March 28th, 2013
Thoughts swirling around in my head. Humiliation play class this week. Still a lot of things I want to think about along those lines. The class did a good job of highlighting some of the directions I need to go. Figure out more specifics about my brain, my wants and needs. Not even necessarily to Do anything with it, maybe just so that I know myself better. Because that is never a bad thing. And finally, I’m doing it with eyes forward. Not, what happened then, but where am I now? What do I feel right now? Is there anything I still want to try? And why am I still curious? And what about that aftercare? Have I figured out what I really need there?
Aftercare’s an odd one for me. Growing up on crew, aftercare wasn’t a thing we worried about, just hand them off to the waiting partner. With ex-lover, there was certainly aftercare, but it was never discussed as ‘what I needed,’ it was just whatever was the natural progression. Sex, cuddles, sleep, more bondage, wherever we landed at the end of the scene. With him, often it ends with curling up with the girls, or kneeling with myself. More private scenes tend to end with cuddles. Aftercare, also became about reflection in writing most often, and then verbally. But aside from creating the ritual that didn’t end up working, I’ve not really sat down and thought it out, just gone with whatever happens in the moment.
This becomes rather pointedly obvious to me when I see other bottoms with their blankets and teddies, or their chocolate and water stashes. I’m cold, almost all the time, so it doesn’t really occur to me that after a scene, I should have a blanket to wrap up in. That’s not to say he’s never wrapped me up in one, it just doesn’t enter my mind that I should make an effort to have one. Chocolate or water? One or both of those things tends to be nearby when we’re scening, but it rarely occurs to me to have it ready before we start. I tend to go with an attitude of – I’ll find what I need afterward. I’m not sure this is the best plan to keep going forward with. ‘Be prepared,’ is all well and good to say, but part of taking care of myself is feeling that I am worth the time and effort to actually do it.
It is only March, but COPE is on my mind. Chance and the finiteness of time has him heading east that weekend, and so far as I know, my going with isn’t going to be an option. COPE, however, is still within my financial means. But it would mean going alone, without a partner, and that stirs up all kinds of debris in my head. Why bother? Being the topmost thought. To which smart-ass answers that going would be better than sitting home alone. The classes are usually fun, so part of me wants to go, if only for those. But that’s an awful lot of money to only go to the classes. And what about playing with friends? I dunno, I don’t do much of that. But surely, I could line up a scene or two, just to make it worth it. Or, gasp, actually be social, and chat and hang out with people, and not worry so much about the playing. Stepping out in the line of being independent, going to an event alone would not be the end of the world, especially an event with so many friends present. Time yet to decide.
October 13th, 2011
Last night’s class was on Humiliation Play. After, toy asked me about it. Said she was alright with teasing, but not the harder stuff, and was that what I liked? I fumbled around a bit, talking about last year, what went right and what went wrong in my head. And I think I only vaguely answered her question as my mind ran through a lot of things. So, I thought I’d try to pull it all together here, and form a more coherent opinion of my relationship with Humiliation Play.
Humiliation is on my Hard Limits list. It is not something I will even consider with most people. It can be emotional, harsh and potentially damaging. At its lightest, it can simply cause an anger response that is not generally conducive to that type of scene. At its harshest, it can leave you in a puddle for days or weeks. During the class last night, some of the examples were simple, but a lot of them were harsh enough to make some of the attendees wonder what they had signed up for.
We talked about several different types of play last night. Mental humiliation. Physical humiliation. Positive, arousing experiences. Negative, tearing down experiences. It all depends on your interests, turn-ons, and goals. Personally, my interests run the gamut, but weigh more heavily to the physical and positive side. Mental, and negative humiliation interest me as well, but only in certain frames of mind, and can be very tetchy to even attempt.
I volunteered an example last night of physical humiliation. I offered up a memory of holding his flashlight in my mouth and drooling all down it, and being forced to do so and let the drool form a puddle on the floor. I have a thing about messy bodily fluids, especially my own. And not only was I being dehumanized into a lamp to serve a purpose he wanted, I was also forced to drool all over the place because the noise of me trying to prevent such was “more annoying to him than the drool.” I like being used for useful purposes. I am turned on by serving him, whether actively and mentally, or physically as a tool. My faced burned with embarrassment at being told to quick sucking in the drool, and then being teased about the pool on the floor, but I had been doing what he told me to do, following instructions, and being useful, so I was happy.
I’ve had other scenes of being used, in various different ways. Being told I’m only good for that thing, or being made to say it myself. Being degraded for my “only use” being that single purpose, or for liking what was being done. Called names that related to the activity, being forced to call myself those names. In other times, in other spaces, those things would and have bothered me, but deep in that type of headspace, it just turns me on more and more.
The other side of humiliation play, I don’t get into so much. It’s harder, harsher, and more dangerous. It gets more personal, more deeply mental, more emotional. It digs deep into your brain and your self and can leave lasting marks if not done very carefully. Even the above stuff, can do that, but, for me, this is so much touchier. There are two reasons I will go to the dark side. One, I need to work on a personal issue. I want it shoved in my face and for him to make me stare unblinkingly at it until I can really see it. Two, I want to be crushed. I want a release so deep and satisfying, that nothing else will do. I’m not entirely sure the first reason is an entirely healthy reason to do humiliation play, but it makes sense to me.
The trick with both of these, is planning. Both parties knowing what is wanted or needed, and being prepared for it, mentally, physically, and time wise. By that last I mean, neither of these are quick scenes, and both are going to require a decent amount of aftercare, most likely on both sides. As for mentally, triggers are especially important to identify, and discuss before (possibly during) and after. In the first, going after something specific, is likely to have its own triggers, you have to be prepared for them to be pulled. In the second, there might be triggers you want to avoid, or triggers that are okay to hit to get the desired result. Communication is very important, but even with the best, be aware that you might stumble across hidden triggers, and know how you are both going to handle them.
I mentioned aftercare just above, but it is important in any kind of humiliation scene, even one that was completely arousing and enjoyable. We talked last night about the importance of knowing what you need for aftercare, both top and bottom. Last year, we created a ritual that was supposed to be our aftercare. The intention was to get rid of any negativity from the scene and transition back to reality. It had all the elements we thought were needed, and we worked to remember to do it every time. But somewhere in the mix, it wasn’t always enough. There were other things going on, I’m not trying to simplify what happened, but part of it was that I was not always successfully making the transition. It wasn’t enough aftercare to get me out of that headspace and into normal. I needed more. Point here being, figure that out. If you aren’t coming fully out of the scene (the presenters pointed out last night that a warning sign of this can be hyper-focus on a negative detail of the scene), figure out why. Figure out what else you need. Make sure you get it. Don’t feel like you’re overly needy or being a burden. If you are going to play this way, you have to take care of yourself, and your partner. Broken toys are not fun to play with.
May 12th, 2011
Tonight is Rope, maybe even suspension.
We arrive on time, head in and start cleaning. Check list complete, change clothes and cuddle up to talk and wait. He is home, a couple minutes to spare. We have a short talk about the cleaning and what it brought up. Toy and I go downstairs with tub #1, but he calls us back up because we’re giggling and he’s making himself dinner.
Down again when he’s done and into the recently cleaned playspace. I sit on one leg of the bishop’s chair and toy curls up at my feet. He likes the image of us there, and puts up the suspension ring.
Toy is pulled out to the mat, put on her knees, blindfolded and her arms bound in bondage tape. She immediately begins fidgeting with it. Up to the bishop’s chair, strapped in securely. Told to listen, be aware and think.
I am brought to the mat, stripped down, pesky new skirt takes some effort. He grabs a couple lengths of hemp. Arms bound behind the back, and then ropes around the upper arm, near the shoulder and then near the elbow. A simple box-tie, and then up to the ring. He grabs my legs and I’m in the air. Wow, interesting, ow, not so nice, squeezing the arms. Remember to breathe in between moans, and down again. So nice to be experimenting again, I tell him where it hurt and he moves some the ropes down a bit. Up again, the pressure shifted, better, but still uncomfortable, but oh so interesting. And then I’m upside down, and he’s giggling. Breathing ever so irregular, but it doesn’t really matter. I feel secure and bound. He drops one leg, but I don’t touch down until he lowers the other.
Order gets fuzzy here. He opens the chest of toys. I think the riding crop comes out first. Swats toy’s thighs and then my legs. Mmm, nice little riding crop. He digs deeper, finds the paddle with speed holes. A few swats on my ass. So painful, I spin and squeal. He digs again, nipple clamps this time, it’s a kind I’ve never tried. I yelp and he says he doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. My heart races. He digs out clips for toy as well. Uncle comes out then. Oh how I’ve missed it. Ass, thighs, breasts. Are you ready, toy? Toy gets a few swats as well. He scolds me to be quiet for the neighbors. He doesn’t have to be nice here, but I should be quieter. Yanks on the chain. One comes off. The other is for Uncle. I whimper, my eyes pleading. He doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. And off it comes. Leaves me to stew. Something scary that she’s going to like, toy says. And he pulls out the TENs, puts in on her thighs. I watch intently, curious how she’ll find it. She doesn’t say much. Intriguing and a few whimpers.
Toy’s hand has gone numb from the tape. He cuts her out, unstraps her from the chair and sets me off the mat. Grabs the sawhorse to put behind me and lays her down on it. Ties one hand with jute and then comes back to me. Takes me down, unties the rope, hands it to me. I drop to my knees to coil it while he ties her more securely. Jute on the wrists and cuffs on the ankles.
We tickle her first, one at either end. He pinches her sore nipples, she squeals and squirms, quite trapped and helpless. He gets a Violet Wand. Paintbrush attachment. I hear happy trees in my head as he starts painting her skin. I tickle a little at first, but then notice I’m getting mild vibration in my fingertips, so I just run them lightly on her skin, not sure if she can even tell, or if her mind is totally captured by the shocks. He asks her questions and she struggles to answer. Teases, and plays, we grin over her helpless form. He threatens a straight rod, but grabs a bulb with a coil inside, playing over her skin. We circle her, still questioning. She loses track, forgets to answer, forgets the questions. He turns it off, torments more, she still can’t answer, forgets more questions. I know the questions, I can help, I mustn’t. We could leave her there, go for a drive… He turns out the light and we back off, watching. Waiting, tasty energy. She can’t remember the question, Sir. He sends me off for Gatorade. I return, still watching and get dressed.
The light goes back on and he unties her hands, sits her up on the horse. Bends me over the end she just emptied and pulls out the speed hole paddle again. Paddles me as I squeal and squirm. Quiet not forgotten, but nearly impossible. I even cover my mouth with my hands a few times. He has me hold the paddle. It’s light, Sir. What? Light wood, Sir. I want to apologize, it hurts like hell, but the wood and the holes make it lighter than I expected. Should she have more, toy? Yes, Sir. And more come, skirt up this time. Stings so much, and I start to slip into painspace. Yelps turning to moans and heavy breathing. But then he undoes her ankles and bends her over, too. Swats her ass some.
There are twenty more, toy. Do you want them? Or does she get them? Or do you want to share?
I want to tell her we should share, but he’s asking toy, I have to be quiet.
Toy’ll take them.
As hard as I can swing?
And then she starts using my name and I add to the torment.
Oh, no, Sir. She can have them.
I thought I was Miss, toy?
She can have them.
I thought I was Miss, toy?
Oh, no, sorry, Miss. Toy’ll take them.
Oh no, Sir.
No? So, she gets them? I thought you liked protecting people, toy? Don’t you want to protect her? Her ass is already quite bruised.
Toy’ll take them.
Will you count for me, toy?
And forty whacks, she counts beautifully.
Paddle goes down, he gives instructions for clean up and goes to the couch. Toy and I clean up, putting everything away but the cuffs on her ankles. He says they can stay. Then we join him on the couch. Snuggles, light chat, and Human Cent-Ipad. Toy is a bit traumatized, so we watch Children’s Hospital which is all sorts of odd, and silly. He sets up the chair and we start in on his back and shoulders. My wrists are being funky. He asks me to set up the table. We move over and I have a better angle. I mirror toy, her hands are stronger, but I do my best. Turns over and we finish working his arms. Then he grabs toy and torments her with logic, while I stroke his hair and giggle. She is aroused and I am amused. We finish aftercare between the kitchen and the couch. Talking, Dr. Who and snuggling, a great first night.
February 7th, 2011
Toy and I went shopping, new shiny things for the club. We want to surprise him, make him smile and so we shop with him in mind. Nervous and giggling, we buy new tops. I get a waterproof vibrator, too. A story for another time.
At the club, dressed and lubed, I wear my latex skirt for the first time in months, and my new top, barely holding my breast, with big bell sleeves. He approves. Toy arrives, she looks really great. The corset she picked out fits her well and the skirt we found last week matches nicely. I bring her out and unwrap her for him and his smile widens even further.
He is happy, his girls have dressed to please, and we are successful. She snuggles with him, and I wander about for a bit, but the other rooms are colder.
He motions me over, pulls out the shackles, my heart soars. I have missed those so very much. I step up to him and he locks the around my ankles. I want to thank him, but I haven’t the voice. He pulls out the cuffs – the heavy Irish eights, and puts them on Toy’s wrists. Both of us now bound to him.
Be careful, don’t wrench your wrists.
Latex skirt, feel the shiny. Pats his leg, it should be dry by now. The shirt is problematic, nipples keep popping out. He has a solution.
Go get me a set of nipple clamps.
I rise and go fetch, cloverleaf clamps, my favorite and return to his lap. It’s been a while, he pinches and pulls, slipping them into place. Whimpering, gasping. The pain flowing, warming and arousing. My arm around him, hand resting on the back of his head, I grab his ponytail and force myself to let go.
He starts rubbing on nipple, asking Toy to do the same. She squirms and struggles, but gets her cuffed hands up. My hand slips down to his cheek as I moan and gasp.
He has an idea, picks up the chain and puts it in her mouth. Then, grabbing us each by the hair he pulls us apart. Moaning and gasping and squealing, sensations and energy flowing freely. The angle of my neck is straining. I have momentary flashes of worry for my throat, but I swallow carefully. He releases before it becomes too much. She drops the chain, and I shriek with the pain, but that’s the least of my worry. He scolds her for letting go and hurting me. I open my eyes and look down at here.
Did he tell you that you could let go?
She drops her head. My presence is requested elsewhere, a violet wand lesson is needed. Out I go, shackled and clamped. I reflexively cradle the chain while I teach, distracted from the pain.
Returning, someone else notices my hand on the chain and I am ordered to fetch the dogbones. I grab the big set, clips and safety latches and all. Not wanting to bring to few and disappoint him.
He is gleeful with the amount I bring and I am whimpering with fear. Attaching them to the chain, he asks Toy to hold them for me, keep them up so they don’t hurt me. I catch her eyes, begging her to be kind.
He asks for a pen. I coach her to her feet, it doesn’t hurt as much as we both fear. Shuffling back, her forward, through the feet and down the rooms to the pens. I bring one back, and my water. Sorry, no, he wants a Sharpie. Back we go.
Arms behind your back.
I balance the water cup, easy as it’s mostly ice. Sharpies found, brought back out. He taunts her with one, but nothing gets written.
He tickles and she squirms and I yelp, and she whimpers. Wanting to drop her arms, afraid of hurting me. More tickling, squealing and yelping and leaning and squirming. She drops to her knees. He gets my ice cup and starts putting it down her panties.
If you weren’t wearing any, it would stay.
Toy glares up at me and everyone laughs. I ask for a drink, he lefts the cup but scolds me for moving my hand to meet it. He feeds me the remaining water and then takes it back.
Can you crawl?
We shuffle to the other room, to the toys. He pulls out a flogger, slamming it into my back. He wants better light and spins us around. More flogging, it’s been awhile, the hits fall heavy, stingy. I bend and squeal.
He takes my hands and puts them on top of my head. Good posture now.
He circles, grabs blindfolds for us. I’m coaching her too much, a gag goes in. A forcep attaches her chest to the mess of chains between us. Time to wrap the present. My lower body to her upper, leave the calves free for balance.
A cup of ice is brought, my cup of ice. It is poured down the center, squealing and cold. It flows right past my clothes and catches in hers.
Water mostly drained, a vibrator follows. Buzzing up the chain to tickle my nipples, delicous.
He and the birthday boy circle. Crop and floggers and forceps. Stinging and squealing and shrieking. Pinching and poking. I choke on the gag and he relents, letting me catch my breath. Back at it again. I am drooling around the gag, he teases that I’m drooling all over our her. Toy does not complain. More stinging and screaming and writhing, and I fall into her lap. They catch us and pull me back to my feet.
Ready for round two?
A moment and I nod. She says yes, but the fall hurt her wrists. The cuffs come off her, and go on me, behind my back.
I want you to say something for me, do you know what it is? He asks our Toy.
Yes, count to three.
That’s right. Three times, count to five between them. And on the third, pull down on the clamps.
His hand in my hair, he gets a tight grip, I soar and she counts.
One, two, three.
Arching as pleasure flows through me, the vibrator pressed just right between us for the added sensation.
One, two, three.
Again, pressing against his hand and the vibrator, soaring higher. Something makes me laugh.
One, two, three – pull.
Arching harder, head back, mouth open. The gag falls deeper and it feels right somehow. I shake and the pain flows in pleasure.
Back down and I drop my head to his shoulder, catching my breath.
Are you about done?
The orgasms have been a release for the pain, I can keep going, but it is a good place to come down from. I am gagged and cannot reply. Toy says yes.
The wrap is cut away, the dogbones removed.
She’s going to fall backwards.
Birthday boy grabs my arms and the nipple clamps come off. I do collapse back with a cry, and he holds me. I try to get up but then relax back against his chest. A chair comes, the cuffs are removed and I sit. Breathing for a few moments and then the blindfold, blinking in the light.
There are people watching, more of the family has arrived, I smile at them, not even trying to identify the tourists.
He coaxes Toy to turn away from them and takes her blindfold off. Gives her my hand. Her wrap returns, and a blanket comes for me. We relax for a few minutes with him between us.
The I take her to the couch, wrapped up in blankets we snuggle in together, dropping and cold we cling together for warmth and comfort. Snuggling and happy. The scene was amazing.
Slowly we surface, bit by bit. People come and go. Her clothes are wet. Latex is good for you. We snuggle closer to the heater, blankets wrapped more tightly. People checking in on us. Water and warmth is all we need.
Becoming verbal we greet people, and share tidbits of the scene with each other. Watch him flog a squirmy boy.
We are back above the water now, fully surfaced and awake. He returns with the cuffs, and latches our wrists together. More snuggling and then he returns and slips in between, our shackled wrists coming out of the blankets to lay in his lap.
He asks us some questions, but then reality invades. I am needed for the violet wands again. He uncuffs me and back to work I go, shackles still in place.
We finish the scenes and the night. A big hug and thank you. Ready to pack up. He unlocks my ankles. A wonderful night of love, joy, pleasure and pain. Now complete.
May 27th, 2010
Last week’s post marked one year exactly, of this blog being published. It also was the first post directly posted here.
A lot has happened in a year, and I am working on pulling all my blog entries, journal entries, emails, chats, and random ramblings together into one work. I have come a long way, and there is a long way yet to go. I have grown and learned and done so much more than I ever thought I would even have the opportunity, courage or ability to try.
Last night, I asked him to flog me. I wanted some stress relief from the week to purge and prepare me for the convention we are attending this weekend. He started with the thin tailed rubber flogs, moved on to a dragon tail, Uncle, a quirt, slapping, smacking, punching, drumming, caning, an electric flyswatter and a taser. He took me into object space and attacked me mentally as well. I was in tears nearly the entire scene. It was wonderful and painful and incredible and brutal. When he was done, when he had broken me down to the single thought of “maintain the position,” he picked me up and carried me to the bed. He took care of me with a blanket and two women to stroke me. He left me in object space for a while, before he asked for his girlfriend back, and I served and took care of our things. Afterward, we talked about the scene on the drive home.
One year ago, I would not have taken half the beating, and probably none of the electricity. One year ago, I would be a tired, worn out, droppy mess today. But as I write this, I am about to head to a hotel for a weekend long convention and I am feeling great. One year ago, I would not have been able to talk about the scene so quickly nor say I would have been happy staying in object space had he so chosen to leave me there. One year ago, I was in a very different place in my journey, and I am grateful to everyone who has helped me get to where I am now. Thank you, Husband and Master. Thank you, Lover and Top. Thank you, Boyfriend and Dominant. Thank you, friends and family.
September 16th, 2009
I helped a couple friends create scenes this weekend, and participated slightly in other informal scenes. Mostly I wandered around watching, being the voyeur. The first night I did not play at all. I just blinked at people reaching out to grab the ring on my collar. Whatever happened to respecting protocol?
Night Two. I had two scenes.
Lover asked what I wanted, and for once in my life, this weekend, I knew what I wanted and I asked for it. I wanted Rope. I wanted No Escape. I wanted as much rope as he could possibly use. We even dropped by my apartment and picked up all my new rope. There was a wooden frame laced with thick bungee cord into a spider web. He used all 150 feet of my new hemp to wrap me up. A chest harness, a corset, thighs wrapped, calves wrapped, arms wrapped. Then he used his own rope to secure every wrap of hemp to the web, as well as his rope cuffs to finish securing my hands, and a few extra ropes to lace my ankles to the eyelets on the frame. He pinched my nipples as he secured me, and then, with borrowed knife, he traced what flesh he had left exposed. He made me orgasm at knife point, over and over. Hard, soft, thrashing and still. The knife went away and he went back to pinching my nipples, taking his sweet torment while he made me orgasm for his pleasure. Then down to taste me, finish me with his tongue. He untied me slowly, pausing to steal orgasms ever now and then. Took me down, wrapped me up in his jacket and held me until we were both back to ourselves.
Master/Husband asked what I wanted, I told him I wanted sharp things. I wanted the Whartenberg Wheel, I wanted the two-pronged claw. He added a knife. He laid me out on the bed, and dragged the sharp metal along my skin. I yipped and screamed and moaned and gasped. Sensations wonderful, sharp, and delicious covering my body. He delighted in my sounds, repeating motions that created his favorite sounds. Drawing red designs in my flesh, but not cutting, never cutting, though oh did it feel like he was. Delighting in the twitching, tickling that drove me crazy, and the moan of satisfaction at the sharp stabbing that ended it. Until I could take no more, and raised my arms to him, and he entered them wrapping our arms around each other and just holding tight, sharing our love for each other.
And those were the good parts. But both scenes had parts that I will remember separately from the wonderfulness that I enjoyed with my partners. Both scenes had the intrusions that are the reason I shy away from public play. The beginning of the first scene was repeatedly intruded upon by our other lovers, poking and pinching me as though they were included in the scene by default, without asking. The second scene, others were invited to listen and comment on the noises I was making, and He held other conversations apart from our scene. Minor distractions and intrusion, but annoying to me, when I want to have a scene where I can lose myself in the scene and Be with my partner. Perhaps that is asking too much in public?