Hello, and thanks for stopping by.
Without our readers, bloggers would not have a reason to write. I deeply appreciate everyone who takes a little time to read what I have to say.
Feedback is important, too. We need to know we are reaching people, especially when a blog is new.
So if you haven't commented before, please take a moment and say hello.
My cane bites, but I don't...well at least not not strangers.
Lady Koregan
PS If you'd like to participate in LOL day simply put up a post similar to this one and then email Bonnie at ...
My Bottom Smarts
Visit the link above to see the list of everyone participating in Love Our Lurkers Day.
The more the merrier.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
LOL day is coming!
For those of you unfamiliar with it, Love Our Lurkers day is a day set aside in the blogging community to acknolwedge our readers and invite those who have read but not commented to "de-lurk" and post a comment.
Participating is easy. On October 21st put up a post inviting your readers to comment, then email Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts to let her know you have participated.
Don't forget to visit other participating blogs! It's a great way to find like minded people!
Lady Koregan
Participating is easy. On October 21st put up a post inviting your readers to comment, then email Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts to let her know you have participated.
Don't forget to visit other participating blogs! It's a great way to find like minded people!
Lady Koregan
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Understanding
We were driving in the rain- on our way to pick up a few supplies before the night's play began.
We passed through the parking lot of a small shopping center. Suddenly, he stopped between two rows of cars. He sat stone still in the driver's seat, a look of abject horror on his face.
I looked where he was looking and saw the sign for a type of combination restaurant/ arcade famous and infamous among anyone who has ever been in-- or even near one.
"Tell me we're not going in there," said he. There was actual terror in his voice; this from the man who does not fear whips, or needles, or even raw fire.
I assured him we weren't.
He began telling horror stories of his encounters with various pitchfork wielding imps.
I waited for him to pause, then told him "I'm in charge of the toy deparment.
Surprise, then comprehension spread across his wonderfully expressive face.
"I don't have to tell you then," said he. "You know."
"Oh, yes."
He looked at me, and seemed we understood each other a bit better than we had a minute before.
We continued on.
We passed through the parking lot of a small shopping center. Suddenly, he stopped between two rows of cars. He sat stone still in the driver's seat, a look of abject horror on his face.
I looked where he was looking and saw the sign for a type of combination restaurant/ arcade famous and infamous among anyone who has ever been in-- or even near one.
"Tell me we're not going in there," said he. There was actual terror in his voice; this from the man who does not fear whips, or needles, or even raw fire.
I assured him we weren't.
He began telling horror stories of his encounters with various pitchfork wielding imps.
I waited for him to pause, then told him "I'm in charge of the toy deparment.
Surprise, then comprehension spread across his wonderfully expressive face.
"I don't have to tell you then," said he. "You know."
"Oh, yes."
He looked at me, and seemed we understood each other a bit better than we had a minute before.
We continued on.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Drilling For Oil
"It's like drilling for oil."
That's what I think to myself as I poke at the tip of his cock with the sharp point of a needle. You have to hit exactly the right spot at exactly the right depth to get what you want.
Poke here, you just get a little red spot. Poke there, nothing at all. Poke there and you get a gusher, not quite what you want, either. But what about there, just there, little bit over...just a little deeper. A-ha! Got it!
What am I doing?
I am holding this man-- my playmate-- my lover-- by the shaft of his cock and I'm hurting him. Well that's nothing new; but this time I'm deliberating wounding him, intentionally trying to make him bleed.
Why would I do such a thing?
Because he wants me to. Because he needs me to. He has to give me this, and so I take it from him, happily and eagerly.
It is the day before the equinox and once again, unknowingly, he's stepped into the role of the Corn King; he who dies to bring new life to the crops next spring. His pain, his blood, his come, his very life force become a sacrifice offered up to me, and perhaps to something greater.
We revel in it, celebrating the joy of each other and of being alive.
Later in the day it rains. I stand on my patio, savoring the smell and the sound of the showers drenching the earth. There's a quiet peace, and a feeling of connectedness, as if I am the latest link in a chain stretching all the way back through history. The daughter of the house has at last come home and the old traditions are made new again.
For a moment, it's as if the rain understands these things, as if the storm is a gift given in exchange for the gifts that we gave.
I go inside, pour a drink, light a candle, collect my silent thoughts before bringing the glass to my lips.
It was a very good day.
Lady Koregan
That's what I think to myself as I poke at the tip of his cock with the sharp point of a needle. You have to hit exactly the right spot at exactly the right depth to get what you want.
Poke here, you just get a little red spot. Poke there, nothing at all. Poke there and you get a gusher, not quite what you want, either. But what about there, just there, little bit over...just a little deeper. A-ha! Got it!
What am I doing?
I am holding this man-- my playmate-- my lover-- by the shaft of his cock and I'm hurting him. Well that's nothing new; but this time I'm deliberating wounding him, intentionally trying to make him bleed.
Why would I do such a thing?
Because he wants me to. Because he needs me to. He has to give me this, and so I take it from him, happily and eagerly.
It is the day before the equinox and once again, unknowingly, he's stepped into the role of the Corn King; he who dies to bring new life to the crops next spring. His pain, his blood, his come, his very life force become a sacrifice offered up to me, and perhaps to something greater.
We revel in it, celebrating the joy of each other and of being alive.
Later in the day it rains. I stand on my patio, savoring the smell and the sound of the showers drenching the earth. There's a quiet peace, and a feeling of connectedness, as if I am the latest link in a chain stretching all the way back through history. The daughter of the house has at last come home and the old traditions are made new again.
For a moment, it's as if the rain understands these things, as if the storm is a gift given in exchange for the gifts that we gave.
I go inside, pour a drink, light a candle, collect my silent thoughts before bringing the glass to my lips.
It was a very good day.
Lady Koregan
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