Category Archives: writing

Announcement – “Comfortable” available on Amazon!

My novella “Comfortable” is now available for purchase as an e-book on the Amazon Kindle store. At just $1.99 it’s a great deal for a summer read. Don’t have a Kindle? Never fear! You don’t need a Kindle to read the book. Simply download a free Kindle reading app on your Android device, iPhone, iPad, or computer. With free wireless delivery to any of those devices, you’ll be reading in no time.

Summary:

 Stephanie and David are stuck in a dead end relationship, simply going about their daily motions instead of living their lives to the fullest. When Stephanie begins a new past time, she finds something she never thought she’d find – a woman she’s attracted to who brings a new spark to her life that is otherwise cold. When her betrayal comes out, relationships change and evolve into something totally different and unexpected. When love and honor is on the line, you’ll do things you never thought you’d do. 

Make sure to check it out if you’re  in the market for a hot summer read (it’s erotica!) or a romance novel that brings things to a new and different level.

“Comfortable” is now available for purchase at Amazon.com.

“Rumors” – Original Fiction by Isabel

“Rumors”
The music pounded and the bass line beat deep within my chest. The smell of musky perfume, sweat, desperation and excitement swam in my nose. Despite having nothing to drink for days, I felt drunk off my surroundings and my thoughts bubbled with the best kind of pleasure for me.
The club was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night and all around me the mating dances the local women were playing out. A flirt here; a grind there. A kiss on the neck; a kiss on the pussy. There wasn’t much in the way of romance out in the concrete jungle and quite frankly most of us liked it that way. We were the fast talking, fast running, fast moving of lesbian society. We had little time for finding dogs instead of kids and looking at china patterns for our commitment ceremonies.
Hell, most of us had never been to or been involved in a commitment ceremony. There were quiet whispers of disappointment when the cream colored envelopes arrived in anybody’s mailbox, announcing that one had dropped from our ranks and was off the market.
In a world where everybody was looking for something, I was looking for my next score. My next hit. My next fix that would tide me over until I had time once again for the trek to uptown where I could find the only good lesbian bar in my opinion. It had a nice mix of thick, thin, short haired and long haired. We all had our look and we stuck to them.
Just like we all had our vices. Ask anybody in the place and they could probably name off each woman’s poison. That one over there liked blow. The blond by the bar had a thing for high end shoes and pedicured toenails. The one grinding her fine ass on the brunette in jeans so tight I think they were airbrushed on shot tequila like athletes downed water.
My vice? I was in search of the high I could only get from watching others. Some liked feet, some liked rope, and some liked pain. But me, well I liked to watch. I was a voyeur. And a damn prolific one at that. Every spare minute I could I was sneaking away from the corporate grind to find myself in this place, stretched back in my private booth and getting a hard on for the action in front of me. It was an addiction I couldn’t break.
           
I came to search out the one woman none of us could put our proverbial finger on. Her moods were like the wind. One night she was blond with a bo-ho chic look, and the next she had jet black hair and leather pants. Rumors spread like wildfire about her. Some said she was a day trader, some a heroin dealer and some said she was a stock room girl at a big box store. Some swore they’d heard she’d fucked several Hollywood actresses and a US senator or two. Fuck, I didn’t care.
           
The game for me was simple – watch her like a hawk, get turned on to the point that my lingerie of choice for the evening was practically dripping and go home so I could fuck myself into a frenzy. I spent hours at home in the solace of my thoughts, pounding myself while remembering with crystal clarity every move she made.
           
We all wanted her, but none of the women I knew could ever testify they’d been with her. She was the ultimate enigma for me. The more I searched; the less I found. The more I watched; the less I observed.
           
Tonight though, she wasn’t showing. Figured. The one night I was really needing my fix and she wasn’t anywhere in sight. God, I fucking wanted her.
Two hours of waiting and watching combined with too many look-a-like drinks was quickly sending me to the restroom and I hoped it wasn’t busy. Round up enough women in one spot and you had a never ending line to pee.
           
Luck was on my side and the omnipresent line had somehow disappeared. I did my business and washed my hands dutifully, but then I felt a tap on my right shoulder. I glanced up and staring at me in the mirror like some kind of illusion in the Sahara was the ghost herself – the girl I was looking for.
           
My heart leapt in my throat and the pit of my stomach dropped out. For all the time I’d spent watching her, I hadn’t actually planned for meeting her.
           
She grinned at me, noir red lips set against brilliant white teeth. The glint in her eye was a mixture between evil and angel and made me pussy drip like never before. Dammit, she was hotter up close than from afar.
           
With a move so lithe ballerinas would be jealous, she leaned in and put her palms on the bathroom counter, surrounding me in her essence and smell. Whiffs of dark vanilla mixed with cinnamon crossed my nose and I craved to taste her like a fine dessert.
           
I stood there, frozen in the moment and unable to form words to say half of the things I’d always dreamed of saying to her. The problem with being a voyeur was you always pictured yourself outside of the situations you watched, not actively involved in them. When the moment actually happened, you couldn’t comprehend them.
           
The rosy tip of her tongue peaked out from between those pouty red lips and my heart altogether stopped when I felt it touch my skin at the middle of my neck, trailing its way up and over my jaw line. It left ice in its wake and set my body ablaze.
My eyes were glued to hers. Promises and unspoken desires rang through me, making me wish I could pull something out of my brain and out of my mouth.
Nothing came.
           
Her tongue flicked my fleshy earlobe and she bit it roughly between her perfect white teeth.
           
“Looking for me?” she whispered in my ear and I wondered where the pounding music of the club was. It was surprisingly quiet enough to hear the low dulcet sound of her voice.
           
I nodded meekly, still unable to find words or form anything other than what would likely be a very unlady-like and undignified grunt.
           
Suddenly though, my vision was extinguished. Light became dark and inside turned outside. The prized view disappeared from my sight.
           
“I know you watch me,” she whispered in my ear again. “I can feel your eyes on me every time I set foot in here. Do you like what you see? Do you bank it all in that pretty little head of yours? Do you go home and fuck yourself silly to the thought of me? I can see it now, your legs spread and you pumping yourself with some big black dildo. You probably have the biggest one that’s made, you dirty little slut.”
           
My knees buckled and I wondered how she knew all that. For as much as us lesbians gossiped, nobody knew about my favorite toy. It sat at the bottom of my bedside drawer, ready for use whenever I got home from watching her gyrate and grind her hips onto a different unsuspecting woman.
           
My mind was so focused on her words that I didn’t feel my arms being moved. Hell, I almost didn’t feel the cold steel wrapping around my wrist and certainly almost didn’t hear the click of the handcuffs as they locked my arms behind me.
           
She bent me over the sink and for a brief second I wondered why the damn bathroom was so deserted for a busy night.
           
I could feel the heat from her pussy through my pants and I wondered what she was wearing.
           
“Do you like that, little girl? I can tell you do. I can smell you through your pants. You like this. Bent over a dirty sink in a crowded club for everybody to see. Blindfolded and handcuffed. The voyeur likes being watched,” she said and I moaned a little at her words. This had never happened before and yet I was turned on beyond description already.
           
“I thought so,” she replied.
           
She grabbed my hips and pulled me back onto her pussy. Her heat made me positive that I would need to throw out the horribly expensive pants I was wearing. There’d simply be too much girl goo on them to clean.
           
Suddenly, she pulled my hair back and the pain I felt caused me to moan out again. To my shock though, it didn’t sound like the sound of pain I was used to hearing from myself. No, this felt good. I liked this pain.
           
Cold steel lifted off my wrists and my arms fell limply forward onto the cool granite countertop. My skin blazed and I was breathing roughly.
           
“When you’re ready for more, you’ll know how to find me. You always do.”
           
With that, she was gone. She’d left me blindfolded and bent over in a restroom. The door groaned shut and I realized my lacy thong was completely soaked through.
           
I never thought I’d actually meet her and now I’d done more than that. Another 60 seconds and I’m pretty sure she would have had me with a gooey mess running down my legs. Turning the tables turned out to be my biggest turn on.
           
I rushed home, throwing pieces of clothing off frantically as soon as I was inside the door to my apartment on my way to that very same big black dildo she’d mentioned. I fucked myself for hours, remembering the smell of her skin, the feel of her tongue, the heat of her pussy and everything in between. I went so hard for so long I actually fell asleep with my toy still in me.
           
My pants showed up next morning, now ruined from the set-in stain of my arousal, showed up behind my couch. Poking out from the left side back pocket was a little white business card, and there was only one person who could have put it there.
           
There was a phone number and a simple phrase printed in black text.
           
“Don’t believe the rumors.”

Reflections of 2010 and Resolutions for 2011

As 2010 comes to a close with a whimper not a roar, I’m going to take a few moments to reflect on all that has happened this year. It’s been quite a bumpy ride for me and there’s been a lot of changes.

The beginning of the year saw me rediscovering my submissive nature and yearning to be apart of that once more. I slowly found ways to incorporate it into my every day habits and found myself craving it more and more.

In January/February I joined Fetlife and started my now omni-present Twitter account that never leaves my side. Over 25,000 tweets later I’m more popular than ever and growing more every day. I’ve met lots of great people through that medium. Found opportunities I’ve never thought I would have. (Soon I’ll be posting about my newest endeavor!) I’ve had relationships, crushes, best friends and best enemies on Twitter. It really is like a microcosm of society. Fetlife has provided me the chance to be exposed to fetishes I’ve never heard of and never considered before. I love learning about what gets people going and especially love perving on people’s pictures.

In March I had my first threesome, an experience I repeated later in the year and one I hope to repeat many times again in the future. Those people have come and gone out of my life already, but I will always remember and look back fondly on that experience I was able to have.

April saw me finally giving in to an age old craving I’d had and I walked off the proverbial cliff. I finally got my vertical clit hood piercing I’ve been looking to get for many years. It was such a surreal moment walking in there and looking all fresh-faced and innocent, but asking for steel through my sensitive bits. It’s now healed finally and I love it. While it hasn’t increased sensation all that much, it is quite a visual thing and one I really enjoy having.

April was also the month my relationship with V & J took off and while our poly relationship has ended, our friendship is still there. Distance really does hurt a relationship and I learned a lot about myself and what I need and want out of a relationship from them. They are great people and I hope to have them in my life and be in theirs for many years to come. Looking back on it now, we were doomed before we even started and I should have recognized that. Being across the country from each other and both ends not being able to move was just too difficult. The craving to be there and not being able to just wasn’t working. I still hurt sometimes when I think about it, but I’ve come out of it a stronger, more capable person I hope.

June was my breakout month. I attended a sex party and was the house girl at the beginning of the month. There’s nothing like spending a night tied in rope with a butt plug in while serving drinks and offering yourself to the party guests. I met some really cool people there and had some interesting conversations. When I tell people about this party now, they’re shocked. Me? The sweet girl with wide eyes and a love of Looney Toons? Yes, me. In 2011 I’m looking to attend more wide scale events and hopefully can repeat the experience with new people in a new setting.

As school wound back up for me in August, things seemed to calm down. School was busier than I would have thought and put a huge crimp on my social life. The few times I was able to get out were great, but didn’t help. Stress pretty much killed my libido at times from August to December, almost to the point of non-existence. For days on end I wouldn’t even think of masturbating, which for me is a huge change.

In September I made my first trip to a true fetish and/or bondage club and really enjoyed myself. Let me tell you, it was truly an experience. I found myself naked in just 4 inch heels and holding onto a St. Andrews cross while I was flogged in front of a crowd of roughly 20 people. Holy heck that was mindblowing. That experience sparked something in me that is still burning bright months later. I found my urge to perform publicly growing. I fight with it every day, knowing it’s just impractical for me to do right now. Making public appearances and doing public “performances” really helped grow my desire to be more public. It inspired me to make business cards and promote myself. That is also something I look forward to doing more of in 2011.

September also saw the last time I’d have sex in 2010. September 17th to be exact. A five minute quickie from behind. Lame, I know.

October brought about the biggest revelation of 2010 and I’m beyond grateful to have had it. When a huge fissure opened between what I considered to be good friends of mine and myself, I had a choice to make. Continue on the path of bad decisions I was making and find myself fucking everything with a pulse or take a step back and reevaluate what I wanted from sex. So began my era of chastity. I didn’t make the decision lightly and with it came a lot of emotional turmoil and heartache. I’m still in the process of learning the lessons I need to before I can venture back into the world of sex with other people, but I’ve made a lot of progress since taking my vow and brought myself out of the deep, dark emotional void of a hole I was in. 

So here I am. The end of December and reflecting on times past. This year I found myself, lost myself and found myself again. I changed a lot and not always in a good way. As the year comes to a close though, I’m happy where I am now, emotionally, spiritually and mentally. New opportunities are coming my way every day it seems and the possibilities for great success in 2011 seem endless. I find myself connecting with people who inspire me, personally and professionally. My goals have changed but one has stayed the same – be the best damn undercover kinkster I can.

I don’t like making resolutions because more than likely I won’t keep them. I’m not exactly good with sticking to what I’ve said before. I think this year is different though. 2011 is poised to be a year of huge changes for me. So what is my resolution for 2011? It’s very simple – stay true to myself. That’s it. Stay true to the goals I’ve set and the things I want to accomplish. Stay true to who I am inside and the emotional well being I need. Constantly seek out new challenges, new experiences, new people, new learning opportunities. That’s what I want to do in 2011.

2010 may have been a year of ups and downs, but it’s ending positively for me. 2009 me would barely recognize who I am today. That, my friends, is a good thing.

Why I Am Submissive

I frequently get asked why I am submissive. What attracts me to the mentality of being a submissive woman in a world full of feminists. How someone who is 2/3 of the way to being an attorney interested in criminal prosecution could kneel before someone and hand over power willingly.

Throughout my life I’ve contemplated this quite often. It’s something I’ve mulled over and spent way too many hours deep in my head about. I’ve certainly attempted life as a dominant woman, but have always ventured back to the safe world of submission. Dominance is like a pair of painful heels to me – beautiful to look at and have on for awhile, but in the end I end up in what is comfortable. I just don’t see myself being dominant for any long term period. It doesn’t come naturally for me.

Submission, on the other hand, comes quite naturally. Whether from nature or nurture (a debate I’m not going to even attempt here), I am submissive and there is no way around that.

When I am submissive, I go into this headspace. People often call it “subspace” but I don’t think it’s so easily defined. It is more than a mental place. It is an entire way of being. It is putting your trust in your dominant that they will care for you and look out for your well being. It is allowing them to control you within the boundaries that you have set up beforehand. Being submissive doesn’t mean giving up control completely. It means giving up what you deem not important. For me, I cannot give up some things and those things are explained when I get into any type of dominant/submissive situation. I’ve often been told the submissive is the one who controls the true power in the dominant/submissive relationship. That’s quite the interesting statement and one I actually believe.

For it is the submissive who consents to be dominated. Whether you play with a safeword (always recommended) or feel comfortable enough to not have one, it is the submissive who is there of their own free will. True non-consensual situations are not d/s. They are rape, slavery or otherwise imprisonment. The submissive enters the relationship willingly and in the same vein willingly relinquishes power.

So why am I submissive? Because by relinquishing that power, I can truly be free.

I previously mentioned I spend too much time in my own head. I overanalyze and overthink. I get moody and bitchy. But when I’m in the submissive role, I don’t have those problems. I exist for one reason – to serve my dominant and make them happy. My own needs, desires and worries fall away. Nothing else matters except for their wishes. I don’t have to think any more. As someone who is often called upon to think about some very difficult topics in my professional life, this is simply liberating. My mind can shut down and I can follow the direction of my dominant with the trust that they will keep me safe and attend to my needs, whether physical, emotional or spiritual.

Submission, especially physical submissive, is incredibly cleansing for me. It is like I’ve been washed inside and out and come out squeaky clean. It’s like the ultimate kind of therapy. I’ve also compared it to dialysis for kidney disease patients. It keeps me functional. It sets me on the right course and helps me deal with my day to day life of difficulties. I feel more centered and capable. Like I can take on any task and know that I have the confidence to successfully complete it.

Not every submissive has the same reasons for being submissive. I’ve talked to many in my time exploring my own sexuality and likely will talk to countless more. I find though my own personal reasons are somewhat common in the general population of submissives out there. We do it to stay healthy. It’s a mental aid in keeping us on the right path.

For my dominant side to come out in my professional life, I will always need my submissive side to exist. There will always be a great need to find strength in relinquishing power to one who knows best for me.

So what is submission for me? Above all else, submission is the path I am meant to follow.

Holy fucksticks!

Holy crapballs! Hold the freaking presses.

Izzy’s writing!

A whole 1500 words in one night! The most I’ve written in almost two months in a single sitting so far! And it’s even funny! Though that might be the amaretto sour I’m currently enjoying talking ….

What can I say? The dance music playlist I compiled earlier in the day put me in the mood for some funny writing. Before it was too emo and Debbie Downier to be the right tone for the story. There’s no emo a little J. Timberlake can’t cure. Just saying.