God being a big one. So when I see the same people shouting hate comments at political leaders due to gun control laws, then spewing filth, nastiness, and wishing violence on a religious leader, I get sick to my stomach. I begin to wonder just how broken you are to fan more fuels of hate after such a painful week, and I walk away.

I feel sorry for the person, but I forgive them and I leave. Because I can’t be around that. I refuse to believe that the world is so broken and disgusting that it now only filled with rage and hate and finger pointing.

I don’t like people who extol hate and vicious rage. Who fan flames of doubt and violence. I may love you as a person, but it doesn’t mean I like you. Or that I’m blind to a person’s effect.

I guess what I’m asking is this… Have you considered the message you’re sending out into the world? Is it truly representative of the person you are? Are you helping to make the world a better place? What things have been hurting your heart lately? What things have given you hope or joy?

Make It Memorable; Love’s Many Faces

Valentine’s Day. The day for lovers, right? Romance, flowers, whatnot…

Yeah, maybe.

But that’s not my most memorable Valentine’s Day.

Don’t get me wrong, there were elements of those things in that day, but that’s not the BIG MOMENT.

My day?

It was supposed to be my day off, but I had to finish making a schedule (and hubby was working anyway) so I stopped in to work for a few hours. I didn’t stay long; was out by noon. No sooner had I left that my office was calling again. Turned out Edible Arrangements had been there and delivered a gift from my guy.

GREAT start to my Day, right? I headed home to start cooking hubby his favorite Filipino dishes…chicken adobo (adobong manok), fried rice, and broccoli.

Hubby walked in to a great smelling house and a hot, tasty meal… There were probably gifts, but I can’t remember now. What I do remember is that he loved the meal, that I went to bed early as I had an early work day & a 14 hour shift the next day….

Right about now you’re scratching your head and wondering what is so memorable, right?

Well, I hadn’t gotten there yet.

Sometime after 11 pm, hubby came in and woke me up. Said he was having pretty severe abdominal pain and wanted to make sure I was ok. Apparently, he was worried it might have been food poisoning except I’d been sleeping like a baby. So then he narrowed the pain to his lower right side.

Googling his symptoms, I realized it could be his appendix. He was scared, but also worried about me and work. So I talked him into going to the ER alone, making him promise to call me if it turned out to be anything serious. At about 1:30 am, I got the call. He sounded a little terrified.

Him: Lovey, they told me I have a necrotic appendix.

Me: Oh no!

Him: Can you come here? They told me I need surgery. I tried to ask if they could write me a prescription to slow it down in the meantime so I could call a doctor and schedule it.

Me: (choking back a chuckle) Yeah. Pretty sure that’s not gonna happen.

Him: Nope, but it was worth a shot. They told me they didn’t think I understood. The ambulance is on the way now to take me to surgery. Can you come, please?

Me: I’m on my way.

Him: I can’t believe you poisoned me for Valentines Day.

Me: I did not. And stop saying that or there may be people who believe you or at least start to wonder. I’m on my way.

And that’s how I found myself in the emergency room on the 15th, calling out from my job, calling friends to walk my dogs during the day, and headed for the hospital to be with my husband.

So, yeah, my most Memorable Moment had everything to do with the ‘For Better or Worse, In Sickness and in Health’ part of our vows. Those moments mean more than any random superficial stereotypes. And that he hadn’t lost his sense of humor, even through his fear and pain? That just shows I married a badass.

So tell me about your most memorable Valentine’s Day. Did it embody any part of the wedding vow? Or are you an non-believer, feeling this only lines Hallmark’s pockets with gold?

Hey, Stranger! Let Me Introduce Myself… #Hello2016

Bonjour! I hope everyone’s having a stellar new year so far.

When Anna over at Herding Cats & Burning Soup came up with this idea for a blog hop, I was pretty stoked! Basically, here’s how this one goes. In this hop, we’re to introduce you to fun, quirky things about ourselves and/or our blogs. Not the boring, obvious stuff like I’m an erotica writer who can turn practically anything into innuendo….but more random, surprising, or maybe disturbing things. PLUS, we give stuff away AND a lot of cool authors and bloggers are involved.

Is there anything better than FUN & FREE?

So here goes….

Image courtesy of Karen Shaw at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

My biggest fear is not blood or guts or gore…. If you want to see me get all weak, girly, and scream like someone murdered me (aka not in the good, orgasmic way)… watch me when I see a frog. I completely lose my dignity. Don’t believe? Read about it….HERE.

I don’t care what anyone thinks. They. Are. NOT. Cute!

In a past life I worked for a hospital for several years. The tales I tell are both comical and a bit disconcerting with the strange things people have done…Check it OUT!

On a personal level?

Yup! I AM that girl that pretty much turns everything into a song. This was a little snippet from my wedding day. My sister gave me a hug, and someone said something like…”Awww, look at the sisters…” Which caused me to break into this song, and my sister to chime in. Yes, it’s a family thing. I come by it naturally.

The strange? Cause, ya know…. There had to be the strange, right?

My biggest insecurity body image insecurity came from my feet. I hated them with a passion. Felt they were ugly….until I met a foot fetishist who helped me view my feet in a different way. Here’s THAT story.

As for what most consider my most contradictory characteristic? I guess it’s the fact that despite writing ménage erotica, I don’t consider my very outspoken, focused belief in the Freak Flag, letting it fly to contradict my very passionate belief in Christianity and my faith. In fact, I wrote about that, too. It even got me on GirlBoner radio with August McLaughlin.

Anyway…. that’s a bit about me. Now, to tell you what I’m giving away and how to qualify.

I’m feeling generous. I’m giving away 3 books. Two are mine. (Three For All & Four One Night) The third? It’s a project I was honored enough to participate in… all about empowering female sexuality. This is a subject near and dear to my heart. The book? Embraceable: Empowering Facts and True Stories About Women’s Sexuality. They are all in ebook format.

To win, I want you to share something unique and personal about yourself with me. Something that might surprise people, or maybe what you’re passionate about, or which body issues you’ve overcome. It doesn’t matter as long as it’s in the spirit of getting to know each other.

And if you want a chance at more prizes? Check out the link below and visit the other participants!

Life Lessons in Losing and Loss

Losing and Loss. Both can teach such strong lessons. But what we learn is entirely up to us. How we choose to view these potentially defining moments.

For example, Derek Redmond, a runner in the Barcelona Olympics was supposed to be a shoe in to win the gold, but the unexpected happened….

Imagine training your whole life for this one moment, and then something like that. I remember the first time I saw this… I knew it was a hammy. I’m pretty sure he did, too.

But he also knew he had a choice. What would you have done?

What he did blew my mind and had me in tears, applauding his courage.

His father ran out to him. (Yeah, that was his dad…who, in today’s world would’ve probably landed himself in jail at the very least for interrupting a sporting event.) He asked him what he wanted to do. At that point, there would’ve been no shame in giving up. But he didn’t come to the Olympics to give up! He may not have won, but he finished. And he had his father, who held off all the officials who tried to stop him, and the crowd supporting him.

In my book, that choice he made in what had to be one of the most devastating moments of his life, made him a winner. And someone to look up to.

And when it comes to loss, we have choices, too. Nothing has brought that home, lately, quite the way the attacks on Paris have. And yet, through the fear and terror…people reached out. Despite the danger, people reached out via Twitter to let others who were stranded and with nowhere to go where they could find a safe place, an open door.

The rest of us watched in both horror and heartache, offering what comfort we could by letting Paris know, much like they’ve supported us through some of our hardest times in history, that our hearts and thoughts were with them. We put up pictures and banners on Facebook, hoping to let them know we stood by them.

There was courage and friendship and unity. In that moment, it was all about love and support…as it should have been. (Unfortunately, that didn’t last, but that’s all about hate and politics, which I choose not to give a foot hold on my blog.)

I think we were all praying this sort of prayer for those stranded…. (I thought it appropriate to select a song from Les Miserables).

And in honor of all our French friends and allies… How awesome that this scene in Casablanca was already there for them when we needed a reminder that freedom requires folks to stand up and protect it?

So that’s what’s been on my mind lately… What about you?

The Unique Tale Self Discovery and Sexual Awakening by @MeganReel

Those of you who regularly read my blog posts already know that I’m all about female empowerment and sexuality, so when a friend told me that there was a book that whose premise I might find very intriguing, I thought, “why not?” I’m all about discovering something new and fun, especially if it also allows me to support a fellow author.

So I looked the book up.

Not gonna lie. I balked for a second because, let’s be real. The cover’s kind of unfortunate. And I’m a bit of a cover whore (yes, Anna Cade, we share that in common). But, I decided to try to overlook the aesthetic and give it a shot anyway.

I’m soooo glad I did!

Here’s the low down skinny on this book. The very beginning of The Queen was a little confusing and slow as the author, Megan Reel, laid the foundation for the world she’s building…but it quickly evened out into one of the more intriguing premises I’ve read in a long time!

Truth is, it was very interesting to me to read a unique version of a matriarchal society where the peace of a nation was held in the hands of a lone female ruler. And here’s the female fantasy kicker: The Queen was expected to take 6 male consorts– all masked, unknown to her (and the rest of her country), and representing different, sensual animalistic features. Technically their purpose is to give her a female heir to take the crown.

But that’s where it gets really tasty, not to mention exciting…. Because as “peaceful” as everything is supposed to be, there’s definitely intrigue in the form of an assassination threat on her head. All of this is occurring at an annual feast that this country puts on in celebration of the men that the Queen (who is a virgin due to gaining the throne at an early age after her mother is killed) will be given as consorts.

Alendra, the Queen, is outwardly self possessed, intent on following her mother’s footsteps. She’d been told that her control and regal demeanor are key. That she should keep herself separated and untouched by the world around her. But, like many of us, she’s NOT her mother. She’s both passionate and a bit of afraid of her own desires, but determined in her self discovery. So she seeks guidance in overcoming her fears of the unknown and rediscovers a mysterious friend from her youth who challenges her and pushes her to think more; be more.

And then the icing on the cake came as her own sexual awakening came in the form of a night of sexual decadence and bliss, fulfilling so many of the various fantasies we, as women, have about taking and being taken.

The cherry topper? This is just the beginning of this series, and I’m dying of curiosity to see where Megan Reel takes us next!

So, although it was a bit of a slow start, it definitely turned on the heat and left you wanting more. Hopefully, the next cover will tease the senses the way that the author did between the pages!

Yes, I’m saying I would definitely recommend this book. What about you guys? What book turned out to be much more than the cover for you? Are you a cover whore? Is there a new author you’d care to share with me?

The Final Goodbye (A #MemorialDay Story)

By U.S. Navy photo [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I wrote this story a while back to honor those our country has lost defending our freedoms, and it seemed only right I share it again this weekend.

The Final Goodbye

He stood alone. As he gazed out at the white crosses that covered the beautifully manicured lawn he felt the weight of his 48 years drag his shoulders down in a way he never had before. It had been a long time since he’d been back to this place, and he’d hoped to never return.

“A parent should never outlive his child.” Grief scratching at his throat.

He blinked back tears that stubbornly refused to fall. Part of him clung to the image he had in his mind’s eye. Full of laughter and vitality, that precious dark head bent over to kiss his young wife’s distended belly, before he turned around to say goodbye. David promised to come home soon.

He shook his head as the pain threatened to suffocate him. Not like this. This had to be a bad dream. He just needed to wake up and everything would be okay again. Unfortunately, the folded triangle of fabric pressed tightly to his chest told him everything was all too real.

His bowed his head, fingers digging into the precious flag. Alone with his grief he dropped to his knees and cried out to the only person who could hear him.

“God, if you’re listening…this is too much. Almost more pain than I can bear! My boy was a good son, a great husband. He was going to be a great father. He loved you. Loved this country. He wanted so badly to follow in his grandpa’s footsteps. Did you really have to take him, too?”

The hand on his shoulder felt familiar. It had been decades since he’d experienced that touch. He looked up to find his father standing beside him. He wore the same dress blues he’d been buried in 40 years ago and he hadn’t aged a day.

“Dad…” he choked out, blinking, sure this was some sort of hallucination.

There was a wealth of understanding and regret in his father’s eyes. “Hello, son.”

“I’m finally losing it, right? Hallucinating? A psychotic break caused by grief and stress?”

“No, son. You’re not. God heard you…. So did I. We’ve never been far away. When you called out, I asked him to let me go to you.”

Although none of this seemed real, he decided to go with it. Maybe he was dreaming. What harm could it do?

“It’s all so damned unfair, Dad!” he railed. “First you, then my son? Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of him. Proud of you… But did the price have to be so high?”

His father wrapped strong arms around him, something he’d missed most of his life. He soaked in the comfort, gaining some strength before he let go. With a bolstering breath, he straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back and raised his head.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” His father looked at him with the same piercing blue eyes as his son. “I’ve watched you grow into a strong, honorable man. I know it wasn’t easy for you to let David join the service. After the way you lost me, it would have been all too easy to encourage him to go a different direction.”

“It wouldn’t have been right. Being a soldier was all he ever wanted.” He shrugged, his smile, bittersweet. “To be a hero, just like his Grandpa.”

“It may have served you better not to paint me with such a heroic brush,” his father laughed. “I appreciate that, by the way. The way you kept me alive in your heart. The way you shared me with your family. It meant everything to me.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t do anything all that special.”

“Yes you did,” his father smiled. “It may seem like nothing to you, but it’s what gave your son the courage to chase his dream. He knew the danger, but he also saw your gift. When his number was called, he didn’t worry. His son and wife are in good hands with you. He knows you’ll keep his memory alive, just like you did for me.”

“You’ve seen my David?” Tears finally flowed, unchecked.

His father nodded. “Of course. You didn’t think I’d let your son get to heaven without a welcome party, did you?”

“He’s okay? My boy. You’ll look out for him, Dad?”

“Of course.” His father nodded his head. “He’ll be loved. Surrounded by family, both military and kin.”

With one more shuddering breath, he clasped his father’s hand and squeezed.

“Tell him, Dad.” He bit his lip as his voice broke. “Tell him I’ll watch over his family down here. I know he’ll be watching out for them with you. And please, tell him I’m so proud of him.”

“I will.” His father smiled one last time before fading away.

As he stood, gazing out at all the soldiers that came before, he could have sworn he heard David’s voice on the gentle breeze.

“I love you, Dad.”

Squeezing the flag to his chest, he nodded.

“I love you, too, son. I’m proud of you.”

S is for Sex Appeal

What is sexy?

If you were to ask the average adolescent they’d probably tell you it’s a hottie dressed in provocative clothes. Or lingerie that leaves nothing to the imagination.

And if you asked them what sex appeal was, they’d probably give a similar answer.

As we mature, we start to realize there’s so much more to sex appeal than hot, half naked, and obvious.

What comes to mind for you when you think of someone who oozes sex appeal?

For me, it’s intelligence and humor. Somehow they seem to manifest themselves in the playfully irresistible grins or the knowing, intent looks.

Yeah, for me, intelligence is an amazing turn on. So is someone comfortable in their own skin.

Confidence is hot. So is honesty. And honor.

Yeah. What people seem to forget is that sexy is predominantly mental. Not physical (although being in great health is also sexy).

What things do you find irresistibly sexy? What screams sex appeal to you?