Body Awareness

February 19th, 2018

I’ve been meaning to post for a couple weeks now, but Things keep happening that distract or exhaust me. I’m working on posting more, though, so, I’ve got a few minutes now. I’ll try to remember what I wanted to talk about.

I have gained weight in the past couple years. A lot of weight, for me. An increase of body weight by 33% or so. This has come with a lot of clothing fit issues, and frustrations. But that’s only relevant for this blog in that I need to buy new party clothes at some point. At Halloween, I solved this problem by cutting holes all over one dress so it fit me still. There was a necropolis theme, so I put a red fish net under that one so it looked interestingly red through the holes.

Anyway. That’s not what I wanted to talk about. Rope. Rope is what I wanted to talk about. My body has never really behaved itself in the more strenuous ties I enjoy, but I’ve pushed through, one way or another. We’ve adjusted things “because my arms are dumb,” but I’ve always been able to manage.

It’s different now. Partially because more joints are acting up, but also because thin ropes hurt more with my bigger body. There are certain ties that have always cut in harshly, but now they cut in even more. I’ve never had a flat stomach, but now the ropes roll even more.

I know there is nothing wrong with having a bigger body than I’ve had before. I’m approaching 40 after all. And there are ways to mitigate the bite – thicker ropes, more bands, different ties. I am lucky to have a rope top who is willing to make adjustments and learn new ties so that it works with my body.

We’ve been working lately on a no-arms butterfly chest harness by Gorgone, and it’s wonderful. We even dredged up an old MOco hip harness we learned a few years ago to deal with the lower half. Once we get it sorted again, I’m confident it’ll work, too. And I love that he is willing to do this, to work harder and through frustration to find ways to get me in the air. I’m so very grateful.

I, however, need to work harder to be aware of my body. To take care of my body, and to keep it in better shape to do the things I want to do. I’ve got an eeling class to bottom for next month, and while I was snarky at the top’s questioning of my ability, I am a bit nervous if my body will be compliant to my desires.

I can’t blame meds I stopped taking over a year ago. I can’t blame my disease for all the time I spend on the couch. I can’t blame finances for all the pasta and bread I eat. I can’t blame my jobs for “having no time” when I sit around watching Netflix. I have to be more active and aware of my body and it’s needs.

I keep track of the things I eat, and track of when I do healthy things. But I do not, often enough, use that collected information to institute change. I have added a small set of exercises to my routine, but they aren’t cardio. I’ve started skating, but only twice a month. I reward myself for eating veggies, but I just ignore it when I don’t, and I don’t pay attention to amount of veggies eaten.

Body awareness and acceptance does nothing if I don’t do anything about it. Doc appointment tomorrow, hopefully we can balance out my meds for a start. I can’t blame it all on the disease, but less pain will help my motivation.

Plans can be made, but I must also follow through. Not just wait for “it will be better when…”

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His Care

January 21st, 2018

And sometimes, I need for him to take care of me, when I’m striving too hard to take care of him. As per the last post, I was stressing myself out massively over the events this weekend, and more. I talked to him a bit about it after posting. And we both reminded me that, among other things I need to let go of attachment to a specific outcome, and everything being perfect. It isn’t a failure if other people don’t show up. We will make due.

So, the next night I took some time, Specifically, to Let Go. I sat down in my papasan of soft, and meditated and let go. This reduced my stress about the weekend, and I was able to let myself go with the flow. Things didn’t go perfectly, not everyone showed up, and it was Okay.

On top of that, he offered me a scene on Saturday. I knew he had a lot lined up, so I went into it with no expectations, and, as usual, he knew what I needed and far exceeded any expectations I could have had.

He started with a warm-up spanking of my ass, and then some nice rhythmic flogging. Into harder flogging and faster, building up my moans to groans to occasional screams. I had side thoughts of my body being unused to this, and mild concern my skin would not hold out terribly long. But it didn’t have to, after a song or two, he ran his fingers along my skin, making me shiver and moan. Then dragged me by the hair to the spanking bench.

Where we really got down to work. Hand spanking, foam bat, leather paddle, and a gods-be-damned hard plastic hot spoon. Spanking to the music, setting me into happy space. Foam bat was a nice transition, only becoming painful after a while. Leather paddle started the screams and writhing, as he used his free arm and chest to hold me to the bench. Then the spoon brought the tears, first of frustration, I knew he wasn’t actually hitting me that hard with it, but DAMN it stung. “Let it out.”  I hear him say, and the tears did flow.

Crying and screaming and legs writhing as my body is pinned and the hits keep coming. Until we settle a little bit into some spanking again. Then he comes and checks in. Am I good or do I want more. I don’t think I managed to say anything, but he nodded, More.

And I’m screaming and crying harder than before. I hear someone comment they’ve never heard me make those sounds. It Has been quite a while… Sobbing into the bench. I hear them discuss how many big hits I should have to count. But I’m not there, yet. He continues to paddle and smack with the spoon, and spank with his bare hand until I’m able to make words again.

I’ve traveled through the catharsis fully now, and I try to count spoon strikes. He laughs, no, not that one. He picks up the paddle again, and I count. Up to Seventeen, I think, or was it Twenty. Screaming each number, but no longer crying. I have come through the pain, and cried out the stress, covering the spanking bench in my tears.

When I finish, he spanks me a little bit more, happy slaps on a very red ass. Then comes back to my head, where I thank him, so very much. And he counts me twice to orgasm to land me back in my body. Where I sit for a few moments before I’m able to stand and clean up, ready for the rest of the night.

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Self Care

January 17th, 2018

Self care isn’t just about eating right, exercising, and sleeping. It is also caring about your own happiness, and not staying in situations that make you miserable. It’s about speaking up for yourself and going after what you want. I am trying to do a better job of this (aren’t I always).

I most often find it hard in situations where I have a responsibility: to an SO, to a group, to friends. I feel like I must do the thing, even when I don’t want to. And I sometimes start to resent the thing and feelings of not wanting to grow even more. Yet, I continue to feel like I have to do it, especially if other people opt out, leaving myself and others to pick up the slack. They are doing what makes them happy, or what is right for their situation, but then, I feel like I cannot do the same.

These feelings are complicated by my Service relationship. He says none of us should do what doesn’t make us happy. That if we’re not enjoying the group/event, we don’t have to be there. But part of our relationship is me helping him with the group/event, my service is about making his life/job easier. I feel like, if I don’t go, I’m making his life/job harder. So, I write the story in my head that not going is a failure of service.

Also complicated because I want to spend time with him. If I don’t go, I don’t see him. If I don’t go, there’s no chance (however small) of playing or practicing rope with him. He has recently made more time for us to spend together on Monday afternoons, and I really appreciate that. It’s a different sort of time than event time, though.

Despite my two jobs, my life really is uncomplicated. I have no kids to take care of. my jobs are both day-time jobs, and one is incredibly flexible. I have a regular social schedule. Monday – Poly Family, Tuesday – Gaming, Wednesday – Kink Class/Practice. Monthly Kink Party (sometimes two nights). Monthly-ish Geek Party/Convention. Monthly Date Night. I have a really nice life.

I want to find a way to put the kink and the connection back into those weekly/monthly Kink events, because right now they just feel like work, and stressful, annoying work at that.

I think this is really the crux of it. I don’t have fun at these events anymore. For the monthly, I rush to get there, then I stress at who is doing what, and when, and who isn’t showing up. Then everyone asks me all the questions, because I’m the one who spends the whole night inactive, just watching over it all. And half the time, I then have to leave early because of Saturday morning work. On the weekly, I end up doing work because Life keeps happening to the official staff, and it’s not their fault, but I am put back in unhappy memories of being stuck at the door, unable to practice/play. Frustration levels rise.

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Lately, I Just Can’t… But I Must

August 19th, 2017

I can’t believe my country. I can’t believe the White House. I can’t believe this mess. But it’s real, it’s always been real. Life was never perfect, politics is always messy, racism never died, and discrimination was never defeated.

But the eight years previous to this one, I had hope. Hope that we were moving in the right direction. Hope that our leaders were getting a clue. Hope that we were working towards solutions. Hope that humanity would find humanity.

I know I live in an echo chamber, and that most of my friends have similar views and political leanings. And I wasn’t blind to the trouble and the violence, but it was still better than this. Better than a president who sides with Nazis, better than a president encouraging violence and foreign espionage, and better than a president who believes that science is false and people are not all equal under the law.

So, we fight. We fight our politicians, we fight each other, we fight our friends and family, we fight stupidity, we fight racism, we fight discrimination, and violence, and oppression.

But mostly, I fight to not lose hope. I fight to believe we can be better than this. I fight to keep going, to keep trying, to Listen, to help, to do whatever I can. I fight to believe I can do something, anything.

I’ve seen the posts, especially lately, with the Nazi fuckheads in Charlottesville, about if you’d ever wondered what you would have done had you been alive during Hitler’s reign, you’re doing it right now. And I’m glad to see all the resistance all around the country.

I’m a scifi/fantasy geek, so it was a meme on FB that caught my eye today and caused me to post:

“If you’ve ever said you’d fight in Dumbedore’s Army. If you’d follow the Mockingjay. If you’d fight the Empire. Now’s the time.”

I haven’t posted much this year, because this isn’t a political blog, and politics is mostly what’s on my mind, but we need allies in every corner these days.

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Wondering Woman

June 2nd, 2017

You know you’ve been away from your blog too long when you’ve missed five version updates of the CMS. It’s June already, and I’ve only made 4 posts this year. I am going to stop giving all the excuses of those posts. My heart just isn’t in it lately. My life is busy and crazy, and blogging has lost its shine. Even my weekly blog to my family missed a few posts in May. And it’s the only thing keeping me from the traditional weekly call at 4pm on Sunday.

I’m just home from watching Wonder Woman. I left work early so I could go see it before going to the bowling munch tonight, sure that it would be on everyone’s mind and lips. Went by myself, as is usual of late, and pondered the idea of a Movie Daddy… like a sugar daddy, only, he just takes me to the movies every week. <Smirk>

SPOILERS AHEAD….. Read the rest of this entry »

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Winter Blues, Spring Fever

April 10th, 2017

I have been terrible about posting these last few months, and I do apologize, my dear readers. The cold weather that came along with winter this year (and maybe even the lack of pretty snow to go with it), had me near hibernating most of the time. Wrapped up in blankets on my couch, not being very creative at all, for months.

Now, it is Spring. Easter is right around the corner. Today, I have my curtains and blinds open. My windows are letting in fresh air. I have tidied up my entire apartment. And birds are chirping happily just outside.

(And, also, the WoW servers are down. 😉  )

I’m not going to make any promises about posting, but I hope that I can make a turn for the better. I’ve bought plenty of fresh vegetables. I’ve gotten off prednisone. I’m working towards a better quality of life.

On the relationship side of things, the poly family is adjusting rather well to the ‘new’ addition. We’ve had a few schedule bumps along the way, but, with patience and talking, we have sorted them (and the reactions to them) out. My other guy is now occasionally referring to us as dating, so that’s a nice change. We have schedule bumps, too, and we’re heading for at least one or two more when he gets a new job. But we’ll work it out.

I really like that we are all able to talk about things openly and figure it out. Life isn’t perfect, and change is constant. But I wouldn’t miss a single bump, because of all the joy my relationships, friends, and families bring.

 

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Back in the Swing

February 26th, 2017

MP&C is getting back into the swing of things. We’ve had a few weeks of really good numbers <knock, knock> this month. Getting people in from WW, from FFF, from Meetup (change your password if you use this site), from 50 Shades Darker, and from all the various word of mouth and newbie groups/meetings. We’re kicking into gear getting presenters (contact group leaders if you want to teach) for both Wednesdays and our Fetnights. And more crew is coming out each week, too.

He and I have been getting back into the swing of Wednesdays, too. We had some really great rope practice, trying out a different waist harness, in a couple different ways. I found it extremely painful, but I expected it, so could stay in it for a bit while we sorted out why. Then he tied me up old-school style, and I had a really great flight. Soaring up into the air, high enough to pull slight screams of delight as my tummy flip-flopped.

 

This past week, we had fun on the floor. The high points were full of people all night, working on rigs and ties, or just enjoying themselves. He decided to clean out his bag and I went to sit with him. He found his bag of clips and clamps and I ended up with clamps on my nipples and little red clips scattered about my body. Then he put one on my ear, on the cartilage at the front of my ear. This one just kept sinking deeper and deeper and brought me to tears in no time. I couldn’t keep my hand from reaching for it, but I didn’t want to actually touch it, so my fingers stroked my cheek and jaw right in front of it. Once he finally took it off my ear, the last of the clips and clamps he removed, he put it on my nipple. Then he ordered me to do five jumping jacks. It took me at least a minute or two to get to my feet and do it, my nipple so tender already.

The bag also held a bunch of Mr Malaprop toys, so he beat me about the thighs with those as well, as I sat beside him. He also pulled out Uncle for a few strikes to my thighs, chest and back, while I howled in pain. Both left some lovely bruises decorating my flesh. He also decided to use some of his favorite toys, that he always has with him – his hands. And squeezed the shit out of my calves, causing me to writhe screaming and crying on the floor. While I was there, he also smacked my ass, since it was right there in view, with a paddle or two. Squeezing my calves to hold me in place if I tried to squirm away from the strikes.

After repacking most of his things away, he kept out a bundle of rope and considered me. Motioning my shirt off, and saying not yet when I asked about the skirt, he began to tie. Rope tight around my chest first, and then around each breast. Cupcaking them for, either the first, or one of the few times in my life. Holding me tight against his chest while he tied and I moaned in pain leaning into him. He even put in a fuck-you line to complete the pain and difficult breathing.

Then he pulled out his whip and we were off to the corner of the room, so he had room to swing. With the tie, it was difficult to get my hands behind my back, but I mostly managed to keep them out of the way. He laid line after line into my breasts, while I squealed and screamed. He even had me turn to one side and the other, so he could catch just my nipples in the swing. A few off-target strikes here and there, but still today, my breasts are coated in red lines.

It was an excellent night of connection, pain, screams, tears, and love.

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Rope, Beatings, and Service

February 10th, 2017

I had a really nice time at WW last weekend. I got to hang out with many members of my chosen family, and one even offered me a bed, so I didn’t have to drive home in the middle of the nights. It was fun to hang out and snuggle and go to classes together.  I even got to do some rope with him when we went to afternoon classes, including one very intense, randomly generated groundwork tie.

I had two scenes over the weekend, one each night. One a reprise of a last year’s scene with an old friend. This time with more pressure points than body drumming, but a good mix of both. He pulled much writhing and many squeals of pleasureful pain out of me with pushing his nails into points on my calves and thighs.

The other, with him, our usual, extremely enjoyable flogging, beating, whipping mixture. Pounding my back to the beat of the music. Spinning me round for whip kisses while he looks into my eyes. And a good few hard shots with a leather cock to lay some nice defined bruising on my thighs. I even asked for a light dragon tail tip cool down to settle me back to earth, since there wasn’t enough room for the full whip. Then we went to the rope room to sit and chill while I rested my head on his thigh and he occasionally stroked my hair. We saw many beautiful rope scenes while we relaxed together.

There was also service throughout the weekend. Fetching drinks and chocolate, monitoring his space when he flogged others, helping with tools and clean-up, watching his bags when needed. I also did a little bootblacking for the friend who scened with me. He had shiny boots, so I actually got to use polish on real leather boots that weren’t my own.

One of the classes I went to in the morning, before he arrived, was on Service, given by Mollena. It was a really fun, engaging, and educational class. She spoke not only about giving service gracefully, but receiving it gracefully, as well. She talked about how service is part of a power Exchange – heavy emphasis on the exchange. If you, as a service giver, are not getting anything from the one receiving service, then it is not an Exchange. There are many ways to create this exchange, and it’s important to figure out what you need, not just what you can give.

Sometimes what you are getting is the attention of the person you are serving. She gave a great in-class example. She asked someone in the back for a glass of water, and while they got it, she went on talking. When the woman handed her the water. She then looked right at her and asked for another, and then paid full attention to the woman the entire time she went and came back with the glass of water. Holding her with her eyes when the woman gave her the water and as she thanked her for it. The entire class felt the difference.

She also talked about being your True Self. How some of her early service relationships/trainers had her providing service that she was unfit for or uninterested in providing. She told some really horrible stories about the results of that service. She advocates for deciding for yourself what service you have to offer, and finding the person who wishes to receive that service. Being a slave, she told us, isn’t about becoming what someone else wants you to be, but about being yourself and connecting with those whose needs match what you can offer them.

Let’s not forget the Prime Directive either, which I have talked about here in other words: “It is the primary responsibility of the slave to protect the master’s property at all times, up to and including protecting the property from their master.” This is not only about speaking up for yourself, and making sure that you are being taken care of, but it is also about self care. That is one thing I struggle with every day.

It was an excellent class, and I still have more processing to do on it.

All in all, it was a very good weekend.

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2017 Has Begun

January 31st, 2017

I haven’t posted this month. I have reasons(excuses), but really, I just haven’t had the energy. I’ve had lots of ideas flitting through my head: in one hear, bouncing around for a few moments, and then slipping right out again before I got pen to paper. I should write things down faster, I guess. 😉

Most of my energy this month has gone to interviews, my chosen family, and politics. My gods, the politics. I don’t even want to get into all of that insanity. Not right now. Not here. I just wanted to let my readers know that I’m still here, and I’m still going to be writing.

Winter Wickedness is this weekend, and it’s the least prepared for a big event I’ve ever been. Ah well, it’ll be a casual one, I guess. I am planning on having one new outfit, possibly for the pirate theme, more likely not. We shall see how shopping goes.

With any luck, I’ll have plenty of fodder for posts next week. 🙂

 

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It’s Not the Uniform

December 28th, 2016

I don’t have a thing for military uniforms or police uniforms, but I do, occasionally find myself attracted to the men who wear them. Sometimes it has nothing to do with their profession, and sometimes it does. It isn’t the uniform, I rarely see them in said uniform. It has more to do with attitude, with the expression of their authority that comes across regardless of what they are wearing. I do have a thing for authority figures. That’s no secret.

Some of my more rare fantasies, that I haven’t indulged in awhile, and I’m not sure I’ve even ever posted about it, were a prisoner fantasies. Both as a military prisoner, or being arrested by a corrupt police officer. Gods, I haven’t even thought about those fantasies in ages. The military prisoner was sometimes an interrogation fantasy (caught spy). Sometimes they were more along the lines of naughty girl offering sexual favors to the authority figure to get out of trouble, like the teacher/school girl fantasies. Other times it was authority figure forcing himself on the hapless prisoner, as a slightly more power exchange-based rapey fantasy. Given all the trouble in the world, military and police, probably explains why I’ve strayed away from those these last few years.

It all comes to mind tonight because of my spiral of thoughts on the way home. The line of it was along being “inappropriately attracted” to a new(ish) cop friend of mine. I was going in a circle around that phrasing. Inappropriate because he has a girlfriend and kids (not sure who mother is), and is not poly. Arguing that being attracted to someone isn’t inappropriate unless you commit inappropriate actions based on that attraction. Then arguing that it isn’t the cop-thing that I’m attracted to, but his whole person – funny, caring, affectionate, geek, etc. When I see that he’s wearing his gun, for example, it kinda freaks me out, and the uniform isn’t especially interesting to me. But it is the air of authority he carries around that is part of the attraction.

Inappropriate or not, my attraction to him makes me feel all awkward around him when interacting out of character (tabletop gaming). He commented, when he saw the Christmas present I gave him, about deserving a hug for it. I really wanted to ask for the hug, but felt super awkward and didn’t, because I “wanted it too much.” (A feeling I think I have posted about before.) He likes giving hugs, too, it wouldn’t actually be weird for him, I’m pretty sure. But I’m over here being all awkward and shy because – attracted. Silly little imp.

Time for bed.

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