Return to Sender

It's come to my attention that another Cassidy Cream Fan Club has formed. This one is also headed by a former lover, and my once Ride or Die. Not the same duo as the original, although the blood alcohol level and the delusions are causing me a little deja vu. I'm uncertain if this a franchise or a new, independent organization. The primary activities of Cassidy Cream's Number 1 Fans seems to be getting black-out drunk, haunting my socials and posting incoherent comments. The comments jerk erratically from what my recently deceased mother thought of my lifestyle, to openly fantasizing about who and how I fuck.  

There was more. It was well written. He said so, and you know that's the only high I've ever enjoyed chasing. But I'm simply not inclined to accept your invitation. Pity parties and regret are not my kink. My deepest regrets, I must starve it and let it die.  

Next.

Aqua Fit, I'm on my way to Aqua Fit in a moment. I found myself with a 4+ hours open today that I could do anything at all during. Anything. How blessed am I to have the resources and the time to do whatever I wish for an afternoon. I literally bounced in my seat when I saw my open block of time overlapped the aqua fit class at my gym. 

Who am I, and how did I get here? 

If we were to time travel, dial in October of 2017, you'd find a pretty content Cassidy right here in this very spot actually. Even then I was in love with my life and grateful for the many ways it had worked out just as I hoped. There were, if I am honest, a handful of things I wished were different, but not many. And I was certain those handful of things were bearable. They were, I was positive, unchangeable. Like smoking, I had been a 2 pack a day smoker since 13, there was nothing I could do to change that, right? I would have said I was happy with my body, and I was. I guess. My arms were starting to grow into wings, that's inevitable with age though, right? I missed dancing, stripping. I missed the time when I earned an income living out my favorite fantasies. How could I complain about that though? Being a Domme is also work I feel so passionate about. It is unquestionably my calling. 

I remember pausing before I replied, acknowledging to myself that I understood and accepted the consequences for the action I was about to take. Of course, I thought the consequences were going to be more along the lines of my standard variety. It had been decades, how was I supposed to know that he hadn't grown-up to become a felon? Ya know I have a type. 

In what would come to be the last decade of her life, my mother and I had falling out. An ugly, complicated, regrettable falling out. We were very close before it, but after our conversations were typically tense and argumentative. Unless we were talking about my top. The smile I had every time I heard the subliminal I told you so when she asked about him was absolutely maddening. 

At every fork in the road I have chosen the path that takes me further from conventionality, intentionally and unapologetically. I am certain some of my choices were far from my mother's comfort zone, and that I was probably the cause of many sleepless nights. I am equally certain that committing to a man who sees my best and compels me to do better, wasn't the cause of any of them. 

For Fear Tonight is All

You know he makes me write lines when I misbehave. It's awful.   It eats a huge chunk of time. It is utterly impossible to multi-task while writing. It makes me feel embarrassed to foolishly waste something as precious as my time, writing but not working on my writing. Even more so when I look over my punishment journal and I see that most of my punishments fall into just a couple categories. The most common reason I find myself writing lines is for cursing at times my Top deems inappropriate. You'll remember it was my affection for c*nt that landed me in the ER, broken toy lodged in my...never mind. You can scroll back if you want to revisit my humiliation. 

There's a big jump from the number 1 thing I am punished for and the second most common reason. There's an embarrassing number of cursing related, then only a few for times I have in one manner or another doubted my Dom's affection or commitment to me. Times when I have said or done a thing that reflected a lapse in my trust of our dynamic. 

I struggle with that often, but typically work through it before it reaches a boil-over. I think I do an exceptional job reining myself in before I act out, but every so often, as my punishment journal reflects, I don't. 

Recently, I randomly came across the email that was the precursor to this entry: The Musings of Mistress Cassidy: And if you say run... (mistresscassidycreamsmusings.blogspot.com) It's perhaps the most explicit post I have ever shared here, but the original version that was sent to my top is even more so.

As I was typing I wish I could remember what I was looking for when I stumbled over it, I remembered what it was looking for, the interconnectedness of all things. I was looking for emails exchanged with a pretty kitten several years ago. There's been a few, I needed to double check the fine details. 

His reply was there too. It wasn't the post that led him to say, I love your blog. That was so long ago, it's still my favorite though. Maybe I'll revisit that one too. In this one he was encouraging me to share here what I wrote for him privately. He was uncharacteristically generous with his compliments. It makes me so wet when the sincerity is obvious. Then again, it was a confession that I come when he calls. That I wait, with bated breath, for his command, to suck and gag, on...

His exhibitionism isn't precisely like mine, but it is there. 

It's late. My muse is being coy. Every time I think, I'll find the thread to pull tomorrow, let's just sleep, a word, a concept, flashes and fades. Pick it up hot, your fingers will heal but if the spark is lost, we'll freeze. You're alone in this room with me, it is mighty late to tease me like this.

You'll finish what you started.

How can I be so in love with someone who fantasizes about...

Control, humiliation, force, rejection

I swear that I am. 

I am ever so deeply, passionately in love with me. 

How else would one signal to the universe, I am ready to explore these parts of me too? Not simply accept, and manage, but embrace and master. 

Be Gentle

Or be banished and live with your regret forever. Have I ever told you how I have a reoccurring nudity dream? I can hear you, you're saying big deal, we all do Cass. Right, I know. Except in my dreams, for decades now, when something major happens, something bad, in response I intentionally take off my clothes so I can handle it unencumbered. Then I handle it. I ace the test or steer my car off the cliff or foil the thief, empowered by being naked. I'm going to start sharing my poetry here too. Maybe. Probably. Definitely. Ya, I'm totally going to do this. And if it sucks, who cares. 

When I hear beautiful women say they've never been told they're beautiful

I roll my eyes, much like when an empath can't read the room. 

Two of ours have told me this, pants on fire ladies

But I have heard it from so many

It's getting hot in here

Stop Drop and Roll

I am an authority on how men talk to beautiful women

Why should I feign modesty, I know Narcissus was pushed. 

That other fib I am still considering

If it meets the criteria to be flattering

My most long-distance love votes pathological

Afterall, I have a type

scratch that, I had a type

We're not doing that on this timeline 

Voting

I spent Independance Day, also to be known as day 361, with my most vanilla friend, 

grateful for her maternal nature  

Her phone was pinging with donation requests from the donkeys

Give a mouse a cookie

Cashapp us now or we will photo shop a MAGA hat on your Facebook icon

But still, like true blue Massholes, we started to cap on the elephants

The cows specifically

Like any mammal might, feminist eat their young

if they're embarrassing

or weak

Can you imagine she said, they support him, is it like Stockholm?

Do they not value their freedom or believe they deserve rights? 

And as I was nodding my head murmuring my concurrence

My ownership tattoo flashed between us 

I wonder if she noticed 

and what she thought of me if she did.