Sometimes It’s Just A Leg

August 25th, 2016

Listening to class on Wednesday. He’s practicing a single column tie, on my wrist. Pulling hard to make sure it doesn’t collapse, bouncing my arm like a puppet. A half dozen times. Then he grabs an ankle and does the same thing.

Only this time, he starts tickling my foot. I cover my mouth and squirm, but his tie is firm, and he’s grinning happily, tickling it just lightly to watch me react. Then he decides to go for more.

He starts tying my foot at a hard 90 degree angle, then runs the rope up over the top of my calf muscle, taking wraps Tightly down my leg back to my ankle. Tighter with every wrap. It reminds me of the Torture with Twine class, where I tied my own leg like this, but with much thinner stuff. I tighten my hand over my mouth, trying to keep my squeals of pain in, but then managed to switch over to processing with breath – gasping and breathing heavily as he squeezes the muscle tighter.

Then he starts tickling again. I clap my hand over my mouth as my brain tries to process the two opposing sensations at once without screaming. My eyes are wide as I stare up at him, and his eyes and mouth are full of sadistic amusement. And he tickles and tickles, and then squeezes the torture calf, and I have to muffle screams again. Light touches driving me mad, my hands are flapping helplessly, but I can’t fight, I can’t move my leg. He tries to straighten it a few times, pulling gasps and squelched groans out of me. It just can’t move. I try to move my toes, they feel so odd forced up like that, assuring there’s no problem, just strangeness.

Eventually, he unties that leg, and we both admire the markings the rope has left. Then he grabs the other and starts up again. Tight and tickles, pain and weirdness. Gasps and flappy hands. So much fun with one little rope. Together.

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Fun Times Don’t Have to be Big

August 25th, 2016

 

He decided we should play on Saturday. I’d offered on Friday, but we were all much too busy with the crowd.

He walked up to where I was sitting, and slapped me. I gasped and gazed up at him, and he leaded me over to the flogging station. The nice old mop floggers were his weapon of choice. Starting out low and slow, getting me nodding and rocking to the beat. Switching up to six-count to get my whole body moving. And then the heavy strikes, shoving me forward into gasping groans and screams. Riding up and down a few waves, to crest in louder screams.

“Are you awake now?” Yes. “What?” Yes. “What?” Yes, Sir.

Then he had me over his knee, pulling up the bottom of my fishnet dress, as I clutched the chair and balanced my toes. Spanking me, hard and stinging, solid and thuddy, punching and slapping, making me squeal and scream, and moan. Counting me up. Thank you, Sir.

Then he shoved me to the floor. And I lay there, gasping for breath. Looking up at his glittering eyes, and wide grin. I love you. “I love you, too.”  Finally catching my breath, I reach out to clutch the toe of his boot. The cool floor feels good. Calming. He grins down, asking me questions I no longer remember. Then he mentions getting a paddle.

I whimper as he helps me up, and puts me back up at the rig. He grabs the sorority paddle we snagged from a thrift shop years ago. “That was for you, this is for me.” His eyes are still sparkling as he lines up, and bends me over.

I clutch the cold metal poles, my dress falling back down, as he smacks into my ass. Screaming with every strike, rising up and then settling back down. Trying to keep my ass even instead of cocked to one side. He tries to imprint the Greek letters into my flesh. I scream louder and louder, flinching even when he doesn’t strike.

“One. Two…. THREE!” I scream louder than ever, orgasming through the pain.

Thank you, Sir, I gasp out as I finish.

 

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Events and Me Time

August 25th, 2016

COPE is coming up, but I’m not going this year. Too much tied up in moving house. Just can’t swing it this time. Which is a sad, for not getting to see friends, not getting to play with him, not having hot stories to tell after, not getting to sample classes from new presenters, no pile of meat Saturday night. But, it isn’t the first time I haven’t gone, and probably won’t be the last.

I’ve let myself get too wrapped up in everything. And pulled all the stress onto my shoulders and into my body. I have to focus on me for a little while. On getting ready to start a new chapter, on moving house, and rediscovering or recovering my passions. This is one of those passions I’ve let slide far too much. Social media is not really my bailiwick, I don’t know how to use Twitter to get followers, or interact with them, it just seems like there is too much noise, too much static there. I don’t know how to cut through it and connect, and let’s be honest, I don’t feel motivated to try. But writing, is. Writing about my journey, about my fun and my grief. Writing about my triumphs and my falls. Writing good stories, and meaningful (to me, at least) posts.

So, I’ve set some goals to recover my passions, and one of those is to write more every day, including at least one short story a week. I’m not going to promise they will all be for this site, but there will be some.

I had a really nice weekend. We had a hugely busy FFF this month, much bigger than we’d expected given attendance of late. And that was great, the fire class went well, and everyone had a good time. Also, he brought me fresh made rolls, Mmmmmm Tasty.

We also put on a Saturday party, or FFS. At which, I got to encourage a good friend to try out our Electric station, and our Fire station, both of which she very much enjoyed, and this made my heart happy – she does so much for our community, it’s nice to give back.

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Things I Want to Say

August 10th, 2016

I have things I want to say, things I want to post about. But I’m tired all the time, and I write them down, prompts for when I have more energy. But then, they don’t make as much sense, or they don’t seem as important. Or them seem too vulnerable a topic to put out in public space. At some point in the past, I didn’t care that this was public space – blogging for the world to see, mostly because I assumed that no one did see it. And that’s mostly true, still, my numbers are depressingly low for a blogger that’s been blogging this long, but they’re good enough for me, a few people visit every day, and that’s all I really need. Just enough for me to be sure this isn’t a hidden space, just enough for me to worry about being judged. Though not publicly, I hardly ever get any negative comments, or contradictory even. And yet…

Part of me wants to do another 30 days thing, to get my juices flowing, to get me back to posting. To get me back to making the time for writing. I’ve let the worries of the world, of money, of jobs, of moving, of health, beat me down into a little worker bee, doing all the needful things, but not doing the heartful things. The things that fill me up and move me forward into the world with happiness.

Which takes me to one of my topics. Abnegation versus Dauntless. I’ve been listening to the Divergent series audiobooks. I’ve only made it through the first two, because the third has a waitlist. But the main character’s struggle between selflessness and bravery is interesting to me. The other factions – knowledge, honesty, happiness – these are good traits, too, but they aren’t a struggle in my head. Bravery – in this internal struggle, is more about standing up, for myself, for others, instead of selflessness as standing back, doing what others want.

I’m not sure I’m explaining this well. In the D/s circles, there are discussions about doormats. One wants a submissive, not a doormat. Sometimes, it is a struggle between selflessness and doormatness – knowing where the line is, and having the bravery to stand up for oneself, while still serving.

But it’s more than that for me. I think I do a pretty decent job staying out of doormat-land. I am working on that standing up part, though – not to other people, necessarily, but for myself – to myself. Believing in myself, I guess. Some say that bravery is not being unafraid, but rather, being afraid and doing it anyway. It doesn’t take courage to do something you’re not afraid of.

And sometimes selflessness is bravery – in the books, being willing to sacrifice one’s life for others is both brave and selfless. The trouble, for me, with selflessness, if forgetting about my self. Not taking care of my self, doing for others instead of myself. Not because they don’t care about me, or don’t want me to think of myself, but because I put them first, instead of myself.

I forget to think, what do I want to do? What is good for me in this situation? I’m getting better at it, day by day. I’m taking better care of me, and not getting down on myself when I forget to. I have people around me that love me, who do their best to make sure I’m thinking of myself, too, when they ask me to do something.

What faction would I choose? All of them – I want to be brave, selfless, honest, happy, and intelligent. Because all of those things together is what make humanity great.

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e[Lust] #84

July 15th, 2016

Elust 84 header
Photo courtesy of A to sub-Bee

Welcome to Elust #84

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #85 Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Lightweight
About Those “Apple Thighs”
Why the Hell Haven’t I Rebelled Yet?

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

IDENTITY – hiding the evidence
friday flash–service

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Good In Bed

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Erotic Fiction

Ride
Pubic Disturbance
Colds and Lust
Sex Machine
Chemistry
A Dirty Bathroom Floor
Tether
I’m Sorry I’m So Silent
S’il Vous Plaît
Edge of Morning
Dancin’ (Most) of the Night Away
Airport Arrivals

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

42 Kinds of Casual Sex
Living in Fear – An Essay on Male Entitlement
Pride

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

How To Give A Bare Handed Spanking
Reconciling dominance and love
She’s a Very Kinky Gor

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Run the good race
IUD DIARY #1 (1.5 WEEKS LATER)

Erotic Non-Fiction

We Made A Resolution To Make Love Everyday
The 20 Minute Orgasm
More on cunt, corridors & Schroedinger’s cock
Stoned Birthday Sex
Room with a View
I’m Not Done With Your Throat Yet
It’s a strange path to trust.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Poly and Pets
mono-poly

Writing about Writing

Why Write Erotic Fiction?
ELust Site Badge

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State of Things

July 13th, 2016

Not much is going on in my kinky life these days. I go to the weekly class and practice, and the monthly class and party. But, other than my “duties” as part of crew, I don’t do a whole lot. He pokes me a bit here and there at these events, but we’re both too busy/otherly focused/exhausted/stressed to do much more than drive-bys.

I have my weekly poly-family night with him and his wife, and that’s nice – we have tasty dinners and veg in front of the TV and chat about work and life. I’m usually managing a once-a-month visit up north, to see the new guy, who I guess is not so new any more, to hang out, eat tasty food, and enjoy one another. Soon, he’ll be living down here, then we have a whole new scheduling game to play. It’s a pretty good life, I’ve got. Just not terribly exciting.

And that’s okay. I’m working two jobs, trying to balance work-life-sleep-money, and enjoying the love, friendship, and family I have. He asks me fairly often if I’m happy – yes, I’m happy. Do I want/wish for more in life/out of life? Sure, but who doesn’t? We’re a very motivated, ambitious, and curious people. We always want more – more money, more time, more excitement, more things, more experiences, more sex, more play, more, more, more. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’ve got.

Right now, my focus of “more” is on getting a better job and a better apartment. A better job so I can afford the other “mores” I want, and have a better schedule to have time for the other “mores,” too. A better apartment so I can have people over without them dying of heat stroke, or being annoyed at the shouty neighbors, to facilitate other “mores” with friends and family.

The state of things bigger than my little world? Well, that’s a whole other ball of crazy wax.

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Imp of the Perverse

July 4th, 2016

I don’t know if I’ve ever posted about my name. I’ve had this blog so long, it’s possible that I have, but something new brought it forward in my mind. I listened to Brimstone Angels by Erin Evans recently, and the devil in the story brought it forward in my mind. Not the magic he offers, or his violent temper, or even the care he develops for the main character, but her attraction to him, and her resistance of it.

I have a quote from E.A. Poe’s story, The Imp of the Perverse, on the sidebar of this website: “There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a plunge.” It’s a story about that little voice inside us, that urges us to jump. Urges us to Do The Thing, even though the rational, logical part of our brain says ‘no, it’s dangerous, it’ll kill you, don’t do it.’

I have that feeling a lot in my life. And I resist it a lot, too. Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s very hard. Sometimes I resist it just because the feeling is there, and it is so strong: I shouldn’t do the thing. Why? Because I want to do it so badly.

Does that even make sense to someone who isn’t me? Who wasn’t raised the way I was? Probably, a lot of people were raised this way. I was raised to resist temptation: “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” I was taught that temptation was evil, something to be avoided.

And so, sometimes, when I give into temptation, I do it with my eyes closed so tightly, that I trip and fall headlong down that cliff. Instead of walking in, eyes (and mind) wide open, so I can control my fall, or maybe even climb down carefully.

I’ve done this with relationships, over and over again. Jumped in headfirst, and hit rock bottom before I even knew I was falling. Some of these were shallow cliffs, with not very far too fall. Some of them, I’m still climbing out of.

I did this with him, too. Jumped in without looking, lost my way, took the wrong path, hit rock bottom. But he jumped in with me, and we helped each other back to our feet, and we still walk together, living our lives, and exploring other cliffs.

Sometimes, I miss my cliff-jumping days. Sometimes, I resent my carefulness, now. Sometimes, I get frustrated that bad-idea snacks are the one of the few temptations I give into anymore. Sometimes, I don’t want to be responsible, dependable, reliable. Some days, I just want to go be a librarian on the Galapagos Islands. Some days, I want to just get in my car and drive til I run out of money. Some days, I wonder if I could get people to pay me to drive around the country doing genealogical research for them. Or fly around the world, too. Some days, I don’t want to be careful, and thoughtful, and considerate. Some days, I just want to jump off a building and be Dauntless. (Guess what book I’m listening to, now.)

 

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Poly and Pets

June 21st, 2016

Some people have one pet, some people have two pets, some people have many pets, and they love them all, but it’s more than that. I’ve seen some interesting examples of poly illustrated through the pets of various friends and acquaintances.

Monogamy: There is just one pet, and that’s all they ever want, and they are very happy with their one pet, until death do us part. Then, after a time, they might get another pet.

Harmonious Poly: There are multiple pets, and all the pets get along, there are occasional spats, but they all coexist peacefully most of the time.

Discordant Poly: There are multiple pets, and they do not get along, to the point that the pets are kept in separate areas of the house, or outside/inside divisions, or constantly supervised. The owner goes through a lot of work to give each of the pets attention and love, and whenever the pets get too close to one another there are fights.

And I see examples of attempts to add new relationships, too.

Some pet owners take current pet(s) to meet the new potential pet, to see if they get along, and after some time getting to know the new pet, and the new pet getting to know them and their current pets, when all is well, they bring the new pet home, with the intention of harmony.

Others suddenly bring a new pet home, expecting that it will just get along with all the others, or already planning to keep them separate. Sometimes this goes well, and they get to harmony fairly quickly. Other times there are constant fights, and the owner must decide if they are willing to work through it, with patience and training(communication) and/or separation of the pets, or if they have to let the new pet go/take them back.

We’ve all seen jealousy illustrated with multiple pets – petting one and another comes over, begging for attention. Some have seen pets acting out if left alone too long, or who get upset if you go away.

Obviously, people are a lot more complicated than animals, and relationships are more involved than pet ownership, but both take a lot of time, patience, and energy, and both can provide lot of love and joy.

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Orlando

June 14th, 2016

The Victims

A Voice for Acceptance for All

Love Can Conquer Hate

A Call to Action
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“Fortune” Cookie Wisdom

June 5th, 2016

My fortune cookie yesterday said: “You are open and honest in your philosophy of love” as I sat across from my mom and never told her that he is not just my friend, but my boyfriend of six and a half years, and only vague things about the new boy once in great awhile to assuage her fears that I am lonely. But that’s just a family thing.

In general, the “fortune” is true. All my friends know I’m in a relationship with a married man, those who am I around regularly know about the new guy, and his girlfriend, as well. They and all the other folk I have affection for, of course, all know about each other, and my not-yet-ex-hubby. I am grateful to be able to live the life I have openly and honestly with those that love and care about me.

My new coworkers haven’t asked yet, about my love-life, and I haven’t really decided how open I’m going to be with them. I’m just getting to know them as coworkers – have found a few fellow geeks/gamers, and they all seem pretty relaxed and cool. But it’s always a difficult thing in the workplace, to know how open you can be about non-normative behavior. Especially since I’m starting at the bottom and needing to work my way up, to at least a full-time position, as quickly as possible, for insurance and financial reasons. I’m just so happy and excited to finally be doing what I want to do and what I’ve worked so hard towards.

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