<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603</id><updated>2012-01-25T20:12:49.862-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blesse Mistress</title><subtitle type='html'>WARNING: ADULT CONTENT. If you're going to be offended, stop reading now and close the window....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8484948415850690665</id><published>2010-07-19T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T16:01:05.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A vision</title><content type='html'>I have missed my calling. I MUST learn how to do &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0FdCKmKuvE"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8484948415850690665?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8484948415850690665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8484948415850690665&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8484948415850690665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8484948415850690665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2010/07/vision.html' title='A vision'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3042222890595130258</id><published>2010-07-18T11:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T11:02:28.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"The One"</title><content type='html'>Guy number 1: "You're married right? How did you know she was the one?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy number 2: "Well it was our fourth date and there we were sitting in front of the fireplace. Right then and there I knew she was the one. I would have told her but I had a rubber ball in my mouth."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3042222890595130258?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3042222890595130258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3042222890595130258&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3042222890595130258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3042222890595130258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2010/07/one.html' title='&quot;The One&quot;'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-1984834858181418203</id><published>2009-11-15T15:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T15:23:11.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back with new stories...</title><content type='html'>I have some new stories to tell. I took a little trip out of the country and that was interesting, but I've been doing a little soul-searching here as well. I have been outside working all day, so I am tired. I need to rest a bit. I'll be back soon to tell you all about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I found the most intriguing coat. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SwCNObDxkWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/7EbWKUGpcjQ/s1600-h/P82317B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SwCNObDxkWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/7EbWKUGpcjQ/s400/P82317B.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404474831765868898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-1984834858181418203?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/1984834858181418203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=1984834858181418203&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1984834858181418203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1984834858181418203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2009/11/back-with-new-stories.html' title='Back with new stories...'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SwCNObDxkWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/7EbWKUGpcjQ/s72-c/P82317B.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-5894099689750859518</id><published>2009-08-13T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T20:23:28.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's wrong with men?</title><content type='html'>Today I was asked "What is wrong with men?" This from a friend who received a picture of some guy's cock on her phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if there's anything WRONG per se. I think as a gender, woman have taken liberation to an extreme. We've allowed men to talk to us like whores, be disrespectful and generally revert back to being complete animals. Because of this, men think it's ok to behave this way towards all of us. No, I don't think it's ok to send a picture of your cock to someone who is a virtual stranger - unless of course they actually asked you for it. I believe in a "live and let live" philosophy. I don't think there's anything wrong with a woman embracing her sexuality, but hey guys...make sure she actually wants you before waving your not-so-adequate dick in her face. Try to make SOME sort of overture. Ladies, it's not all their fault either. We've allowed this to happen and now we all have to pay for it. Personally, even if I'm looking for someone to spend time with occasionally, I do not want to be treated like that. Have the same respect for me that I will show you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night a friend told me that her husband decided to leave her. Within three days their house was on the market and he has pretty much told her he's cutting her off. Of course, this has not stopped him from asking for sex. He gave her some very lame excuses as to why he's leaving her and none of them make sense. She wasn't expecting this. She's holding up remarkably well under the circumstances. Once again, my faith in men is shaken. She's not the only woman in my life being screwed over by a man, just the latest. I am torn between feeling lucky I am single and wanting a man in my life. I am also reminded of the fact that ALL women need to be and STAY independent. Never allow a man to hold all of the cards. He may leave you and take them with him and then where are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is becoming apparent that I will be looking for someone soon and I really think I want to limit it to sex. I have a friend who is splitting from his wife and may be looking for a place to live. He is adorable, funny and easy to be around. He hasn't hidden the fact that he's attracted to me but was always faithful to his wife - at least he was as far as I am concerned. Now, of course, being married is not an issue. He doesn't strike me as the "type" for my particular proclivities. He's supposed to come by some time next week to see my house. He asked me to meet him at the door in an over sized button-down shirt and nothing more. I'm not sure if he's kidding or not... I may have to hide the "tools" of my hobbies, no?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-5894099689750859518?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/5894099689750859518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=5894099689750859518&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5894099689750859518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5894099689750859518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2009/08/whats-wrong-with-men.html' title='What&apos;s wrong with men?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-6114208267498013531</id><published>2009-07-24T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T16:58:02.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dungeon Sweet Dungeon maybe?</title><content type='html'>I had an interesting time last night. Although I was dressed ridiculously (because I had to be), I had quite a bit of male attention. A few of the men I've known for a while - but none that I have spoken of here before. A new gentleman moved in and the others took a wide berth. It was almost comical to watch as they watched me. One of my friends occasionally had a little sign language moment with me from across the bar to make sure I was "OK". Maybe he should have asked The Marine. A lovely young thing in uniform. A bit on the slight side but nice just the same. He tried so very hard, but I was in no mood to play with a new man. Besides, he is only in town for the weekend and I am not open to either a one night stand, or a long distance thing. I wasn't prepared for the night anyway. I experimented with something last night - a new scent. More research is required. I have very high hopes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be unavailable for much for the next few weeks. I have closed on my house and have been busy moving in and cleaning up. The yard alone has taken many hours and I'm nowhere near done. The boxes are virtually gone. There are still a few things I can't find. I am having a housewarming party in a few weeks. The Prig has said he is coming. I'm wondering if he'll be bringing his new woman. It will be interesting. My mix of friends should be amusing. Well, to me at least. I hope they all obey themselves. I'm not sure if a room mate is in the future, so I have to be careful about extracurricular activities. A few alterations to the basement would be necessary for nice things. I've often wanted to host a party for those in the lifestyle. I'll have to start the networking soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-6114208267498013531?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/6114208267498013531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=6114208267498013531&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6114208267498013531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6114208267498013531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2009/07/dungeon-sweet-dungeon-maybe.html' title='Dungeon Sweet Dungeon maybe?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-1051732801043552978</id><published>2009-06-26T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T11:23:58.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Homestead</title><content type='html'>Hello again. I've been inexcusably absent since February, I know. I've been quite busy. Lately my "activities" have been sparse to say the least. In other words, nothing to write to you about. I plan to change that when I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw The Scottsman last week but it was strangely anti-climactic. (No pun intended there.) Although the company was "nice", the magic is indeed gone. He is unusually astute when it comes to reading moods, and pretty much knew I wasn't interested in his game. I sent him home without and was relieved when he was gone. I haven't heard from him since. Pretty Boy has taken his leave and I've lost interest in him as well. The Prig has found himself a regular girlfriend I hear. I haven't talked to him in a long while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was out of town, I received an email from a Mistress I've known for a bit. She and her husband are interested in renewing their activity with me I guess. I haven't answered it yet, but I dare say it will have to wait a little while longer. I am closing on a house on Monday afternoon. It's a lovely old house with lots of charm and a nice basement. Fodder for future escapades? Maybe. It's a single family home, so there are no neighbors very close to eavesdrop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to scream as loud as you want...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-1051732801043552978?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/1051732801043552978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=1051732801043552978&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1051732801043552978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1051732801043552978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-homestead.html' title='New Homestead'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3381457185382514607</id><published>2009-02-20T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T16:00:27.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like the song of the siren, luring you in</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SZ84-wstQCI/AAAAAAAAAF4/G_RTZ5V7kj8/s1600-h/CatWoman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SZ84-wstQCI/AAAAAAAAAF4/G_RTZ5V7kj8/s400/CatWoman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305021536941195298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I haven't abandoned you, I promise. I've been quite busy. I haven't been feeling well this week, so I've been reading quite a bit and trying to recover. Today I christened my new lotus china tea cup with the built-in tea strainer. I've tried two different kinds of new gourmet loose tea and some very nice honey. I need to make a mental note not to add as much honey to the last blend. It overwhelmed the taste of the tea which didn't need as much sweetness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the morning looking over real-estate listings sent to me by my agent. Yes, dear hearts, I am buying a house at last. I find that "Someone" is looking out for me "Up There" and I seem to be in the market at the right time. I've found several in my price range that have a garage or a full basement. That might afford me some future opportunities, might it not? One of the properties is newly renovated and even has a pool, but the location might not be right. There are even two in my price range that are over 100 years old. Now that just thrills me to my bones. I love an old house. I'll be scouting nine properties next week. I'll need one with some privacy...maybe some trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty Boy has not contacted me in a while. Actually, I just realized that. I hadn't noticed until I decided to update this. I have heard from The Prig. A word here and there. He seems to be resurfacing. Quietly, so as no one would notice. I have. I commented on it to him. He says he's back for now. Maybe what he means is that he's back until he becomes bored with the little people again. Maybe we are more alike than we realize. He popped up on my IM the other night, to my surprise. Sometimes I liken him to a cat. You see, you can't track a cat down and pick him up. You have to sit still and wait for him to come to you. He will. Eventually. That's why cats always go to people who hate cats - they're the only ones not trying to pet them. (And there's my bit of pet psychology for the evening...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I'm content. There's nothing I need. I've covered almost all of my wants, and I can wait for the rest to come. In the meantime, I'm "dressing me well" ala the Pussycat Dolls and my new mantra "Bad Girl". I just acquired a leather motorcycle jacket in a decidedly non-characteristic pink. Just sweet enough to be deceptive...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3381457185382514607?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3381457185382514607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3381457185382514607&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3381457185382514607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3381457185382514607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2009/02/like-song-of-siren-luring-you-in.html' title='Like the song of the siren, luring you in'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SZ84-wstQCI/AAAAAAAAAF4/G_RTZ5V7kj8/s72-c/CatWoman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-7881624810487712756</id><published>2009-01-04T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T15:04:32.135-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Veal or Bull?</title><content type='html'>I had lunch with a couple of girlfriends the other day. One that follows this blog, and the other does not. It's not that I don't want her here, it's just that she hasn't been invited yet. I compartmentalize my life. I don't think that anyone would be surprised. I just prefer for this to be a "free" space. I have to protect my vanilla self. She's the one with the job that would not support my extracurricular activities in daylight...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SWFWkbE_ngI/AAAAAAAAAFg/CUAnOQNAEWc/s1600-h/wit-1a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SWFWkbE_ngI/AAAAAAAAAFg/CUAnOQNAEWc/s400/wit-1a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287602621253656066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Pretty Boy has surfaced again. As is true to my nature, my interest has waned. He has proven himself to be...immature and unworthy. I saw him at our "office" Christmas party. I decided to be nice. Smiled at him, invited him to speak to me with a look. I'd wondered if I'd see him. I was dressed casually, but apparently succeeded in drawing a lot of attention. I'd chosen a soft, feminine leather jacket that fit like a tailored glove. I was propositioned by more than one young man that night, but I was not in the mood for Veal. Pretty Boy proceeded to get sloppily drunk and his ex-girlfriend hung all over him. I left early and did not think twice about it. He sent me an email a couple of days later requesting that I call him. Amused, I dialed the phone and left a message. We talked for a while, but I went to a party later that night, so I got the following text:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: I'm sorry I was a dick to you, that's not really me. I think you're a very cool and interesting person. You def didn't deserve to be treated the way I was to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure he was expecting a return "That's ok.", which of course he did not receive. I sent back "I appreciate that." Because, of course, it was not okay for him to be disrespectful. I have avoided contacting him, but have responded to his texts. On New Year's Eve he started with the overtures. I suspect it was because he was working and bored. I was neither. I mentioned that I would be drinking mimosas in the morning and needed some croissants to go with them, he offered to bring some over when he left work. And then he wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: I can come over with the croissants and we can mess around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not answer that. He did not show up in the morning. At least, I did not hear him knock if he did - I slept in very late, for me. Let's face it, he is unreliable. I can't really believe anything he says. He no longer really registers for me. His window of opportunity has shut. It would take an act of Congress to get me interested again. It amuses me to toy with him though. Yeah, "mess around". What imagination you show...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for The Prig... I don't hear from him very often. I let it go for the holidays because he had family around. I will be revisiting him soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully the new year will bring new opportunities. I haven't decided if my tastes are leaning toward Veal or the wizened Bull yet. I'm not so sure that I need to make a decision at all. I can and will have both or either as I see fit. I'm in no hurry to break my streak. One year and seven months and I still have not had sex, but I am in no rush. But I do have a brand new box of condoms ready to be opened if I see fit. It's so much easier to say no when you don't remember what you're missing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-7881624810487712756?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/7881624810487712756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=7881624810487712756&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7881624810487712756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7881624810487712756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2009/01/veal-or-bull.html' title='Veal or Bull?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SWFWkbE_ngI/AAAAAAAAAFg/CUAnOQNAEWc/s72-c/wit-1a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4395436942961581080</id><published>2008-12-14T15:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T15:55:17.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Circus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SUWcyqVgQAI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wF1-n30qLks/s1600-h/Estella.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SUWcyqVgQAI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wF1-n30qLks/s400/Estella.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279798532333649922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It seems inconceivable that Britney Spears could speak for me, but herein lies the proof:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's only two types of guys out there.&lt;br /&gt;Ones who can hang with me&lt;br /&gt;And ones that are scared.&lt;br /&gt;So baby I hope that you came prepared&lt;br /&gt;I run a tight ship, so beware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me. In a nutshell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4395436942961581080?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4395436942961581080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4395436942961581080&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4395436942961581080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4395436942961581080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/12/circus.html' title='Circus'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SUWcyqVgQAI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wF1-n30qLks/s72-c/Estella.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-7332819042272199210</id><published>2008-11-24T09:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T09:26:55.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I would have traded in the cold...</title><content type='html'>I asked The Prig for a rematch...but alas. He has decided to go to the Bahamas for the week. *sigh* If he hadn't been with family I may have hopped on a plane and gone with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-7332819042272199210?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/7332819042272199210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=7332819042272199210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7332819042272199210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7332819042272199210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-asked-prig-for-another-performance.html' title='I would have traded in the cold...'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8460435041880958322</id><published>2008-11-20T11:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T19:36:52.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I misjudged...</title><content type='html'>Monday night I was on the phone. It was late. Well, it was late for me, around 11pm. When I hung up I discovered that The Prig had sent me a text message. Hmmm. That can only mean one thing. He must be out and in need of some companionship. I had other things happening and wasn't sure I was in the mood. I decided to see what was on his mind. He decided he wanted to make the 25 minute drive to me, so I let him. I had changed into a velvet chemise and had nothing else on but I was tired, so I decided to lie down while I waited. He knew where he was going, so I wasn't worried he'd get lost. I was not aware, however, that I'd left the door unlocked. I didn't hear him come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prig slipped in and startled me when he climbed into bed with me. he never said a word. The man was a man possessed. He kissed me hard, undressed me immediately (not that there was much to remove) and then proceeded to undress himself. What I found most interesting is how the whole scene played out. He set out to pleasure me as if were his job. There was no sex, no pleasuring of him whatsoever. I barely touched him. He spent the next hour with his tongue attempting whatever maneuver he could think of that would make me cum. He took me by such surprise that I did not cum. I came so close that I think it scared me a bit. In the end, he wrapped his arms and legs around me and apologized for not being adequate enough. "?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This man has given me quite the opposite impression of what he might actually be. He has never given me any reason to believe that he was interested in me other than maybe an occasional fuck some day. But some of the things he said, the way he acted? I was left utterly confused. He made this all about me. Why? Why does a man do that? When I got up in the morning I left him in bed to sleep. I was surprised he stayed. Again...why? I was under the impression it was a physical thing and there was no reason for the formality. When he left he told me not to be a stranger and then commented that my place was very clean and that was good. He liked that. "???" Okay. So what am I to make of this??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for Pretty Boy...I was a bit surprised that he does indeed have quite a reputation in town. He even has a nick-name. I had to laugh. And indeed - bullet dodged!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8460435041880958322?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8460435041880958322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8460435041880958322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8460435041880958322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8460435041880958322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/maybe-i-misjudged.html' title='Maybe I misjudged...'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4675385652719818154</id><published>2008-11-16T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T18:41:02.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Boy...Again?</title><content type='html'>As surprised as I was...I was even more suspicious. At about 10:20 this morning my phone went off. I assumed it was work, but it was Pretty Boy. After four days of what I can only assume was pouting, he sends me a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: Hey stranger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I to make of this? He starts to feel me out. What am I up to? Do I have any plans today? I don't, but I really don't have any interest in planning anything with him either. He finally asks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: Do you want to play?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about it. I wait. I think, what the hell. I'll tell him to come to me. I don't expect him to, given his track record. But I have no plans and I'm just doing laundry anyway. If he does show up, meh. I may or may not choose to play with him. Depends on how I feel. He tells me that he will take a shower and be right over. At 11:30 I get a message that he hasn't left yet, he's waiting for someone to drop by his house and then he'll be on his way. Sure. I'm holding my breath. By about 3:15, he hasn't arrived. I send him a message that I am tired of playing his silly games. I tell him to lose my phone number. At this point his number will stay in my phone purely for the purposes of identification. His messages will not be returned. He didn't really inconvenience me, I had no plans for the afternoon. I just have no interest in someone who constantly tells me they're going to do something and then never follows through. And then beyond that gives no apology or explanation - that is, until they want something else from you. No matter. He's no idea how much he's harmed his own reputation in the process. He'll learn soon enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4675385652719818154?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4675385652719818154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4675385652719818154&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4675385652719818154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4675385652719818154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/pretty-boyagain.html' title='Pretty Boy...Again?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2684466406166938309</id><published>2008-11-13T04:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T05:48:12.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Boy shows his hand</title><content type='html'>I find myself rather tired and irritable this morning. I think MisstressM is going to be a bit disappointed. I contacted her on Tuesday and she is hoping for a much more interesting post. *sigh* It's not to be, dear heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty boy sent me a text message at around 10:30 on Tuesday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: "Can u stop by my house in the morning? in "*****"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MsF: "I'd love to but I have made other plans. I'm not available."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: "ok then after that"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MsF: "Might be able to. What do you need?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: "whatever you want to do... maybe a blow job... maybe hot sex... whaevea"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was amused at the nerve of this boy. He thinks after his treatment of me that I would seriously consider coming to HIM? Actually I did consider it. MisstressM pointed out that we both knew this would be a booty call and as long as I was aware of that... I had to laugh. I mean, this boy is not suited for anything more for me. He can't be trusted and has not shown himself to be about anything but what pussy he can score next. Certainly not a man of substance. But the more I thought about it, the less attractive he became to me. What he sent next clinched the deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: "So what do you think about 2morrow?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MsF: "What about it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pb: "what about to get me off?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhhh. So that's it. This is about how to get YOU off? When I pointed that out, he accused me of being "difficult". He was just trying to "have a little fun" with me. No, my boy, you were probably being quite honest. I thought about it for a long, long time. I decided not to call him and just go about my way. It has always been my opinion that if sex is not going to be good for me, it's not worth my time. I'm not about to put myself out there to impress YOU. Over the period of time I was away in the last couple of days, I'd fleshed out the possible source of the "bisexual" rumors about him. Probably unfounded, but the source is most-likely and ex-girlfriend of his. She's someone I know quite well and I'm not exactly eager to follow up on her sloppy seconds. Up to this point I had not been aware of their relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside I did a little shopping. It was overwhelmingly successful for the internet - everything fit PERFECTLY. I bought this coat in black. It fits like it was tailored for me. Very hot:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRwkVwml0SI/AAAAAAAAAFI/BG9sVvuGO_s/s1600-h/F0503015_NBA08_021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRwkVwml0SI/AAAAAAAAAFI/BG9sVvuGO_s/s320/F0503015_NBA08_021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268125620359254306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And these boots:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRwk5h-TkpI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Y6jJ-_NAvnY/s1600-h/F0809139_NBC08_001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 136px; height: 171px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRwk5h-TkpI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Y6jJ-_NAvnY/s320/F0809139_NBC08_001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268126234907480722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll do a little more shopping. It's going so well, it might bring my spirits up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2684466406166938309?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2684466406166938309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2684466406166938309&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2684466406166938309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2684466406166938309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/pretty-boy-shows-his-hand.html' title='Pretty Boy shows his hand'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRwkVwml0SI/AAAAAAAAAFI/BG9sVvuGO_s/s72-c/F0503015_NBA08_021.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2617733168120444839</id><published>2008-11-10T05:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T06:05:34.849-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothers, hide your sons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRg4TJAjAzI/AAAAAAAAAE4/M78cwiR2E9E/s1600-h/kilt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRg4TJAjAzI/AAAAAAAAAE4/M78cwiR2E9E/s400/kilt.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267021665696678706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The above picture (that I must admit I robbed from another blogger because it was just so beautiful) is for MisstressM... Does that answer the age-old question? I'd like to fantasize that there are rolling green hills somewhere where young men such as this roam free, looking for warm women to bend over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Mistress, however, believes the Universe is conspiring against her. I have been thwarted at every turn and I must admit that I am quite amused by it all. I've decided that instead of looking at my lack of sex as a challenge, I am going to look on it as a opportunity. I've mellowed, but a partner right now would distill whatever it is I'm exuding. I have to be giving off pheromones. A partner right now might sate my desires and dilute my ability to attract. I think I'll use that to my advantage while my three simmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty Boy has been placed in limbo. I have gotten information that he is quite unreliable. Apparently he fancies himself quite the player. He is in the habit of making dates and breaking them, or just not showing up. A friend of mine, of course not knowing that I had any idea of even who he was, remarked that he was *gasp* rumoured to be "BISEXUAL"! Oh, joy of joys! It's not something he would have ever have admitted to me. In the context of BDSM, it is quite and intriguing concept for me. I've never had the opportunity to play with someone who is interested in both sexes. I must admit it is a thought... However, the fact that he is such a pain in the ass makes the whole situation more trouble than it's worth. I did contact him and made it clear that his game was over and that he already had quite the reputation. The man (term used loosely of course) was confused. He is ignorant of the far reach of the sisterhood. Something tells me he may always be ignorant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prig is still elusive. I am not so interested that I will chase that far. If an opportunity presents itself, I may take it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Colonel will come in time. Right now it is a matter of timing than anything. Not his fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see where the week takes us...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2617733168120444839?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2617733168120444839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2617733168120444839&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2617733168120444839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2617733168120444839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/mothers-hide-your-sons.html' title='Mothers, hide your sons'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRg4TJAjAzI/AAAAAAAAAE4/M78cwiR2E9E/s72-c/kilt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4041569066330435049</id><published>2008-11-06T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T16:45:11.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disappointment</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRMmrybxxbI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bIYaKi-kg3c/s1600-h/_ass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 298px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRMmrybxxbI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bIYaKi-kg3c/s400/_ass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265594923040753074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty Boy is over an hour late. He just texted that he is just now getting out of the shower and will call in a minute. I have a good mind to meet him at the door in a pair of latex boots, thigh-high stockings and wielding a riding crop or my brand new one-inch-thick olive-wood paddle. I'm afraid I might scare the poor young thing. I told him that I am waiting and getting VERY impatient. I am not happy with Pretty Boy's lack of punctuality. He will be punished. I will have to be careful though, he's not accustomed to my particular brand of discipline. Baby steps... I will try to get photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE: Pretty Boy is on the verge of being fired. I am growing tired of his antics. There is something fishy going on there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have tentative plans with The Colonel on Monday. I am otherwise engaged with other (read ordinary) pursuits this weekend. I may be spending some time with the female end of the couple on Saturday. It's time to draw her out of that shell. As for The Prig, he remains elusive. He does hold himself in high esteem. Maybe it's time to put him back in his place. It would have been fairly easy with Pretty Boy on my arm. Hmmm. Time to find a replacement for Pretty Boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc, it's getting late. I look forward to a rousing start to the work week next week. The Colonel is practically salivating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4041569066330435049?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4041569066330435049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4041569066330435049&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4041569066330435049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4041569066330435049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/breaking-fast.html' title='Disappointment'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRMmrybxxbI/AAAAAAAAAEw/bIYaKi-kg3c/s72-c/_ass.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-9168058252535266850</id><published>2008-11-05T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T12:14:29.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistress in heat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRH8MUzK1vI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Zi5X2p6TaXE/s1600-h/fantasy_boy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRH8MUzK1vI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Zi5X2p6TaXE/s400/fantasy_boy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265266728044779250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I have been in need. SERIOUS need. And I am on the hunt. Let me tell you what I have found, because this Mistress never settles for just one stallion in the stable. Usually it takes more than one man to satisfy whatever carnal lusts I have need to satisfy. And indeed, it's been a LONG, LONG time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pretty Boy&lt;/strong&gt;: MisstressM and I have discussed this one. I am not interested in dating this young man. He is for carnal pleasures only. He is a personal trainer. He is large everywhere, arms, legs and chest. His ass is rock hard and his nipples are pierced. I have had the pleasure of kissing him and playing with his cock for a short time. He is young and has only had the pleasure of being with young, impressionable and very naive women. By his own admission he has never been with anyone like me. He is somewhat aware of what I do, but not completely educated. He's curious, which is attractive to me. I am very strongly attracted to him but have so far been successful in not jumping on him. It may take him years to understand (if ever) that most of the pleasure I will take in him will be in touching him. He will think that I will be giving him pleasure when in fact it is my own. He does have the body of an Adonis. He says he will be here tomorrow at 11am to spend the day with me. We will see. So far he has not been the most reliable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Prig&lt;/strong&gt;: Overinflated sense of Ego, but a more mature man. He has more experience (far more) with women and knows exactly what and who I am. He is not interested in playing in the "Mistress/slave or Dominant/submissive" sense. He is dominant in his own right, but adventurous. He's open to alot of things, but very clear about what he won't do. There are still quite few things he's hung up on. He's a bit of a Peter Pan. Doesn't want to really settle down, doesn't really want a life partner. Just wants to play around. Uncatchable. That's ok. I don't want to catch him. He seems like someone worthy of the time. Someone who would be worth the effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Colonel&lt;/strong&gt;: Ah. Sexy and a real man. Not at all tuned in to what I am. He is raw and unbridled. Someone I've found attractive for a while. Great sense of humor. He seems to be a man starving. Someone who has been denied the small pleasures in life. This is a man who has dated women who will not even give him the small pleasure of fellatio. Ah, poor soul. He is in for quite a surprise, isn't he? Easy to please...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've met a couple... She likes to kiss girls. As you know I am not bisexual or even bicurious. I will never say never, it's just not my thing. She's not really interested in much more, but she's pretty up front. She does, however, like to watch. He is attractive and a very nice guy. She feels very submissive to him, but I do not. He would like her to be a little more aggressive. I'd love to see her come out of her shell a bit. She's cute, creative and fun. We'll have to see how this shapes up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-9168058252535266850?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/9168058252535266850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=9168058252535266850&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/9168058252535266850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/9168058252535266850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/11/mistress-in-heat.html' title='Mistress in heat'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SRH8MUzK1vI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Zi5X2p6TaXE/s72-c/fantasy_boy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8839520366642337297</id><published>2008-07-13T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T06:22:35.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello again, Mr. Murphy.</title><content type='html'>Mr. Murphy has seen fit to send The Scot my way as foreseen. I am sure this is not the last I have seen of him. He would be an undeniable match for me if things were different. I would have to step aside and make room for him. But I cannot allow him to have any power in my life. And there it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not used to denying myself sex. I just don't see the point. But at this point in my life I am now used to being the one in charge of procuring it as well. I am not used to being "worked over" shall we say. And finding myself the unwitting pawn in someone's little game has left me...disoriented. It seems that I've left myself a bit unprotected. Let's make sure that doesn't happen again, shall we? I am no longer accustomed to being prey. Let's leave that to the uninitiated twenty-somethings who think that every man who says "I love you" actually means it. Or that we mean it when we say it was well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In unrelated news: One of my associates recently told me that he and his wife had recently separated. I felt a bit bad since I had been giving him a hard time in front of her not too long before. Before this revelation, I was riding with them in their mini-van and noticed a book on the floor. One of those self-help marital guides and thought "uh-oh...", but blew it off. His next words to me were "So what are YOU doing later?" When I turned him down he admitted that they were "working on it" and that it looked like it would work out. Seems she's been "dating" a coworker. I don't think there's much hope it's going to work out at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* I MUST see the surgeon about having this married-man magnet removed from my person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8839520366642337297?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8839520366642337297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8839520366642337297&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8839520366642337297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8839520366642337297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/07/hello-again-mr-murphy.html' title='Hello again, Mr. Murphy.'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-806965419842680269</id><published>2008-06-27T05:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T06:31:26.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Murphy lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SGTrpvnklvI/AAAAAAAAAC8/jnauAJ3k9jQ/s1600-h/murphy_muskerry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SGTrpvnklvI/AAAAAAAAAC8/jnauAJ3k9jQ/s320/murphy_muskerry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216553370791483122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know I've been largely absent lately. It's been very busy here. I was more or less forced to spend a large amount of money recently and haven't really looked back. I replaced my ageing car with a vehicle that very much reflects my personality. I've been putting off the inevitable for some time in the hopes that I would have a larger amount of money saved. So be it. The time was right and I have a predisposition to believing in such things. The new car is fast, sleek and just so "me" that I can't help but just stand back and marvel at it. I knew it would be mine as soon as I laid eyes on it. My old vehicle had been paid off quite a while ago so it really is a pain to have a car payment again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also decided to replace my ancient (by my computer scientist brother's standards) computer. So now I find myself in a lightning-fast world where my old computer had me in a much slower pace. I'm loving it, of course. I haven't put all of the chat software back on and I'm not sure I'm going to. I've hit yet another one of my reflective snags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was out of town last week and had a ridiculously busy schedule that left me exhausted. There was very little sleep, I did not take my vitamins regularly and ate very few real meals. And upon returning and going back to work, I left immediately for a funeral. A woman who shares my occupation died horribly in an entirely avoidable accident. This week I have tried to slow down and get back into my routine. I find I need that more and more. I also noted that I passed a rather notable anniversary last month. And here we segue into the next topic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been over a year since I have had sex with a man. Now I was worried that the week I was out of town would present itself with some interesting, but &lt;em&gt;verboten&lt;/em&gt;, possibilities. And it did. Truly. But I behaved myself. My navigator was an attractive gentleman, but I kept my hands off. My next door neighbor, two weeks from finalizing his divorce was also hands off. I believe no man when he cooks up a story. I was absolutely convinced my switch was permanently in the "OFF" position. Then I met "HIM". Good god. I saw him and for some reason I wanted to talk to him immediately. And boy can I pick them. He lives a hundred miles away. He is even more &lt;em&gt;verboten&lt;/em&gt; than any of the others... And I cannot get him off of my mind. I wish that I could say that I will take this opportuniity to relish the uncomfortable feeling of want. But What I want and need to do is forget him immediately. And of course what this means is that this man, who I have never met before, will be thrown into my path again and again in my future. How do I know this? Because we met Wednesday night for the first time, and then were assigned to each other all day Saturday at the funeral. We have friends/coworkers (no difference there) in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There once was this man named Murphy and he penned this law...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-806965419842680269?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/806965419842680269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=806965419842680269&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/806965419842680269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/806965419842680269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/06/murphy-lives.html' title='Murphy lives'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SGTrpvnklvI/AAAAAAAAAC8/jnauAJ3k9jQ/s72-c/murphy_muskerry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-1838847253232395637</id><published>2008-05-07T16:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T16:54:36.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flirt</title><content type='html'>I've spent the last couple of weeks in close proximity to a man who finds it amusing to flirt with me. I find it amusing that he has no ungodly idea what the hell he's doing. Not at all. He has no idea how to recognize what I am. I'm not even sure he knows that women like me exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This gentleman is married and someone not really predisposed to cheating. I think he likes to think about it but guilt keeps him from following through. His idea of kink is having a woman tell him exactly where to touch him. Really. I'm not kidding you. Now, I'm pretty close to him in what I'd consider a sisterly way. We're frank with one another and can talk about just about anything. I get the feeling his life has been pretty sheltered. If he knew what kind of a life I've led, it would blow his mind. I think - no, I KNOW - he's sit there with his mouth hanging open speechless. He's not the kind that would entertain being part of the lifestyle. He's also not the type I would consider recruiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the type of man I would recruit... I've decided he should strive to be a tailor. I absolutely HATE when my clothes don't fit well. I'd love to dress like this on a daily basis:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SCJERfCbx-I/AAAAAAAAAC0/TGqZjkpIFPo/s1600-h/lara.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SCJERfCbx-I/AAAAAAAAAC0/TGqZjkpIFPo/s320/lara.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197791987119146978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, Lara Croft is the quintessential Dominant woman, isn't she?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-1838847253232395637?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/1838847253232395637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=1838847253232395637&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1838847253232395637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1838847253232395637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/05/flirt.html' title='The Flirt'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SCJERfCbx-I/AAAAAAAAAC0/TGqZjkpIFPo/s72-c/lara.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-6198311688174950542</id><published>2008-05-05T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T08:24:51.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreaming</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SB8j4W9HKmI/AAAAAAAAACo/Zh6qd0Y2pJI/s1600-h/outdoors.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SB8j4W9HKmI/AAAAAAAAACo/Zh6qd0Y2pJI/s320/outdoors.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196911946150390370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last night I had a dream. After contemplating what on earth could have inspired such perplexing images, I came up with some theories. But then, even I don't feign to pretend to understand the way my own mind works. I regret not getting immediately out of bed and writing down the details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being at a large home performing some sort of tasks for a very nice woman. I don't remember what the tasks were but I was outside alot. There was an understanding in my dream that this woman was the new partner of my former Master. I wasn't uncomfortable with that thought at the time. I remember feeling at ease with her but not really understanding what was really happening or even if she knew about my history with Him. I was unsure of my specific place in the hierarchy, but knew that I was not free to just leave without her permission. I smiled easily and was happy to go about my work with her close by. At some point I realized that it was getting late and twilight was settling. I went to her in the kitchen of the home and asked her what was next. She said that she needed nothing more from me that day. I was then overwhelmed with the desire to stay at the home. I asked her:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mistress, is it OK if I stay here this evening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stretched out her arms and hugged me saying: "Mistress, indeed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately removed what little clothing I had on and was happy to stay in the home and wait for Him to arrive. I remember being very excited at the prospect of having the two of them there with me. At the moment I called her Mistress, I felt completely at ease and happy. It was a very pleasant dream. I was disappointed to have been woken by someone outside and not able to see where the dream (and I) would have gone. It ended with me standing smiling at the sink, completely nude with her standing behind me with her arms around me, moving her hands slowly down. My mind was racing with all of the things I wanted to do with them and things I wanted to have done to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be clear, I've never wanted to be with a woman. I knew that at some point that my former Master was going to require it of me. I trusted him to know how far he could push me at any given moment, so I was not as terrified as I might have been. Our relationship ended before anything really even began. And to be honest, I thought I was far beyond having any desire for any future relationship of that nature. I've been quite content to be the Dominant. It was interesting that I was so content to be submissive - and to a woman at that! Maybe I just need to get out there and find someone to explore a few things with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-6198311688174950542?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/6198311688174950542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=6198311688174950542&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6198311688174950542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6198311688174950542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/05/dreaming.html' title='Dreaming'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SB8j4W9HKmI/AAAAAAAAACo/Zh6qd0Y2pJI/s72-c/outdoors.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3902216251693705239</id><published>2008-04-27T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T16:49:02.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Prodigal slave</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SBUPX29HKlI/AAAAAAAAACg/X10OCBwMUKo/s1600-h/B598.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SBUPX29HKlI/AAAAAAAAACg/X10OCBwMUKo/s320/B598.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194074647804979794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few days ago I got an e-mail from &lt;a href="http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/surprises.html"&gt;Porter&lt;/a&gt;. He's been away and is testing the waters to see if I am interested in playing with him again. I've avoided answering the e-mail because I'm just not sure. I've been largely inactive lately and have my reservations about him anyway. He is EXTREMELY paranoid and it stops him from obeying without large amounts of coaxing. I understand that developing a deeper relationship with him might resolve that issue, but I don't think he's interested in a relationship of any kind. I think Porter wants what he wants when he wants it. He's not so much interested in serving someone as he is in fulfilling whatever needs he has and then disappearing for months at a time. I cannot read him and he is not forthcoming with feelings. He's aware I was concerned about this from the beginning and said he'd try to get better. If I thought he'd actually try, I might give it a go. But I'm not convinced... I think he's been forced to live a vanilla life for too many months and wants a day of submissive discipline. Then he'll be satisfied until he finds he needs another fix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while on the subject of last year's crop of men, here's an update:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Doorman: getting married (*SIGH*)&lt;br /&gt;Newcomer: occasionally IMs, but I'm not interested in striking that one up again&lt;br /&gt;Laertes: getting married some time this year. Such a waste&lt;br /&gt;Nightengale: dropped off the face of the earth but still on my IM list. No big loss&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I visited ALT.com for the first time in MONTHS today. I'm leery of the people on there now. The few men I have met are just downright scary. I've learned to read the warning signs in chats and e-mails. I'm not sure what makes people feel that they can just say whatever comes to mind, regardless of how people might feel. I know there are some people who can just walk up to another and say "Hey. Want to fuck?" and it's OK with them. I am not one of those people. I want the people in my life to take things seriously and have respect for one another. These are people, after all, not animals (in the strictest sense of the word, of course). It's difficult to find people with the same mindset. I don't think that excessive vulgarity makes things "sexy". Sex starts in the mind first. Regardless of your tendency - submissive or dominant - try seduction first. Too many people come at me with fantasies and stories in minute detail in first conversation. How about getting to know the person first? It's obvious we may have some of the same kinks, that's why we're here. But you wouldn't walk into a bar and proposition a woman - that is, unless you plan on paying her for her time of course! Why is it so different in this community? *sigh* And you know how I hate simpering male submissive-types. You don't know me - stop telling me how powerful and goddess-like I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In June I will be taking a one week trip to the beach. There will be alot of people there that I know and at least two staying in the same hotel with me that given some alcohol might become...conquests. Since it's been almost a year since my last, I might have to keep the drinking to a minimum. I'd like to say that what happens at the beach stays at the beach, but we all know that's not true...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3902216251693705239?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3902216251693705239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3902216251693705239&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3902216251693705239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3902216251693705239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/04/prodigal-slave.html' title='The Prodigal slave'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/SBUPX29HKlI/AAAAAAAAACg/X10OCBwMUKo/s72-c/B598.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3803347333295918466</id><published>2008-03-23T04:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T16:18:40.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jello returns</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R-blR7rXYNI/AAAAAAAAACY/ohhF1M2LEdM/s1600-h/jello.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R-blR7rXYNI/AAAAAAAAACY/ohhF1M2LEdM/s320/jello.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181080517576450258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He is still a simpering mess of a man. I was at first taken in by his seemingly sincere apology for continuing his unwanted advances toward me. It was soon apparent that he was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After repeated messages to me where Jello stated that whatever he had done, he was sorry, he finally tracked me down where he knew I could not get away from him without causing a scene. This was not appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello: I'm sorry. I know where I screwed up and I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blesse: What did you do then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello (looking at me intensely): I KNOW what I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blesse: Look, I'm not angry, but I thought you needed to figure out what's important to you. You are a married man. I'm sorry that you're miserable, but you've made your bed now lie in it. Have some respect for your wife and for me and stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello: Your friendship means more to me than anything. I don't know where I crossed the line...well, yes I do. It was the night I had that dream about you and called you the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blesse (for gods sake): The best thing you can do is drop it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello: I will push it far, far down. I won't do it again. But now you know how I feel....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blesse: (In other words...in case I change my mind. You are an ass.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello: I feel so much better now that we've had this conversation. No one did anything wrong, but now I feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I inwardly rolled my eyes, made my escape and left him. No one did anything WRONG? In one sentence he apologized for his impropriety, and then left the door open "just in case". Ah, my dear, I was not born yesterday. Obviously my friendship is not upmost in his mind. Maybe he thinks he can keep a presence in my life and eventually wear me down? the Colorado River had more success carving out the Grand Canyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry Charlie. There is NO room for Jello in this woman's life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3803347333295918466?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3803347333295918466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3803347333295918466&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3803347333295918466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3803347333295918466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/03/jello-returns.html' title='Jello returns'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R-blR7rXYNI/AAAAAAAAACY/ohhF1M2LEdM/s72-c/jello.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-6863178462825494488</id><published>2008-03-19T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T15:44:40.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9"? Really?</title><content type='html'>Monday I was out with some friends celebrating St. Patrick's Day. We started at a particular pub at around noon and traveled around pub-hopping until about 9pm. I had a quite interesting time. I usually don't drink that much. I don't handle my liquor as well as I did when I was young, so I take it easy. I've learned that it's not exactly good form to lose your senses around people for whom you may be a bit willing to relax the rules. I was glad I had my wits about me this day. The men were biting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The male of our species never stops surprising me. I'm very open and relaxed about most sexual things, but never let that be too well known to those I'm not close to. I know that all of you know how I feel about bringing other people into a relationship. I'm absolutely alright with it as long as everyone knows about it and consents. Far be it for me to judge anyone! However, I'm not saying that it would be OK for me in every situation. I am NOT in favor of cheating. We've discussed this before, no? I will not be party to lying to anyone. Not that I haven't been tempted...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While enroute to a pub, one of my companions felt the need to let me know that his cock is 9" long. I have no idea why that information was divulged at that time. We were not discussing sex. I have to admit that I was intrigued... He is attractive and extremely aggressive. I can imagine that spending time with him would be interesting... However, he wears not one, but two rings on his left ring finger. Someone has marked their territory. I blew the comment off as a drunken diarrhea of words. That is, until he said to me as I was leaving: "I was wondering if I could accompany you home tonight." Once again I am left explaining to a man that I have indeed noticed his wedding rings and am not interested. I lie, of course. I am certainly interested, but not willing to put myself in the adulteress category.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I get myself into these situations without so much as a hint that I'm trying?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-6863178462825494488?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/6863178462825494488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=6863178462825494488&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6863178462825494488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6863178462825494488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/03/9-really.html' title='9&quot;? Really?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-7434587561304675284</id><published>2008-02-26T05:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T06:43:06.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's right</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8QlcP85v8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/vJxw7R6sbUw/s1600-h/2-45.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8QlcP85v8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/vJxw7R6sbUw/s320/2-45.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171299439376711618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Lately I've been thinking alot about what's right. Not so much about what's right in general, but what's right for me. I'd been doing some research on Humanism and motivational theories. It struck me that I could almost see some people's motivations based on the way we interacted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while back I was conversing with a submissive that I only "knew" through electronic communication. After a few conversations I knew that although he seemed fascinating, he would never be right for me. It was interesting to see how his mind worked, what he expected and how he communicated with his Mistresses. I noticed pretty quickly that he really loved to re-hash his experiences. I suspect that he cared alot less how the person he communicated with saw him than he did about getting his thrill by reliving his experiences. He dominated the conversations quickly and seemed to always want to draw everything back to an experience he'd had with this Mistress or that. It grew tedious to the point where I would hide from him online so I wouldn't feel obligated to listen, so to speak. He is an intelligent, well spoken gentleman, but not someone I would be interested in playing with. It doesn't make him a bad person, nor is my opinion relevant to anyone other than myself. It just is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've realized that humans had an ingrained need to feel included - to be accepted. A rejection of any sort is devastating. Despite knowing this, rejection doesn't hurt any less. Maybe one of the benefits of growing older is recognizing that there's nothing wrong with you because you don't "click" with every person you meet. Nor will you be universally adored by all. What matters is what you feel when you look in the mirror. I have long learned that all of those things I was taught as a child may have no place in my life. Sex is not dirty (in the negative sense, of course) and women who have it are not necessarily whores. Everyone must make these decision for themselves and about themselves. Just because you believe that sleeping with more than one man makes you a whore doesn't mean everyone agrees with you, or must agree with you. And because I like to be dominated at times, wearing stockings and not panty hose and high heels does not make me a throwback to the 1800s. I'm not going to conform just because you say it's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sister, find your own way. Screw what I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-7434587561304675284?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/7434587561304675284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=7434587561304675284&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7434587561304675284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7434587561304675284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/02/whats-right.html' title='What&apos;s right'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8QlcP85v8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/vJxw7R6sbUw/s72-c/2-45.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-7647537033229144166</id><published>2008-02-23T07:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T08:32:29.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Creating my own fantasy</title><content type='html'>Despite what it may seem, I have not fallen off of the face of the earth. I've been working, taking classes, becoming neurotic about my finances.... I think that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that unless I become a multi-millionaire, I should buy a house and settle in this place. If I do become a millionaire, it really won't be an issue - I can just buy houses wherever I want and live in them when I feel like it. In lieu of that much money, I need to pick a place here and get on with it. Up until now it's just been too much of a commitment. I've decided that paying more in rent than most people pay for a mortgage just might be a waste of my money. And so I've been putting my credit under a microscope so that by the end of the year I will be moving into "MY" place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've attended two classes (that will eventually get me three certifications) and will be attending another in about a week. They are necessary for promotional opportunities, not to mention they also give me a Plan B in case I should be unable to continue in my present position. It is not uncommon for people in my line of work to get hurt to the point that they are medically retired. Being healthy at this time, it will give me an opportunity to work part-time teaching. I think I'd rather enjoy that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with having to leave the house and go to class every day, I had the opportunity to wear street clothes, makeup and jewelry. I haven't done that in about three years. It was nice to be back in my power suits and boots. I felt like a woman again. That feeling had been slipping away from me for quite some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last few months have seen no sexual activity whatsoever. Not for the lack of men trying.... I have no desire to have an affair with a man sneaking around behind his wife's back. It stinks of lies and desperation. That is something I don't tolerate in my men. There is one in particular who has insulted me multiple times with his drooling compliments and sniveling. He sent me a message yesterday saying "Whatever I've done to make you mad, I'm sorry." For pete's sake. First: You have no idea if you've made me mad because I haven't jumped at the chance to talk to you on the phone every day. Second: If you don't know what you did, how can you be sorry for it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This poor excuse for a man had this conversation with me recently:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FB (commenting on a "blossoming" romance): "I had seen him more with someone like me rather than like her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello: "Well, I don't want to share you with anyone else."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FB: "I am not yours to share. And YOU are a married man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello: "Now is this the time or place to talk about that!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FB: "Obviously it is if you continue to make comments like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have told him repeatedly not to say things like that to me. He calls me constantly, wants me to go to lunch with him while I'm in class, tells me how classy I look and how he likes class in a woman. I do not care what he likes. He has passed the point of annoying long ago has has progressed now to just plain ticking me off. If I don't answer my phone he'll call me again. If I don't answer a second time he sends me a text. I am not his girlfriend. My god if I have to hear the speech about how "My wife and I are just staying together for the kid's sake" speech from one more man....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changing subjects... I heard from Porter a while back. He's out of the country but sends me e-mail every now and again. I haven't been on any of the BDSM sites or talked to any of my friends in the lifestyle lately. I know one of my couple acquaintances (the couple I played with last summer) are buying a house, so they'll be out of commission until that is finalized. I'm in no hurry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a recurring fantasy lately. I am the hostess of a party which includes couples of all denominations. The Masters/Mistresses are clothed to their liking, the slaves are dressed so that their genitalia are exposed. The men in nothing but tights with their cocks and balls free, the women in corsettes just under their breasts and full skirts tucked at the waist to expose them. All slaves are wearing color-coded bracelets to indicate their specialty or what they are available for that evening. The Masters and Mistresses have agreed that their slaves can be used in any manner by any of the guests as long as they adhere to the color codes. No slave can decline an invitation, but they are allowed rest if they ask. The house is large and sprawling with a pool in the back. The rooms are set up for bondage, pain, sex, whatever is required. If a slave is not being used, they are to serve refreshments. As I expected, the slaves experienced in fellatio are extremely popular with several of the Masters waiting their turn to be serviced. There is a Mistress spanking a male slave out by the pool for daring to show his excitement at the party with an unauthorized erection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-7647537033229144166?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/7647537033229144166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=7647537033229144166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7647537033229144166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7647537033229144166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2008/02/creating-my-own-fantasy.html' title='Creating my own fantasy'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4358905206787395242</id><published>2007-09-23T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T17:10:28.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trouble ahead...</title><content type='html'>It's been a very busy and fairly exhausting couple of weeks. Both my computer and I caught a virus, so we were both out of commission for some time. I, thankfully, had an easy time getting antibiotics and am feeling much better. I wish the same could be said for my computer. It's still giving me little hiccups here and there. Most notably is my problems with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;IM&lt;/span&gt;. I've had to load and re-load my messaging program over and over again. If I turn the computer off, it seems to disappear altogether. Not only that, but it also seems to be inviting people I've already removed from my friends list to add me to their friend list again. It's slightly...inconvenient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So being said, my contact with Porter has been sporadic. When I finally did hear from him and asked why he had not answered my e-mail, he stated that he had stopped reading that e-mail some time ago. He did finally reply:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry that i did not reply sooner.  i really don't check this email anymore, as no one usually writes to me here.  i will do as You wish; yes, it is something i would like to continue."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a tentative appointment for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thursday&lt;/span&gt; and then he will be going out of town for a while. We'll see if he follows through. He does have a history of being fairly flaky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very significant anniversary has passed for me. On August 23rd, I would have marked one year with my former Master had he not turned out to be a liar and a poser. The fallout from that relationship has been far more damaging to me than I imagined could have been possible. I'm not sure if it's because I saw him so often at work or if it was the relationship itself that lives on in my mind. Every slave blog I read pulls me into a memory of my own with him. It makes me uncomfortable and I seem to feel pain, regret and a longing to have the relationship back - which takes me further into regret. I feel so weak for feeling that way. If only we had kept our relationship on that plane.... I blame him. He told friends he "wasn't into me" from the beginning. As a slave I communicated EVERYTHING to him. He knew where I was taking myself and allowed me to continue. He should have stopped when he realized that he had no intention of following through with the relationship. There was nothing so precious to me than trust and he knew that. I trusted him to do the right thing where I was concerned only to find that my trust was severely misplaced. I don't think I can ever trust like that again. But now I find myself in a quandary...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have avoided quite a few things over the last year because I knew that he would be present. I cancelled vacation plans and turned down invitations to parties because of it. I know that part of the reason I've done that is because I still had some very strong feelings for him. I feel a great deal of anger towards him. Probably because I know that I have a very strong physical attraction for him. Up to this point I would move as far away from him as I could to put as much physical distance between us as possible so that my attraction would not show. Add alcohol and I'd be at his feet sucking his cock without so much as a glimmer of hesitation. This knowledge just pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the interest of putting all of this behind me and moving on, I contacted him. He did not answer, so I sent the message again. No answer. I sent a third and final message saying that I was contacting him in the interest of patching the fence. He replied stating that he had been slow to answer because he wasn't sure I wanted to talk to him. I knew I'd have to make the first move since I was the one who looked him straight in the eye at work and said "Don't talk to me." He hasn't really tried since. All efforts were at trying to catch my eye or just general "Hellos". Now there is very little chance of us running into each other - a new development at work has me moving far, far away from him. (I'd already contacted him before I knew I was leaving his sphere of influence.) He had told me he would be away for a while but that he'd get in touch with me on the 22&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; (about a week and a half later). I'd completely forgotten until I got a message from him yesterday. I have no interest in having any conversation with him at work - it would have been constant interruptions - so I told him yesterday was not good for me. He told me he would try to get in touch with me today. So far nothing. I have no idea what I'll say to him when we do talk. If I didn't care anymore, I wouldn't give him any space in my head at all. I'm still very angry with him. And that means....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TROUBLE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4358905206787395242?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4358905206787395242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4358905206787395242&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4358905206787395242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4358905206787395242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/09/trouble-ahead.html' title='Trouble ahead...'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8942470245012497051</id><published>2007-09-04T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T05:08:19.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Return?</title><content type='html'>I've been extraordinarily busy over the last couple of months, and it shows no signs of letting up anytime soon. Last night I finally got a really good night's sleep. The first in maybe three weeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was reading "The Story of O" and found myself really missing the discipline and structure of that lifestyle as a submissive. I couldn't help but think of my former Master and the fact that on August 23rd we would have been together for a year. I still have not spoken to him (not since March), but have extended and invitation for him to contact me. I'm not willing to say that we'll be friends, but I don't want to spend the rest of my days avoiding him. It makes for a very difficult life and I've missed out on alot of things because of it. I still harbor some very deep wounds from our relationship and would not even entertain the idea of rekindling it at this time. I can't help but remember the time we did spend together as Master and slave with a twinge of regret. It seems that the emotional pain he inflicted keeps me from enjoying the memories entirely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was online and &lt;a href="http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/surprises.html"&gt;Porter&lt;/a&gt; popped up on IM. I've been largely absent from IM lately. I either lurk while appearing to be offline, but mostly just log off altogether. He has been checking in to see if I'm there for quite some time and finally caught me in. He has been quite busy himself and is preparing to leave the country for a while. Here's a little excerpt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;porter: do you want company tonight?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fleur_Blesse: I'm not sure I'd be up to anything tonight. Maybe next week?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;porter: no problem. i'm also tired, but now that i finally got you online again..... the urges are coming back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Rt1KQhhvadI/AAAAAAAAABk/8boSClHOQHo/s1600-h/whipped+ass.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106319200246262226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Rt1KQhhvadI/AAAAAAAAABk/8boSClHOQHo/s400/whipped+ass.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Indeed. He is still due a punishment of 10 lashes with the hairbrush for his previous insolence. At this point I think he is so turned on with the lifestyle that he would accept anything to serve again. He expressed an interest in "pampering" me. Hmmm. I have sent him the following e-mail with the subject "Do you wish to return?":&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I looked up the last time we spoke - it was June 9th. Do you remember my terms for your return? Let me refresh your memory:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering my home, your clothes must be removed and folded neatly, left on the stairs and you are to come up. You should never look me in the eye and always be on your knees in front of me unless told otherwise. You should expect to be punished on your first visit. I will blindfold you, slip a chain collar around your neck and a plug in your ass. You will receive 10 strokes while over my knee and your cock in my hand, no safeword and no stopping in between strokes. After your punishment you will kneel between my feet with your face at my pussy as we talk about your situation and how we would like to continue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this something you wish to do?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let's see what his answer will be...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8942470245012497051?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8942470245012497051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8942470245012497051&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8942470245012497051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8942470245012497051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/09/return.html' title='The Return?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Rt1KQhhvadI/AAAAAAAAABk/8boSClHOQHo/s72-c/whipped+ass.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-1107287624584849502</id><published>2007-07-27T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T13:41:52.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dry spell</title><content type='html'>I've been inactive lately. No sex, no games. It's been a busy and stressful summer so far. Work is making me sick, I fear. It seems like very often I become violently ill the day after I work. This didn't happen for the first year. I'm beginning to wonder if it has something to do with the buildings I've been working in lately. Maybe a mold issue. I've become a little weary of spending almost 24 hours after I work kneeling in front of the loo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the no sex, no games...well, the situations are not presenting themselves. Nightengale has decided that he can't even be polite enough to answer me, which I find horrifically rude. I told him that his lack of common courtesy solidifies my deduction that he is not worth knowing, let alone serving. Suits me fine since I haven't been in a serving mood for quite some time. Newcomer has been out of touch. I'm not really all that worried about it - bad fit and all. It was nice to get a little attention every now and again, but he tends to linger way too long. I need my space. Porter is out of town for a few weeks doing some training. He popped into IM a couple of times before he left and assures me he'll contact me when he gets back. I haven't logged into IM in a while, so I have no idea who has been around. I'm not worried - I'm just not one of those people who can be "on" all the time. I am much more than the sum of my parts and I like it that way. Too much of one thing makes me feel just a bit like a nut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Laertes....ahhhh Laertes. I saw him tuesday. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his cheek. I was sitting in a chair finishing some paperwork and chatting with coworkers. I had my left hand on the back of the chair and he made sure he walked by and grazed his gorgeous bottom against it. I called him a dirty boy, but I would have liked to take him somewhere and strip those awful trousers off of him and admire his physique in the form it came into the world. *sigh* I felt my libido stir ever so slightly. I quickly extinguished any thoughts and sent it back into hibernation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a wonderful dream last night. I was standing in a alley somewhere and the love of my life was there with me, except he was entirely nude. I was dressed. We just stood there, holding each other, not talking. The dream was so life-like that I remember the smell of his skin, my lips on his shoulder and neck and the feel of his erection against me. We never spoke. My alarm rudely awakened me and I wanted to cry. There are days I miss him so much. I haven't seen him or heard from him in many years. Not since I told him he could not expect me to love him and still date at home while waiting for his quarterly visit. I told him to stay away unless he was ready to be with me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I wonder where he is now. Last I heard he was in South America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to think that short, uncomplicated friendships would be alot more lucrative than trying to find a relationship. As a matter of fact, I've almost given up on love. There is a glimmer of hope, but only a glimmer. I hate to say it, but I might just be happier this way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-1107287624584849502?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/1107287624584849502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=1107287624584849502&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1107287624584849502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1107287624584849502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/07/dry-spell.html' title='Dry spell'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2797028483490077581</id><published>2007-07-06T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T17:08:22.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poison Pen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Ro7O35E8grI/AAAAAAAAABU/FOyzmJcnTvQ/s1600-h/84m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084228488957559474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Ro7O35E8grI/AAAAAAAAABU/FOyzmJcnTvQ/s320/84m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today I watched the movie &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0180073/"&gt;Quills&lt;/a&gt; with Geoffrey Rush, Joaquin Phoenix and Kate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Winslet&lt;/span&gt;. It's a 2000 movie based on the Marquis &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Sade's stay in a mental institution in the late 1700's. (I don't want to give away the whole candy store, just in case you wish to see it too.) It's not as salacious as one might think. It did, however prompt me to make an observation or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first is that people are people are people. As much as the right wing might want you to believe, we are not all of a sudden going to hell in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;handbasket&lt;/span&gt;. That &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;handbasket&lt;/span&gt; is always well-populated in every century. Sometimes I think we would like to believe that we are all gods and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;goddesses&lt;/span&gt; not prone to the human condition. That maybe demons live among us - things that are so unlike us that they cannot possibly be made of the same material and they are responsible for anything we might find distasteful. We are mired in denial and reject that which we find "morally objectionable". A shame, I say. Or maybe I am one of the demons?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second observation I made was in the vein of blaming something else for your own actions. Take, for instance, the idea that a movie is responsible for &lt;a href="http://www.crimelibrary.com/notorious_murders/celebrity/natural_born_killers/1.html"&gt;murderous rampages&lt;/a&gt;. In Quills, the Marquis &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Sade's sexually explicit and violent writings are accused of similar infringements. Such powerful pen and ink to drive normally angelic men and women to wanton sex and bloody violence. I don't believe it of him, and I certainly would not give life to the supposition that a bit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;celluloid&lt;/span&gt; can have such a profound effect. I'm not saying that this material, in the hands of someone predisposed to such activity, isn't in part responsible for giving the offender ideas. But I reject the idea that any media can change an otherwise rational person into a monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the philosopher George Santayana who said "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Maybe....but isn't it human nature to repeat ourselves? To take the same stories and repackage them in modern designs and market them as new? It seems there are no new stories, only remakes of old ones. For instance, compare:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094947/"&gt;Dangerous Liaisons&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0139134/"&gt;Cruel Intentions&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0081597/"&gt;The Taming of the Shrew&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0147800/"&gt;10 Things I Hate About You&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116191/"&gt;Emma&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0112697/"&gt;Clueless&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice to know your children are watching the classics, isn't it? Even if they have no idea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. Time to just give up and recognize our humanity. Funny. I don't &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; evil...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2797028483490077581?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2797028483490077581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2797028483490077581&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2797028483490077581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2797028483490077581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/07/poison-pen.html' title='Poison Pen'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Ro7O35E8grI/AAAAAAAAABU/FOyzmJcnTvQ/s72-c/84m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-9152421595015338955</id><published>2007-07-02T05:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T06:11:50.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still here...</title><content type='html'>I'm sorry, I didn't abandon you. I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently some things have transpired that made me take a step back and sit quietly. You know, just watch, listen and be completely quiet. I have these moments from time to time, and they are usually triggered when someone alarms me or threatens my anonymity. It's not that I am ashamed, but I am a realist. I love my career and NOTHING gets in the way of that. This most certainly would raise some eyebrows in my community. Sometimes I just shut down and go into stealth mode until I feel comfortable again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been working ALOT lately on top of duties still related to work, but not generating any cash flow. I'm certainly not complaining - all of it has been wonderful. It's just that work has overloaded my head. It's easy to let that happen. And with the summer here, there is overtime available and all sorts of other things going on. I've also had a few days of just feeling ill as hell. I'm not sure what's up with that, but I may have had a revelation. Right in the middle of my run the other day I realized that I had stopped drinking soda cold turkey. Now I still have a healthy dose of caffeine every day (there's NO WAY I'm giving up coffee), I stopped ingesting quite a bit of sugar. My body still thinks it's getting sugar, but it's not. But the fact that I cut out a huge source of sugar in my diet leads me to wonder if maybe that's the reason I felt sick for four days. I once went on a carb-free diet and got so sick on day 2 that I threw up all day. My body HATES the drastic changes. I'm sure it's not just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter has sent me a message or two lately. Nothing really important, just a "hey, are you there" kind of thing. I'm not pressed for BDSM-type company, so I haven't really worried too much about it. My mind has been elsewhere. I find myself craving it some days, but what's a girl to do? Most of the contacts I've had lately are of the desperate "Oh please abuse me Mistress, even though I know nothing about you! Call me at 1-888-555-1234" variety. Good lord, men. Get a grip. It makes me just a little turned off to the lifestyle. I know there are good people out there...where the hell are you??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm losing faith!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-9152421595015338955?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/9152421595015338955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=9152421595015338955&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/9152421595015338955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/9152421595015338955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/07/im-still-here.html' title='I&apos;m still here...'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2630919341219793979</id><published>2007-06-19T10:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T10:44:29.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tragedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RngV8HtXFHI/AAAAAAAAABM/27ejNEE_MDg/s1600-h/u12466969.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077832702465873010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RngV8HtXFHI/AAAAAAAAABM/27ejNEE_MDg/s320/u12466969.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are in mourning once again. To my deceased brothers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar dheis D'o raibh a anam,&lt;br /&gt;Sl'agus beannacht leat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those that survive, those who now and forever live in my heart:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gra, Dilseacht, Cairdeas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2630919341219793979?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2630919341219793979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2630919341219793979&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2630919341219793979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2630919341219793979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/tragedy.html' title='Tragedy'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RngV8HtXFHI/AAAAAAAAABM/27ejNEE_MDg/s72-c/u12466969.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-561457644737743385</id><published>2007-06-15T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T14:39:35.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you're expecting perfect, go look somewhere else</title><content type='html'>Just stopping in a for a minute. I'm in the middle of a marathon work week that is at present beating me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm not sure if it's just being tired, but I find myself a little testy of late. I'm a pretty sensitive person. I may come off as a hard-hitting bitch, but I really take criticism to heart. I've gotten quite a bit lately and it's taking it's toll. I deleted my rant the other day because it just didn't seem fair to vent about something that is a touchy subject for me. It makes me look hot-headed and irrational. I can believe what I want to believe, but it's unrealistic to think that I should need to or even want to change the mind of the world. I need to just be happy being who I am and let others be. And I am. Happy being me, that is. I just feel a little judged is all. And that makes me weary. It's also making me want to climb under the covers and hide. Sometimes I hate being human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far there's been relatively little contact for me with anyone new. I'm not sure I'm in the mood to cultivate it anyway. You may not be aware of it, but some of you out there are very difficult to keep up with. (Not that I'm saying that you want me to, of course.) Sometimes it boggles my mind the limitless thoughts and activities this life brings. I do find it excruciatingly difficult sometimes to live up to particular submissives' standards of what a Domme should or should not "be". I understand the irony of that statement, by the way. Sometimes I feel that my techniques and stories are being minutely dissected and analyzed by those I have never met. It makes me self-conscious and almost unwilling to share anything with you. I keep reminding myself that I am using this medium as a cathartic way of expressing myself and a way of keeping a history I can go back and reference when needed. I should not be worried about what you think at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be working on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-561457644737743385?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/561457644737743385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=561457644737743385&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/561457644737743385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/561457644737743385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/if-youre-expecting-perfect-go-look.html' title='If you&apos;re expecting perfect, go look somewhere else'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2403697349677337379</id><published>2007-06-13T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T12:10:40.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Hump Day</title><content type='html'>It's going to be rough for the next week, so this may be my only post for a few days. We'll see what kind of trouble I can get myself into in between working an obscene number of hours in the next five days. Sorry to those of you who thought I should buy the kick-ass shoes. Overtime makes the debt go away.... and then I can buy a house of my own. The plans for a dungeon are already forming in my head!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It looks like I'm going to have a perfect week. In my world, that means I got my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lilly&lt;/span&gt;-white European-American behind up every morning at 5am for seven days to run. I find that my right ankle hurts &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;briefly&lt;/span&gt; each time. I'm not sure if it's the shoes, my gait or if I'm over/under &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pronating&lt;/span&gt;. It's not horrible, it doesn't last long after I stop running, and therefore not terminal. I'm not a fast runner, but hell. I'm damn proud of myself. I'm looking forward to the annual 5k in August.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I put up a new hummingbird feeder. I had noticed I was getting quite a few of the tiny little visitors over the last couple of days looking for my buffet. In between the thunder, lightning and hail today, they've been coming by regularly. It's one of my simple little pleasures. If I sit really still near the feeder and wear mirrored sunglasses, they come close to check me out. They are territorial little things and make quite a high-pitched, chirpy racket. Such balls for something that weighs less than 7 ounces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RnA1DntXFFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/E6ERY3slitQ/s1600-h/2168-med.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075615116361667666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 152px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 158px" height="170" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RnA1DntXFFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/E6ERY3slitQ/s320/2168-med.jpg" width="152" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So it's hump day. I'm beginning to feel celibate lately. I'm not looking for sex in particular, but I do miss intimacy. I know that for sure because I don't lack for available partners, I just don't have the desire to have sex for the sake of having sex. I can do that for myself, thank you. I have a lovely anal toy - my favorite just because it looks like a small, hard cock. It's similar to the one pictured at left, but a little longer. I've recently grown to like anal sex, but I am even more enthralled with giving it. I've tried to figure out where this came from. I'd have to say that it's not the anal that is the focus here, but the thrill of making someone want something they've always said they would not do. Anal seems to be the most common thing for men, so that's where I seem to have settled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was one of those women who, in younger days, said I would NEVER have anal sex. Right around the time I turned 27 I dated a man who changed my perspective. He talked about it, but never in that way that makes a woman roll her eyes and think "oh god, not this AGAIN". He would lie me on my stomach and whisper in my ear, all the while stroking my back, ass and then finally putting slight pressure on the sphincter until I begged him to insert his finger. The first time he refused, building my desire and anticipation for the next time. We broke up before he ever got me to the point of actually putting his cock in my ass. That was where I learned what was involved in getting someone to want to do something they say they don't want, to actually beg for it. It was interesting and thrilling being on that side of it, but it's so much more fulfilling to be on this side. Knowing that your submissive is struggling mentally against doing what he may consider a homosexual act, wanting to feel what it's like and wanting to please his Mistress is an intoxicating thing. Maybe it's a matter of wanting it, but liking the idea of feeling they have no responsibility for making the decision to do it. I've been in that position before - a total relinquishment of responsibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe that's why Porter is such a draw for me. He struggles with this so much, but wants it so badly. Watching him surrender to it is very nice indeed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2403697349677337379?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2403697349677337379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2403697349677337379&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2403697349677337379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2403697349677337379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/its-going-to-be-rough-for-next-week-so.html' title='Happy Hump Day'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RnA1DntXFFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/E6ERY3slitQ/s72-c/2168-med.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-1882648821092621219</id><published>2007-06-12T13:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T14:00:33.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just passing through</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Rm8ImXtXFEI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cJq7Em-eknY/s1600-h/V262696.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075284760362161218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Rm8ImXtXFEI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cJq7Em-eknY/s320/V262696.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I saw these shoes on sale for $39. How hot are &lt;strong&gt;they&lt;/strong&gt;???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, I just can't justify buying them right now. I don't wear these things on a regular basis anymore and it just wouldn't be very responsible of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they are SO cute... And lethal looking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a major thunderstorm rolling through right now, so I'm cutting this short in case I lose power. They're talking about hail, strong gusty winds and heavy rain. I know...I love it to. If only I had company...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-1882648821092621219?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/1882648821092621219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=1882648821092621219&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1882648821092621219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/1882648821092621219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/just-passing-through.html' title='Just passing through'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/Rm8ImXtXFEI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cJq7Em-eknY/s72-c/V262696.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2641541735040879169</id><published>2007-06-11T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T03:25:43.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Warning: Iceburg, right ahead</title><content type='html'>I am tired. Very tired. Emotionally and physically. I am starting to feel that familiar pull to go into hiding until my mental exhaustion and slight depression is over. I'm not a "hey, lets go out and party so I feel better" kind of person. I hibernate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WARNING: Rant ahead. Read at your own risk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;deleted &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Rant concluded....for now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;As for the other developments in my life... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;saratoga&lt;/span&gt; wrote a very lengthy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://ondominance.blogspot.com/2007/06/some-observations-concerning-dominas.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; today about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Dominas&lt;/span&gt;. It made me really think about the impression I give as a Dominant. I don't want to come across as nonchalant or fickle. I am looking for a long-term loving relationship. After finishing my last post regarding Porter, I realized it felt all wrong. I have no desire to "play" at this just for the sake of playing. My intent is not casual and I am willing to hold out for that special person. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;saratoga&lt;/span&gt; just made brought it home - and not gently. And in related news... Last night Newcomer sent me a link to some clips by some vicious &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;dominas&lt;/span&gt; that kind of made me wince. The women humiliated, kicked, screamed at and degraded these men to the point that I felt so bad for them as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;submissives&lt;/span&gt;. Maybe there are men out there that like this sort of thing, but it horrified me. It seemed to be a shining example of abuse rather than domination. Another style I can't get my head around. But I respect their right to enjoy it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* Now I really am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;exhausted&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2641541735040879169?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2641541735040879169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2641541735040879169&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2641541735040879169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2641541735040879169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/warning-iceburg-right-ahead.html' title='Warning: Iceburg, right ahead'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-825886319705576331</id><published>2007-06-09T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T04:33:26.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprises</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RmvTzXtXFCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/UQrzVmJwHeE/s1600-h/174913014149_0_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074382284654056482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RmvTzXtXFCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/UQrzVmJwHeE/s320/174913014149_0_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The other day I went to a local health food store and they had the most beautiful flowers. My all-time favorite is white roses, but life gets boring if you get the same thing all the time. I ended up buying this lovely bouquet of peonies. I also walked out of there with fresh french bread, hummus, and blackberries. Mmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was a beautiful day. I spent a good deal of it outside, even getting a little sun. In general I stay out of the sun - and that's why I don't look as old as I am. I paid a visit to some coworkers I haven't seen in a while, did some shopping, and then lounged in the sun reading before giving myself a pedicure. Couldn't have been better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have decided to write off Nightengale for good . I sent him an e-mail two weeks ago to which he has not responded, as well as a couple of IMs. Although we all get busy, I find it rude to ignore people for that amount of time. If you don't want to keep in touch, just say so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just as I was writing this, an IM popped up from Porter. He has been "keeping tabs" on me - his words. He looked at my profile on an alternative website on the 5th, and just as I was thinking how amusing that is, he contacted me. He said that he missed chatting with me. A few times he expressed that he thought I had turned very cold toward him. It was obvious that he held some resentment for the way he perceived that I had treated him when he "had some difficulties" and doubts. I made sure that I squelched that right away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I am fully aware that some subs need to be cultivated and brought along slowly. That is the nature of this kind of relationship, particularly when the sub has no experience at all. Porter was always very paranoid and secretive, obviously ashamed of his submissive role and his desires. I tried to move gently with him, giving him vanilla time as well. From my perspective, the vanilla time backfired and scared him off. I saw it immediately and waited for him to come and talk to me about his situation. Instead of doing me the common courtesy of sitting and talking with me, he made excuses. The blog I was having him write was deleted even before we spoke again. Did he think I wouldn't notice? I had tried logging into it to see if maybe he would write his issues down if he wasn't able to speak with me about things. It always gave me good insight into his thoughts since he doesn't show much emotion. So what am I to think? He accused me of not being sympathetic, yet how can I be sympathetic when I don't know what is going on? I cut him loose. The few times he has contacted me I have been aloof, I'll admit that. But he has no right to accuse me of anything and I made that perfectly clear to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was obvious that Porter wanted to come serve me last night. I found it an interesting diversion, but nothing more. If it didn't happen, I wasn't going to lose sleep over it. I decided that I would allow him to come visit on my terms. I told him that he would be expected to follow the rules of the house - upon entering his clothes must be removed and folded neatly, left on the stairs and he was to come up. He should never look me in the eye, he should always be on his knees in front of me, and he should expect to be punished. Not punished for leaving or having doubts, but punished for the way he handled himself and the lack of respect that showed toward me. He asked what his punishment would be. The last time we were together I used the wooden hairbrush on his ass, leaving bruises for a week. He would be getting the hairbrush again. 10 strokes, no safeword and no stopping in between strokes. Immediately he tried to negotiate - he spent a great deal of time on a racing bike and his ass was sore. I wasn't willing to compromise so he declined. He also wanted to spend the night so that he would be free to drink beer, to which I said no. Always with him it's a negotiation to some degree. He wants this so bad, yet is so afraid to let himself go and experience it. After his punishment I had every intention of blindfolding him, slipping a collar around his neck, plug in his ass, and leaving him to kneel at my feet with his face close to my pussy as we spoke about his situation. His lips would have been practically touching me, but not allowed to enjoy it. Now THAT I would have enjoyed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porter says he wants to come back. Not as a full-time sub, we are not well matched for that. He wants the opportunity to serve when he can. I am very skeptical and will be wary of him. We'll see what his intentions are. Frankly, I knew he'd be back at some point. His desire is too strong and I'm the first to get him to go this far. If nothing else, I'll learn new things with him. Normally I'd feel guilty about knowing the relationship is going nowhere, but it's a fact we both know, acknowlege and have spoken about. However, he will not take advantage of my good nature. Punishment first. And oh how I will delight in that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-825886319705576331?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/825886319705576331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=825886319705576331&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/825886319705576331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/825886319705576331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/surprises.html' title='Surprises'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RmvTzXtXFCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/UQrzVmJwHeE/s72-c/174913014149_0_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-186725211309889992</id><published>2007-06-07T15:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T03:18:59.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Noblesse oblige syndrome</title><content type='html'>I've been wondering about our society lately. Everywhere I see signs that people truly believe everything is "about them". Why use a turn signal? I know where &lt;em&gt;I'm&lt;/em&gt; going. Why allow anyone to get into line before me? I was here first. Why be civil at all? I think we all have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hiltonitis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I won't even go THERE. It ticks me off to no end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Insert verbal turn signal here. About to change direction...) I had a good amount of downtime at work the other day and took the time to look around me and think about my relationship with men in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was younger I knew how to draw men to me. It wasn't that difficult, but I always seem to draw the ones who were more interested in bedding me than getting to know me. That hasn't changed much, but my ability to recognize their motives has improved greatly. I also now realize that I used to evaluate most men I met as worthy of fucking or not withing seconds of meeting them. Sometimes the evaluation would change as I got to know them, but not very often. I often used to put a great deal of weight on their acceptance or rejection of me physically, and that was a very bad thing. I dread answering the question: "Are you attractive?" - obviously to people who cannot see me. I have no way of knowing if you will be attracted to me. And really, that's all that matters. Who cares what the world thinks? I can only describe myself to you - you can judge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for my perception of men....it's changed drastically over the last year. I've stopped caring about particular rejections, not that it doesn't smart a bit. I've stopped focusing on a long term relationship as being the cure for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;loneliness&lt;/span&gt;. I've started embracing myself as the person that most people assumed I was already. It seems that nobody would be surprised to find that I was a ball-busting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. That kind of surprised me...I wasn't aware that I exuded that. Apparently authority comes naturally to me. The other night I decided to test things a little on a couple of younger men. They are barely more than boys, but over the age of 21. I nicely asked them to do something for me that they really were not obligated to do and could have easily gotten out of, but two of them jumped to it. I had to smile and chuckle to myself. I find myself so used to being in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; mode most of the time that I slip into it without thinking. No longer do I view the man as being "in charge". Note to self: try not to abuse this at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seem to have completely erased the power of the male-female dynamic that used to hold me. I no longer worry about whether or not men are attracted to me or will like me. I now see people, not gender. Sadly, I find that it's rare that a man really sticks out in my mind as one that I feel compelled to go out of my way to seduce or even allow myself to be seduced. I haven't spent that kind of time on a man in a very long time. Even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Laertes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; gets only limited &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;headspace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; - the Doorman a bit more. Strangely, the realization has made me a much more relaxed person where relationships are concerned. Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So just as I was wrapping up this post, I received a message by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;IM&lt;/span&gt; from a submissive male I don't know in Tennessee who asked me the following question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"well i was curious do you feel a man and a woman can have a healthy relationship when the woman is dominant in all things? is that possible?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know if it's possible for all people, and frankly that's not for me to say. I'm certainly no expert on anyone e&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;lse's&lt;/span&gt; relationship. My goal here is to find a relationship that works for ME. But I can't see why it wouldn't work if the chemistry is right. If it can work for a man to be dominant in all things then why not for a woman? That's like saying a woman can't be in combat, or a police officer, etc."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Geez&lt;/span&gt;. I feel like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Sufferagette&lt;/span&gt;. Why do I always feel the need to remind myself that I can do anything a man can do?? Any comments?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-186725211309889992?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/186725211309889992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=186725211309889992&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/186725211309889992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/186725211309889992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/noblesse-oblige-syndrome.html' title='Noblesse oblige syndrome'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-5836590694579035747</id><published>2007-06-05T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T09:42:15.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is MY boy?</title><content type='html'>I spent my morning being a domestic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;goddess&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Pre&lt;/span&gt;-cutting fruit to take to work, making banana bread for breakfast, etc. It's getting too warm to cook comfortably in here any more today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So domestic chores aside, all of this talk of slave training is making me want to step up my search for a suitable submissive. I have met someone online who may be interesting, but he lives a bit of a distance away. Makes it very difficult to train the way that I like. I am very hands-on. I did watch a particularly interesting clip of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt; yesterday and I loved her style. Her voice was soft unless she needed to remind the boy she was whipping of their agreement to thank her for the pain she was inflicting upon his ass, cock and balls. He movements were powerful, fluid and graceful - definitely worth emulating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;MistressM&lt;/span&gt; left me a note asking about forcing my subs to taste their own cum. I thought I had discussed this here before, but I can't seem to find the post, so here goes again. I am quite fond of bringing my subs my own twisted version of education. One of the things I take delight in is teaching them what it's like to suck cock. I have not gone so far as to make them suck a real one, but a dildo works well. How can you truly understand the act and respect the person doing you that favor when you have no idea how truly uncomfortable it is? If I had a nickel for every time my head was forced down on a cock, or cum spurted in my mouth expecting me to swallow it... I teach my subs humility - understand what you've been asking for and what a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;privilege&lt;/span&gt; it is to receive it. Every one that has tasted his own cum finds it revolting, yes, but now understands. Luckily, in my world, they don't really have a choice but to obey. Porter actually had the balls to ask if eating his own cum was "safe". Well, haven't you expected women in your life to do it? That gave me a very good idea of the general state of the male mind and this practice is now a staple in my book. So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MistressM&lt;/span&gt;, I have no idea how wide the practice is but any slave trained by me can expect it. It may serve to prevent them from asking to cum in my presence often!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The discussion of penetrative sex between &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt; and sub has also sparked a few new observations for me. Why should it make a man feel like he has power over a woman because he knows she wants his cock inside her but not make a woman feel powerful when she knows her Master wants to put his cock in her? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;. Good question - and one I am guilty of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;discriminatory&lt;/span&gt; thought on thanks to being raised in a male-dominated society. I guess the interaction hinges on the perceptions of the particular people involved. Why should I not have a fuck-toy? I think that as women we have long focused on the pleasing of men to make us feel worthy of them. The male orgasm seems to be the end-all and be-all for a "successful" round of sex. Even I have had a tendency to ignore my own orgasm - even faking it. Of course, I stopped doing that years ago - why reward bad sex with positive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;reinforcement&lt;/span&gt;? So the answer for me seems to be very clear. Do not allow the sub to cum or make the experience a little different by making them lick it up. I remind you once again that these are my own thoughts on the matter, and do not represent the community at-large.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there have been a couple of men on my mind lately. One of them is my former master. I have no idea why. I have no desire to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;reinitiate&lt;/span&gt; anything with him, talk to him or see him at all. But I find myself wondering where we would be in our relationship had we stayed together. The other man is far more interesting and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;tantalizing&lt;/span&gt; to think about. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Laertes&lt;/span&gt;. Lately when I have imagined a scene, he is the one in restraints. I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks. Maybe this week we will run into each other... I will be drinking him in and memorizing every contour of his body, to be sure. I have always imagined having to coax him into this life, slowly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;choreographing&lt;/span&gt; every step. I've heard some things that make me wonder though. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;. Maybe I need to put less weight on what I hear and more action toward my intent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-5836590694579035747?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/5836590694579035747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=5836590694579035747&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5836590694579035747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5836590694579035747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/where-is-my-boy.html' title='Where is MY boy?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4704008849265985553</id><published>2007-06-03T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T03:00:30.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A double standard</title><content type='html'>It's been a blessedly cool and rainy day here in "Hun"land. I know my plants needed a good soaking and the remnants of tropical storm Barry obliged. Thank you, Barry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading some of Emma Kelly's blog posts today and came upon this one on the subject of &lt;a href="http://mrsemmakelly.blogspot.com/2007/06/not-tonight-honey-im-dominatrix.html"&gt;female &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Doms&lt;/span&gt; not having sex with their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;submissives&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. This was of great interest to me. When I was informed some months ago that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Dommes&lt;/span&gt; did not usually have sex with their subs, I was shocked! I spent some time as a submissive and was used sexually however and whenever my master deemed it necessary for his enjoyment. Am I not to enjoy myself as a Mistress the way a man enjoys being a master? I wondered: Why the double standard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've spent &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of time thinking about this topic. Maybe I've been hasty in labeling this as a double standard. Maybe using a male sub for penetrative sex is viewed as giving them some sort of power over their Mistress and we just need to be a bit more creative in our thinking. I can understand how some positions could be viewed as "topping" positions and therefore inappropriate. "Mounting" a Mistress does imply some sort of topping behavior. I pondered this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;dilemma&lt;/span&gt; for a bit and came up with solutions that suited me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Male &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;submissives&lt;/span&gt; will have penetrative sex with me unless we are in a relationship, not just playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If I deem the sub worthy of sex with me, they will have to ask for it and pay for it unless it is offered to them as a reward. Payment will come in the form of lashes with whatever instrument I deem necessary. The lashes will be severe - no love taps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I will decide whether or not the sub is allowed to cum during the experience. If I do allow them to cum, they will be required to clean up their mess with their tongue no matter where their deposit is made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure situations will present themselves and I will come up with creative solutions as they come along. I truly believe that any and all D/s relationships must be tailored to their participants. I refuse to allow anyone to hold me fast to a set of rules, though I do appreciate them as guidelines and suggestions. My goal here is not to become a "purist" in the lifestyle, but to create my own perfect relationship with all of the emotion that it encompasses. Besides, who can claim to be an expert in this? I'll bet many will claim it, but how many have earned the title of expert? (And really folks, these are rhetorical questions - I've already answered them for myself.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I speak for myself only, but I think all relationships are like fingerprints. None are the same. Write up all the rules you want, but all of us can't follow them to the letter. I'd like to have a submissive I can love above all others. That's my ultimate goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm still looking...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4704008849265985553?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4704008849265985553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4704008849265985553&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4704008849265985553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4704008849265985553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/06/double-standard.html' title='A double standard'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4578835528489556954</id><published>2007-05-31T05:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T06:57:12.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No more guilt</title><content type='html'>I received a few comments on yesterday's post and was about to answer them, but thought I had enough to say to warrant another post as an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in a very straight-laced Catholic household and went to Catholic school and church every &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt;. Religion was force-fed to me seven days a week, 365 days a year. Since I am (and probably always have been though I didn't know quite how to express it) a believer that religion is an opiate of the masses, I was understandably chagrined by this. I stopped going to church right after my 18&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday. This was (is) a huge source of contention between my mother and I. I'd always played the good little girl but I hated every minute of the hypocritical lecturing that goes on. I would look around at the people in church and watch most of them casually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;commit&lt;/span&gt; sins every day, then go to confessional to rid themselves of the guilt. Even as a child I knew there was something wrong about the whole process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My strict religious upbringing produced a timid woman. To say that premarital sex was taboo is like saying a landfill smells a little funny. I felt hopelessly guilty for being attracted to men (not that it stopped me). My mother reinforced this guilt and kept me under her thumb. Our "birds and bees" lecture was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; clinical and without emotion. I can remember being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; by my breasts, which seemed to develop faster than the other girls'. When I did "become a woman", I was not allowed to use tampons. Much later when I asked why they were forbidden, my father became suspicious and came to me later asking if I had had sex. He was sweet and gentle and very accepting. He did not betray my trust and told me that it didn't make me a bad person or dirty. I will always remember that and respect him for it. But my mother's influence was solid and my sexual education was awful. I can't remember a truly good experience and I rarely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;orgasmed&lt;/span&gt;. I was married at age 19 and the old standard of "obey your husband" rang in my ears. I was dedicated to that premise and he took advantage. In my mother's defense, she didn't understand what marriage could be like - my father is a wonderful man. It never occurred to her that a man could be such an ass. I was separated at age 21 and divorced by age 23.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was 26, I went back to college. The most personally beneficial class I took was Human Sexuality. That's where I finally learned that not everyone lives by a lopsided moral code. Sex is not dirty or wrong, it's an expression between two people. ANY two people. Who am I to tell you what is right and wrong? Yes, my judgement may be tainted by my ethnocentric views, culture and personal upbringing, but I can choose not to judge you. Just because I don't like or understand something doesn't mean it's wrong. My entire university experience led me to this understanding, the sex class just relaxed my views on sex itself. So though I lost my virginity when I was 18, I learned how to enjoy my experiences eight years later. I credit that very talented professor with opening my eyes and allowing me to experience life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we may all be getting a little more accepting of sex in the world around us, but I'm not fooled. A man who has slept with 50 women is a stud, a woman with the same history is a slut. I have learned that it is necessary to keep my mouth shut about who I have been with. I am very particular about my partners. It's not my job to sleep with anyone. If it does not please me, I'm not going to do it to please anyone else. A bad lover never gets to come back. And frankly, I see nothing wrong with keeping a regular lover. I find that very long periods of no sex (I went two years without sex in college) make me so crazy I am liable to do something I may not have normally done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, this very long journey has brought me here. I have shed the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;prejudicial&lt;/span&gt; teachings of my past and have learned that there are all types of people in the world. I have grown a thick skin and have learned to disregard the labels and judgements of others. Within reason. I do what I have to do to get by in the civilized world, but my house in MINE. You do not get to tell me what is acceptable or "right" here. Whatever I choose to do (without being illegal, of course) with a consenting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;partner&lt;/span&gt; is my own decision. (I do, however, respect the bonds of matrimony - married men are definitely off limits!) And you don't get to tell me what to think. I may not find some things a turn-on myself, but I fully support other's rights to do them if they so choose. Frankly, I'm pretty damn happy with me. I can hold my head high - I have nothing to apologize for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I can understand completely why society views the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;BDSM&lt;/span&gt; world as unseemly. We all, at some point in our lives, have been taught to vilify that which we do not understand and I am no exception. I was horrified by some of the aspects of this lifestyle when I first encountered it. The difference here is that I was drawn to it and took the time to learn about it. Anyone who is truly involved in this lifestyle understands what love, trust and acceptance can be found in a D/s relationship. I can't make everyone understand, and I am painfully aware that I am really preaching to the choir here. Most that find their way here are kindred spirits. So a cheerful "good morning!" to you all. Thank you for being here and for leaving me snippets of your advice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am, and always will be, a teacher...but most importantly, I am always a student.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4578835528489556954?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4578835528489556954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4578835528489556954&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4578835528489556954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4578835528489556954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/no-more-guilt.html' title='No more guilt'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4385465215265075231</id><published>2007-05-30T12:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T12:36:38.677-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whore?</title><content type='html'>I heard from Porter today. It was just a "hello" because he saw me online. I guess he still has me on his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;IM&lt;/span&gt; friends list. Since I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have him on the list, I never really looked for him. And I didn't add him again this time either. I was polite, but I think he's getting the picture. I'm not going to satisfy his curiosity about the lifestyle whenever it's convenient for him. I don't like posers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a nice long hard look at The Doorman yesterday. He was beautiful as ever and the quintessential gentleman. There is still tension between us (the very good kind), but it's not something I will pursue. I found out he is being transferred. It will be to a place where I am unlikely to run into him often, but I will know where to find him. It's a good place for him though. He will do well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we were watching the original &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;CSI&lt;/span&gt; on TV. It was the episode where a professional &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Domme's&lt;/span&gt; employee is murdered. One of my coworkers walked in and said: "&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I've seen this one. She's a whore." I was stunned. I mean, I shouldn't be, but.... This is what people really do think. It amazes me what you can tell and show the public and how much of it they truly pay attention to. I thought the woman portrayed a professional &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt; in a very dignified way. The character was strong and confident, intelligent and thoughtful. It's just so sad that the casual &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;observer&lt;/span&gt; would immediately classify this woman as a whore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still recovering from a week of very little rest. It would be nice to have someone here skilled in massage and pedicures. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;saratoga's&lt;/span&gt; mention of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;pussyworship&lt;/span&gt; has not gone unnoticed either.... That is something I am in need of!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4385465215265075231?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4385465215265075231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4385465215265075231&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4385465215265075231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4385465215265075231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-heard-from-porter-today.html' title='Whore?'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-2294736954843931731</id><published>2007-05-28T15:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T15:49:12.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorials</title><content type='html'>Today I met a man who had a chest full of medals, sleeves lined with aging gold stripes and a demeanor that told me he was comfortable with a life commanding others. His face lined with age and, by his own admission, his memory fading. He payed me one of the most undeserved compliments today by thanking me for what I do professionally. My eyes stung with tears. A man, with a purple heart quite prominently displayed on his chest is thanking me for doing my job. I couldn't even speak. His scars were earned in Vietnam. How do you thank a man for serving, and then thank him for the hell he lives every day in memory of that service?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One morning a few years ago I was getting ready to go to breakfast when I kept hearing this name on the news. This familiar name of a man; an F-18 pilot lost in the Indian Ocean - proably dead. When I came back into the room, they had a picture of him up. He was the ex-boyfriend of a dear friend of mine. They had parted because he was to go to school elsewhere for a year. She still very much loved him. A few days later I found a picture of the two of them together. It broke her heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've stood in Arlington Cemetary and watched the burial of the broken pieces of a friend's brother who died in a aircraft crash in Iraq fighting in the war. I've worked with men who have been sent there and died; I've worked with men recently who will be going there soon. Freedom is not free. We pay for our selfish lifestyles with the blood of our children, siblings, spouses and lovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These men and women protect us. &lt;a href="http://www.anysoldier.com/"&gt;Support them&lt;/a&gt;. Thank them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-2294736954843931731?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/2294736954843931731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=2294736954843931731&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2294736954843931731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/2294736954843931731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/memorials.html' title='Memorials'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8921035088777012606</id><published>2007-05-26T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-26T14:57:35.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>I have an innate love for old hollywood and their flair for movie making. Sometimes I wonder if imagination has died and been replaced with CGI graphics. Such a loss... &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=4621123663119520922"&gt;This little quiz &lt;/a&gt;makes me want to hibernate and watch old movies all day. I wish I could. I turned out to be Bette Davis, by the way. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was up quite late last night. It's the first time in a long time I can remember going to bed and sleeping for about two hours, then not being able to sleep any longer. I surfed the net for a bit and then went back to try to sleep more. I managed to get a few winks in between being disturbed by the noisy "neighbors". I will definitely need to take a few day's break. I go back tomorrow night, but should get a break later in the week. I've decided to donate blood as well. It's something I do when I can, but I'll need the rest after that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Things are quiet. Newcomer was supposed to leave for the weekend, but has changed his plans. No matter, I decided to work and he's busy unpacking his belongings that just arrived from overseas. I know it must be a relief for him to now be surrounded by his own things. I look forward to finally seeing his place soon.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Whenever I seem to float away from the BDSM lifestyle, something always seems to peak my interest again. Sometimes it's the nostalgic musings of someone's memories of a partner, sometimes its imagining a particular person bent over my favorite stool, ass high in the air... I wish it were easy to start such a relationship, to just instinctively know what a chosen person needs, how far to go, what to say. I haven't perfected my approach as of yet. Some people expect you to only be "in character" when they have decided to play. That seems too forced - things should happen more naturally than that. Patience. It takes a long time to know someone so well that you instinctively react to them and can communicate the most subtle of your thoughts between you. It doesn't happen overnight. I'm almost bowled over by some of the women I have seen in the more "amateur" sites. Very demanding, not at all particular. Devotion is not automatic - a Domina must earn that too. And just because you're willing to grovel at my feet does not mean you automatically get a spot in my heart. You have to bring more to the table than that. There is nothing so attractive to me than a strong man. One worthy of taming. (It seems I am quite demanding...)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's hot - over 90 degrees right now and I'm feeling a bit sluggish. I have turned on the AC for the first time. It has a very cucooning effect - having all of the windows closed and the cool, noisy air blowing. Makes me wish I had a cool, dark dungeon in which to leave a toy dangling from a ring in the wall. I am feeling quite sadistic today. Not sexual, not seeking to fulfill some carnal feeling, but wishing to leave a mark on a fresh backside. A blindfold, ear plugs, hands bound above his head, legs spread wide and shackled so they cannot be moved. I don't want him to hear me coming, hear the swish of the crop, anticipate the strike. I just want to hear him catch his breath every time the crop falls. I want to leave him there for a while, maybe watch him struggle when he thinks I've left the room. Watch him defile himself. And just when he thinks he is alone.... a fresh set of marks on his thighs and ass. I may be in the mood for introducing a large plug, or even a strap-on. I am fond of making my subs aware of what it's like for a woman to suck cock and be fucked. Their perspective does change so much. I think every man should have to experience it. And I do love a virgin.... I'm not harsh, but I don't let them out of it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For right now, I will have to just imagine. I think Laertes will be the object of my dreams tonight...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8921035088777012606?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8921035088777012606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8921035088777012606&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8921035088777012606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8921035088777012606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-206770106733426164</id><published>2007-05-24T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T13:32:33.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a few thoughts</title><content type='html'>The bad news: By &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Monday&lt;/span&gt; I will have worked 78 hours this week. The good news: That means almost $900 in overtime. It's just criminal. I hope this trend continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping that Monday I will be seeing The Doorman. Unfortunately, his live-in girlfriend is sure to be there as well. She's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mousy&lt;/span&gt; little thing but I have good reason to believe she guards her man like a starving dog would guard its food. The image of bared teeth and raised hackles being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; intentional, by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself lacking in the desire to seduce or be seduced at the moment. I'm not really sure what the reason is for my waning libido. Maybe fatigue, lack of appropriate stimulation, or boredom? Usually I amuse myself with the elements of seduction, fully aware when someone is trying to seduce me or focusing on a particular mark. For those I am not interested in, I feign ignorance when they come after me. I am, however, hopeful at the prospect of seeing Laertes tomorrow. It has been quite a while since I have felt a palpable heat between myself and another, and he provided a small amount last time I saw him. One of my Achilles Heels has always been a strong man standing behind me, wrapping his arms around me. Laertes did this Monday night and I quickly moved away from him, recognizing the effect it had on me. It would not do to allow him to see that. *sigh* I wonder if he is as naive as Mistress M thinks he is. One day I should have an answer to that question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday saratoga posted &lt;a href="http://ondominance.blogspot.com/2007/05/another-20-questions.html"&gt;this entry&lt;/a&gt; in his blog about the Humbler and a lovely picture accompanies it. It's been only a week and a half since I tanned a man's hide, and it reminded me how very much I need to do it again soon. Miss D has been in touch and apparently her husband has been quite bad. He went out of town and attended a strip club where he received a lap dance. Both actions were not approved by his Mistress. I suggested making him sleep on the floor. I just sent her a picture of a humbler - maybe she will acquire one for him. Or better yet, make one of canes - that seems so much more effective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah. Maybe my libido is not so dormant after all....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-206770106733426164?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/206770106733426164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=206770106733426164&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/206770106733426164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/206770106733426164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/bad-news-by-monday-i-will-have-worked.html' title='Just a few thoughts'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-5897869336534638299</id><published>2007-05-22T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T13:15:05.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laertes surfaces</title><content type='html'>My mind has been a little preoccupied with work lately. Not because I'm stressed. I am trying to maximize my training and work opportunities. I had decided to get a part-time job, but I won't really need to if I expand my knowledge. Ah, what a wonderful life. I'm sorry it took me so long to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter has discovered that I have removed him from my friends list. The following conversation took place:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;porter: no longer friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fleur&lt;/span&gt;: After our last conversation I got the feeling you were pretty much done with this&lt;br /&gt;porter: i just mentioned that i don't have allot of time for it at the moment. not that i didn't want to talk to you or be your friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;fleur&lt;/span&gt;: You cancelled our last appointment and I don't hear from you unless I contact you.&lt;br /&gt;porter: sorry. my schedule changed at work and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;i've&lt;/span&gt; been working out allot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;fleur&lt;/span&gt;: No need to apologize. My thinking is that if you can't make a little time for something then maybe you don't want it.&lt;br /&gt;porter: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This conversation occurred &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;friday&lt;/span&gt; and that's the last I heard from him. He only seems to contact me when he has some particular need. "Friends"? I hardly think so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, speaking of friends.... Newcomer came and spent the day with me on Sunday. Despite my full weekend, I had managed to get almost all of my chores done before he arrived, so we had a nice day. We started with breakfast and came back for some play time. He has acquired some new toys since we last met. Ankle, hand and thumb cuffs, a hood, a blindfold, and a "humbler". I enjoyed the toy tour, but we only managed to use the blindfold. It was very comfortable and extremely effective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newcomer is fond of anal sex. Usually I have to be in a particular mood for it, but he has a tendency to not ask. Last time he tried to use a cock ring with the anal - it made him far too big to be comfortable. He pinned my hands between his chest and my back, so I left him with some scars on his chest from me clawing him as he tore into me. He's not allowed to use the ring anymore. When he finally left around 7:30, I was ready for a long sleep. I succumbed almost instantly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Nightengale&lt;/span&gt;. He contacted me this morning with some not so subtle hints that he wanted to deliver a spanking to me this morning. I declined. I wasn't in the mood, and not even close to being in a submissive head-space at all. My mind was still immersed in my morning work routine and some conflict resolution there. I hadn't been home for more than an hour yet. Aside from my mood, our contact has been spotty at best and my interest in a Dom has waned quite drastically. I pretty much let him know that he would have to work a little to get my interest back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now for boys in the real world. An interesting prospect has popped back up. He first noticed me at our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;christmas&lt;/span&gt; party last year. He swore he'd never met me before - he said he would have remembered because I'm so hot. (Oh. My. God. Does this really work when you're trying to pick up a woman? I'm sure it does, but only if the woman is keen on being picked up.) I explained to this young buck that I look decidedly different at work and many don't recognize me outside of that. It took a man I worked with on a regular basis 20 minutes to figure out who I was. I dismissed it as a sign of his liberal use of alcohol, but apparently I look dramatically different. Ah, well. I don't go to work to be pretty. Anyway, I completely dismissed this young thing's advances due to my situation with my former master and hadn't seen him in a while. Lately I've been seeing him at work often. I think I'll call him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Laertes&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Laertes&lt;/span&gt; spends &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; of time on his physique and it shows. He has a reputation of dating only the most beautiful of women. Arm trophies. Lately I've heard that he is extremely shy and very quiet. He has been defended by others who say that although he comes off as aloof, it is only his shy nature. I think many are put off by his reputation - including me. Why, pray tell would he be interested in me? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;. Last night he commented that I could do anything to him that I wanted to. I told him to be careful, he had no idea what he was asking. He said that "people talk" and that he has heard about me. I could not get him to elaborate, but he told me to not worry. I keep my two worlds fairly separated, so I was slightly alarmed by the comment. My professional life does not need to be inundated with stories of my personal life. It solidifies my reasoning that I should not date anyone I work with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Laertes&lt;/span&gt; is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;intriguing&lt;/span&gt;.... My gut reaction is to play with this poor boy's mind a little, probe it to see what makes him tick. I find that I am growing into the type of woman that is far more cautious when it comes to relationships - more relaxed. I will not force anything. Let him come. Although, with his shy nature, I wonder if he will. His parting words to me were of the nature of "I will have to live with my fantasies". I replied, "Well, if that's the way you want to keep it, it's all you my dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will amuse myself with this little game. For now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-5897869336534638299?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/5897869336534638299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=5897869336534638299&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5897869336534638299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5897869336534638299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/laertes-surfaces.html' title='Laertes surfaces'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3645986463257296277</id><published>2007-05-18T07:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T19:35:43.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Housekeeping</title><content type='html'>Well, Porter has been evicted from my IM list as well as from my list of friends on the website. I'm not angry with him, it's not that I find him distasteful, it's just a matter of practicality. I had a very brief conversation with him the other day and it was very bland. We obviously don't mesh well, and I'm not prepared to be someone's wet nurse. So long and good luck to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nightengale has resurfaced. I was beginning to believe that his excuses of "so busy" were just the big brush-off and told him so. He assures me that this is not so. I have been promised punishment for my assumptions, but I won't hang my hat on that either. I suspect that the next few months are very busy for me. Anyone who wants to see me will probably have to make an appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, those of you who have read my other blog - the one written while I was a submissive - may remember The Doorman. For those of you who don't, let me recap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Doorman is one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen. I've known him for a few years, but thought he was just a little too "sweet" for me. He is about 6', dark hair and eyes and always starched and pressed. He looks good no matter what. He's always had a way of looking at me that made me very much aware that I would not be in charge. I was always the first to look away. Our recognition of attraction for one another came while I was very much with my former master. As a matter of fact, he seemed jealous of The Doorman - apparently I was unaware of how I could go on about him. Of course, nothing came of it and we rarely talk now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised to find that The Doorman was attending the same funeral service that I was this week. I spent most of the day with him, including the long trip there and back. We were not alone, so we didn't talk about anything substantial. There was one moment where he held my gaze and I felt that familiar pull to him. Of course I still have to shut all of that off and bury it deep. Things would never work, but it's nice to dream... It was a very pleasant day, my mind wandering at every opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned to Newcomer that I'd spent the day with The Doorman and haven't heard from him since either. I'm not overly concerned, but it seems odd that he would have had a problem with the idea. It must be a coincidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very tired now, so I'll go get a little rest. Adieu...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3645986463257296277?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3645986463257296277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3645986463257296277&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3645986463257296277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3645986463257296277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/housekeeping.html' title='Housekeeping'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3809834079917463783</id><published>2007-05-16T03:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T03:51:14.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Odds and ends</title><content type='html'>This morning this gorgeous sight greeted me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RkregLf3VYI/AAAAAAAAAAU/qaW2c3CqeoQ/s1600-h/clematis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065105375355164034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RkregLf3VYI/AAAAAAAAAAU/qaW2c3CqeoQ/s320/clematis.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been babying this Clematis for three years now and it looks more and more beautiful every year. I added another one to the deck this year, but it will be some time before it blooms like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I have heard nothing from Porter since friday. I have noticed that he seems to have given out some advice on a certain alternative lifestyle website. Interesting that he should think he's qualified to do that....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nightengale has all but disappeared. Very disappointing. He was one of the few men who could stand toe to toe with me and I would be the one to back down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to write about a very rude young woman who answered one of my e-mails, but she's gotten enough head time. Let's just say that karma is a bitch. Be careful, little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am attending a double funeral today. It's going to be a long day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3809834079917463783?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3809834079917463783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3809834079917463783&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3809834079917463783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3809834079917463783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/odds-and-ends.html' title='Odds and ends'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RkregLf3VYI/AAAAAAAAAAU/qaW2c3CqeoQ/s72-c/clematis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-6143751544159717761</id><published>2007-05-14T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T17:45:38.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From Apprentice to Journeyman</title><content type='html'>Today was an absolutely gorgeous day. It was filled with sunshine and cool breezes, a fine accompaniment for my solitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am most often a stream-of-consciousness type of person when I talk and write. My mind wanders and can visit so many topics that it would befuddle &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;anyone&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; sensibilities. How, pray tell, can you start with a thought and end 180 degrees on the other side of it? Six degrees of separation? For me, it's more like 30 degrees of separation. Today my mind focused primarily on service, devotion and craft. I hope that I can boil it down to a somewhat understandable post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother is a carpenter. A true artist in the craft. He spends long hours on the phone to me describing his mastery of taking a straight, flat board and making it curve. Our mother used to say that a true sign of quality is the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;craftsmanship&lt;/span&gt; of a thing's "underside" - the part that no one may see. If there is quality there, you have made a good investment. He may not admit it, but he took that lesson to heart. You can see it in his work. I have often thought that I would appreciate his handmade bookshelves to anything I could buy at the local box store. He chooses the wood, the best grains, the prettiest boards. He makes sure every measurement is perfect and every shelf level. How can one watch him work and not want to take care of his product with as much love and pride as he put into building it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A carpenter's craft is a strange analogy to be sure, for a Dominant/submissive lifestyle, no? But why should I not look at this fragile, tentative bond between two people and look on it as a craft? Something to be cultivated and practiced? When I first started looking into this lifestyle, I felt like I was beginning a journey into a dark underworld. My first relationship in this life ended badly, making me feel like I was unworthy of the devotion of my partner. I soon realized that I have never been farther from the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serving a Master/Mistress can be art. There is such subtle beauty in every act if we notice it. Picture, for instance, handing someone a cup of coffee. It's can be a very common and unremarkable act. But after studying the movements of a Geisha pouring tea and her simple act of gracefully kneeling, I learned to combine those two movements. Not bending over like an old farmer, but sliding the right foot backward while bending the left knee, keeping the back straight and coming straight down to both knees as to not spill the hot liquid. A twist of the wrist, holding the hand so that the movement looks effortless, even seductive. It takes practice. That simple movement communicates a great deal of devotion. The time it takes to master the movements is given in service to the Dominant. The journey here is beautiful even if it may be misunderstood. It was my wish that in accompanying my Master anywhere would evoke feelings of jealousy in any man that saw the two of us together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Mistress, I believe that it is my job to devote just as much time to mastering the craft of dominance. Am I worthy of such a devoted submissive if I do not do my part? I can see so many parallels to the "outside" world. Many think that the person in charge can rest and enjoy the fruits of everyone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; labor. I have never felt that way; not personally, not professionally as a supervisor. When one ascends to that level, their responsibility is compounded. You are now responsible for the well-being of others. Being a Mistress should be no different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your job, your life, ANYTHING you set your mind to should be done with every bit of your effort. If it's worth your time and worth your effort, should you not give it your all? Perfect your craft, no matter how trivial anyone else thinks it is. And who are you to declare something is beneath you? I have always believed that I cannot lead if I have not first followed. I should look to every source for advice and learn from their experiences. In this way I can become the Journeyman Mistress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have many of you to thank for my continuing education. Your lives, laid bare in cyberspace, have given me a great deal of insight into your worlds. Each different, each beautiful in it's own way. I am in awe of some of you. You have taught me to consider whatever a partner brings to the table, opening my mind to whatever foreign proclivity they bring with them. Thank you for that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-6143751544159717761?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/6143751544159717761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=6143751544159717761&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6143751544159717761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6143751544159717761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/from-apprentice-to-journeyman.html' title='From Apprentice to Journeyman'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-7674776704476699338</id><published>2007-05-13T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T14:33:05.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A nice weekend</title><content type='html'>Newcomer arrived at about 10:30am yesterday. We spent the day and night together just enjoying ourselves. He left me a bit tired, and very much worn out. I can't deny that he does have a magic touch. He left around noon and I picked up my day where I left when he arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost always a bit blue when left alone. This time, however, I found that I was quite happy being left to my own devices. I spent the rest of my afternoon shopping for items I will need to make homemade jam, pickles and ice cream. Please, don't read into the combination of the last two... Pure coincidence and I never eat the two together. I rather enjoy cooking and nothing pleases me more than to open my cupboards and find homemade versions of my favorite foods. I am, after all, a domestic goddess! If you picture Martha Stewart in combat boots, you'd be close. Without the millions of dollars, of course. If I had her estate and money, what kind of a dungeon could I build.....*snap* back to reality!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that I adore my alone-time, but hate an empty bed. Newcomer is a wonderful sleep mate. He doesn't snore, he "sighs". When his burning metabolism is making him warm to the touch he stays out in the cool air for a while, eventually slipping under the covers and snuggling next to my warm body to compensate. I found myself smiling in the darkness of 2am. And, since he woke me with the coolness of his skin, I attended to his ever-present hard on. I find that I am quite comfortable with him and we are definitely compatible physically. Whatever may happen in the future, he is someone with whom I will stay friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss D sent me a message yesterday that she had a good time with me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; night. Apparently our session inspired some hot sex with her sub husband after I left. &lt;a href="http://ondominance.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Saratoga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; was kind enough to hit the nail right on the head for me when he posted in my comments that the wife essentially is "complaining about something she seems to not only tolerate, but evidently enjoy". I could not have said it better. I will let my feelings on that situation unfold on their own. I doubt I will actively pursue anything, but I may entertain the idea of playing every once in a while. Every experience teaches us something; nothing is wasted. If you keep to that belief, you are never disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so the weekend ends. I have a few more days off, so I am essentially still on a weekend. It's not as interesting without someone to share it with. I may very well get to making my pickles and jam. The ice cream is already underway. The next couple of days should find me contemplating finding what I need in my life. I must devote some energy to finding a partner as well as prepare to make some very large investments. It promises to be an interesting year...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-7674776704476699338?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/7674776704476699338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=7674776704476699338&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7674776704476699338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7674776704476699338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/nice-weekend.html' title='A nice weekend'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8802010573479122237</id><published>2007-05-12T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T14:34:03.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Night to Remember</title><content type='html'>Last night was the first time I have been involved with more than one person in a sexual nature in years. It was far less uncomfortable for me than I imagined it would be. It was my first encounter with Miss D and her submissive husband. I imagine that this FemDom couple is quite unique for this lifestyle. I try very hard not to judge, but this couple may not be for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a fairly long drive, I arrived at Miss D's house for the purpose of helping her train her husband. I changed into stilletto boots (as pictured), a long black skirt, and a very low cut black sweater. I wore nothing else. When the husband arrived home from work, Miss D immediately made him undress and put him in his wrist restraints, collar and leash. He is already restrained in a chastity device - a CB2000 I believe. He was told to lie prone on the floor with his legs spread. I gave him a couple of taps on the balls with the crop, just to let him know I was there. He has a very sarcastic demeanor and a quick, wise mouth. Although I value these things in friends, I don't particularly think they fit within this setting. I gave him quite a few lashes with the crop, leaving angry red welts on both cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss D and I sat and chatted, with far too much imput from her sub. She made him get on all fours and introduced him to one of my toys, a 7" long, 2" diameter dildo that we informed him was going in his ass. Miss D made him suck on it for a bit while I donned rubber gloves and tested his ass for insertion. Feeling him grow very nervous, I slid a penis-shaped plug into his ass instead. I told him it would stay there for the duration of my stay. Miss D teased him by allowing his face within inches of her pussy, knowing he would not be able to touch. There was another good hour of flogging and torture with the plug in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss D and I were served fruit, cheese and crackers by her boy on his knees. Again, there was far too much input from him while we were chatting. He never stopped letting us know what "he" wanted. The pure cheek of it offended me. Miss D made him get his favorite porno magazine and open it to his favorite layout. She released him from his device, and while I flogged him with the crop, she made him masturbate and cum on the magazine. She then closed the magazine and let the pages seal together with his cum. Nice touch. However, the entire time he was masturbating, he was making all sorts of requests of me. "Can I see your legs?", "Will I ever get to see your pussy?", "How about just up to the thigh?". It is abundantly clear that this bottom is not really a bottom. Miss D does enjoy topping him, but he seems to almost script the scenes for her. It works for them, but it's not at all what I picture a true submissive relationship. Again, I don't judge. They are very happy with their relationship. But when I sub says that he doesn't want to continue if he is never presented with his "carrot", I'm not sure I want to be involved. Either that, or he is gagged whenever I am present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I thought, Porter contacted me last night to see if I was home yet. He may have cold feet where I am concerned, but he still has that need to explore the BDSM experience vicariously through me. I'm sure I will hear from him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was expecting Newcomer this morning. His plan was to come by and play for a bit and then the two of us would go shopping for more "toys". As of this writing he isn't here yet. If he waits much longer I'm going to have to leave him and go on my own. I haven't done the grocery shopping yet and I'm starving!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8802010573479122237?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8802010573479122237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8802010573479122237&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8802010573479122237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8802010573479122237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/night-to-remember.html' title='A Night to Remember'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4831374842579170690</id><published>2007-05-10T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T13:46:17.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>War Rages</title><content type='html'>I'm beginning to notice the effect work has on me. For almost the whole next day I live in a world I can't quite describe. I will remember the faces in agony, panic, and pain pleading with me to make it better. The very weight of the responsibility is mind-numbing and when someone else takes over, I often breathe an audible sigh of relief. It's someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; turn. I love my work, but I can't believe that they trust me with this. It took me a long while, but I have found my place. I understand that I must be very careful.  Sometimes I feel like an emotionless observer of the human condition. Of course, that's what I need to be and what is expected of me. Otherwise, I'd need to be committed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's no wonder to me that I choose to live this lifestyle outside of work. I find though that a battle of my "selves" rages in my heart. Part of me wants a nice, normal, "vanilla" relationship full of hearts and roses,  part of me wants a slave to care for and discipline, and part of me wants a Master to use me and care for me. There's only one thing these three women want in common: love. I adore the feeling of the crop in my hand and the way a slave jumps when it strikes. I love having that vulnerable ass propped in the air, knowing what I can do, but also knowing that the poor sub is trusting me to use good judgement. There's also a part of me that absolutely adored the discipline and pain of being a slave myself. It's clear that I am looking for something permanent. Someone who will share this with me, regardless of what roles we choose to live in. And there you have it. But...I have to admit - the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt; in me is winning by a mile!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where, you may ask, does this epiphany come from? I was the lone female at work yesterday and one of the men commented that all of the women that he knows are looking for the "perfect man". It occurred to me that I am not looking for the "perfect" man, but a man that is perfect for me. And there is a very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;distinct&lt;/span&gt; difference there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An update on Porter: The boy sent a message that his schedule had changed and that he would not be able to make this morning's meeting. I am having a very hard time believing him. I believe the boy has cold feet. We will see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an appointment tomorrow evening to have my first session with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;FemDom&lt;/span&gt; couple. The plan is to have me waiting with her when he comes home from work. I would love to see him bound immediately upon his arrival, but I will see what she has in mind. Updates to come later this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4831374842579170690?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4831374842579170690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4831374842579170690&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4831374842579170690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4831374842579170690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/war-rages.html' title='War Rages'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-6551008103122416995</id><published>2007-05-07T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T06:38:42.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Porter returns</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a conversation with Porter. I knew he could not deny his urges and would not stay away for long. It appears that he has far more problems accepting this lifestyle than I first thought. He is consumed with denial and self-loathing for wanting this. *sigh* I feel for him. I have agreed to meet with him, but I will be keeping a distance. There will be no more "vanilla" time, only Domme and submissive. I have decided he will not have the option of sex with me. Ever. I have also presented him with the following rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You will be naked in my presence unless otherwise directed.&lt;br /&gt;2. You will not look me in the eye.&lt;br /&gt;3. You will always be on your knees in my presence.&lt;br /&gt;4. You will not speak unless spoken to.&lt;br /&gt;5. During discipline, you will have a safe word of your choosing.&lt;br /&gt;6. During punishment, you do not have a safe word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course these are just a beginning. I will be meeting with him on thursday morning. Since he is already familiar with me, he knows he is expected to enter my home, remove his clothing, come upstairs and kneel on a cushion in his designated place. He will stay there until I come get him. I haven't decided what I plan on doing, but I'll have at least two hours with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been in touch with the FemDom couple. I speak or e-mail her every day it seems. She gave her sub permission to have one hour of unsupervised time on the internet last night. We chatted for a bit. He knows that he is in deep trouble now. I have told him that if he asks her one more time when I am coming to meet him, I will not come. I told him that it was time he showed her proper respect and understood that he is not in a position to make demands of her. He wanted me to tell him what I plan on doing while I'm there, will he be able to touch me...etc. I have no intention of letting him touch me at all. We'll see how it goes. If it goes well, I plan to bring Porter with me on a subsequent trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-6551008103122416995?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/6551008103122416995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=6551008103122416995&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6551008103122416995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6551008103122416995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/porter-returns.html' title='Porter returns'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-6274269102636954387</id><published>2007-05-06T04:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T05:02:38.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need some downtime</title><content type='html'>(Let me apologize in advance for the vagueness of some of the information in the following post. I find that I need to keep some information about myself private and you may not always understand where I'm going with some things unless you know me personally.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a very hard week. I recently found out that someone I respected a great deal, a person who comforted me when I needed it and gave very sage advice, has succumbed to cancer. I will miss him dearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found out yesterday that a cowoker has lost a SECOND brother in Iraq. His younger brother was killed last year, and yesterday he was notified that his older brother had also been killed. There is no consoling him. We cannot find the words. I can tell you that if they hold any services in the area, I will be sure to be there representing our organization to full effect. For those of you who know what I do for a living, you will understand what I mean. This young man and his brothers have overcome an ubringing as a inner city youths to become talented and quite educated sons of our fair city. We owe it to him and his family to show the full support of our brotherhood. There should be no question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, I have to say goodnight. For you it may be a good morning, for me it is melancholy. I need to spend some quiet time today grieving for those I knew, those I know only by association, and those who will end their lives today despite my best efforts to change that outcome last night. Don't worry, I don't carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, but I still need to maintain my humanity lest I lose myself completely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-6274269102636954387?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/6274269102636954387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=6274269102636954387&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6274269102636954387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/6274269102636954387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-need-some-downtime.html' title='I need some downtime'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3388206950431752520</id><published>2007-05-03T04:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T04:57:37.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe if you grovel at my feet...</title><content type='html'>This morning's run was greeted with a beautiful pink sunrise as I listened to &lt;a href="http://www.domo.com/yoshidabrothers/"&gt;The Yoshida Brothers&lt;/a&gt;. A perfect pairing of sunrise and music - perfect timing on my part too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter contacted me last night. I was really very surprised. He wanted to know if I was still angry with him. I explained that I was never angry, but that he should have handled things differently. Sometimes our upbringing doesn't prepare us for the naked honesty required for this kind of relationship. And sometimes that requirement of honesty is as humiliating as any spanking could be. Porter apologized again and again. He apparently needs some time to sort out his feelings in the area and asked if he could contact me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've pondered the consequences of letting Porter come back. I told him IF I were still available, and IF I were to let him come back, it would be because he groveled sufficiently at my feet. There will be no vanilla contact between us, no deviation from our roles. He will never see me naked and will never have the priviledge of fucking me. I have also told him that I may never allow him to cum in my presence again. IF I let him come to me, the first time, after he grovels and apologizes profusely, he will be punished severely. He will also spend all of his time on his knees, or bent over before me to receive the crop or paddle. Nipple screws and boot licking will be added to his reperatoire. That's all conditional, of course. It depends on how I feel should he contact me again. Right now he is not privy to my comings and goings and I know that's driving him insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newcomer was suppposed to come visit me this evening. I think we will postpone that visit until sunday morning. I get off of work at 7am and will go home and shower. With any luck, he will be there waiting to take the stress of the day from me. He may have found a sub of his own, but she lives a fair distance from him. He started controlling her orgasms this week and she should be coming to visit soon. We have already discussed me visiting them to watch him handle her. Of course everyone has to feel comfortable around each other, but she is open to the possibility. I very much look forward to that. Not because I have some perverse sense (well, I do...), but because I want to witness how a Dominant handles a submissive. I've never been a witness to that and I think it will give me some perspective. I have long wanted to observe how this dynamic works for other people. Witness complete and utter trust between the two. I can't wait. I'd contemplated going to a club or party, but I'd much rather start with people I know. The time of meeting my married couple friends is drawing near, but I'm not really sure how that's going to work out. He tops her from the bottom alot - not something I would tolerate. Time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I must begin my day. Ah, the mundane workings of the home. I must prepare myself for the next couple of days. Sometimes I get tired of being the organized Type A I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3388206950431752520?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3388206950431752520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3388206950431752520&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3388206950431752520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3388206950431752520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/05/this-mornings-run-was-greeted-with.html' title='Maybe if you grovel at my feet...'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-5414096684358947636</id><published>2007-04-30T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T12:05:03.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another change</title><content type='html'>Well, it seems Porter and I will be going our separate ways. I thought that because he was so reserved, spending a little vanilla time together might put him at ease and he'd be able to relax a little. It turns out that we have relatively little in common with one another outside of this lifestyle. I was also rather disappointed in his handling of last nights situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After returning from going out, Porter asked if I would be angry if he just went home. I wasn't feeling up to a scene with him anyway, so I said no, I didn't mind. He took off like a shot. I had been feeling fairly uncomfortable in a vanilla setting with him anyway, so I wasn't upset. I was, however suspicious. He has been extremely secretive with me about himself and that made me uncomfortable as well. This morning he sent me a message and I asked him point-blank if he was interested in keeping this going or if he wanted to quit. I had looked to his blog for answers as to what was going on and discovered it has been deleted. Because of this, I knew he was lying to me when he said he would "need a break". After needling him a bit, I found that he was uncomfortable in the vanilla world with me and thought I was looking for more of a relationship, vanilla AND BDSM. Although he's right, I'm certainly not looking for it from him. He has too many issues for me to make him mine. I would not even consider collaring him right now - and I can't even see that in the distant future. My goal with him was to let him explore this lifestyle in a safe way with me, while I explored my dominant tendencies. I decided that yes, I am angry with him. Instead of telling me what is on his mind, he lied to me. This is not something I am willing to put up with. *sigh* No matter. My only happy thought about this is that I did get to take the hairbrush to his ass before we went out. It hurt far more than the crop evidently. He said his ass is still purple. I'd like to say I'm sorry, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This situation has definitely made me question my abilities to be a Domme. Unfortunately I DO care if my male partner is satisfied, and I do care about their comfort and feelings. Maybe being submissive is truly my calling. I'm not sure of anything right now, so I think I'll take a break myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-5414096684358947636?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/5414096684358947636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=5414096684358947636&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5414096684358947636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5414096684358947636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/another-change.html' title='Another change'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-4859806449044607894</id><published>2007-04-29T03:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T04:25:27.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Training Opportunity</title><content type='html'>Today began beautifully. A nice, easy run in 45 degree temps, birds singing, the river full of the rain of the last few days. It promises to be a gorgeous day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last couple of weeks I have been communicating with a FemDom couple who are married. I will call her Miss D. She originally contacted me to help her train her submissive husband.  In the interest of getting to know them, I've had several chats both online with him and over the phone with her. He took things WAY too far and made her angry, so she forbid him to contact me. So far he's complied, but he's been throwing temper tantrums and pouting all week. Without him knowing she has continued to communicate with me through the phone and email. Last night she contacted me to let me know that he'd finally caved in. She whipped him friday night and took away his internet priveledges - and he promptly disobeyed and went online without her permission. This man is the equivalent of an overindulged child. His wife and I will be having lunch together today - without him, and that is just killing him. She fully intends to take the internet cable with her when she leaves the house too. I thought that was delicious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss D and I have discussed having me come and spend the evening with the two of them for the express purpose of taking the cane to her brat of a husband while she taunts him. She knows (and he does as well) that her discipline of him has been tempered by her feelings for him. Since I am objective, I will not be as easy to manipulate. Porter and I discussed the arrangement and he expressed an interest in being present for this scene. I told him I would discuss him with Miss D and see how she felt about it. I asked Porter how he would feel about servicing me in front of this other sub, and possibly servicing the sub's wife as well. He tells me he will do whatever I wish. Which I believe in his noncommittal way of expressing himself means "HOORAY!!" I asked only to guage his reaction, and not because I intend to follow through. We will take everything as it comes. I will not put him in a position that will make him uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, I am considering keeping him away from others until I can read him better or he learns to express himself more freely. The last thing I want to do is truly hurt him, mentally or physically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter and I are meeting tonight, and I hope to have pictures to post by tomorrow evening. He made the mistake last night of telling me "i'll do whatever you wish of me". When I told him to be careful what he wished for, he replied "try me".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wil learn quickly not to challenge me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-4859806449044607894?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/4859806449044607894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=4859806449044607894&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4859806449044607894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/4859806449044607894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/training-opportunity.html' title='Training Opportunity'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-8439619053353392592</id><published>2007-04-26T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T16:34:30.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Porter's Backside</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RjE2OKup-PI/AAAAAAAAAAM/mcsJnBxgpLc/s1600-h/Hint[1].jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057883473539889394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RjE2OKup-PI/AAAAAAAAAAM/mcsJnBxgpLc/s320/Hint%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How can I resist this? I so look forward to putting him over my knee Sunday...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-8439619053353392592?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/8439619053353392592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=8439619053353392592&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8439619053353392592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/8439619053353392592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/porters-backside.html' title='Porter&apos;s Backside'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/RjE2OKup-PI/AAAAAAAAAAM/mcsJnBxgpLc/s72-c/Hint%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3378299053852468569</id><published>2007-04-26T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T11:57:08.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring springs</title><content type='html'>It's been a nice, quiet week. The weather has been warm and birds are building a nest in my birdhouse.... Spring is finally here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newcomer and I have had a chat. He discovered that he does not relish the role of sub. This is fine, since my initial feeling of dominance with him quickly evaporated. I could feel his desire to dominate when we were together, and it made me hesitant. And it tends to bring out the sub in me as well... We have agreed to be friends and maybe play from time to time, but he really needs to settle in and get a routine going first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter and I chat every evening. We are to meet Sunday for our first overnight visit. I decided to take him to the movies with me. We are going to a movie that has been out for a bit and it will be a sunday night, so I don't expect too many people in the theatre. This may present an opportunity for a little subtle play in public. He has been instructed to wear shorts (if weather permits) and no underwear. I am still deciding whether to have him wear the plug while we're out. He expressed the fear that it may fall out, and with no underwear on that would be embarassing. I offered to let him wear some lace panties I have here if he is that afraid. Such torment for the little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided that Porter should experience discipline at each visit. Discipline will no doubt be pleasant for him, even if it is a bit painful. He is excited at the idea. The truly painful will be reserved for punishment. He asked if he should remove his clothing at the door on sunday, but I told him that we won't have alot of time before the movie. He will come in, pull his shorts down about his knees, and lay himself over my lap. I've decided the hairbrush will warm his ass enough to remind him that our "date" still requires him to be vigilant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter has a terrible time opening up when we are together. He has little trouble telling me things when we chat online, but can't express his feelings face to face. In the interest of bringing him out, I have decided that he may have certain priveledges, but only if he asks for them. He will pay for them with lashes from the crop - just so that he does not think he is "entitled" to any of them just because he asks. Small priveledges such as kissing will carry a light price, but larger ones will be expensive. The idea appeals to him and he has agreed. I intend to tease him mercilessly until he abandon's his shyness and asks for what he wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very much looking forward to Porter's next visit. I have been shopping online and have a list of things I want to purchase. I have my eye on a pretty little strap-on for my little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as for the one Master who captured my interest... We keep missing each other. I have not heard from him in a bit. I am still very suspicious that his marital status is not what he stated it was. Maybe I'm looking too far into it. It's too bad. I need a little discipline myself....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3378299053852468569?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3378299053852468569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3378299053852468569&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3378299053852468569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3378299053852468569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-beginning.html' title='Spring springs'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3723011545252906030</id><published>2007-04-24T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T11:58:37.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Porter's Demise</title><content type='html'>My first session on Sunday with Porter went very well. It was the first time I'd really taken control and felt like I actually had it. He is a true submissive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have asked Porter to keep a blog so that I may better understand his mental and emotional process. He does not react, nor does he show much emotion, so it's hard to tell what goes through his mind. He has promised to work on showing me more. I read his blog yesterday and was pleasantly surprised. There were a few things I was perplexed about that he cleared up for me. There were reactions I expected from him that he did not provide. He was desperately trying to not do anything but what he was told. He was a good boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter and I took it easy. I chatted with him for a bit about other things, trying to make him comfortable so he would relax. We started playing with stripping him, then inspecting him. He spends alot of time outdoors and is fairly slim. He has a very nice ass and a very pretty cock. He was appropriately shaved. I have a chair in the living room that I placed a few pillows on to make him comfortable as I bent him over it and spread his legs wide. I rubbed him down with a small amount of baby oil - it makes punishment sting just a little more. I delivered quite a few strong blows on his ass with the crop. True to his word, he made few sounds. I had to give him a few in a row just to get a gasp out of him. At one point he raised up on the balls of his feet, so I knew the blows had found their mark. And just so you don't think me too cruel, we worked out a safe word beforehand. By this time Porter's ass was striped red, bordering on purple. I stopped and rubbed him down again. With a gloved hand and some lube, I explored his ass, slowly putting a finger in. I got out a penis-shaped butt plug and tried to insert it. Porter hasn't had anything up his ass for a while, so he needed to stop and relax before I could get all 4" into his ass. It's designed to stay in once there, so he wore it for the rest of our time together.&lt;br /&gt;I asked Porter how his ass felt. He told me it no longer hurt. I then replied that if that were the case, I needed to make sure he remembered the experience by giving him a few more lashes. This time he visibly clenched his ass. I waited for it to relax before I left a few more red stripes on his ass, not pausing between them as I had before. I believe I gave him just enough to think about there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not make the scene all pain though. I allowed him to serve me as he wished (but NO actual sex), something he very much enjoyed. I was pleased with his performance and did allow him to masturbate onto a plate. I did not make him taste his cum this time, but he know's it's coming. Once he was done, I allowed him to wash up, but made him leave the smell of my sex on his face to remember the night by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following is an excerpt from Porter's blog:&lt;br /&gt;"after the session i got in my car and drove back home. i was very conflicted during the drive wondering why i had done what i just did. i alternated betweeen saying that i would never do that again, to saying that i can't wait to do it again. but, my overriding feeling was that i would probably not visit M again and i would try to erase these desires from my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;approximately three hours later, i caught myself online, trying to reach M.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a day later, i caught myself getting hard just thinking of the session and M. i also know today that i can't deny my desires and i will see M as long as she allows me to. i can't wait for the next visit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy is set free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3723011545252906030?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3723011545252906030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3723011545252906030&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3723011545252906030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3723011545252906030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/porters-demise.html' title='Porter&apos;s Demise'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-7753069507439936388</id><published>2007-04-21T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T11:59:30.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It Begins</title><content type='html'>I gave Porter a new assignment. He was to start a diary. One of his own where he could outline his desires, needs and experiences with me. I also told him that I did not want him to masturbate again until we met. I never received a reply, so I sent another message. A gentle, yet firm reminder that if I'd asked too much that he should have at least let me know. I got a very frantic reply saying that he'd missed my email and would complete his assignment as soon as he could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter has been extremely evasive about meeting. He gets feet so cold they could chill the ocean. I finally got him to meet me tonight. He's really very nice. Once I got him to loosen up, he was very congenial. We talked about more mundane things before getting into the lifestyle conversations. When we did broach the subject he seemed to talk easily. I told him to let me know if he's like to proceed. The answer was a resounding "YES"! Porter's lessons begin tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newcomer and I got together last night. I arrived at his hotel and he arrived shortly thereafter. We chatted for a bit and then lounged on one of the beds. I had him lay his head on my chest as we talked for a bit. We talked about his waxed cock and balls and I asked to see them. Just beautiful. His cock is large and doesn't shrink all the way down when soft. It's about 4" and thick when SOFT. *sigh* Lovely. We talked and I stroked his cock for a bit. Took his hand and guided it to in between my legs and then made him lick his fingers. I asked if he liked it and he did. I asked if he wanted more, and he did. I told him to go ahead and bury his face in my pussy, licking until I'd cum. He was still in a shirt and jeans with his cock and balls hanging out. After a bit I told him to strip naked and commence his licking. It was the first time I'd had my ass licked too. Very nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I allowed Newcomer back up onto the bed. His cock was dancing it was so hard. I asked if he wanted to cum. He did. I made him masturbate for me to watch. The man makes an abnormal amount of cum. It's freakish. His distance was amazing too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got dressed and went to dinner. We were both exhausted, so we went right back to the hotel. He undressed as he was instructed and laid on the bed. I blindfolded him and laid him on his stomach. I spread his legs and took the flogger out. I lightly brushed the flogger over his balls and then brough it down hard several times on each cheek. He wimpered and moaned, but I didn't make it too hard on him. I made him roll over and spread his legs wider. I put a latex glove on one hand and lubed a finger. I slid my gloved finger in his ass, pumping it as if it were a cock. He became hard as a rock. I tied off his hard cock and proceeded to tease him and lick his balls. After teasing him for a while, I put a condom on him and rode him. I allowed him to cum again. I think that's where it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The air seemed different the next morning. Newcomer no longer acted as if he desired to have me around. I took the hint and left. Lesson Number 1: Take care that you choose men who aren't pretending to be sub to get a cheap ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been talking with a married couple with a dominant wife. They are looking for a woman to help torture the husband. He was a virgin when married. His wife is free to do anything she wants, but he must wear a chastity device. She absolutely does not want a woman to have sex with her husband, but want him to see other attractive women and want them knowing he can't have them. He is salivating in the hope of meeting me apparently. He likes to be spanked and teased. He loves to be humiliated. I gave her a few ideas for her to try, such as licking up his own cum. She said he was sitting there watching her talk to me, getting a hard-on trying to guess what it was we were talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor baby, he'll soon find out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-7753069507439936388?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/7753069507439936388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=7753069507439936388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7753069507439936388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/7753069507439936388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/it-begins.html' title='It Begins'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-5587961498566518819</id><published>2007-04-18T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T11:12:46.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A lost submissive</title><content type='html'>So. You want to know about Porter, don't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter is a seemingly nice young man with a serious identity issue. He is currently separated from his wife because of his interest in this lifestyle. She cannot handle it and he cannot forget about it. He has only had one RL experience and that was with a professional Domina. The experience left him disappointed. It may be the relatively impersonal way she handled it - though not really her fault. Although she addressed his need to be dominated (without sex), she addressed none of the emotional ones. Since I know this boy has owned a chastity device, he seems to be looking for more. He has made it clear that he would love to be a collared slave. We are meeting for coffee sunday to see how we get along. I'm taking this one with a grain of salt. I may be willing to play, but even the idea of collaring him is FAR off. But his body is impeccable. A very nice ass indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter is simply quite easily aroused. Monday I spent some time chatting with him and had him describe what he would want our first physical introduction to be like. He does not seem to be shy about the lifestyle. He seems to be very focused and willing to try anything I can throw at him. We spent some time developing that fantasy as he maturbated. Last night, because I could not spend the time chatting with him, I gave him an assignment. I asked him to masturbate three times. The first two he was to bring himself to the brink of orgasm, then stop and let himself go soft. The third time he was allowed to cum. When he was finished, he was to write down what he did, how he did it, and how he felt. I expected the email to be in my in-box by the time I arrived home. He did a very good job. He found that it took him longer to arrive at his point of orgasm the third time, but he had a very strong orgasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porter is starved for control. I get the feeling that giving him assignments, requiring him to do small tasks arouses him as much as touching him physically would do. He has also committed his first infraction. He asked about my sexual activities for the day. He will learn quickly, but I don't expect either him nor Newcomer to be instantly perfect. Sometimes I wonder if they let these things "slip out" in the hopes it will get their asses tanned. I'm happy to oblige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have told Porter that he will be given a new assignment tonight. I'm not sure what I'm going to have him do this time. Any suggestions??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-5587961498566518819?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/5587961498566518819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=5587961498566518819&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5587961498566518819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5587961498566518819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/lost-submissive.html' title='A lost submissive'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3018454123046787638</id><published>2007-04-17T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T12:00:13.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Master and two slaves</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So much to tell you....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I met Nightengale for the first time sunday night. I managed to be where he works for a short time (purely by coincidence), so I called and left a message that I was there. He came down to see me, walking right past me the first time. I called after him and he stopped to chat for a bit. He wasn't exactly as I thought, and he isn't someone I would have noticed had I met him casually. But knowing who and what he is before meeting him, I was still intrigued. He had a way of looking at me that made me feel like he was trying to crawl into my head. He was searching my expression, trying to read my body language. It made me pleasantly uncomfortable.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Both Nightengale and I get off of work at the same time. When I got home monday morning, I sat down to relax and he IMed me. He ended up calling me and spending an hour on the phone having what can only be described as a long-distance control session. By the time he was done with me, I was calling him "Sir" and begging him to let me cum. I have never felt so completely satisfied by someone on the other end of a phone. It makes me look forward to our next meeting. I sent him an e-mail thanking him, but he has not contacted me yet. I'm wondering if he's building the tension between us, or if he truly is hiding something. I'm still a bit suspicious.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In the interest of not putting all of my eggs in one basket, I went to meet Newcomer last night. It was a long drive for me, but a very nice evening. He is in a hotel until next monday when he moves into his apartment. I went to the hotel and picked him up and then we went for dinner at an Irish pub. The food was really very good, the beer was wonderful, and there was live Irish folk music playing. His company was very nice. We talked easily and he was enjoyable to be around. My general impression was that I will be the dominant one in this relationship. This morning we chatted a bit and he agrees. We're going to take it slow as neither of us is very experienced in those roles.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Newcomer seems excited at the prospect of my ownership of his cock and balls. He has already made plans to have all of his pubic hair waxed off, including his balls. In his excitement, he asked when I would be arriving to give him his first inspection, an inappropriate question indeed. He will be punished for his insolence. He told me his ass is already burning in anticipation of the spanking he will receive.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have told Newcomer that he is not allowed to cum unless he asks my permission first, something he does willingly. He immediately asked if he could cum this morning. I allowed it. This afternoon I went shopping and procured the following: two butt plugs, a broad wooden hairbrush, a riding crop, a feather duster, a webbing strap, neoprene cock rings, and a blindfold. I already have a small flogger and a couple of dildos to play with. I have decided that initially I will leave his hands free. He will have to learn to keep them where I tell him to. He will be sending me his schedule for the next two weeks since he is not allowed to ask me when I will be visiting. I have already decided his first inspection will be on friday evening. I was planning to blindfold him immediately, make him strip naked and inspect him. I may have him take me out to dinner first. Let him build up the anticipation until he's so excited he can't stop himself from being continually hard. Such delicious agony.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There is a third party now. A submissive little boy (figuratively speaking, he's 33) I'll call Porter. But I've given you so much today already. More on him tomorrow.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3018454123046787638?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3018454123046787638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3018454123046787638&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3018454123046787638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3018454123046787638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/master-and-two-slaves.html' title='A Master and two slaves'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-5164419720402675767</id><published>2007-04-13T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T12:00:53.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>It's been a very busy week. I finally took my last exam and am waiting impatiently to see if I passed it. It is the final hurdle to my promotion. And what a relief that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few days of being out of contact, I have chatted with both Nightengale and Newcomer (who is back on US soil now). My mind and body are leaning heavily toward Nightengale. He exudes a presence even when he is speaking to me by IM. I had no idea how much I craved the hand of a strong man until this one came along. I have put the next move in his hands. We are supposed to meet for coffee, maybe tomorrow morning. He offered to call me last night, but I declined. His intent was to "put me to bed properly", but it's too early to start that. I want to see what our chemistry is like in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newcomer will be here in the area sunday and is already asking when we can meet. Maybe coffee with him as well. We'll see. I may be surprised and like both or not like either. That would be a sad day indeed. In either case, I'd like to find out. I'm in dire need of something carnal. I'm starting to feel like a caged animal. Work is going well, but the burden of responsibility is increasing. Once the results of this last exam are in, my level of responsibility reaches it's height. If the week I've had is any indication of what's to come, I will need to find relief in my off hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I really seem to need is someone to nap with, cuddle with. Someone to keep me in bed all day while they try all manners of drving me insane without allowing me to cum. You know, in between turning me over their knee and turning my ass pink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-5164419720402675767?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/5164419720402675767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=5164419720402675767&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5164419720402675767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/5164419720402675767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8382932151029953603.post-3599041749656231010</id><published>2007-04-08T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T11:47:16.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Me</title><content type='html'>Today is Easter, a time of new beginings. It seems appropriate to start anew today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two new men have entered the edges of my consciousness. Both sent me gentlemanly requests for an introduction. Usually a well-written and respectful note will get answered, but these stood out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first is Nightengale. He is a Dom, well-educated with a career that complements mine. He can understand what I do for a living and will be a good resource for support. He is tall, 6'2", which is nice. He is also very psychologically inclined which is even nicer for me. He prefers to conquer the mind first, allowing for intellectual intimacy before physical. He is well written and intelligent. In chatting online with him today, I found myself actually craving the hand of a master again. He was working magic - quite a coup for him. Not that I would let him know it, of course. I have made it clear that I am interested in moving slow and letting things develop as friends first. We should be meeting soon, so time will tell. He's a good candidate to be my next master if the chemistry is as good in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man is Newcomer. Newcomer is an American returning this month from four years in Europe. He is also intelligent and well-written. The difference here is that he is a Switch. Switches are new to me. I am considering it because it allow me to explore my Domme side without the full burden of responsibility. I don't have to be in charge all the time. I can do this one of two ways. I can seek a master AND a slave, or just one: a switch. Newcomer can toggle between the two fairly well when we chat. He has expressed an interest in wearing a chastity device for me (with the only key around my neck) and allowing me to bend him over and cane his sweet ass. The chastity device is interesting to me. He will not be able to so much as have an erection without my permission - the device will not allow it. This means he will also have to have permission to masturbate. He is also not opposed to having me fuck him in the ass with a strap-on while I stroke his cock until he cums. There's something quite humbling for a decidedly heterosexual man to cum while someone fucks him in the ass. He also seems to be comfortably dominant as well. He is 6'1" and will have no trouble at all putting me over his knee. We talked about abduction scenarios as well as having me bound to the bed for a weekend, only being allowed to use the bathroom with permission. He would have to feed me and would use me as he saw fit. Delicious thoughts. It will be interesting to explore that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, my thoughts wandered to actually getting both of these men out into a social situation and introducing them to each other. For a moment I had a vision of sitting between them in a darkened bar with only the couple of feet of black cotton of my dress separating us. Of the shock caused by patrons seeing me kissing or fondling both at the same time, or they me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmmm. My libido returns with a vengeance!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8382932151029953603-3599041749656231010?l=mistressfleur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/feeds/3599041749656231010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8382932151029953603&amp;postID=3599041749656231010&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3599041749656231010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8382932151029953603/posts/default/3599041749656231010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mistressfleur.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-me.html' title='A New Me'/><author><name>Mistress Fleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03493655823432349078</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_CrCJexNUtJo/R8BMDf85v5I/AAAAAAAAAB4/zXRSV21paig/S220/firegoddess2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
