July 2009
I had not heard the song for a long time. Yes…. to you I will admit it was it was a heavy metal hair ballad from the late 80’s. But, listening to it transported me almost 20 years back, to the rear view mirror of a 1978 white Camero, kohl rimmed eyes meeting mine, and I was back in the driver’s set. Who am I kidding? I've never really left it.
I was 16 years old (still a virgin), empowered with the thrum of a V8 and new possibilities. I’m wearing my favorite outfit…tight black jeans, a leopard print henley shirt, black leather knee high boots, and on top, my first black leather jacket. Perched between my red lips was an unlit Marlboro…because, well…. I was a bad ass. I didn’t smoke, but it seemed to go with the mood.
A mass of cassettes of next to me on the passenger’s seat; Madonna’s “Immaculate Collection”, Guns and Roses “Appetite for Destruction”, The Cure’s “Disintegration” and a few more…. I had purchased the cigarettes illegally the weekend before but I was on my way to make another purchase. This new item was going to go in a place of honor, the rear view mirror; because even then I knew it would be a powerful talisman.
The first place I stopped was a Spenser’s Gifts in the local mall. As all of you well remember, they had a large selection of love oils that we knew we’d love to use when we had the chance. If they had edible under wear, body paint, and strawberry flavored whipped cream, they’d have what I needed. Excited, I entered the store and began purposefully walking toward the gaudy display. Alas though, my prize was not to be found. I didn’t want flimsy, heart shaped, and weak plastic. What I needed was cold, durable and shiny silver handcuffs. They were the key to it all, I just knew it.
I forget where I finally found them, but they were MINE.
And on the rear view they went until the day I knew they would be well used.
Could I have guessed what my life would be like almost twenty years later? I don’t know if many of us could have at that tender age. But I set off into the sunset, evening light glinting off the fresh cuffs, into my future. And I haven’t looked back, until today.
I’ve always believed if you’re going to live…live it RIGHT.
I’ve traveled, done a stint as a long-distance truck driver, had one of my metal sculptures shown in two major art museums, been involved in a high speed chase, dated a Mormon, become a high-priestess, met my best friend and partner, been tongue kissed by gay leather daddies and brought men to their knees. I’ve become an avid gardener and on occasion drank men twice my size under the table. At thirty, I bought my first home and done many, many kinky things in it. I’ve seen new life come into the world and I’ve seen loved ones depart. I’ve earned my way into communities typically taboo for a woman but let my 6-yr old nephews ride me like a pony. I’ve loved and lost, and loved and lost, and loved, loved, loved and not regretted. I’ve broken boundaries, forged new bonds, and pissed people off because I’m too honest.
Anything is possible; new adventures are coming. New adventures? That’s certainly saying a lot. But, recently, I generously broke one of my hard limits… and watched the Super Bowl in its entirety. I was laughingly told by a friend that “my Super Bowl cherry was popped, all the way through.”
I’m a thirty five year-old woman…still three years from my sexual peak (please note, boys: eat your Wheaties) and nineteen years past freeing myself of the burden of virginity. But, lately I've been feeling sixteen again and wondering what other “cherries could be popped”… but this time with much better leather and handcuffs.
Like most children from “decent” American families, I was raised indoctrinated with the notion that monogamy is the only way. Boy meets girl, happily ever after, and all of that. (Well, until we mature and find: girl meets boy, boy meets boy, girl meets girl, and girl meets two boys... But, I’m getting ahead of myself.) My family wasn’t religious; my parents instilled me with the importance of integrity, honesty, a solid work ethic, and respect for yourself and those around you.
From a very young age though, I always said I would never be married. The only possible caveat to that was “possibly when I was in my 80’s and had nothing better to do.” That resolution stuck with me as I matured and delved more into the history and the why’s of marriage. I was righteously indignant when I found out what Mrs. meant and how at that time women were still referred to as chattel in Florida marriage documents. I swore then and there I would never be anyone’s “Mrs.”…not ever.
I’ve casually dated, been in long term relationships, had a fun period when I dated three men at the same time (breakfast, lunch, and dinner, anyone?), and had a few one night stands here and there.
I’m still not anyone’s “Mrs.”
But, for the past eleven years I’ve been partnered and legally handfasted to a wonderful man.
Did I settle down? Noooooooo.
Am I a “Mrs.”? Hell no.
Ironically enough, please… no one swallow their tongue, we met in a Unitarian Universalist church at a function. And, we’ve been together ever since. Our relationship was founded on the principles of love, respect, trust, communication, and full acceptance of each other. I’ve never understood wanting to change the person you fell in love with. We were monogamous from the onset but each of us had the freedom to enjoy their own time as they saw fit. Separate outings with friends, alone time, etc. Jealousy has never been an issue. My partner is my best friend, a fantastic lover, and an amazingly compassionate man. He doesn’t mind that I’m a terrible sleeper and a total deviant. Harmony in our home couldn’t be better.
We’re so independent that several men, other than him, have been thought of and referred to my husband. And still to this day, most times when we’re out in the evening, he’s probably quietly smiling and chatting with a small group of people and I’m…. well….. I’m not telling any naughty tales here. But it works for us; we have our own private quality time, and don’t need to be buttoned to each other when we’re out.
We’ve always shared BDSM experiences of differing degrees with other people, and still do.
Six years ago or so, I met the man who was for a time to be my personal submissive. The first time we spoke was after he’d been unshackled from pulling me around a pagan festival in an elaborate rickshaw. But I digress. Our knowing of each other began as a non-sexual D/s relationship.
During a long drive, where my partner and I have many of our state-of-the union discussions, we each spoke about my exploring a deeper connection with my submissive. I forget how the conversation started, but it ended with us both having mutual thoughts about sex, intimacy, our relationship, and not being as monogamously inclined as both of us assumed.
I had always known that I had a lot of energy, a large capacity to love and a very healthy libido. He had the realization that he enjoyed the thought of me being close to and sexually intimate with another. And if you doubt me on this, discreetly glance at his leather clad crotch when I have you down on your knees dominating you.
So, discussions and negotiations were entered in to and everyone was happily willing to move forward with the understanding that honesty and communication were paramount.
The three of us shared vanilla and kinky times, mutual and private time, and a lot of laughter; things were good.
My feelings were best described as living to my emotional potential. Life was FULL.
And, it’s not that my primary relationship had been lacking, it gets better and better. But from that point on Pandora’s Box was opened; my mindset of life and love would from that point onward best be called “tribally inclined.”. My policy is to share, support, always be honest, enjoy the middle in a king-size bed, and love without limit and fear.
In my wider leather family, we have a closeness that can’t be denied. Like a birth family, we’re not all sexually intimate with each other. But love, kinship, brotherhood, support, fierce loyalty; we all have independent souls, strengths and talents which enrich the family we’ve chosen to create. We're a proud, loving tribe of leather folk; if you screw with one of us, you've got the whole kit n' caboodle on your hands.
The funny thing is the knowledge of what many people assume… that we’re all somehow physically intimate. Let me tell you, if the queer factor and the “who’s on top” argument could be sorted it would be one hell of a hot menagerie.
Sometime soon, I’d like to find the attributes of my leather family, and the best qualities of a trusted partner (insert a submissive, intelligent, responsible, masochist here) and have my own little family of four….ok, ok… I won’t be greedy. How’s three?
I love many men platonically and what’s the old saying? Oh, yes… is it “two heads are better than one” or “three heads are better than two”… I can’t remember…Yea. I’m a freak like that.
So readers, no matter if you’re engaged to the pup of your dreams, bisexual and playing the field, or still looking for your leather daddy...or two; if you’re loving you way, I salute you.
16 Again!
I had not heard the song for a long time. Yes…. to you I will admit it was it was a heavy metal hair ballad from the late 80’s. But, listening to it transported me almost 20 years back, to the rear view mirror of a 1978 white Camero, kohl rimmed eyes meeting mine, and I was back in the driver’s set. Who am I kidding? I've never really left it.
I was 16 years old (still a virgin), empowered with the thrum of a V8 and new possibilities. I’m wearing my favorite outfit…tight black jeans, a leopard print henley shirt, black leather knee high boots, and on top, my first black leather jacket. Perched between my red lips was an unlit Marlboro…because, well…. I was a bad ass. I didn’t smoke, but it seemed to go with the mood.
A mass of cassettes of next to me on the passenger’s seat; Madonna’s “Immaculate Collection”, Guns and Roses “Appetite for Destruction”, The Cure’s “Disintegration” and a few more…. I had purchased the cigarettes illegally the weekend before but I was on my way to make another purchase. This new item was going to go in a place of honor, the rear view mirror; because even then I knew it would be a powerful talisman.
The first place I stopped was a Spenser’s Gifts in the local mall. As all of you well remember, they had a large selection of love oils that we knew we’d love to use when we had the chance. If they had edible under wear, body paint, and strawberry flavored whipped cream, they’d have what I needed. Excited, I entered the store and began purposefully walking toward the gaudy display. Alas though, my prize was not to be found. I didn’t want flimsy, heart shaped, and weak plastic. What I needed was cold, durable and shiny silver handcuffs. They were the key to it all, I just knew it.
I forget where I finally found them, but they were MINE.
And on the rear view they went until the day I knew they would be well used.
Could I have guessed what my life would be like almost twenty years later? I don’t know if many of us could have at that tender age. But I set off into the sunset, evening light glinting off the fresh cuffs, into my future. And I haven’t looked back, until today.
I’ve always believed if you’re going to live…live it RIGHT.
I’ve traveled, done a stint as a long-distance truck driver, had one of my metal sculptures shown in two major art museums, been involved in a high speed chase, dated a Mormon, become a high-priestess, met my best friend and partner, been tongue kissed by gay leather daddies and brought men to their knees. I’ve become an avid gardener and on occasion drank men twice my size under the table. At thirty, I bought my first home and done many, many kinky things in it. I’ve seen new life come into the world and I’ve seen loved ones depart. I’ve earned my way into communities typically taboo for a woman but let my 6-yr old nephews ride me like a pony. I’ve loved and lost, and loved and lost, and loved, loved, loved and not regretted. I’ve broken boundaries, forged new bonds, and pissed people off because I’m too honest.
Anything is possible; new adventures are coming. New adventures? That’s certainly saying a lot. But, recently, I generously broke one of my hard limits… and watched the Super Bowl in its entirety. I was laughingly told by a friend that “my Super Bowl cherry was popped, all the way through.”
I’m a thirty five year-old woman…still three years from my sexual peak (please note, boys: eat your Wheaties) and nineteen years past freeing myself of the burden of virginity. But, lately I've been feeling sixteen again and wondering what other “cherries could be popped”… but this time with much better leather and handcuffs.
I’d love to hear your memories of your “awakening” or buying your first leather or …accoutrements. If you’d like, please send some written thoughts, either detailed or brief, to me at iron_goddess@sbcglobal.net .
I’ll publish them in a later column!
In Leather,
Lady Justice
Lady Justice
“Love My Way” AKA: “So, What’s the Deal?”
Like most children from “decent” American families, I was raised indoctrinated with the notion that monogamy is the only way. Boy meets girl, happily ever after, and all of that. (Well, until we mature and find: girl meets boy, boy meets boy, girl meets girl, and girl meets two boys... But, I’m getting ahead of myself.) My family wasn’t religious; my parents instilled me with the importance of integrity, honesty, a solid work ethic, and respect for yourself and those around you.
From a very young age though, I always said I would never be married. The only possible caveat to that was “possibly when I was in my 80’s and had nothing better to do.” That resolution stuck with me as I matured and delved more into the history and the why’s of marriage. I was righteously indignant when I found out what Mrs. meant and how at that time women were still referred to as chattel in Florida marriage documents. I swore then and there I would never be anyone’s “Mrs.”…not ever.
I’ve casually dated, been in long term relationships, had a fun period when I dated three men at the same time (breakfast, lunch, and dinner, anyone?), and had a few one night stands here and there.
I’m still not anyone’s “Mrs.”
But, for the past eleven years I’ve been partnered and legally handfasted to a wonderful man.
Did I settle down? Noooooooo.
Am I a “Mrs.”? Hell no.
Ironically enough, please… no one swallow their tongue, we met in a Unitarian Universalist church at a function. And, we’ve been together ever since. Our relationship was founded on the principles of love, respect, trust, communication, and full acceptance of each other. I’ve never understood wanting to change the person you fell in love with. We were monogamous from the onset but each of us had the freedom to enjoy their own time as they saw fit. Separate outings with friends, alone time, etc. Jealousy has never been an issue. My partner is my best friend, a fantastic lover, and an amazingly compassionate man. He doesn’t mind that I’m a terrible sleeper and a total deviant. Harmony in our home couldn’t be better.
We’re so independent that several men, other than him, have been thought of and referred to my husband. And still to this day, most times when we’re out in the evening, he’s probably quietly smiling and chatting with a small group of people and I’m…. well….. I’m not telling any naughty tales here. But it works for us; we have our own private quality time, and don’t need to be buttoned to each other when we’re out.
We’ve always shared BDSM experiences of differing degrees with other people, and still do.
Six years ago or so, I met the man who was for a time to be my personal submissive. The first time we spoke was after he’d been unshackled from pulling me around a pagan festival in an elaborate rickshaw. But I digress. Our knowing of each other began as a non-sexual D/s relationship.
During a long drive, where my partner and I have many of our state-of-the union discussions, we each spoke about my exploring a deeper connection with my submissive. I forget how the conversation started, but it ended with us both having mutual thoughts about sex, intimacy, our relationship, and not being as monogamously inclined as both of us assumed.
I had always known that I had a lot of energy, a large capacity to love and a very healthy libido. He had the realization that he enjoyed the thought of me being close to and sexually intimate with another. And if you doubt me on this, discreetly glance at his leather clad crotch when I have you down on your knees dominating you.
So, discussions and negotiations were entered in to and everyone was happily willing to move forward with the understanding that honesty and communication were paramount.
The three of us shared vanilla and kinky times, mutual and private time, and a lot of laughter; things were good.
My feelings were best described as living to my emotional potential. Life was FULL.
And, it’s not that my primary relationship had been lacking, it gets better and better. But from that point on Pandora’s Box was opened; my mindset of life and love would from that point onward best be called “tribally inclined.”. My policy is to share, support, always be honest, enjoy the middle in a king-size bed, and love without limit and fear.
In my wider leather family, we have a closeness that can’t be denied. Like a birth family, we’re not all sexually intimate with each other. But love, kinship, brotherhood, support, fierce loyalty; we all have independent souls, strengths and talents which enrich the family we’ve chosen to create. We're a proud, loving tribe of leather folk; if you screw with one of us, you've got the whole kit n' caboodle on your hands.
The funny thing is the knowledge of what many people assume… that we’re all somehow physically intimate. Let me tell you, if the queer factor and the “who’s on top” argument could be sorted it would be one hell of a hot menagerie.
Sometime soon, I’d like to find the attributes of my leather family, and the best qualities of a trusted partner (insert a submissive, intelligent, responsible, masochist here) and have my own little family of four….ok, ok… I won’t be greedy. How’s three?
I love many men platonically and what’s the old saying? Oh, yes… is it “two heads are better than one” or “three heads are better than two”… I can’t remember…Yea. I’m a freak like that.
So readers, no matter if you’re engaged to the pup of your dreams, bisexual and playing the field, or still looking for your leather daddy...or two; if you’re loving you way, I salute you.
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