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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Quiet Holidays

December 15th, 2016

I posted a lot in November, and haven’t posted since. Sorry about that. I’ve been taking lots of Me Time. Playing video games, watching Netflix, relaxing, and even some cooking. Looking forward to some quiet holidays. I’ve got my usual short family visit at some point, puppy-sitting, and a small NYE gathering coming up. A nice quiet holiday season.

There was a nice class on tea/dinner service last night. My favorite part of the class was the discussion of Service as a cycle of energy exchange. The presenter discussed how the Recipient provides opportunities for the Server to provide service. The Server in turn, performs the actions. The recipient receives pleasure/comfort from the actions, and the server feels pleasure/comfort from performing the actions. There is also opportunity for gratitude, discussion, and compliments. Service is not one-sided. There have to be two engaged people, or you would have no one to serve.

Looking forward to the conventions coming up. DeCon and Winter Wickedness. I still have to get my tickets, but I should be good to go for both. I don’t have any particular plans, but to have a good time with friends and loved ones. I’m sure plans will get sorted out closer to. A bit distracted and thoughts scattered today. I’ll try and get back to posting substantial things again soon.

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Bedtime Thoughts

November 30th, 2016

It’s bedtime, so of course, my brain has woken up. It started with – I haven’t written in a couple days because of Busy. Then it went to, it’s the end of the month. Then, what haven’t I written about from my initial list. Hard Limits and Cuckqueaning came to mind.

Cuckqueaning had come into my head when I first wrote that list, as I thought about revising my hard limits list. Cuckqueaning – the female version of cuckolding – for a woman’s partner to have sex with another woman. In the kink sense, this is often done with the full knowledge, and sometimes in front of the cuckqueaned partner, where that partner derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s relations with another.  For me, this isn’t just “not my thing,” it feels emotionally harmful to me. Not other people doing it for their own pleasure, but if a partner of mine was to do it to me, as a sadomasochistic thing.

This isn’t about my partners playing with other people, or my partners having other partners. There have been teasing “threats” in the past of sitting me on one side of the room (in various states), while a partner did sexual things on the other side of the room with someone else. It was usually laughed off, and never followed through with. A comment earlier this year, teasingly suggesting I find someone other than myself to sexually please a partner triggered extremely negative feelings. Other things were going on, and it was part of the “no time to deal with this now” phase I had myself in, so I let it go and pushed it away to deal with later. I think this is all hitting on my degradation hard limit. To me, this falls into that category of not good for me. Along with the “not ____ enough” bullshit my mind throws up with no outside help.

So, my Hard Limits are pretty simple these days, with him: Nothing that would likely end up with me in hospital or jail or morgue. No physical, emotional, mental, or financial Harm. With other people, I think my post from November 17th, 2013 is still pretty valid. Every now and then, I just find new things that fall under the currently listed categories.

 

What else haven’t I touched on? Whipping Post. Skin Time. Private Time. Art. I think I’ve touched on all the rest of the list, in one way or another. So, let’s take these, one at a time, to finish up the month. (There might be another post later today, depending on how things go.)

Whipping Post. He’s been practicing a lot with his whip lately – I mentioned this earlier this month. Trying out some new swings – one that’s really heavy. It reminds me of whipping post scenes from movies, like in Mockingjay. Obviously, he’s not taking my skin off – that’s a no-no around here, plus I can barely stand for the strikes as they are. I want to stand up to the strikes, but we’re generally out in the middle of a big empty room, nothing to brace against. Not to mention it is cold and I’m usually not terribly warmed up for that sort of thing when we’re doing it. But there’s an inkling of curiosity, morbid though it may be.

Skin Time. One of the things I really enjoy with my unlabeled partner(I really need to pick an alias of some sort) is skin time. Time to just be naked with one another. Our skin touching, fingertips brushing lightly, hands warming bare flesh. The feeling of us together, pressed close, sharing warmth and sensation fully. It is a completely different type of connection than just snuggling up fully clothed (also a nice thing to share). And it is more precious to me than I realized before I was without it for so long.

Private Time. In our busy lives, it is often hard to find private time with him. We have poly family nights, and we have practice/class nights, and we have club nights. Given our schedules and the relative locations of our homes and venues, we hardly ever ride to things together any more. Lately, though, his wife has had things to do early on our family nights, so we’ve had time to catch up before she gets home. But it’s always with the knowledge that her arrival, if not imminent, is still fairly soon.

I know, should I need to have a conversation, or some such, I can let him know, and time will be made. But the yearning is different than that, and too undefined for me to form a request. I miss having time for just us, but I haven’t the slightest idea where we could create it these days. Or what we would do with it, given everything. Once again, I’m back to the sentiments from my Asking post – figure out what I’m looking for, and remember to ask.

Art. Writing is my art. It is my passion. It is my way of putting little bits of my soul into the world. It creates happiness within me, and brings me peace. I have very much enjoyed getting so many thoughts down on “paper” and out into the world this month. Of locking my inner critic up, for the most part, and just letting myself speak my truths. At this point I’m crossing 9,500 words, not anywhere near the NaNo goal of 50K, but it has been good for me, and I hope to continue it forward. I hope you, dear readers, have enjoyed this month as much as I have.

Now, maybe my brain will let me go to sleep. 😉

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Details, Details

November 26th, 2016

I didn’t write yesterday. Nor did I shop. Last year was my first Black Friday off in 14 years – I went to a convention. This year, I was back at work, but at the library, not in retail. There were a few deals I was interested in checking out. But, I kept to my promise to myself. No shopping yesterday. I like sales, and deals, and I get that my refraining does nothing to the day. But there are some things you do just for yourself. I stayed in, with a puppy, and Doctor Who, and WoW.

Today, I went and got a haircut from at a professional shop… first time since Boise. There it was ex-hubby’s relative’s shop. Since then, it’s been a friend here in town. But I’m too much of a procrastinator, and this one was time-sensitive. Trying something new, nothing huge, just moving the part to the side, trimmed the hair up to the chin-line and layered it a little bit. Not much room for layers in my thin hair. I also bought a song and an audio book from Amazon today. The song to benefit an Autism charity, and the book with my monthly credit.

I wrote a story once in college, with every tiny detail put down. The critiquers wondered if the person was OCD due to my exacting detail. I didn’t think it was that bad. I mention because of my random details above, and someone questioning an email I sent recently describing my weekend in detail. I just do that… sometimes? Most of the time? Details seem important to me. It’s how I try to write my scenes – with as much detail as I can remember. I lose time sense and order in scenes, but I do my best.

Now I’m really rambling. ::Laughs::

Details. It’s all in the details. As someone who overthinks – there are often too many details. I am detail-oriented. A good thing for a worker. But it can be bad when you’re analyzing people. Everyone makes mistakes. Misspeaks. Misspells. And none of us sees the world the same as anyone else. Just look at that silly dress that went around the net. Or ask any two people to describe a scene. We see things through, not just our eyes, but our experiences and our world-views.

I think that’s why I try to share as many details as I can. Why I am often oddly specific. I know others cannot see the world as I do, so I try to share what I see in as much detail as I can. (Random aside as TV, and therefore commercials are on: Zales has some horribly ugly, gaudy diamond rings.) I used to do this through pictures. I have albums and albums of pictures from my youth, to share with others. Now, more of than not, I use words instead.

I am trying to remind myself of that with all this writing. That, in order to share my world, my thoughts, I have to put them out there. I have to write, and post, and speak. I have to make it a habit again. I have a voice, and in this world, I cannot just sit back. I must use it.

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Thanks Giving 2016

November 24th, 2016

I am thankful for my families. My parents for being supportive in all the ways they can. My brother for being the best brother he can, and a good father to my nephew and nieces. My boyfriend and his wife, for making me a part of their family. My crew family, for coming together, working together, and taking care of each other. My other crew family, for very much the same things, and for fighting together, for a better future.

I am thankful for my friends. Living all over the globe, we still are connected. We still share each other’s joys and sorrows. And when we meet up, there is no space between us. I am thankful for all the love, support, advice, stories, and pictures that we share.

I am thankful for my community. We are like a family. There are still squabbles, and not everyone gets along. But we have built an awesome community anyway. We are strong, we are varied, and we are full of acceptance for one another, and opportunities to share with each other.

I am thankful for my boyfriend. Who has seen me through thick and thin. Who has stuck by me even in the darkest of places. Who has brought a light, and a mirror, to help me see. Who brings me love and joy, and shares the load of sorrows and pain. Who knows just how to make me scream or cry or laugh or fly. Who always makes me feel heard, appreciated, and cared for. And who trusts me to give all these things to him.

I am thankful for my label-less partner. Who brings his own brand of care. Who shares his heart and his mind with me. Who helps me feel attractive, desirable, and unashamed. Who introduces me to new authors, new movies, and new shows with such unbounded enthusiasm, even when they are heartbreakingly unfinished. Who, though not certain about poly, is still eager to share some of his time and life with me.

I am thankful for the life that I lead, the opportunities I have been given, the love, support, and joy that surround me. I am thankful to live in this place, at this time, with so much ahead of us all. I am thankful to you, my dear readers, for making me part of your lives.

Thank you.

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“You Are Loved and Desired”

November 24th, 2016

He does a very good job of making me feel loved. When he sent me the above message today, I nearly cried. But let’s be honest, I cry so very easily, especially in stressful times. He always makes me feel loved and appreciated. Desired, however, is a harder one. Do I know that he enjoys playing with me? Yes. Do I know he enjoys my company? Yes. Do I know he enjoys both my suffering and my service? Yes. Do I often feel desired by him? No?

Desired is a loaded word, for me, I guess.  English Oxford Living Dictionary defines it as: 1) A strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen, 2) strong sexual feeling or appetite. My overthinking, self-judgmental brain tends to focus on the latter of these definitions, and as he and I have a “non-romantic/sexual” relationship, desire is not a word I often use for his feelings for me. I desire him in this way, always have, always will, but I put it on hold and keep it at bay, to keep expectations managed and balanced. Over the years, it has wobbled up and down, depending on what’s going on, and his testing various waters. But it tends to return to this balance.

Today, he sent me that message. Tonight, after his initial plans were dashed by unexpected class set-up, he got me aside for a flogging.

Leather mop warm-ups. Good and steady, get me bobbing and swaying, into the zone. Eyes closed, just feeling it, and him. Fingertips make me shiver. Then off to get the big deer flogger, gods, I’ve missed that. But solid thumps. Heavy sounding thwacks. Pounding me into the wall. Knocking groans out of my chest. Then snaps. Sting. Not the whip, not the tips, heavier. Squeals of pain. I have a vague notion, but it’s not until he lays it over my arms in front of me that I’m sure it’s the dragon tail. A few more heavy hits, and then the deer flogger is over my arms, as well.

He bring up the rubber mops. Ready for this? It’s been a long time. Too long. Let’s find out. Surprisingly, I am. They feel good, heavy, solid. Slamming out more groans, eyes squeezed shut makes balance occasionally hard, but keeps me deep. Tipping Florentine brings out more squeals, then heavy, deep double blows, rock me into the wall. He counts me up to orgasm a few times. Thank you, Sir! Do you feel desired? He asks between them. Yes, Sir. And we go right back into it. I last a lot longer than I expect to, though we both know our old endurance challenge is probably a bad idea. It feels so good, slamming my back, pulling out screams with the tips, groaning with the big hits. I know he lifted me by the hair at one point, but I can’t even place where that was. Finger tips on hot flesh send me gasping. He spanks me to another counted orgasm as we finish up. Kisses and hugs and thank you. He grabs my back a few more times in the evening, even another counted orgasm before we’re through. A very nice Thanksgiving night.

That’s what desire means for us, between us. A different kind of energy – the smack of flogger on flesh, the screams and groans, the rocking and tapping and swinging. The pushing back and forth of our energy. The gleam in his eye as a crumple against the wall, squealing at the lash. The grin on his face when I pop back up and present my back again, and again. The one, two, three…. Thank you, Sir. The touch of fingertips on burning skin, and the rough grab and squeeze to get one more squeal.

I forget that sometimes, when I let my brain run on. It is still very programmed with societal norms. There are things I still want to find in my life, to add to my life. But I am extremely lucky and blessed by what I do have. A partner who loves, appreciates, and yes, desires me, in our own special way.

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