Coitus Interruptus

A short little story I wrote years and years ago.

Man, if that truck driver wasn’t already dead, I’d really let him have it. Screw around with my Saturday night…just not okay. What am I supposed to do now? Hmm, maybe I could go ahead and find Paul. That would really blow his mind. I don’t know if it will work but hey, I don’t have anything else to do. He should be waiting for me at his apartment.

Would you look at that? He’s all pissed off cause I’m late. Man, if he only knew. Now, how am I gonna get him to stay and how the hell am I gonna get his clothes off? Well, let’s just see how far I can take this and if it’ll work. Following him around the room as he’s pacing, I try running a fingernail down his spine. Whoa, did that make him jump or what? Since that worked, this could be really fun.

Let’s see if I can get his shirt off. One button at a time. He’s freaking out. A gentle lick as I finish unbuttoning his shirt. Oh boy, he’s panting now. I wonder if it’s fear, or if he’s turned on, or a combination?

Mmm, I just love the way his body glistens when he sweats. Makes me want to lick more. Oops, he doesn’t seem to be taking this well. Too bad, I’m horny. Let’s try crowding him over to the couch. Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be. He’s all sprawled out for me. Yeah, his eyes are looking a little freaked out but I’ll make up for it.

All that yummy chest, tastes so good. Nibble on this hard little nipple. Ooh, he liked that. He’s moaning. Maybe he’s been without as long as I have.

I can’t help giggling at his reactions as I slowly reach for his belt. I just love when a man’s belt comes undone. It’s like the final barrier, the last surrender. Oh, he’s got a great little bellybutton to lick and suck on while I get his pants off. Oh god, he’s so yummy looking…and he goes commando. What a beautiful strong cock and my god, he shaves. His balls are nice and firm, a nice handful. I’m really gonna love this. I love the way he’s writhing and moaning. I need a taste.

Man, he barely fits in my mouth but he tastes so good. The best lollipop ever invented and tonight it’s all mine. I can’t help but stroke his perineum, fondling his balls, stroking his cock with my lips while trying to fit more of him in my mouth suctioning as hard as I can.

“Jesus, what the hell is going on? Oh no, don’t stop. Just, oh god!” Well, that always makes a girl feel good.

Maybe I should back off a little though. I want my fun too. What can I use to cool him off a little. Oh, I know. Let’s check out the freezer. Score! Those tiny ice cubes that I can fit in my mouth. Let’s go see how he likes this. Melting ice water on a hot cock. Man, he looks so good lying there panting. He is so gorgeous and he may not know what’s going on but he’s definitely into it.

I can’t wait any longer. I need me some of what he’s got. Straddling him nice and slow, and god he fills me up so good. Move slowly girl, make it last. God, I just want him to pound into me but I don’t know when I’m gonna get anything this like this again. We fit together so good.

Yes, oh god, yes, that’s it yes. SHIT!

“What the fuck! What the hell is going on? Who are you, put me back, I wasn’t finished yet. And where the hell am I? How did I get here?”

“I’m afraid little minx that you are quite finished. And you named the place quite accurately. You see, you’re in hell and that’s as far as you will ever get to go again. But don’t worry; we’ll make sure you get to this edge over and over and over again…without ever going over.”

The man in the seersucker suit gives me the devil’s own grin, “It’s going to be very entertaining having you around. Oh, and don’t worry about Paul, he got off before we took you.”

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 1999

Ponderings...or...OMG, she's thinking again.

At what point does something become hypocrisy? Where is the line drawn? I know that some areas are extremely black and white and it is very clear. I am a person who hates hypocrisy….abhors it. But I have learned recently that there is a grey area where some actions appear hypocritical but may not necessarily be. I’m certain that with some things this is a matter of perception. What one person sees in a situation is not what everyone else may see of the same situation from a different perspective. Not only that, but our perceptions are colored by our own life experiences and specific things that we may be going through in the moment.

Don’t get me wrong, I still despise hypocrisy, but I have learned that it’s not always so easily determined if actions/thoughts/beliefs might be hypocritical.

I have had exchanges this week that have caused me to step back and think about these things and I’ll be honest, I haven’t figure it all out. This writing is a means by which I hope to figure out at least some of it.

Possessive…this is a word used in this lifestyle (and out, obviously) and I have always thought it was a good word. I get a tingle inside when I feel I am being possessed by someone I desire and feel passion with. I love the idea and feeling of it, but there are connotations and deeper meanings to the word that are not what I need or want.

For instance, if you look up synonyms for the word possessive you get some interesting word options; controlling, jealous, overprotective, clinging, covetous, selfish.

I don’t like those words. I love the feeling of being controlled in certain situations and conditions, but I don’t want someone controlling (or trying to control) every aspect of who and what I am, or all of my life. I still need space to be me. I love feeling protected but I don’t want to be smothered. I love to be the focus of someone’s thoughts and actions "in the moment", but I would probably feel very uncomfortable to be in that position 24/7 (besides, life dictates other things must be taken care of). I also don’t like clingy.

There are good synonyms for possessive as well; e.g., hold, own, or care. All words, thoughts, and actions that I can fully support.

So does this make me a hypocrite? Or really does it just come down to where the line is drawn for any individual? What works for me obviously may not work for others. I want a partner who can accept me for who I am yet still push me to be better, more; but not overwhelm who I am or try to make me into someone else to meet his ideal.

It’s like the line between love and hate, or happy and sad. Two extremes of the same thing. It is the degree in either direction that dictates if it is positive or negative, and no one person can draw the line for another as to when it crosses over…though I would posit that the extreme in the negative would generally be unacceptable.

I am me. I get naked easily and freely. I don’t do it as an exhibitionist…it doesn’t “turn me on”. To me, being naked is no big deal. I may not always like how my body looks or feels on any given day, but that’s just life. I love me and who I am. My body is the shell that houses the giving and caring person who is me. I refuse to let anyone try to make me feel shame about the fact that I am comfortable in my skin and being in my skin (naked) in front of others. I don’t get naked for attention. I don’t get naked hoping someone will want to touch. In fact, if someone does touch me when I’m naked and it was not negotiated…well, trust me when I tell you you don’t want to go there.

I am me. I create a safe environment for my models to get naked and feel accepted for all they are and feel beautiful. This particular point is so incredibly important to me. I don’t care if you’re a size 2 or 22 in front of my camera (I’ve been both of those sizes BTW). I try to capture something with my lens that goes so far beyond just the skin a person lives in. That is my art. That is my goal.

I am me. I have a stubborn streak as wide as the Pacific Ocean, possibly wider. Really. Trust me on this. Don’t try to tell me how to feel, what to think, or to be something other than who I am. It will not end well. But at the same time, I can give everything to the right person in the right circumstance and moment, but don’t ever take that for granted or you will see that stubborn streak and you will never break me of it. I give freely and easily or I give nothing. I am a girl of extremes. This is something I have learned about myself and am learning to temper in certain situations.

I am me. I am an artist (nods to my sis, -AnamCara- for making me understand this). If I want you in front of my camera there is a reason. Trust that it is no small thing. And don’t try to force or coerce me to have you in front of my lens for your own gratification and/or because you’re an exhibitionist and you’re making notches on your belt for all the photographers you’ve worked with. That does not feed my vision.

I am me. I have a hard time owning my masochism sometimes. I think it’s a private part of who I am (which doesn’t mean I can’t play in front of others). I know that I can go deeper and take more when I am doing it in a place of being consumed in the moment by/for another and there is a sharing of trust and respect.

I am me. I giggle when you hurt me in delicious ways. But it better be negotiated or trust me, I won’t be giggling, nor will I ultimately be the person who is hurt.

I am me. I love and adore spending time with my friends but sometimes my need to be introverted comes first. Even then, if one of my friends needs me, the need to be alone gets tossed out the window. If you are one of those that I call friend, I will be there for you in the darkest moments. I will hold you while you cry, I will hand you tissues, and I will feed you chocolate. But be warned; I will also tell you the unadulterated truth and not everyone wants to hear the naked truth. I will call you on your bullshit if I need to. If I think that calling you on your bullshit may break you (in a not good way), I may choose to walk away because it is the best thing for both of us. And that is hard.

I am me…and I’ve barely scratched the surface really of who I am.

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2015

Art in Therapy

So, last weekend I got to do a photoshoot. An amazing photoshoot. A powerful photoshoot.

“Where are the pictures?” you ask. Well, that’s just it. There will likely be very fewif any photos posted. They are sexy. Beautiful. Endearing. Touching. Fabulous. Important. Compelling. Potent.

I could go on for days like this, and likely you all will never see any of them. But they are there. They touch me every time I open Lightroom to work on processing them. They are some of the most important work I have ever done in my life…and I hope to get the chance to do something similar again….even if it means not being able to share them.

I got to be a fly on a wall, share energy and space with two amazing women; one of whom is working to overcome much in her life and how she sees herself. This was therapy in kink and I got to document it, so for me it has become Art in Therapy.

I am so incredibly humbled that I was asked to do this. Not just as a photographer, but as a human being. I walked into it nervous. Hoping beyond hope that I could see and document what was needed for the healing work to continue. I walked away from the shoot with a contact high that I was not expecting. I walked into the shoot not in my own best headspace, and was nervous because I knew it was going to be emotional. I wasn’t nervous for me, I was nervous for her and that my energy would bleed over into what they were trying to accomplish, but I was resolved to put aside my own internal dialogue and be there for her. What happened was inspiring. Being there, capturing that healing…it healed something in me that I didn’t even know needed healing.

I got to photograph nervousness, laughter, tears, compassion, connection, power, strength, beauty, sexiness, and so so much more.

There can be great healing in this thing that we do. There can be great healing in allowing ourselves to move outside of our comfort zones. I am blown away time and again when people who have been in front of my lens want to be in front of it again…and tell me they feel powerful and special with what is created there. That they feel like they are contributing to art, and not some random cunt or cock shot.

We are sacred. Each and every one of us. Every part of us. There is no shame in the divine beauty that resides in us. Nor is there shame in the beauty of the bodies we have been given to house our divinity.

Hmmm, maybe I should keep my name after all. :-)

The Sacred Whore

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2015

Metaphors and Symbols in Life

I am a student of the occult, a seeker of esoteric knowledge and wisdom...metaphysics. Symbols have been my life; spiritually, emotionally, physically...for more years than some of my friends have been on this earth (in this lifetime at least). The interesting thing is that I'm not very good at putting into words what I glean from the metaphors and symbols in my life. I can take all of that knowledge, all of the gleanings, and transform them into an emotion, into energy within my body and release it to the world through connection with another human being, through ritual, through sex or kink, but words seem to escape me...or at least it feels that way to me which is kind of ironic given words seem to be one of the most important things of my life.

Ritual; be it sexual, kink-related, spiritual, stroking someones hand, giving someone a hug, merely making a soulful connection in some small and profound way...with a person, with an animal, with a tree, or flowing stream...these are but some of the ways that metaphors and symbols both enter and leave my life.

Many years ago, during a meditation, I connected to ALL. The most profound moment of my life. I was open to every single entity on this planet, in the air, in the cosmos. We were... *are* one. I sense and feel my connection to everything. It is overwhelming at times. It can make ending relationships extremely painful, but it can enhance the beginning of a new friendship; amp it up like lightning striking, or floodgates opening. It makes me very vulnerable. Learning to control it has been...interesting. *smile*

Many years ago, I ended a very profound relationship...a Master/slave relationship. I struggled though I knew it was exactly the right thing to do. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I knew that I could sever the metaphysical connection, the "cord" that kept me connected to him and it would ease my aching and longing, but I recognized that if I did that, then I would no longer be connected to ALL. I consciously chose to let the metaphysical connection remain even though fear and loss and anger traveled along that cord for some time and fed my anguish and pain. Eventually it diminished and now it is a cord like any of the other infinite cords that connect me to everything and everyone around me. To this day, I am extremely thankful that I did not damage my relationship with ALL by severing that one cord.

Perhaps this is why my photographic art has come back into my life. Another form of metaphor and symbol. The things my eye sees and wants (needs) to capture and share with the world.

The tattoos on my body, the symbols they represent are more metaphors. The great union that comes from the combining of sexual energies (mine depicts female and male sexual union). The replica of the Pictish carving on my breast to me symbolizes new life, growth, the germinating seed coming to life. The Udjat on my back symbolizes my intuition, my psychic self, and that connection that I have to ALL. The white wolf paw on my hip/thigh, once a symbol of my slavery to my Master, now symbolizes my secondary totem and the path that I traverse in this lifetime of discovery of self. The new tattoo that has not come into being yet, will connect all of these and aid my ritual of moving into the next phase of being.

Sometimes I feel like it is a very solitary path these metaphors and symbols lead me on, and sometimes it feels lonely, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it is filled with fascinating conversations, amazing connections, and the warmest of hugs. I cherish each and every moment that I share with every entity I connect with...each and every one. They are precious to me.


I feel led to end this with a quote of sorts. It is the "Priestess speech" from the Gnostic Catholic Mass, which I performed more times than I can possible count. Filled with metaphor and symbol for those who care to look. If you ever want to hear it spoken, I'd be happy to oblige. Ask me any time you see me. Trust me, it's engraved on my very soul. I will never forget it.

"But to love me is better than all things; if under the night-stars in the desert thou presently burnest mine incense before me, invoking me with a pure heart, and the serpent flame therein, thou shalt come a little to lie in my bosom. For one kiss wilt thou then be willing to give all; but whoso gives one particle of dust shall lose all in that hour. Ye shall gather goods and store of women and spices; ye shall wear rich jewels; ye shall exceed the nations of the earth in splendour and pride; but always in the love of me, and so shall ye come to my joy. I charge you earnestly to come before me in a single robe, and covered with a rich head-dress. I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you. Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within you: come unto me!" [Liber AL, I:61] "To me! To me!" [Liber AL, I:62] "Sing the rapturous love-song unto me! Burn to me perfumes! Wear to me jewels! Drink to me, for I love you! I love you. I am the blue-lidded daughter of sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky. To me! To me!" [Liber AL, I:63-65]

© Dawn C. Davis (photo and writing except for excerpt from Liber AL)

Witching Hour

It's 3am...again. Some call it the witching hour, or the devil's hour. I'm almost always awake at this hour. Does that mean I'm a witch? Or in league with the devil? I think I should leave those questions for another time, another story...

I roll over and look at you, sleeping so peacefully. You look young and innocent sleeping, your head on the pillow, your hand tucked under it, the cares of life and the stresses of work erased from your features. A relaxed face, the stubble that you will gripe about in the morning, because it's starting to turn grey. The stubble that I love to feel against my thighs when you take command of my body with your mouth.

Life has been hard lately though. Work for both of us has become stressful, we've gotten lost in the day-to-day mire of jobs, aging parents, caught up in the rat race of letting others dictate our time and energy. Maybe that's what woke me up. The deep thoughts in the middle of the night. I miss our carefree time together. I miss the man who tells me to kneel at his feet and take him in my mouth when he walks in the door. I miss the me that wantonly does so and takes you as deep into my mouth as possible, and then a little bit more just because it pleases you and I love pleasing you.

As I look at you lying in bed, I discover that I miss that most of all...I miss *us*. Where did we go? How did we lose the all important us? Thinking about it in this darkest hour of night, I realize...it doesn't matter how we got here. It's getting back that's important.

With that in mind, I slowly pull back the covers and look at your perfection; because to me, you are perfect. Even in your sleep, even with the innocent look on your face, I know better. I know that you are the man who has always been able to command my attention; with a single look, a softly spoken word, a solitary touch...and I melt into your power.

Looking at you now, the light down low so it won't disturb you, but I am about to disturb you in a way that I hope will please you. I need us back again...so I will serve you. You are deep in sleep and I pause, wondering if what I'm about to do will piss you off, or help bring us back to center. Doing nothing will get us nowhere, so what have I got to lose?

I run my hand gently up your thigh, you shift slightly but you're still fast asleep. I cup your balls and your cock in my hand. You're soft and pliant...it's too early for your usual morning wood. I lean down and lick you, gently taking all of you into my warm moist mouth. You taste so wonderful. I love the feel of you in my mouth all soft, and the fact that I can actually take all of you this way, it makes me moan, it makes me hungry for more. I start to get lost in the feeling of you in my mouth when your hand lands on my head and I hear a sleepy grumble.

"Fuck baby, what....ah shit..."

Your voice gets lost in a gravely moan and your fingers start gripping my hair. You've gotten so hard in my mouth and I can't stop what I've started...even if I wanted to. I'm lost in the feeling of pleasing you. You shift your legs to give me better access and you whisper, "You know what to do, do it."

A shiver rakes through my body because it's "that" voice...the voice I haven't heard in so long, the voice that makes me melt and my insides puddle and start to drip down my thighs. I let my saliva flow freely so that I can do that thing you love so well. My hand is coated now, slippery and my fingers squeeze your balls in the way to your perineum, stroking until you shudder slightly. A single finger finds your tight hole, pushes in slowly; your hips thrust driving your cock deeper into my mouth, a growl escapes your lips. You open slowly to my probing while I release your cock and suck your balls into my mouth, laving them with my tongue, sucking gently.

A second finger joins the first in your ass and I feel your prostate.

"C'mon babygirl, you know what to do."

I melt a little more as I release your balls with a pop, and fall on your cock once more. Two fingers in your tight ass, slowly stroking your prostate, while I take you as deep into my mouth and throat as I can. You stroke my cheek, and then twine your fingers in my hair again, not forcing me, but not letting me up either. Your subtle control, always what drives me over the edge. I growl deep in my throat, vibrating against your cock, your hips thrust your cock deeper into my mouth while each movement rubs my fingers over your sweet spot inside.

I hear your deep groans as your hips continue to buck against me, and then you stiffen and with a growl of warning, you are salty sweet in my mouth. I don't let go, I savor it like the sweetest ambrosia because to me that's exactly what it has always been. My mouth softens on the now sensitive head of your cock, my tongue gently laving your shaft, cleaning every drop.

"Oh, sweet babygirl, I've missed that. I've missed you. Where'd this come from?"

I can't look at him. I'm still a little lost. "I've missed us. We got lost and I need you. I need you to need me."

He gathers me in his arms, "Babygirl...I know life has been hard lately. I need you so much. I'm sorry I haven't shown you that. But you've given me the best reminder. Now I need you to lay back and let me give you some more of what you need."

And that's exactly what he does. His fingers, his tongue, his cock, possess every square inch of me and I know once again that I belong and am cherished.

As we cuddle up together, just about to drift off to sleep, I hear his soft voice as he strokes my head, "And next week, when I come home from work, you'd best be waiting at the door for me wearing nothing but a smile."

I drift off to sleep knowing we're okay.


Both story and image:
© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2014

Heart Flutters

Anticipation...
The journey of going
Where will the tortuous enveloping pain take me this time?
How can I serve?
How will you use me?

Expectation...
The edge of knowing
The implements of my pleasure...pain...pleasure
The wonder of letting go
The power of submitting

Suspense...
The power of you
To crawl inside my mind and fuck it like the last thing on earth
The magic of dominance
The power of the dance

Excitement...
The beauty of nature
Inspiring visions of creativity and art; lust and longing
The feel of the thorns
The smell of the rose

Promise...
Of stimulating conversation
Sharing the essence of who we are, where we want to go, what we want to be
The vision of you, of me, of us
The longing of anticipation...


© Dawn C. Davis (photo and prose)

That Place Between

Between one thought and the next

You have me wrapped around your finger as you lead me to bed

Between the sheets you touch my body
As you devour my mind with your wicked thoughts

Between the synapses of my scattered feelings
You destroy my preconceived notions of pleasure

Between my thighs there is a place yearning to be filled
As you indulge in the very essence of my being

Between one breath and the next
You have taken me to the brink of destruction, the edge of rapture, that place that is between


Photo and prose © Dawn C. Davis