February 8th, 2016

Went to three classes this year. One about Accepting the Demon Within. Which turned out to be more about rewriting the stories of your upbringing. Turning the guilt and shame of our unconventional turn-ons into good things. Accepting that which makes us happy and horny, and that which makes our partners happy and horny. By creating “new intentions.” It was taught by a life coach, and as such, was very much like all the other life-coaching classes I’ve been to. Not a bad thing, just not a new thing. I think my nugget from that class was taking the fear of admitting to a fetish and turning it into a more easily spoken fetish by talking about why it is a fetish. The example given was admitting enjoying tickling as a fetish, because he liked reactions. My example might be admitting enjoying rape-play as a fetish, because I like having control taken from me by force.

The second class I went to was Balloon Bondage. It was fun and silly and loud and educational. I learned that I cannot blow up long, balloon art balloons. 😉 He tried to teach us how, but only a few folks could do what he described. I was not one of those few. However, my partner in class was, and we quickly decided we should do a balloon bondage scene at our next event together. Though, she’s still going to bring a pump for ease sake.

The third class I went to was about connection through rough body play. He talked about the three factors: Attention/Focus, Contact, and Tension. Giving your partner your attention and focus, as well as capturing their attention and focus. Contact, even if it’s not physical. Eye contact, energy contact, physical contact. Creating tension through fear or expectation. Hitting in a rhythm then pausing before hitting again. Making them face forward while you are behind them. He showed great examples with his demo bottom. He even called another play partner out of the audience, with whom he has a different dynamic. The focus, contact, and tension was created and displayed almost instantly. Beautiful.

I intended to go to other classes, but lunch and chatting got in the way of that. Lunch did net me an extra scene for the weekend, though.


In Sickness and In Health

October 9th, 2015

As someone who has been broken up with because he “can’t handle my disease.” As someone whose future mother-in-law asked her future husband why he couldn’t find someone who wasn’t sick or broken. As someone whose boyfriend asked her when she was going to “give up the idea of having RA.” As someone who get looks of worry or words of concern when I choose to carry something heavy, (or has it taken away from me because they think it’s too heavy). This post speaks to me: I Promise To Love You When You’re Sick.

My disease does not define me, but it does frustrate me. I can physically do most of the things that I want to do, but not all. And some of them I cannot do for an extended period of time. I work with my doctor, my drugs, my food, my body, my family – to do the best that I can for myself. But on some days, it just isn’t enough. On some days, I just want to scream and cry and throw things, but on those days, I’m often too tired, or it hurts too much.

A long time ago, I came to hate the word fragile. I am not fragile, I insisted, I’m just a little broken, and some days a lot broken. And anyone who has seen me play, or read some of my more physical scene descriptions, can attest to that. I am not fragile. I refuse to be. You cannot straighten your left leg or your right arm, they’d say – I’m going to learn Fencing, I replied. Every joint in your body is screaming, they said – I’m a Masochist, I insisted. I’ve seen your body try to kill you, he said – I’m going to fly, I replied.

Diseases like this are a rollercoaster. I’ve had periods of remission – when I felt almost normal. But normal to me is a lot different than normal to a healthy person. I have spent a couple years off drugs here and there. Most recently when eating a far healthier, far more limited diet. But even then, I wasn’t pain and flare free, and I’d rather be happier than totally drug-free at this point in my life. And chocolate makes me very happy. 😉

So, to all of those in my life, who do their best to understand, to support, and to comfort me. To all of those who love me without thought of my disease, or with every thought of my disease. To the (ex)husband who told his mother to leave off. To the (ex)boyfriend who taught me about healthy eating, but did not shut me out when I started taking drugs again. To my boyfriend who lets me carry anything I choose to carry, and makes sure that he or others are there to carry what I choose not to try, who has never treated me as fragile, but understands that I am sometimes more broken than I want to admit. To all of those who in my life who are suffering alike or differently. Thank you for being party of my life, for loving me. I love you, too.


Speaking Desire

March 12th, 2015

I should be sleeping, but brain is running and guts are being obnoxious. I’ve been meaning to post about desire this week. I posted a link to an article about it yesterday. Not just desire, but expressing desire. Out Loud. With Words.

I’ve posted many times about sexual shyness. This post isn’t about that. It’s about the words. It’s about asking for things. It’s about learning to speak, all over again.

I’ve gotten a lot better these past five years. Gods know he’s challenging me more and more to ask for things. I get frustrated sometimes. When did we have to start planning out scenes ahead of time? But his plate is so full of All The Things. Stress levels are high, and if I can reduce that by asking for things. By being specific. I damn well better do that. For him. For us. For me.

I’ve got a new relationship brewing. And this one finds my blushing adorable. This one finds it very entertaining to get me going, then stop and ask More? What now? What do you want? What would you like? And watch me blush and hide my face while trying to form words in answer.

I told him recently that I’m more used to accepting what’s offered than asking for more. I am afraid of being viewed as pushy or needy. But this relationship is challenging that. Given our schedules, and my only getting mine a week ahead of time, I have to ask to see him when I have days off. And not just to see him, but I have to ask to come to his. This goes totally against my ingrained programming to not invite myself over to someone else’s home. If I want to see him, this is what I have to do, for now. It is possible for him to come see me, just trickier. It has happened, in a manner of speaking, and will happen again at some point.

But this helps me. It helps me know that asking is okay. Every yes makes me more comfortable. Gives me more confidence when he asks the questions that make me blush. Helps me know that I am wanted, and that it is okay to ask for what I want. Even if some of them are no, it is teaching us to communicate with each other. Creating a safe space for that communication.


Poly, Kink & Control

May 23rd, 2013

Had a good thoughtful post all outlined last night, to fill in the blanks today, but then I got accepted to grad school for the fall, and my brain is all a tizzy with excitement. Fortunately, I also wrote a different blog post type thing last night at 3am because I couldn’t sleep with camping excitement, so we’ll just go with that for now, there might be the original post later.


You hear it all the time – “You must be in control of yourself before you can give/take control to/from another.” We bottoms seek out tops who are “in control,” and tops (one assumes) seek out bottoms who are, as well. But what does that really mean?

I thought I knew. But often power is mistaken for control. Leadership positions are mistaken for control. Confidence, physical prowess, and popularity are mistaken for control. But these are all surface things, and can have very little to do with self-control. When you dig deeper, you might just shatter the illusion.

Sometimes you do find someone who is “in control” and some of these times, you feel you are “in control,” too. Then you feel like you’ve done it right and you’re ready to jump in. But life is messy and so many things are outside our control. So many things are chomping at the bit, just waiting for the unguarded moment, to slip out of control. Often in poly and kink, you are trying new thing after new thing, that you haven’t yet learned to keep in control. And it slips, and all off a sudden you are out of control.

We are human, imperfect, flawed, and weak. Control is something we strive to maintain. It is not a place in which we can live, not if we intend to interact with the world, our partners, and sexual and kinky exploration. Some spiritual traditions may disagree, from one end of the spectrum to the other. But, for me, being “in control” is a practice of constant mindfulness and acceptance that I will slip from time to time, and tumble out of control until I get righted again.

This is most often accomplished with the help of my friends and loved ones. When we are lucky, only one of us falls out of control at a time. Other times, it feels like an acrobatic skydiving team; tumbling off one another as we fall faster and faster. But we come together in the end, and chutes are pulled and control is regained.

So, look for people who are “in control,” but also, notice what they do when things spiral out of control. Anyone can control a rowboat moored at a dock on a quiet day. How do they react in a storm?


The Cycle of Change, Simplified

April 16th, 2013

Fear – Knowledge – Understanding – Acceptance – Normativity

New ideas are met with fear. People fear what they don’t understand. So, those with the new ideas keep talking, bringing knowledge about the idea to others. They educate people so that there can be understanding. Once there is understanding, people can begin to accept these new ideas. Once enough people accept an idea, it becomes the norm.

The trouble comes when fear closes eyes and ears. When it stills tongues. When fear kills a new idea before it can even be explored. Fear can be strong, so strong, that new ideas are met with violence. Over and again in human history, ideas beget fear, and fear begets violence. When there is fear and violence, there is no learning, there is no science, and there is no progress.

And sometimes we move backwards, and we have to start the cycle all over again. Homosexuality is nothing new, it has been part of human culture since the ancients. But somewhere along the line we moved backwards, and acceptance of homosexuality became a new idea again. And it is met with fear, and sometimes violence. Today, the knowledge is overwhelming the fear more often, and understanding is growing again. But we are still too far from acceptance, and much too far from normativity.

I mentioned to gay marriage to my mother, a retired pastor, this week. Her response to me was to mention that a different denomination approved of it. Her answer to my disappointment in the Church I grew up in, was to change denominations.

The idea of multiple loves, and marriages, is nothing new. Around the world today, various cultures approve or disapprove of it for various, mostly religious-based reasons. People interpret their holy texts in the way they see fit, and base their values around it. And that’s fine, the trouble comes when they try to make others live by their chosen values. This is a nation based on freedom. Freedom of religion. Freedom of expression. But we make laws about who can love who, who can marry who and how many. Why is that even part of the legal system?

Health benefits, death benefits, power of attorney. You can have a wife and three kids on your family insurance, why not two wives, if you pay for it the same? Child custody is just as complicated with marriage, divorce and remarriage and divorce as it would be in multiple parent households. We were founded by people fleeing religious persecution, only, centuries later, to be basing our laws on Judeo-Christian religious values.

I went to church this past weekend and the lesson was the parable of the Good Samaritan. The lesson was to love, not just those that believed as you did, but to love everyone. The world gets more crowded every year, we have got to stop pretending that we are right and everyone else is wrong. There will never be peace while there is fear, hatred, and intolerance. Fear breeds violence, and violence brings change to a screaming halt.


Leadership and Community

December 3rd, 2012

“Behind every great man, there’s a great woman.” Or reverse that, if you’re the other way around. I’m not a leader. I don’t play the politics game. I am a follower, an organizer, a communicator and a peace-maker. I stay behind the scenes, quietly helping things run as smoothly as I am able.

This community of ours is large and quite diverse. I am lucky to be a part of a local community with so many active groups that I’m not sure I can even name them all. And in a kink community, with so many alpha(Dom) personalities, it really takes something to be a leader. It takes something I don’t have, and I’m very grateful to those that do.

It isn’t even just about running one of the many group meetings or parties. These leaders bring together people from all walks of life, with kinks as varied as the stars, and they create community. They create spaces where everyone can be their true selves without fear. They lead by serving, always active in their events, and in the events of others. They also mediate disputes, with fairness and understanding. They stay true to themselves and their agreements with the community at large, to keep everyone safe. Even when doing so makes people unhappy. You can’t make everyone happy all the time, especially if you’re a leader. Sometimes you have to put the group above the individual. Even if you care for the individual very much. I couldn’t do it, and I’m so very grateful for and proud of those that do. And do so with discretion and care for all involved.


Well, that was not what I had intended to write. But since it’s what came out, it probably needed said. I was going to write about community. What does community mean to me, was the question I was asked. So, let’s go from there.

Community is a group of people with a common interest (most dictionary definitions stop there, but I go further), who come together to support each other and share with one another. In the context of this blog, that common interest is Kink. We are a group of people whose sexual expression is outside the societal norm. We come together to learn and share and protect each other. Not to mention meet each other, it is harder to be kinky alone, though not impossible. Self-love, after all, can be quite fun, too.

So, what about this community I call home?

I love it. We have big groups that host amazing events. We have little groups that have dinner together. We have a couple groups that focus solely on rope. We have groups that teach a wide variety of topics. We have groups that throw parties. We have a group that goes to hookah bars. We have a group that goes bowling. We have a group for littles, groups for FemDoms, and one for photographers. And as mentioned above, I’m sure I’m forgetting some others. (Oh, yeah, there’s a poly group, too.) It is amazing the wide variety of options available here.

And yet, we are still one big community. People can attend nearly every single one of these groups, and quite a few do try. Most days, you can find a kinky gathering going on, and often, if you can’t, someone creates one, even if it’s just a movie night or a game night or a thrift store trip. Weeknight events can gather 30-40 people, play parties upwards of 100, and the big events 300+ (often limited only by the space available). It is incredible the joy, energy and caring that comes together in this community. And once again, a shout out in gratitude to the folks who make these groups and events happen.

So, what does the local community mean to me?

It means acceptance, understanding, strength, growth, learning, sharing, and caring. It means a place where I can be myself. Where I can serve and love, learn and teach, scream and cry, giggle and chatter, fly and space out. It is a place where dreams come true, and reality is even more exciting than fiction (and yes, stranger, too). It is also a place of humanity. Where people make mistakes, where bad things happen, where relationships don’t always work out. Where people fight, spread rumors and believe half-truths or all-out lies. But it is also a place where people can learn from the bad, where we can grow beyond our mistakes, where the end of a relationship, doesn’t have to mean the end of a friendship. Where truth can cut through the rumors, and bring healing, in time. Because we are here together, to share and support each other. If we didn’t, it’d be a pretty poor community, and we would not have anywhere near the strength that we do.


Gratitude Day 1

January 1st, 2012

One of my best friends has been doing this for a couple months now, I thought I’d give it a try for January. Start the year off right.

Five things I’m grateful for:

1) My Hubby

2) My Boyfriend

3) Our Toy

4) Loving and accepting Friends

5) New Experiences


The Violet Wand

October 9th, 2011

“Do you enjoy this?” “You’re having fun, aren’t you?” “How’d you get this job?”

Questions I get asked every weekend. I do violet wand scenes for strangers, and friends, almost every weekend. It’s volunteer, it’s not a job, though occasionally it feels like it. I do it for fun, for my chosen family, and for those random strangers who walk in off the street and are curious, drunkenly brave, or scared but pressured by their friends. Even the most macho of drunken frat boys gets a little jumpy the first time a glowing violet bulb comes near his skin.

I got the ‘job’ by showing up. By helping out, by wanting to be around, to participate, to learn, teach and share. I found family and they accepted me. They taught me, they shared so many things with me. And what could I do, but join them, and pass on what I had been given? Life, for me, is about experiences. The best gifts I have received have not been things, but adventures. Roller coasters, festivals, conferences, conventions. Flying through the air, held only by a few hemp ropes. The thrill of the first glowing bulb on my skin. The crazy run of emotions in all sorts of scenes. The first time I asked for something I wasn’t sure I really wanted, to make him happy, or because I was curious. The joy of my first virgin scene, and the one after, and the one after…

There’s nothing like that. Introducing someone to something new. Showing them there’s nothing to be afraid of, or that the fear can be intoxicating. Helping them enjoy themselves, let go a little, relax. Getting them to want more. I can’t even count the number of people who’ve sat down in the chair terrified, and got up planning to browse eBay for their very own wand. That’s why I do it. That’s what I enjoy.

And more. When they come back week after week, month after month. The ones who really enjoy it, really get into it. The ones who have no where else to go to get this particular feeling. I do it for them, too. The ones that squirm in their seat, giggle or moan. The ones who clearly enjoy themselves and give back the energy to me.

It keeps me going on nights when the macho men feel like they have to sit perfectly still and show no reaction. Or the girls are too afraid to let their boys see how much they like it. Or the ones that just feel embarrassed by their pleasure and sit stiff and nervous. I don’t mind the ones that don’t like it. I share with them the experience, the range of sensations, and if we can’t find one they like, no problem. Not everyone enjoys electricity. But the ones that don’t react at all are draining. I’ve learned to read people and I do the best I can, but when all the energy is going out and being absorbed with no return, it can be a very long night.

But even on those nights, I keep on going. I still enjoy it. Because I know, some of them will still come back. Still try again, and maybe next time, they will be calmer, more relaxed, give something back. And even on those nights, most of them still thank me, and smile when I’m done. And almost every one of those nights, I get a scene that makes up for it. A new, excited, squirmy, giggling, moaning virgin, who exudes pleasure and recharges me as I charge them up. And if all else fails, I’ve still got my family around me, and with just a few pokes and tickles, I get the energy I need to keep going.


Lessons and Going Home

July 7th, 2011

Been a busy time lately, sorry for not posting last week. Here’s what should have gone up, a silly little post of lessons learned.

Had a good time at practice, and learned a few lessons. Let me share them with you.


  1. The correct answer to “Do you think I can hit your nose with this Dragon Tail?” is “Yes, I do, but please don’t.” instead of nodding and standing very still, hoping he’ll just snap it in front of you a few times.
  2. Dragon Tail strikes to the mouth a) hurt like hell, b) are scary, and c) leave the area feeling indented. The first two made me cry instantly, the third was a very odd sensation.
  3. I am not fond of the use of an extra large shoe horn as a paddle.
  4. “For love and service” is a good phrase that I learned from hubby’s girlfriend, to describe why one might still take the shoe horn even if one doesn’t particularly like it. I agree with these reasons, but also tend to take things because the after affects are what I’m really after.
  5. Keep still – Don’t move the target he is aiming at. I (re)learned this rule, and also that I really can do it when properly motivated.
  6. Canes on the top of the feet/toes hurt a helluva lot.
  7. The toe next to my big toe acts as a fulcrum to a cane, and thus gets the most bruised.


This past weekend, I went home. Well, to the closest thing I have to “going home.” I went to visit a few friends from High School. One who I still consider one of my best friends, and a couple that I still see/talk to on occasion, and their respective families and friends. Hubby and his girlfriend were going up, too, though they were going elsewhere the first evening.

The couple was hosting a 4th of July picnic. I didn’t know who was going to be there, and spent the drive wondering if maybe some others from school would be. I was also pretty sure I had not spoken to them since I began this journey into kink and poly. I had some Dragon Tail kisses on my thighs and some bruises on my calves. It was warm out, but I decided that the marks were a little too much and wore jeans. Hubby and his girlfriend were just dropping me off, so I wasn’t really worried about questions, but we did discuss that she was just a friend for the weekend in reference to anyone from home.

People didn’t question my jeans, especially as the weather was rather windy and stormy, and no one asked about the random girl in the car. But I felt uncomfortable. I was careful what I said around everyone, but my best friend who was thankfully there, as well. I only made one poly-oriented comment, and no one took it seriously. As I stared into the campfire, later in the evening, I found my shoulders tensing quite badly. I was around a lot of people I didn’t know and I was having to hide who I was. It was good to see my friends, but I did not like putting that mask back on.

That night and the next day were somewhat better. The marks had faded a little more, and I was only going to be around my best friend and her parents, so I could wear shorts while kayaking. Hubby and his girlfriend would be there, too, but though my best friend knows the truth, her parents easily accepted that she was just a friend. Her dad did ask once, possibly due to the high heeled boots in the car, but accepted the story I gave him. The crowd of strangers that were expected to canoe with us got ahead and we never caught them, so that stress stayed away. I was still wearing a mask this day, but it was less strenuous than the night before.


Letting Go

February 12th, 2011

An interesting week. Sorry for the late post, hopefully Monday’s tided you over until today. Last weekend was great, and I was happy to share my joy. This week has been about letting go, for me. As in relaxing, as in accepting uncertainty, as in moving forward instead of holding onto the past.

We have a toy. I have never had a toy before, someone I am responsible for and to, and who wants to please me, and us, from a bottom type role. I have also never had a trio relationship. Three of us in one relationship. She is Our Toy. Pleasing us, playing with us, trusting and trusted by us. It is a new situation to all.

So, full honesty here, because what good is a blog without occasional soul baring, I freaked out this week. I was going on all good and solid and just asking questions and trying to get clear answers, and feeling good about it all, if concerned. Then, I missed a bus… and in chasing after it, I got run over. At least I realized it, and asked for help, this time.

I started getting worried about the future. I started becoming afraid of the risk. I imagined all sorts of bad. I became terrified of emotional pain and hurt and loss. I wanted to try having a toy. I knew it was risky. But I got stuck on the question of accepting that risk.

He helped me. He let me talk and cry while he poked and asked pointed questions. He let me calm down while he said out loud what I was not listening to in my own head. Everyone gets hurt, we all hurt each other, life is risky, but it is worth it. It is fun. It is the way we grow. He even offered to stop it if I could not accept the risk. This is for Us, and if I’m not happy, then it won’t work.

So, I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up off the road. Invited her over, explained my fear and accepted the uncertainty and the risk. We still have a lot to figure out, as we move forward, but we all know it and accept it, so we Can move forward.

I had a couple other bits of letting go and moving forward this week, as well. They say that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, but there is a difference between remembering the past and clinging to it. Remembering mistakes of the past to learn from them is good. Remembering past pain and trying to avoid it again at all costs is bad. Trying to recover something purposefully lost or destroyed is bad. Building with the rubble to a better future is good, but I think that might be the topic of another blog.

So, let me end with the paragraphs echoing in my mind. I will not over think. I will not cast doubt in myself. I will not allow fear to consume me.