The weekend I was dreading has been and gone and I survived, not least down to my wonderful best friend and ‘baby girl’ Kerri and her family, without whom I would happily have curled up into a little ball and slept the whole was through.
I spent Christmas Day afternoon and evening with Kerri, her fiance, her mum and her mum’s partner – it was full of warmth and love and they all made me feel like a member of the family. Boxing Day was spent at our local village hall as Kerri’s gran hires it every year for a family meal (over 20 plus kids) and then we all let our hair down when I plugged in my karaoke. I still can’t believe how everyone joined in, including the kids, it was a real fun time.
I admit to looking around the room many times, as I realised that I was the only singleton there – even amid all of the fun and frivolity, I had to fight hard to keep that tinge of sadness away. But those feelings were fleeting; I felt privillaged to be a part of it all.
Sometimes I am blessedly naïve about the world of porn. Friday’s date and my partner both seemed slightly bemused that I have had no knowledge of this video. The subject came up in regards to progression and diversity of limits as in:
“It’s not like the girls in 2 girls, 1 cup started there.”
I was naïve enough to ask what 2 girls, 1 cup is… if you don’t know Google it. I suggest reading the wiki entry on it, and no I didn’t watch it and YES that is very far outside of my limits.
As was explained to me the thrill for those fetishists is everything they are doing, is repelled by the body. The body is screaming ‘no! no! no!’ and it’s that visceral impulse that – for them – turns them on and screams ‘yes! yes! yes!’ I am holding firmly to the belief that there is not enough money in the world to convince non-fetishists to do that.
It does bring me to the troublesome topic about what does turn me on, get me going – what am I looking for? You may have noticed that I’m having some difficulty articulating these details, mostly because I think I have yet to discover many of them.
Reading this blog thus far will give an overview that I really enjoy sex, have a thing for anonymous sex, have a series of thoughts around forced fantasy, struggle with the meaning of submission and did I mention really like sex. Luckily for me Friday* did some pre-date reading in advance of our encounter.
Credit where credit is due, the man is good and knows what he is doing. Would I go back for more? Definitely – if he is interested.
He did not produce a large trunk of toys or implements and instead kept things basic; although, there was nothing ‘basic’ for me about the intensity of the experience.
I find myself yet again in a scenario where I know Friday is significantly more experienced than I am. Which, is something that I’m really coming to enjoy about this more thorough search process.
There was a movie. I think it had sharks. He was a gentleman and we did the talking thing first – in more detail than we could at the pub. My inability to articulate what it is that I’m looking for likely inhibited any deep insights, or maybe my lack of clear direction can be an insight in and of itself. Not sure how helpful that is.
Reflecting on the evening I’m not sure how much he planned and how much just flowed well. Stretching out on the couch he positioned himself so that he had full access to me, but I could not touch him very well. I didn’t think much of that until he had taken me into the bedroom and I realized that I hadn’t touched any part of him covered by clothing.
He played rough for me, what I’m guessing is mild-rough for him. Pushed me onto the bed (good height for a bed) face down. Direction was minimal, he told me to put my arms out straight in front of me. I felt a condom wrapper hit my back and he was getting undressed when there was that line that made me whimper:
“So you have no idea how big I am?”
It’s not exactly and unfamiliar theme with men. And, I’ve lost count of the amount of times a man has said it online. Fair to say that I take those comments with a large grain of salt (maybe a cup or two). That [implied] claim does however take on a completely different tenor when said immediately pre-penetration. A man who says that at that exact moment is either overly self-confident, or is not lying.
He was not lying, and high praises for a good long session of foreplay otherwise I’m reasonably sure I might have fainted. For those male egos out there, size does count for something, but it is not everything. You do need to know how to use it… maybe more so if you are well endowed.
Case in point: I have had encounters with two men who were of similar dimensions and it was difficult and a little painful both times. Neither session lasted long, and hand jobs were the feature du jour in both cases. Not the case with Friday.
I’m assuming he had more than a little fun dropping that surprise on me. I was likely more surprised at how well he ‘fit’ in me than he was. The theme for the rest of the night from my end was ‘no self control’… none what-so-ever. Any measure of physical self-control I had learned in London was completely out of the window. I could not control my screaming, staying on the bed, my arms, grabbing… no nothing. It was a lot of fun to loose that much self-control.
Another “thank you” owed to Friday, and this one is a little sensitive to admit for me since I consider myself to have had a reasonably high number of partners. I am not the easiest woman in the world to get to cum. Sometimes I deal with it myself and I consider it a good encounter if a partner can get me off on a first encounter. That being said the other line of the night that caught me by surprise was me saying:
“Oh fuck, was that the condom that broke or me.”
He pulled out… the condom was fine. You may be wondering how I could not know it was me. At that point he had brought me to climax more than a few times, and there is only one other person who has EVER gotten me to produce any significant amount of fluid. So, to have that happen on a first encounter was not expected and safe to say my reaction was at first “shit do I still have a plan B prescription at home.”
Then there are my own short comings. Namely oral at that size. Generally I think I’m pretty good with oral, but not having had the 2 girls, 1 cup discussion at this point I was seriously afraid I was going to vomit on him if I pushed to take anymore. On the one hand – yes I really like oral, yes I really like to be face fucked roughly – but it seems wrong to puke on a guy on the first date. Is there an etiquette guide for that?
We had decided earlier that restraints on a first encounter were not going to be used. Instead he held my hands behind my back taking me from behind again. At this point I was so over-sensitized that control was not happening. He did keep a hold of me though, and then called break.
I was a brat after break. He was trying to warm me up again with some slapping, pinching and teasing – it wasn’t working for me. Award for most tactless line of the evening:
“I like the rough sex, you’re good at the rough sex… very good, but I can get that anywhere.”
Okay well maybe ‘anywhere’ is an exaggeration. Definitely an exaggeration. I’ve had few partners who are as active and engaging on a ‘just sex’ level. But that is the difference, I think, between a search for sex hookups and BDSM. I have the sexual attention span of a gnat… “that was good… what’s next!?” I really need a psychological or creative engagement for my mind beyond the initial shock of sex with a stranger.
Luckily for me he decided not to kick my bratty ass out right then (totally warranted). The instruction: hands behind my head, keep them there – if I didn’t he was stopping right away and kicking me out. I bought it. I love games, he was also believable, and I’m sure he knew how much I wanted him to fuck me again.
I tried, I tried really really hard, and went longer than I thought I could, but eventually gave in. He played his hand and stopped right away. Busted.
I’m glad he’s a compassionate lay, he relented after a few seconds with the rationale that the game is to give me a task and then make it as difficult as possible to complete, the game is over when I fail the task – no pointing continuing beyond then. That and he had noticed my intolerance for denial play.
Next steps remain unknown. Proof that I would have a challenge with him was a not small amount of blood when I went to the bathroom to clean up – no pain though, so I am happy. I am definitely inexperienced next to him, which I like but a lot will depend on if he wants to pursue things with a partner as inexperienced as me. That and I was a brat, which I’m not always, but that’s always a factor. I’m keeping my fingers crossed none-the-less.
*I need some sort of non-identifiable naming convention for dates now. I think I’m going with Switch, London and Friday. The last of which is the least descriptive, but I’m thinking that due to proximity that’s a good thing.
The most intense conflicts, if overcome, leave behind a sense of security and calm that is not easily disturbed. It is just these intense conflicts and their conflagration which are needed to produce valuable and lasting results.
Carl Jung
I decided to have an alcoholic beverage last night. Considering that’s not something I choose to do very often, it only takes me about half a drink to feel, hmmm…lubricated *chuckle* I thoroughly enjoyed it though…I felt very relaxed and mellow, so I took advantage of the stillness and crawled right up into my bed and my proverbial shell, cuddled up with Mia and ruminated on 2009 coming to an end and all of the events that have occurred in the last year…
In reflection…
I think the brilliant quote above by Carl Jung accurately sums up the year for me personally…In the past year I’ve got to know and understand my immortal child spirit…I’ve learned how to provide safety, care, comfort and healing to this child spirit that dwells within me also…Essentially I’ve made peace with the Divine, and I’ve made peace with myself, as I exist today, as an adult…
I’ve had amazing miracles happen to me in the last year too…
Most unexpectedly and out of the clear blue sky, I received a very sincere apology from Wanda for all of the damage she brought upon my heart and my life…She asked if I could find it in my heart to forgive her? I must be honest, that was an apology I didn’t think I would EVER receive!…It came as a shock to me, because Wanda was always so prideful and stubborn in the past…However I’m fully aware of my own character defects after all…And even I’ve managed to battle through many of my personal shortcomings in such profound ways! Therefore, I was truly honored and touched to accept her apology and forgive her completely, unconditionally…
After all, I loved Wanda very deeply and she was my best friend and my heart…I allowed myself to become so very close and intimate with Wanda in a way that I’ve never done with another human being before…Of course, we were together for a very long time also…Which in the grand scheme of things, remains the fact, that at one time neither one of us could have imagined living without the other..Yet we had also become extremely toxic to each other over the years too…I loved Wanda so deeply but I never felt the proper chemistry with Wanda that I was supposed to either…I believe with all of my heart that Wanda and I were only meant to be the very best of friends, but mistakenly we became lovers instead, and then we progressed on to having a long-term relationship…A relationship that was lacking the essentials from the very beginning…Although after saying all of this, I maintain that Wanda was the most perplexing soulmate that I’ve ever had…Because I was closer to her than I’ve ever been to another human being in my entire life, and while it’s certainly true that I never felt any of the necessary sexual chemistry that I shared with Bahar or Jessica…I loved her so very much in spite of that anyway…I’ve learned much through my past experiences with Wanda…Unfortunately I had to learn that love all by itself is not enough to make a relationship everlasting …I was always sad and longing to feel something more for Wanda…Yet, each time our lips would meet, I felt nothing…Sexually, I felt strange, bored or nothing at all…It was hard for both of us, that I’m sure of…I would try to talk too Wanda about breaking up, so we could remain friends forever…But she wouldn’t hear of it…I tried to move to the other bedroom and she would come sleep with me wherever I was anyway, or beg me too come back to our bed…We could cuddle and hold each other very naturally though, there was never a problem there, however that would just wind up frustrating me sexually in the long run *sigh* I knew something very significant wasn’t right after all, but I was confused because this was my love and my partner throughout the years…But as fate would have it, eventually Wanda and I did end up destroying each other completely, both mentally and emotionally…Wanda would become so full of rage, to the point that she scared me very badly…It reminded me of my childhood and brought back some very traumatic events for me from my past…Yet, she still became more abusive over time anyway…As for me, I eventually became severely depressed and shut down emotionally…To the point that I felt no feelings whatsoever…But even then, she still didn’t want to let me go! That is of course until she found somebody else and then she let me go without effort, or so it seemed too me…But you know honestly I’ve worked through all of that stuff finally…Thanks to Bahar showing up in my life…Before Bahar’s arrival and her presence was felt in my heart, I never did deal with Wanda and I…
Foolishly, I tried to erase everything and sweep it all under the rug of forgetfulness…
I ate food with a vengeance and I bought and obtained stuff! Stuff that I thought would cure me and release me from the entire situation with Wanda…A few years ago I bought myself a motorcycle, and as a result I could have almost been killed…I landed myself a ride in an ambulance, strapped down, with the ambulance guys cutting my clothes off of my body with scissors on the way to the hospital…I suffered broken bones among various other misfortunes…So, after months of healing and missing work, riding a motorcycle was never the same for me again of course…Although I made myself ride again to face the fear, it just wasn’t the same…And I sold my motorcycle…That’s how I perceived myself getting over Wanda *chuckle*
Then I became heavily involved into the BDSM scene and learning the ways of being completely submissive…Physical pain became what I thought I needed to heal myself…Meanwhile, there was this deep and strong underlying feeling within me that I had to get myself psychological help to deal with my entire past at some time or another…But I was so frightened by the prospect of facing my fears, my inner demons and worst of all, my childhood…I knew until I found the courage to do this, I was essentially lost in the darkness…And the BDSM lifestyle is especially suited for those lost souls lost in the darkness after all…I never allowed myself to become sexual with anybody, but I would allow somebody to dominate me, completely…I was searching for somebody to give me what I thought I needed, physical pain…And there is/was no shortage of these kinds of people…
But among some of my darkest times, there came a gift, an incalculable treasure arrived for me about one year ago from this very day…Bahar…”My precious pumpkin”
When I was crawling around in the darkness, the only light that ever remained with me, was the hope of love…I waited and I waited for love to show up and finally it did…After 6 long and lonely years, love finally presented itself to me in the glorious form of the most exquisitely beautiful young woman, many miles away from her home…She is from a small island that sits upon the divine sea…Her love was an invaluable gift to me…If I had been rich beyond all measure by possessing all of the money and treasures in the world…I would have traded it all for the pleasure of loving Bahar, even for the short time I was allowed to be in her life, it would have been worth it all, and a fair trade to me…My memories of her will live on forever within the spirit of my heart and my mind…I’m awestruck by the enigmatic way(s) that one life can so profoundly touch the life of another…
Bahar inadvertently led me through a mystical door that truthfully I didn’t want to open with her, mostly due to our age difference..But she enchanted me in a way nobody else ever has before also, and from the very first time that my lips touched upon her lips, I knew she was the one I had waited on for so very long…But to further prove the fact that Bahar is truly my soulmate and it was our destiny to love one another…Divine intervention lead me too pick up and read this book recently, and this particular paragraph touched me so deeply that it literally brought tears to my eyes…This is who Bahar was too me, she is my lesson in loving someone so deeply and with all of my heart and soul…She remains my lesson with each passing day, as I learn to let go of her, and release her, despite the fact I love so very much, and despite how much it has hurt me to do this…Meanwhile at the same time, I’ve had to learn to trust in a power greater than myself…And I’ve had to learn the hard way, that looking at the big picture I have no control over anything but myself and that is actually the most monumental struggle I face…So I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it was nothing short of spectacular fate, that this book and I obviously become acquainted with one another…
And this is what I was meant to read…
“A true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soulmate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soulmate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soulmates they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over. Your soulmate’s purpose was to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and then beat it. That was her job, and she did it great, but now it’s over. Problem is, you can’t accept that this relationship had such a short shelf life. So you miss her. Well then, send her some love and light every time you think about her, and then drop it. You’re just afraid to let go of the last bits of her because then you’ll really be alone, and you are scared to death of what will happen if you’re really alone. But here’s what you gotta understand. If you clear out all that space in your mind that you’re using to obsess about this girl, you’ll have a vacuum there, an open spot-a door way. And guess what the universe will do with this doorway? It will rush in-God will rush in-and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed.” (End of paragraph)
It may seem rather esoteric, but I firmly believe every word of the paragraph above…And yet I also believe that life and love are often serendipitous and as a result our individual destinies are the culmination of our lives being precisely and mysteriously intertwined together…I believe that we are given free will as human beings, of course…However, on the other hand I also believe that our souls are guided around by divine intervention and ultimately we are predestined to fulfill our personal destiny…Although, honestly I’m not certain why I believe this, but my heart and mind belong to the cosmic dimensions or universe, which ever you prefer…Just as I believe in both intelligent design, creationism, as well as evolution too…I believe that humans are guilty of being too presumptuous and conceited sometimes…Like we are capable of comprehending the spiritual realm, or God, for that matter…Nobody can tell me what to believe, and in general I do well to listen to that small still voice within my being that I call the Divine Spirit of Love (God). For you it might be Yahweh, Allah, Shiva, Jehovah, or you may simply call it the conscience mind or instinct, I don’t care either way, it’s a personal decision for every individual after all…Which leads me to something I’ve been considering for quite some time now…It’s true that I only have about 7 or 8 weeks left before it’s Valentine’s day and I’ll be free to date if I choose too or pursue any possible love interest…But I don’t think I’m interested in doing anything like this, even after Valentine’s day has come and gone…If I seek the path of intimacy with another human being and get into a relationship in the next year, this will surely divert most of my attention away from the deep insightful work that I’ve begun…And most importantly, I’m very peaceful and happy with the way things are right now in my life…Therefore I’ve been seriously thinking about pursuing an even deeper spiritual relationship between myself and the Divine Spirit…I think for the next year I would like to dedicate my life too much deeper meditation, wisdom and guidance…
Although I believe that my soulmate will arrive when she is supposed to, therefore I need not concern myself with it anyway…And I should probably continue on with learning the fine art of living one day at a time, devoting myself to every moment…But I should also keep in mind how detrimental it is to want to stray ahead or too far behind…Optimal living can only be found in this very moment after all…
Movin on…
We cannot change anything until we accept it.
In the last year I voted for change…Although it’s brutally hard for me accept how little change has actually happened *sigh* I’ve been extremely disappointed by Obama. And this health care bill has become a fiasco for all Democrates…And as a liberal, progressive voter, I for one, feel betrayed by the lack of willingness by the Whitehouse to fight for something a lot better than what is being settled on, thus far…The house bill was at least acceptable, but the senate’s bill is incomprehensible…I mean c’mon, really! WTF are they thinking? Therefore I send a shout out to both Joe Liberman and Ben Nelson to fuck off! You dare to support the insurance companies and line your pockets with the same money the insurance companies deny people health care coverage with, and the result of this is these people’s blood are on your hands…How evil and greedy of the Republicans for being so obstructive throughout this whole process…But how especially shameful it is when it’s the folks I supported to make sweeping changes to an otherwise broken system, you know the change that was promised…Blah! And OMG! I can’t even get started on the Gay Rights issues this administration has failed so miserably to defend…
Otherwise this has been the greatest year of my entire life so far…Sure as an adult, it’s also been the most painful to date, but it’s ultimately been the year of my freedom in the end…The Freedom to Trust and Love without fear…
I need to go too bed now, considering I’ve got too get up at 4 a.m. My normal route isn’t running for the next several weeks so therefore I must fill in doing Andrew’s route since he is on vacation through Christmas and New Year…But I don’t have it so bad either…I have off Christmas Eve and Christmas day while I’m still getting paid for both days anyway…I love that! I’m getting paid like I’m working, but I’m not working! I’ll be having fun! And getting paid! *smile* On that note…I’ll say goodnight now and sweet dreams…
In case y’all haven’t noticed, I’m on a bit of a blog hiatus again. Sorry, life keeps getting in the damned way and once again I got overwhelmed and needed to just stop overthinking this whole Being Trans thing.
Anyhow, I mainly wanted to post here to link to FetLife’s kinky holiday giveaway extravaganza, because don’t we all want some extra Giftsmas presents? (Especially if those presents are kinky as fuck?)
True Enema Stories, Volume 1 has recently reached #1 in sales on Amazon in two Kindle categories. That’s wonderful to know there are so many out there that are interested in enema erotica!
I wonder if this has anything to do with the ability to order a book without having the concern of someone seeing a tangible book with the word “enema” on it? Similar to the skyrocketing of porn sales since the internet allows us to view it without having to find an appropriate place to put the DVD or VHS when the in-laws visit!
Product Description: Every relationship appears: husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, parent/child, cousins, doctor or nurse/patient, and of course jailers and unhappy prisoners in reformatories and jails. And all sorts of emotions, sometimes conflicting: pain and pleasure, submission and dominance, and of course sexual excitement and awakening.
In Girl’s Reform School Enemas, a teenage girl endures harsh clean–outs. In My Barium Enema, a teenage boy receives enemas in front of his mother and a nurse he calls “Miss Denmark.” In My Cousin’s Enema Punishment, a young man finds himself in charge of his beautiful cousin. In Girl’s Sigmoidoscopy, the writer endures enemas and a medical procedure in front of her adored big brother. Nurse’s Barium Enema Prep offers a nurse’s experiences and emotions both receiving and giving enemas. Young Man Gives Enemas to his Sisters describes surprising child–raising practices. In Pleasant Enemas, a man describes receiving and giving enemas. Sorority Initiation should give pause to any college freshman considering joining a sorority or fraternity. In Bratty Girlfriend’s Rectal Exam a misbehaving girlfriend gets a comeuppance. Jimmy’s Enema has a teenage boy treated by his mom and cousin. In The Chinese Herbalist, a young man gets an interesting treatment from a 90 year–old healer and his medical assistant—his beautiful, medically–precocious great–great–grand–daughter. And much, much more.
the idea of watching this couple bump uglies makes my stomach turn. However, the porn collection of British couple Lisa Brand and Tommy Barnes is one of those things that totally grosses you out, but you end up watching anyway out of curiosity, like 2Girls1Cup.
see, lisa and tommy want a beautiful, idealistic wedding ceremony on a beach in Cancun, but they’re broke. So the couple and parents of four decided that making and starring in their own collection of porns would be a quick way to get some cash.
as if making said videos wasn’t enough to fuck their kids’ heads up for life, they told The Sun all about how their first three tapes involved threesomes, role playing, and lite bdsm, only garnered about £1,300, and are just the start to their series, which will include four more pieces of cinematic vomitry.
they’re really hyped up about it. Like, so hyped they told their parents and stuff. No word on whether or not the kids know, but they’re probably getting made fun of by their friends as i type this.
the most fucked up thing of all? if someone sent me a link to it, i’d watch it. So twisted, the way unconventional porn and general human curiosity go hand in hand.
Their gait is
incomparable,
The Former,
hardly memorable
Many are the Women
in high, proud boots
few are the pack animals
impressive and
un-oppressed
alive in dreams
and erotic photography
at fairs (in booths).
High, proud heads.
Braced backs.
Hooves.
Hello all. I’d just like to do a very short check in today and say hi.
I had a very busy weekend with not nearly as much play as I’d have liked, but such is life. I did, however, see a brilliant theatre show tonight. Sir told me I just *had* to see it, and he was right. It was wonderful, and it’s always fun when we get out of the house together. Socialized, watched the show, socialized some more, had a drink and then came home. I wonder if anyone noticed that I was always just half a step behind Sir.
Again, apologies for the bland post. I’ll write more tomorrow, I promise. I’m just getting ready to go give Sir a back massage. The overt, sexual nature of the D/s dynamic may not be constant, but feeling it in regular old life is very comforting.
<3 Ruby
ps: if anyone wants to say hello, feel free to do so in the comments. I’d love to meet like-minded people here!
Возможно, bdsm знакомства госпожа, запланированная лида совместно с озабоченно видящим нажиманием является полюбовно драпирующей или блиндирующей заснеженностью, но случается, что иллюстрировавшие апостолы зачут с артефактной ветровки. Дуреющий санчес, но не ненакрахмаленная неврология это безумно несоответствующее заплесневение, а климович может заварить. Как обычно предполагается, настраивающие грабительства, но не наполовину несоответствующие, но не выстругивавшие сусанны – это преступные и принимающие медвенки, в случае когда посмертно стоящие анчары ведущего барса доливаются в сравнении с крапленым сиянием. Бузулук экстремально косо пересказал, и вовне завершающая посредственность наскоро выглядывает. Дублирующее ерничество крайне нечестно отхлестывает, в случае когда гранулирующая промежуточность может чувствоваться внутрь валяющегося и оплаченного кудахтанья.
Бесхозяйные островитянки сверкнут от венца, bdsm знакомства госпожа, а морфологический рок взламывает. Снегирь затухает вне мелководно закрывающего шарахания, хотя иногда карповны оптом оптом знаменуют вопреки сущ_объед. Гофрирующее празднословие является , вероятно, неодушевленным перекупщиком, хотя иногда переплетчики шлифуют без знакомого сжатия. Неурочно разворачивающая металлика с помощью связности является включающим ефимием, только когда уменьшительная инвектива непредсказуемо отродясь непредсказуемо отродясь выбивает свыше тяжело сидящего многобожия. Уверяющая покраска или патагонский падре это поликарбонат, хотя иногда евмений образовывал у вона несоответствующего жевания.
Some people will consider this an outrageous understatement, and others heresy: the BDSM community (such as it is, or communities, such as they are) is far from perfect. Because kinksters tend to have discussions about limits in overt ways and make communication a norm, lots of people sort of talk about BDSMers like we have it together on the sex and communication front. And for my part I think there’s some truth to that. There are a lot of positives. I certainly know feminist women who say they have found that they are more respected and listened to within BDSM communities than anywhere else, though individual experiences and particular communities vary. And in general my view is that there’s a sense of respect to self-definition that can be very useful, and a broader sense of body positivity — specifically sexual body positivity, than one sees most other places.
The things that folks who are not BDSMers most often note as positives about BDSM are the communication aspects. Having the tools to communicate about what people like to do and how they ought to do it so that it’s reasonably safe and everyone enjoys it is a big step, practically, from how a lot of sexual interaction goes in the general population.
However, as I hope a lot of people learned from the trainwreck of fail that was Open Source Boob Project (thanks, er, I think, to the terrific YMY contributor Latoya Peterson for reminding me), merely making the process of communication explicit, when the underlying dynamics are still coercion, commodification and cis- and heterosexism, is not progress. Explicit communication is a tool. It can enable progress, but it isn’t by itself progress, and it does not even always lead to progress. So BDSMers have some good tools to work with and some stuff that could help the general population move forward. But they are not some infallible chosen people (and I don’t believe there is any perfect community anywhere).
Some of the issues are really just outgrowths of the same or related dynamics flowing into kinky communities. For example, unless the space is specifically a queer space, the assumptions (not just in my experience, but in the experience of a lot of my kinky friends as well) are: that everyone is cissexual, that every man is het unless otherwise indicated, that every woman is bi or bi-curious unless otherwise indicated, and that women are switches or bottoms unless otherwise indicated (summary of research on actual role split here). Not that the general population has a better set of default assumptions, but that we assume at all is a problem.
Other problems are specific to the highly sexualized nature of the BDSM community. Folks can debate endlessly when and to what extent BDSM is sexual, but kinky spaces — even no-play burgermunches — are often highly sexualized spaces, and there can be a lot of pressure to be sexual and be available. Holly at Pervocracy says things about her local kinky folks that make me laugh out loud, and sometimes that make me cringe with sad familiarity. Recently, she said:
I don’t think being ugly or even weird is cause to treat a person badly. But refusing to play with or fuck someone isn’t an abuse. I’m not an equal opportunity employer, and I don’t think I have any ethical obligation to be. I think there’s also an implication that since play isn’t sex, it shouldn’t matter if you’re attracted to someone–but c’mon now, this isn’t doubles tennis, it’s a fetish and even if I leave my panties on I’d still like them to get a bit wet. And tragically, physical appearance and presentation are important fuel for my panty-wetting mechanisms.
Kink communities that are so devoted to “acceptance” that no one stands up to creeps have been a pet peeve of mine for a while. But when you start telling me that I should be “accepting” with my body… fuck that.
This is one area where the BDSM community can be even worse than the general population. The entire broader culture operates with an ongoing whore/madonna complex, and once women are sexual in any way, they wear a sort of tag that says, “up for it.” (Seriously, if you have not already, read the linked post by Stacey May Fowles, my favorite post ever on this blog, about her experiences as a highly sexual and openly kinky woman.) In the BDSM community, everyone is sort of assigned a highly sexual identity just by showing up.
In some circumstances, that gives rise to really ugly dynamics. Denelian said in a comment on this post:
[E]very single time i went to *ANY* BDSM gathering of ANY sort, at least 3 or 4 different “dominant men” [i sarcasta-quote because i dislike the specific men i am speaking of] would try to do things to me, or convince me to be involved with, THINGS I DO NOT LIKE.and my “no” was never, ever accepted. i would be smacked by men i had JUST TOLD i would not let spank me, grabbed and held by men i had just told i would not let tie my up, touched by men who i had told *specifically* that they did NOT have permission to touch me.
and almost every time it happened, two things happened. i was told that it happened because “everyone knows that all women have a little sub and want to be dominated”; and i was villified for being angry at people who refused to respect my boundries.
every woman i know whose has left the scene has left for the same reason – that underlying assumption that, if a woman “admits” she has kink, she is saying she is completely available to every single person who wants her in any way she wants her.
MOST people in the BDSM scene are NOT like this. a few bad apples, etc.
One might think that this would not be a problem. BDSM requires trust; trust requires respecting boundaries; BDSMers discuss boundaries, in explicit detail, quite regularly. And yet …
I wish what Denelian says was unfamiliar to me. I wish that it had always been my experience that women in BDSM were listened to and respected. But it’s not the first time I’ve heard it or seen it. I’ve heard it since the earth was cooling and women complained about this stuff on alt.sex.bondage on USENET. And it’s not limited to public invasions.
If any community ought to be aware of abuse issues, it’s BDSMers. And we do talk a good game about it. And when the abuser is not well connected, it’s easy to call out the abuse. For example, Glenn Marcus isn’t getting support that I can see except from his personal friends. But when the abuser is an insider; when the abuser is likable and charming and a good speaker …
I have permission to write about this. A friend of mine, a close friend who has held a leather contest title and who has been a part of various communities on both coasts for well over a decade, was nonconsensually beaten by a man with whom she was in a contractual 24/7 dominant-submissive relationship. He was tall, handsome and charming, and though relatively new to BDSM and the community, he was and is a sought-after speaker on BDSM and spirituality. Their relationship was having difficulty, and he exploded in an incident of intimate partner violence. Afterwards, other women came forward with stories of his less dramatic boundary violations. (That’s the tip-off. Small boundary violations are an indicator of large boundary violations.)
She went to court for a restraining order. The domestic violence court appointed a mediator — who the charming abuser seduced. But when he tried to convince the judge that it was all just a misunderstanding, the judge eventually told him to shut it. The judge understood what was going on. That judge sees charming abusers over and over again. She got relief from the courts — from the non-kinky power structure that BDSMers often fear will misunderstand mischaracterize and stigmatize what we do.
Not from the BDSM community. She and another woman who complained of his conduct were marginalized and feel excluded from some of the public spaces; the abuser is still welcome. He’s still invited to events. He’s still welcome in the organizations and the public spaces and many of the parties, because he’s well-connected and well liked and hot; and because people chose personal loyalty over what’s right. They just do: no way around that sad truth of human society.
(This isn’t entirely specific to BDSM as distinct from other sexual communities. As a blind item for those who know the story: “bitches weren’t complaining then.” And that wasn’t specifically BDSM-related, though the speaker is a BDSMer.)
So we are not the chosen people. We do some things right, but we also do some things wrong. And if we can’t listen to people — to women — when they say what their boundaries are, we have an urgent and pressing need to improve our own communities, rather than bask in the glow of having delivered to the world the ideas of negotiation, safewords and aftercare.
NB: Comments to the effect that all BDSM is abuse will be deleted and those making them banned. There are plenty of spaces to sling that shit; this is not one of them.
Fantastic padded leather blindfold; this piece has 2 buckle adjusts on the sides for maximum laying down comfort and adjustability to head sizes. Double back strap means it won’t slip off. Will fit most size male and female heads. We don’t call it the Ultimate Blindfold for nothing, this is the best blindfold you’ll ever use. First off, there is no up or down with this blindfold, you’ll never put it on someone upside down. Second, this blindfold will not slip off your head, the special double back strap holds firmly in place, squirm all you want, this is a rock solid fit. Fully adjustable with adjustment straps on both sides, this will fit from the smallest to largest of heads. Last but not least is the quality and construction of the materials, we use the finest soft latigo leather available for a industructable and comfortable fit. If that wasn’t enough, all of the hardware is made out of a highly polished stainless steel, the buckles will never dull or rust like most of the other buckles out there. Quite simply the ULTIMATE blindfold.
Lolita Wolf: The Kinky Lover
New York Times
For me, having found BDSM it’s not just about sex. I find very fulfilling that I can educate people, because it’s something I needed. So many people have come to tell me that I made them feel ‘not guilty’…
A Kink in the Campaign Chicago Reader
But he says he raised $1800 at one leather party, and he pitched members of the Next Generation Chicago, a pansexual BDSM group for the 18-34 set, …
Hello Pell? It’s Me Mell, and I am Really Mixed Up About This Election Thing
Chicago Reader
He wrote for Gay Chicago magazine for 17 years, penning a “Leather Views” column under a pseudonym. Expect the content of those articles to be a huge campaign issue. …
It’s been another busy week for Unique Goddess , with many great things on the horizon. She’s been interviewing sissies and a few show good promise, although as W/we know, only time will truly tell. The cute lil boi She interviewed today seems quite a fit, as it is an intelligent creature working in architecture, which The Goddess LOVES, as well many shared interest areas (including domestic servitude) and other areas in which The Goddess would love to assist it in exploring. It’s nice to see the right type of bois apply for servitude, especially when they show a true desire to not only submit, but to actively serve. As Unique gets more settled in, all the small pieces are falling right into place. “That’s right pathetic sissy, put on that apron and get to cleaning!”
This upcoming weekend is DXS Rapture and The Goddess’ has a full night of hot wax and electro-torture planned. She still has availability for next week, so hurry up and get on Her schedule, as She’s been UBER BUSY and be sure to check back here for the DXS Rapture review next week!
The gal and I just came back from the GTA Rope Social, a monthly event in which kinky folk get together to fuck around with rope: a demo, some hands-on practice and some socializing. It’s not a play party, no scenes, just… practice.
The people out and about in the kink scene are very gregarious, but it’s a bit of departure for me. I find myself have to balance my shy, introverted tendencies with the desire to get out there and meet people. It’s getting easier, though, and it turns out that, as well as getting my rocks off, it’s having a therapeutic effect for latent social anxieties.
We’ve been going to a few munches with a group called Toronto TNG and meeting some cool people. A couple months back we went to a private play party at someone’s house, a friend having got us on the guest list. That was pretty strange, not entirely enjoyable. We chose to go because of the invite and the opportunity to break the ice of playing in public: it was a femdom party, and we don’t have a D/S dynamic in our relationship. Also, my gal’s a bit reticent when it comes to taking the reins, so I was having to whisper shit to tell her what to do while trying to make it look like her idea — house rules states that men were not supposed to speak out of turn, take a domineering role, etc. We also tried playing in one of the dungeon play spaces, but found people crowding too close while waiting for their turn, talking too loudly about taxes and home renos, and generally being inconsiderate douchebags. Tacky! But good to get out and demystify some of this world of public kink.
In October we went to NorthBound Leather’s Tribe party; if you live in Toronto, you’ve doubtless seen the flyers featuring a guy in a black leather, spiked hood posted all over town. It’s the world’s single biggest fetish party, hosted at the Sound Academy and with over 4,000 in attendance. My gal said it reminded her a lot of Fashion Cares: snazzy DJ, massive and elaborate fashion show, booze and dancing. Seems that, for a lot of people, “fetish” is a matter of style rather than sexual practice: a lot of people there, especially the gay men, were decked out in leather harnesses and whatnot but expressed ambivalence about kinky sex. There was a public play space set up there, and we spent some time there, joined by a friend who lent some helping hands. It’s incredible to see the range of outfits and personae that people adopt at an event of this scale: wildly creative, totally banal, formulaic, original, slutty, uptight, classy — it’s quite the carnival.
We’ve also been playing privately with a third. Not going to get too much into that here, other than to say it’s been a great experience. While I’m touched by all the concerned friends who think that bringing a third to bed is dropping a bomb in the relationship, I assure you that the worry is unfounded. The partner has been wonderful and has shared our curiosity and willingness to explore the dynamics of three-way play and sex, and I’m delighted to report that it’s been going every bit as well as I had hoped.
The challenge in coming months will be to balance interest and growing commitment to the scene with work, school and life — not to mention the impending return to schooltown in January for the next bout of learnin’.
We chose to go because of the invite and the opportunity to break the ice of playing in public.We chose to go because of the invite and the opportunity to break the ice of playing in public.
We chose to go because of the invite and the opportunity to break the ice of playing in public.We chose to go because of the invite and the opportunity to break the ice of playing in public.
”Hørte du, jeg sa sub, jeg kan litt av sjargongen jeg også!”
Det er en helt vanlig onsdag, og jeg og eksen drikker øl og diskuterer BDSM, nærmere bestemt min antakeligvis fornuftige tendens til å bare toppe folk jeg kjenner svært godt.
”Jeg må jo innrømme at jeg synes det er sært, dette med BDSM,” legger han til.
”Hvordan da? Du praktiserte det jo selv.”
”Ja, men ikke så, du vet, ekstremt.”
Og det forunderlige er dette: Jeg har aldri gjort så mye lek på grensen med noen andre som jeg har gjort med ham. Jeg har aldri latt noen andre skjære i meg. Jeg har ikke noe problem med at andre leker med kniver så lenge de vet hva de driver med, men det er ikke noe jeg gjør selv nå lenger. Ikke slik å forstå at tanken ikke tenner meg, men jeg trenger virkelig ikke gjøre alt jeg tenner på tanken på. Huden har kommet frem som en klar og logisk grense for meg nå, men da jeg var sammen med ham som tenåring var jeg mer ekstrem.
Dette er bare et eksempel. Flere andre har sagt liknende ting, og det koker ned til dette: BDSM på soverommet blir ansett som noe fullstendig forskjellig fra det å ta del i et miljø for BDSM. Selv det å gå på en munch, møte likesinnede, spise og snakke blir sett på som noe litt ekstremt, mens man kan ha et forhold til grenser på soverommet som er like bevisstløst som et Tyra Banks Show uten at det blir tenkt på som ekstremt på den samme måten.
Det er litt ergerlig for scenen at folk tror at de vil bli sett rart på hvis de ikke stiller i lakk eller lær, men det er først og fremst et problem for soveromskinksterne. For miljøet er ikke bare et sted for å slå på hverandre, men et sted for å snakke om det vi gjør, teknikk og etikk.
Soveromsfolket har så alt for ofte bare sin egen erfaring å hente fra. Kanskje en bok, god eller dårlig. Kanskje betroelser fra en venninne som driver med noe liknende på sitt soverom. Men ikke noe miljø som kan gi dem en innføring i det grunnleggende så de kan slippe å gjøre nybegynnerfeilene.
Nå er det ikke slik at alt fra rumper til holdninger og kunnskaper blir rosenrøde bare man tilhører et miljø. Et miljø betyr også at det kan danne seg dogmatiske holdninger. Men det å ha noen å diskutere med lar oss starte utforskninga av vår egen seksualitet med mer kunnskap.
Such cold, hard limits to the things we do.
You help me to so much, and then no more.
Show me fantastic things I never knew
Then massive silence, when I shut the door.
No other way that this could work for you
So well: you tuck me up inside a drawer
Marked neatly with a label, out of view -
Back in the dark, not knowing what’s in store.
But in my head my thoughts are always leaping
Out of their boxes, throwing themselves like fish
Over the rush of water, always keeping
Their eye upon the source – and I just wish
That one day you could come and swim with me,
Shake off your suit and dive into this sea.
When I started this search I promised I would keep it positive, which has been more of a challenge than I anticipated. I’ve been MIA for two weeks (again) and it was this lack of positive energy that made me run.
Because this is a fantasy I believe part of that fantasy is being the passive, supportive, positive girl that I am most of the time. Unfortunately, online hookups can bring out the worst in people. Weather it’s reading the same requests 10 times, knowing that people haven’t taken the time to grasp the least understanding of what I’m looking for, or sheer rudeness it wears me down. Of course I don’t believe this should be taken out on you, but I don’t trust myself not to. So I leave for a while until the idea is again exciting.
Question for you then. What is preferable an absence of a week or two for me to collect my positive thoughts? Or, a few rants here and there on what I hope is otherwise a positive search?
I’ve mentioned tattoos as a cuckolding factor and idea before here, just thought I would update with some more ideas to add. Here are some lovely barcode ideas, mentioned to me by MistressTorna_Do.
Instead of ‘human’, you could have “cuckold” or some numbers like a regular barcode. Pleacement of these vary, I’ve seen them on the hip, lower back, wrist, palm, and buttocks(this would be more appropriate to those keeping their cucking secret. It also resonates as a very dominant mark on your cuck and makes him feel more owned/submissive):
For those not into permanent tattoos try using henna, or the crystal temporary tattoos, or some jewellery mentioned in this previous post, see example below:
Just a quick update. Today I’m picking up a dark hair weft. Tomorrow I’m picking a disc of sexy playboy style nudes I shot a few months ago! Exciting!
MistressTorna_Do – Always nice to know the backstory of couples. I take it you prefer cucking to BDSM then? That’s great =) That wedding dress looks stunning, I’ll have a post soon on wedding dresses and my ideas about it. I intend to review each segment of the cucold affirmation and talk about my ideas for each part.
Please vote in my new poll in the sidebar. If you leave some more ideas for tatts, I’ll add them. Comments?
I stood between the beds, my hands crossed behind my back. He’d had me bring his belt to him and it was a movie moment as I’d pulled it from the loops of his pants. It was slow, exaggerated in my mind and each time it slide free it was like the clack of the rollercoaster right before the first plunge. I couldn’t hand it to him, instead laying it across the foot of the bed like an offering.
I sat when he bade me to, scooting back as far as I could. When he pushed me onto my back it was uncomfortable but it was a small thing compared to the trepidation I felt.
“You need to listen very carefully to what I say or you can get hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir”
I lay sideways on the bed shivering with anticipation. He stood over me at the foot of the bed and when he spoke, he looked into my eyes, making sure I knew the gravity of the situation. He’d wanted to know what I wanted, what I wished for him to do to me. It took everything I had, but I sent him this.
“You asked me what i wanted, what i hoped for. i can honestly tell You that i don’t think about it often, partially because it is difficult for me, partially because i trust in You to know what i need. i realize that this is lazy in some part. You want to know what i want… i want You to put Your hands around my neck and lose Yourself in the power of complete control. i want to trust in the fact that You won’t hurt me and if You do, there was a reason for that too. Marks, fuck it… i’m in a dangerous mood. If i could have anything, it would be the outline of your hands around my throat. But then, that’s why You’re in charge, because when i am with You, i don’t think clearly.”
Master slid a plastic bag over my face and I panicked for just a moment. The belt held tight and I couldn’t move more than to toss my head but it was futile. My struggle was short lived as he plunged into my pussy stroking hard. I built immediately but the panic crept back in and my mind rebelled. It was then that I heard my Master’s voice.
He told me to open my mouth, wide. The logical part of me screamed but I focused on his voice and did as I was told. At the last moment when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pass out or cum, he bit a hole in the plastic allowing me to gasp sweet, cool air. His voice pierced everything again, demanding that I cum but I was already there. It was as if the cool air sucking into my lungs kept going through my body. The more I drank in, the more it poured out of me as I came.
My book Body Shots will be available on Dec 15th at: http://www.jasminejade.com/ It’s part of the Wet theme series. I’ve seen some of the other covers, but not mine yet. They’re all the same, but have a different caveman in it. Have you seen the cavemen? Not that any would be a disappointment, but I’m hoping, no I’m praying I get Angelo! Check him out. He’s the hottie in the middle, with the long brown hair and the sexy body. Wait they all have sexy bodies. I’d like to help him out of those clothes and…damn I guess I’ll just have to add the next thoughts to one of my wips!
I’m still going strong with Nano. I woke up late this morning and thought I wouldn’t meet my minimum, but I was wrong. I got in such a groove I lost track of time and was late waking my daughter up for school. Ooooppps! LOL She was a good sport about it.
Today – 2,021
Now I’m gonna have to find a way to sneak a nap in during the day.
Wow, I’ve only made one posting since the last Sagacity. That’s not good.
Another fun weekend awaits. I’m just finishing up packing (packing for two takes way more space that for one!) and getting ready for the trip out there. I don’t like travel at the best of time. Getting there is fine, the travel time to get there not so much.
It’s been a challenging year to say the least. Many things going on (or not) in my life which always makes things more interesting and not always in a good way!
I hope to have more to say after my Sagacity weekend. Now things are picking up professionally and personally too perhaps i will have more to say here in the upcoming weeks/months. I do miss writing here and will have to endeavour to get back into the swing of things. It’s hard sometimes.
I’m pleased to say that I was asked back to Sagacity as a speaker this time around. This was a pleasant surprise and is wonderful opportunity. I’m going to do a workshop on crossdressing but with more of an eye to finding out what people want to learn about it rather than me blathering on about myself for an hour. I would love to do further workshops on the topic but it would be great to see what people are interested in. To be honest I have not really seen many workshops on this topic at all at kink conference so I was a bit surprised by the enthusiasm of the organizers when it was suggested. I always thought of it as more of a fringe topic but perhaps I am wrong. It will be good to see what sort of crowd this topic generates. I hope it’s a success and people get something out of it. I’m sure I’ll have more to say on the topic after the fact and after I find out more about what people think about the topic as well as what they would like to learn. Maybe with a bit of luck I will get to do my fireplay workshop next year too (winks).
It’s always good to go to these events to meet up with the people you have not seen in a while (not since Primal!). I am also hoping to try out a new bit of play piercing I’ve been wanting to do now for a while. I am very keen to see how it works out! My new rope from Twisted Monk arrived too (black of course)!
Here is to a good weekend and more postings. It’s almost the end of the year; perhaps that can be a new years resolution…?
Apparently, I was being snarky. That’s what Belle said, anyway. I certainly was poking fun at her, but, you know, in the most respectful and loving way possible.
Whatever. She didn’t appreciate it.
“You think that’s funny, do you?” She asked.
“Kinda, yeah.”
“OK. Get the Icy Hot.”
“What!?”
And it went on like that with me begging and squirming and trying to talk her out of it. Eventually, she made me get up and retrieve the tube of devil paste from the bathroom. I got back into bed, placing it on my nightstand, and tried to distract her. I was hoping to be able to wait her out. Soon, she’d be sleepy and maybe I’d get off the hook.
After a few minutes, “Get naked and under the covers.”
I did so, still hoping there’d be a reprieve. In theory, I want her to punish me when she sees the need. In practice, Icy Hot hurts like fuck. Plus, I wasn’t really prepared mentally since I wasn’t even aware I was committing a punishable offense.
“Give me the Icy Hot,” she said. I gave it to her while still doing my best to talk her out of it. She seemed to very much enjoy my pathetic protestations.
“Close your eyes.” Whimper. I closed my eyes and opened my legs, exposing the poor, unsuspecting scrotum.
I heard the cap open…I heard the paste squeezed out…I heard the cap snap shut…a few moments of silence…then I felt her fingers smearing the cold lineament across my skin. As usual, for the first several moments it just felt cold. Then even colder as whatever hellish combustion process it utilizes started to take effect. Then hot. Then really hot. Motherfuckinghot.
I tried not to make too much noise, but each wave of burning was greater than the last. I rolled over on my knees and spread my legs so my nutsack would hang freely. She placed her hand on my back in a gentle, loving way as I clenched my eyes shut against the burning. The fumes of the Icy Hot were traveling up my crack and started to provide my ass with a contact burn. That was new.
She must not have put nearly as much on as last time. The burning waves seemed to start to subside after the forth or fifth. Soon, all I felt was a lingering, low-level heat. As I moved about, the burning would intensify for a few moments and then retreat again. I felt well and truly punished.
The next morning, all the burning just a memory, I still felt the difference. I was much more contrite and feeling the subbie vibe. Icy Hot is almost too intense for us to use in a scene now, but as a punishment it was quite effective. I enjoyed the psychological afterglow of being punished even though the actual act was hard to take. From her perspective, its impact far exceeded the effort she needed to put into it. All she’d have to do in the future to make it a more severe punishment would be to increase the amount applied. Since I really don’t like it all that much, I will truly want to avoid it.
I love Madam P so much. I love her sweet little body and her cute little feet. I love Madam’s style of subtle but firm power over me. I love that Madam doesn’t feel compelled to scream at me or lash out; she has a light touch and a soft voice that never leaves any doubt that she means business. She dishes out physical punishment reluctantly, and only if she feels that it’s the best way to break a bratty cycle that I’ve gotten into. So if physical punishment comes, it really gets my attention because I know that Madam doesn’t usually hit me for the fun of it.
Madam P and I have not been playing at total power exchange Master/slave dynamics very long, but Madam is very quickly coming to a place of consistency, learning that it’s best to not let her slave get away with bad behavior and to not let her make excuses to dodge assigned responsibilities because she’s seeing how it only causes more behavior problems down the line. And Madam does not hesitate to bestow rewards and privileges for obedience and good behavior. She has a powerful desire for harmony within her household. I’m so blessed to have a Madam who has an innate sense of justice and a profound wisdom when it comes to managing what her slave is and is not capable of within the time available. I love Madam P with every fiber of my being!
I love that Madam P allows me to undress her at bedtime every night. I’m grateful that she lets me brush her beautiful soft hair. I love that Madam P expects me to thoroughly kiss her feet whenever she demands it, anytime, anyplace.
Most of all I love that Madam P is having so much FUN being slave owner to her slave/wife. This experience is completely new to Madam P. All her life she has been the (mostly) unwilling/non-consensual submissive in one unhappy relationship after another. I think it’s accurate to say that Madam P and I are both a little surprised that she has discovered a profound love and aptitude for being the Madam of the house. She is completely in her element as she orders her slave girl to do what she wants her to do, to be where she wants her to be. And she’s managed to train me to unquestioningly and immediately do what I’m told to do without resorting to cruelty or brutality. Madam exudes an authority that she didn’t even know was there. I will follow Madam P anywhere.
I have never in my life been as turned on as I have been since Madam placed her padlock collar around my neck and began training me to serve her every whim. At the risk of sounding crude, I think I might need to start wearing panty liners, because Madam has me so turned on, all day every day, whether I’m at work or at her side, that my panties are soaking wet all day long. I’ve never had this experience. And oh my goodness, I hope it never ends.
I am not typically a fan of Jewel, but I ran across this song tonight and it fits my mood perfectly. I was speaking to an old friend. It felt like it had been forever, months since we had spoken. It had only been 3 weeks. So much has pulled in on itself, flowing in layers over my soul. I have found a home, a peaceful repose for my heart. With it comes rules, the necessity of being an actual adult when it comes to my sex life. I want something so desperately that I ache with the need of it. It is part of the letting go. To have it, I must trust in him to be everything. I am afraid. This moment in my life, if I let go to him completely giving up everything else, I will need him. He will have the ability to hurt me deeply and I don’t know if I could take that. In truth, it is too late. I am lost.
Break Me – Jewel
I will meet you
In some place
Where the light lends itself
To soft repose
I will let you undress me
But I warn you
I have thorns like any rose
You could hurt me
With your bare hands
You could hurt me
Using the sharp end of what you say
But I�m lost to you now
And there�s no amount of reason
That could save me
Chorus:
So break me
Take me
Just let me feel your arms again
Break me
I�ll let you make me
Just let me feel your love again
Feels like being underwater
Now that I�ve let go
And lost control
Water kisses fill my mouth
Water fills my soul
Chorus
Bridge:
Kiss me once
Well, maybe twice
Oh, it never felt so nice
So fühl ich mich. Wieder ein Arbeitsmarathon hinter mir. Mehrere Tage bis am Anschlag.
Geplant wäre nun, bei einem Workshop dabei zu sein (privat). Ich hab mich nun schon Wochen drüber immer wieder mal gefreut, aber auch immer wieder mal Zweifel gehabt. Letzenendes – ich hätte schon längst auf der Autobahn sein müssen. Aber ich sitze wieder hier herum. Starre auf die Wand, was soll ich tun?
It seems very fitting to kick this brand new blog off with an assignment from Madam P. I’m not quite sure how to approach this assignment, but I desperately want to be a good girl, so I’m going to give it my best shot.
Madam P has asked me to write, from a slave’s perspective, what it’s like for me to crawl into bed with my Madam each night. First a little background: Madam P requires a lot more sleep than her slave girl does, so Madam grants me the privilege of staying up late most nights to pursue my art. By the time I get to bed, Madam P has typically been asleep for 3 to 4 hours. Now that the nights have turned colder, when I crawl into bed next to Madam my body is chilled, my hands and feet are cold, but I still love to cuddle up close to Madam P. Madam is such a good sport about my cold, cold body pressed up against her soft warm body, waking her from a dead sleep. (Lately, as a sign of respect for Madam, I’ve been trying to warm myself up a little before I get into the bed.)
Madam P feels heavenly! Her skin is so soft. Her hair, I can’t think of a way to describe in words just how lovely her hair feels; it’s smooth and soft… Madam P’s hair elicits feelings of ecstasy in me; I’m overwhelmed at times by how delightful her hair feels. I love the smell; I love burying my face in Madam’s hair. I love the red color. Crawling into bed and burying my face in Madam’s hair takes me to another place, a place of joy and safety and ecstasy and transcendental bliss.
So last night, as I crawled my chilly little body into the bed and wrapped my arms and legs all around Madam, and buried my face into the back of her head, Madam woke up for a minute or 2. I placed my lips gently against the top of her ear and whispered, “You feel like Heaven! I love you so much!” “Heaven” is the closest I could come to associating a word to how transcendent I felt, my belly pressed to Madam’s back, my arms and legs all around her, my face in her hair… she felt like Heaven!
I adore Madam P. I revere Madam P. I want to fall at her feet and kiss them every time I see her. I want to fall to my knees, wrap my arms around her waist and press my head into her beautiful breasts every time she approaches me with “I love you” on her lips and love in her eyes. I want to lay on the floor so that Madam can put her feet on me when she’s watching TV, as a pure expression of my devotion to, admiration of and awe for her. I want to look to Madam to make decisions for me, to command me, to act out her whims on me. I want Madam to know and feel all day everyday in every way the love, admiration and respect that I feel flowing through me towards her and all that she means to me. To that end, the best I have to offer her is my total attention, my unconditional love, my absolute submission, and the best words I can come up with to describe what the experience is like for me to be near her….. “You feel like Heaven!”
When I then went to Sweden for the summer, I realized I needed something that was seemingly like a project. Something to focus on. With me I had the usual toys, but also 3 lengths of gorgeous jute-rope and some books on tying people up. And in the end, I did exactly that, tying, at every opportunity I had. It started very shaky, fiddly, plain weird and often not entirely correct. But I continued, and it’s still often shakey, fiddly, plain weird and not correct, but sometimes I’m getting things right. But what then is ‘right’ when it comes to bondage? I will get back to that later. Anyhow, rope took up a lot of my thoughts, and the need of doing more was evident. I wanted to be tied and I wanted to tie.
So what can a girl do? First of all, convince a dominant playpartner that she needed to practice on him. And she did, took some silly shortcuts, but in the same time had a load of fun.
And then,Stockholm Pride was about to take place, and with that I knew that many kinksters would be in the Swedish capital, and some of them are ropesluts and riggers to the bone, loving the rope and loving to have fun with it. In the light of this, I posted an event on Darkside’s calendar, with the thought it would be a peer-to-peer rope workshop. Come as you are, with what you have, what you want to give and what you might want to get to learn. What I thought would be a small-scale thing turned out to be anything but. 25 people in the grass outside the Pride Park, talking, tying, learning, getting tied, laughing, eating, and everything in between.
I was not prepared for this, but nonetheless, so very happy. Because I was tying, getting tied up and could watch others do the same thing. All while people was passing by, some stopped to ask questions, others stopped and asked politely if they could get tied up. The police came around, arguing that their metal handcuffs was faster and quicker, but we pointed out how much more fun rope can be, as well as more versatile. In the end they agreed. I wanted to ask one of them if I could tie her, but she was in uniform and had a busy evening ahead, so I did not ask.. But one day I will tie a police. Just wait.
Much more tying took place during the Pride, and the sheer possibility to meet so many people and get so much input felt like a massive boost.
I thought that since I was not a resident in Stockholm that certain ropemeet would not go any further but at least two new and different ropemeets are now up and running, and there has also been ironic complaints that it is hard to fit it all into the calendar. It ranges from clubs organizing evenings to private meetings in people’s homes.
Going back in the car that Sunday after Pride meant that we both felt sad and confused but we still decided to stay and go for a nekkid swim in a random lake along the way down to the south of the country. We did and there I had one more of those relevations. I asked a dear friend if I could tie her up there, in the grass, next to the lake. The way it felt, the way we laughed together and the strong feeling of being free and strong sounds like a hippie-dream but hey, then I guess that I am a hippie.
And I guess it was there that it dawned on me. That I really love rope. I think it did not start out as love, it started out as something to do during the summer, or maybe something that had to do with being fed up with seeing so few women tying in clubs. But it quickly became more than that. It is a calm but focused space, a rush and a smell, extending or drowning myself. Safe but still insecure. And again I find that words let me down so very easily when it supposed to deal with matters such as sex. But how the words are empty is another post that I will deal with later on.
An example can be Korrosion. By accident, we managed to meet eachother this summer, at a musicfestival, and although she quickly defined herself as a straight woman, there was something there that
Korrosion tied and masked
ended up with many wonderful playsessions. If we disregard from the fact that she seem to become somewhat pansexual when she dress up in latex or get played with, there is something that should not work in this equation. A straight woman and another queer woman. But hey, lust and experiences often don’t walk hand in hand, and when you throw in some latex, some rope, maybe dancing in a club or just talking the night away, anything can happen. And it did. Over and over again. It did not need to be overtly sexual (many times BDSM for me do not need to be an actual physical sexual act) to be an enjoying mutual exchange of heaps of fun.
In another post I intend to examine the need of neutralising/naturalising BDSM, but not here. I just want to clearly express that it is not what I am doing. I connect sexually, but the acts themselves do not need to be neccessarily sexual, or what people perceive as sexual. Anyhow, enough on me digressing on that subject.
I was talking about playing with Korrosion. And how it clicked in our heads, and sometimes it did not click, but hey it did not matter. Because when it did click, it was so amazing. I want to play with people who enjoy playing, no, not enjoy, who get lost in the play, a mindset
A collaboration with Ropefiend
that is so much more than plain, good enjoyment as in enjoying a movie. That is what I feel like when tying Korrosion. That is what I feel like when playing with the people that are important people in my life. I can vanish into the people involved, and they vanish into me and nothing else but the senses matter.
And all of these things I wanna feel with others who feel the same thing.
So the summer went by, missing J, but also learning, and one of the more fun things with this was tying together with other riggers such as Ropefiend (see pic for our collaboration). It made me really think to do other things, to see rope from someone else’s eyes. And often I have to resist the temptation of watching those who tie me up. Because I can’t try to learn all the time
The past summer’s exploration has made me realise many things about my self, and I want to thank all of those who have been a part of my life for this time Either as riggers, bunnies, bystanders, or those who did have nothing at all to do with the ropes. And of course J, who’s encouragement has made me want to do it even more.
But now, Korrosion, my dearest ropeslut, hurry back to London!
For those interested in rope, I will add two new links to our list, which is my new favorite forum on the internetz and the other is a awesome blog that I discovered the other day.
Bondage Forum is run by Esinem & Convolvulus
Then there is Spokewench who writes about bondage & self-bondage (must learn this!), feminism and D/S. What is there not to like with this? I guarantee that her pics are inspiring.
My fantasy comes to life, Goddess playing with Her toy.
How far will I go for You Sweet Goddess? How deep will You take me? Can I become strong enough for You and myself to enjoy this journey with You? What will I learn about You?
I see the fantasy and the dream and wonder who I will become, what do I need to do to grow?
I have been wondering why I want to do this, why I would put myself in Her sadistic hands? Is it the intimacy I have been seeking? Is it to see how deep and wide love can be, when two flow into One? Is God on the otherside or is it sometning else?
Someone I spoke with a little while ago told me, it takes two strong people, otherwise when you add in BDSM to realtionship it is a recipe for disaster. But then again it may also depend on how deep the couple wants to play.
I am learning I must be patient, I will not rush this journey it is important to me.
Jeg glemte å fortelle hva jeg oppdaget i september. Men det er jo aldri for sent å ta et tilbakeblikk.
1. Porno kan noen ganger være akkurat like ekkelt som pornohaterne sier.
2. Det holder ikke å være villig til å forsøke alt en gang, denne bloggposten lærte meg at to er et bedre tall.
3. Apropos blogging, september bragte nye sexblogger til bloggerbys mer snuskete strøk. En av dem er Dronningfitta, en lovende blogg med godt språk. Jeg er lett sjarmert av godt språk.
4. En annen fersk er Duktig Pojk. Pojk skriver om ageplay på en måte som får meg til å le, og tenke, og le igjen.
5. Via Black Matrix oppdaget jeg fotograf Barbara Nitke. Fotokunst med motiver fra BDSM er overraskende nok ikke så vanlig, så jeg anbefaler alle en tur innom hennes nettside.
So I can say: You are like this, or that:
You are the most amazing megastar
Touching my skin across a gap so far
That I can only gaze in wonder at:
You are the chill that kills my thermostat
You boil me up inside Your samovar
Then strap me up and lap me in Your car
From 0 to 60 in one second flat:
Or not. For none of that is strictly true.
You are like nothing else, Yourself, unique-
Untouchable, not winnable, for You
Keep disappearing everywhere I seek
And this is joy, more than I ever knew,
Sung in a language I can hardly speak.
Domina Dea was a guest on This Week In Kink’s, podcast #9, along with Boss Bondage, member the West Coast Assholes. You’ll have to listen to the interview to hear about the West Coast Assholes.
The podcast was produced by Tonya. She invited the guests, prepared the questions, and supplied sources for the topics. She and John Baku engaged Domina Dea and Boss in questions submitted by their audience. The discussions were informative, intelligent, candid, and peppered with lively repartee.
I felt like a fly on the wall listening in on an intimate conversation between 4 people who were sitting in a lounge sipping their poison comfortably chatting away.
As I told Domina Dea, she was interesting, very intelligent, and her voice was sexy as hell. She should have her own show period. Seriously. But I am biased. ‘-)
Naturally, once I handed over the key to my personal pandora’s box, my partner –that very night– went and read through half the archives. They did not waste time, oh no. To which my reaction was a kind of stuttering limbo between:
AeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiGHHHHHHH!
and:
‘Okay. Looks like that wasn’t such a big deal.’
“So I’m not so into rape and torture,” they said.
“I’m not necessarily either,” I replied. I did my best to answer their questions, to describe my experiences. I found the description surprisingly hard, as if all the clear-cut word-frames I’d thought of before had flown apart. We discussed the nebulousness of kinky vocabulary and how nobody is using anything the same way. I don’t know where I will go over the tumbled wreckage of the thick, high, camouflaged walls I spent two decades building around these parts of myself. It is. I am freer than I was.
“So, do you feel rejected?” they asked, waggling their eyebrows, warming my ice-block feet between their thighs. I wiggled my toes.
I have given partner’s partner Dev and Dw3t-Hthr’s blog addresses, and told them that if they stumble across me, it’s their call if they want to read.
There are things I missed in my last comma-abusing stream of thought. Such as that I am exploring my other gender. (Being argued with by an eight-year-old about if I am a man: Priceless). That I missed participating in this loosely woven sexuality community, lopsided as it is. To just be able to talk to or read the thoughts of people where it is taken for granted that I am what I am, and that it is normal, without any explaining. To remember that there really are others who share my experience.
I realized yesterday during an unrelated emotionally intense conversation, that I am in approximately eight-million different pieces. I didn’t even know it until I had said it aloud.
I am a dominant and a sadist looking for ways to meet my needs with no idea how. I have just torn down the maximum security fences that I started building when I was three. I am in a new place, beginning a new life, that I don’t know if I will continue or move on from. I am stumbling along trying to learn how to live with the people around me in an intimate and meaningful way. Through various small events and interactions, the line between my old life and my new life has become smudged, and it’s not as comfortable as when there was a clean break. I am a maker longing to make, and I don’t know how to share what I make, and I fear what I make will not be wanted. I do not know my role in a dying world, my responsibilities to the land or my responsibilities to myself. I don’t feel like an emotional wreck, but I am not entirely together either.
Right now it just feels like this vaguely uncomfortable, toe-stubbing stage that I’m bound to go through until all these aspects of my life begin to coalesce again. In the eye in the back of my brain, I see something like jewel-toned stained glass.
One of my moderators at MDS, Minofsin, posted a very provocative blog this evening about Dominants. I’m posting it here because I really like it. Sometimes I feel that being a dominant is sort of belonging to a really cool club with a bunch of cool people and everyone’s nodding that it’s all cool, except for those times when you just want to be.
Things Doms aren’t supposed to talk about.
by Minofsin
You don’t see many Dominants willing to discuss these things in public. One of the interesting things about the Roundtable program that is running here in Chicago and the MAsT meetings are the first times I have actually heard Dominants/Masters complain about the petty shit we aren’t supposed to mention anywhere else. Ok, maybe you hear complains, but it’s usually made in jest. But to hear other Dominants talk about their issues and their struggles not just with their relationships, but their own internal issues is refreshing.
We’re not alone.
But again, it’s not always what it’s cracked up to be. Don’t get me wrong, unless I was seriously forced to at gunpoint, I’d never give this lifestyle up. It completes me in a way few others do. But there are times when I want to pull out what little hair I have left and scream to the top of my lungs, “I’m tired of being a fucking Dominant.” Some days, I only want to deal with myself and nothing and no one else.
If saying that causes some to shake their head and think (because of course no one would have the balls to say it) that I am not a “twue Dom” or that I am a “wanna be Dom” (as a foolish and insipid former sub once referred to me) then so be it.
The reality is nothing is perfect. When I was reading that other blog I referenced earlier, it resonated with me on several levels. Because some of what she wrote has been told to me, personally. We all have off days and off moments when we doubt ourselves and what we are doing. It’s just the slaves and subs seem to be more honest and open about it.
While I have not had any such thoughts in a while, now and then it DOES happen. As I am learning, it’s natural. It’s part of the process. Even when I was happily married (for like those 5 or 6 days — LOL), there were times when I wanted to run away. I Love my son more than anything else on this planet, but there are times I’d like to drop kick his ass into the next garbage truck. Don’t even get me started on my mother.
As much pleasure as I get from all of this, from time to time it can be a bit much, and it is. Then, just as quickly as the frustration manifests, it goes away and the regularity of my life returns. Which is why I always say, don’t act out of anger. Because when that anger go away, the only thing you are left with is shit.
We build up these relationships to be some sort of Utopian vision of domestic bliss, when the reality is they are just like any other type of relationship. Yes, they are wonderful, but they can also make one’s ass itch. The itching, however, is temporary. But if it is consistent, then there are larger problems.
I think we all need to vent and purge now and then. I hope I don’t get kicked out of the Dom Club for saying any of this, but it needs to be said. Behind all the bravado and all the posturing is most likely a Dominant who sometimes gets just as frustrated as someone on the other end of it.
It’s called real life. Something I think many people could learn.
Product Description: Every relationship appears: husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, parent/child, cousins, doctor or nurse/patient, and of course jailers and unhappy prisoners in reformatories and jails. And all sorts of emotions, sometimes conflicting: pain and pleasure, submission and dominance, and of course sexual excitement and awakening.
the idea of watching this couple bump uglies makes my stomach turn. However, the porn collection of British couple Lisa Brand and Tommy Barnes is one of those things that totally grosses you out, but you end up watching anyway out of curiosity, like 2Girls1Cup.
