Flying High

Since I've been forced to hit the magical cough syrup once again (when is this crap ever going to go away???), I thought I'd share some cool pics of butterflies. I guess something about them matches my trippy mood right now. Clicking on some of the images give better detail.

Here's a nifty Life Magazine cover from the 1920s:



I've purchased the image below for my blog and MySpace avatar, and I hope to revamp my website with a butterfly theme this fall. Oh, and nekkid men too of course ;)



This composite image is pretty cool:



And here's a Warhol:



I don't want to think about how Damien Hirst makes his butterfly art, but I do like the end results. Visit this link for more like the two below:





Then of course there's the idea of a butterfly board, which fascinates the sadist in me. One day I swear I'll wrap up Educating Ian, a FemDomme tale (several chapters of which ran at Ruthie's Club). Here's a taste of what happens when a not-so-nice Domme gets Ian all tied up:

"Keep your eyes open, butterfly. I want to see everything you feel tonight."

Right now, he must be feeling anger. On her command his eyes had opened, then narrowed to thin, furious slits. His nostrils grew wider with every sharp intake of breath.

"Are you mad?" she asked. He couldn't answer of course. Not with the ball gag.

His head tilted to his right. He'd noticed the table. She hopped up onto the kneeler and stretched up high to kiss his wet chin. "The hammer and nails look pretty scary, don't they?" His head bobbed in agreement.

"And the fact that certain parts of you stick out of this costume, that's scary, too." No nodding this time. He looked a bit faint. "I bet you're wondering about the board and medical stuff as well." His golden eyelids fluttered like the whisper-soft wings of the Dainty Sulphurs and Southern Dogfaces she'd collected in her youth.

She switched off the microphone. "Trust me. I'm a nurse, remember? I won't do any permanent damage."

* * *

I'm up here, dressed like some budding drag queen in a twisted school play with my privates hanging out near a hammer—which I’m sure she’s gonna use—and she's promising no permanent damage?

Jesus, if she was trying to reassure him, she'd missed the mark by miles. Perspiration slicked the inside of his costume and pooled at his feet. He had to admit being wrapped tight with little wiggle room was a big turn-on. The fact that he was completely helpless and on display? Big turn-on there, too. But her collection of clamps, gloves, metal rods, nails, and the black wooden board with a strange hole in the middle? Those things scared him shitless.

# # #

I still need to figure out where to send this one off to. I had hoped to submit it for a Freya Bower's FemDomme contest but didn't get my act together in time. Story of my life...

Strangely enough, I'm really not a fan of needle play and the like, but the idea of pinning a willing guy to a butterfly board is a big turn-on for me. Oh, who am I kidding? Almost anything CBT floats my boat.

What a kinky boat that must be...

No, I didn't run off to Tahiti with a Stud

But I wish. It would've been much more fun than the crap I've dealt with this month. Sick daughter, sick me. We're finally better now, but being doped up (it was bronchitis and the only way I can stop coughing when I get it is to take codeine cough syrup) keeps me from being productive. The whole house went to hell. I completely flaked on getting a critique back to someone. I didn't know what the heck I was doing at work... You get the picture.

So last weekend I took my daughter to Mom's for a week of fun and I didn't write a whole lot. This was a good thing. I watched Six Feet Under with hubby, ate out, drank great wine and actually had a life. Now I feel pretty refreshed and am making a commitment to myself and to my family to live a little more. Today I even cleaned almost the entire house :)

In Praise of Critique Partners

Mine is tough. She's brutally honest and always pushing me to do better. She'll take a mess of a story and point out all its flaws.

Do I always want to hear these things? No. Do I want to make these changes, gut half a tale, and rethink something I thought was perfectly clear and interesting and working just fine? No.

Do I do these things? More often that not.

A good CP is worth their weight in gold. No, make that platinum. And I thank the powers that be for mine.

Jas, you rock.

So much for not writing :(

I got a lot done this week - finished some stories and sent them off, finished my proofing Friday night. The kiddo is out camping in the wilds, so it's just me and hubby... a weekend of hot monkey luv and drawing and shopping and home improvement - you get the picture. I told myself I needed a break from writing, so I start the weekend off with a refreshing walk this morning in the park beside my home and came back in. Got naked (not a pretty sight) and decided to pluck an annoying hair sprouting forth from my neck before I got into the shower. So I yanked out the hair (aren't you glad I'm sharing all this? LOL) and started gazing off into the bathroom's reflection in the mirror, thinking about this killer (pardon the pun) assassin story I proofed last night and how I wanted to write a sci-fi assassin tale.

Did I then take my shower? Nope. I ran upstairs and fired up the computer I swore I'd ignore all weekend. An hour and one thousand words later, I'm all fired up.

Ain't being a writer grand? If you have any idea when I might expect to get a real life back, please let me know.