January 1st, 2011
Dom, sub, switch? What parts of BDSM interest you? Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.
The first question seems simple. The second question leaves things far more wide open. The third asks for specifics. And the last oversimplifies the whole thing. Defining oneself is an ongoing process made up of all the other questions. So, one at a time, shall we?
Dom, sub, switch? Sub. I am a submissive in my kinky journey. I am submissive to my partners to varying degrees. I relish giving control to those I love and trust. I have no desire to be dominant. I have no desire to take control in a kinky setting. I do provide service topping for electric scenes, but even then, I am in the role of pleasing the person I am working on, providing for what they want.
What parts of BDSM interest you? Well, let’s break down that acornym. Bondage – yes. I enjoy bondage in rope, leather, chains, canvas, plastic, tape, and mental bondage. Discipline – yes. I enjoy having rules and penalties for breaking said rules. Dominance – yes. Submission – yes. As I said, I am submissive and enjoy giving control up to the dominants in my life. Sadism – yes. Masochism – yes. I am a masochist, and enjoy the sadistic tendencies of my partners. So, all parts of BDSM interest me in the very narrow definition of each of those letters, but let’s move on to more specifics.
Give us an interesting in depth definition of what that means to you. BDSM, to me, means exploration. It means pushing and learning and sharing and teaching. It means spending hours in ropes and straitjackets. It means nipple clamps and clothes pins. It means floggers and paddles and canes and drumsticks. It means blindfolds and hoods and collars and shackles. It means knives and needles and sparklers and snakes. It means single tails and dragon tails and stun guns and violet wands. It means giving up control of my body and my mind. It means kneeling for half an hour every day. It means standing back up after every strike that knocks me to my knees. It means relaxing in a cocoon of duct tape and saran wrap. It means pinches and smacks and slaps and bites and punches and kicks. It means cuts and bruises and scabs and scars. It means screams and tears and squeaks and laughter. It means massages and boot blacking and taking care of his gear. It means love and joy and connection. It means experiences so wonderful, awesome and intense that there are not enough words to express them. And it means trying anyway, because it is too important not to share.
Basically define your kinky self for us. I am kinky, submissive, polyamorous, a pain slut, a rope slut, a slave, a brat, a smart-assed masochist, a bottom, a service top and a service submissive.
December 30th, 2010
These last few weeks have provided many lessons in Negotiation. First as an observer and then as an active participant. I watched several new people learn their first lessons in trying to fence with him, and in trying to assist one of them, became part of the scene. Bear with me and I’ll tell you all about what I ended up agreeing to do. So, what have I learned?
No wishing for more wishes. This seems simple enough, most of us remember Robin Williams’ genie quoting this to Aladdin. But in the heat of the moment, when you don’t have any better ideas. A blank check, while dangerous, seems simple enough. You must, however, remember to stipulate, that it cannot be cashed in for more blank checks, otherwise, a single scene at his whim becomes many more.
Don’t forget your limits. Not that you might forget your limits such as they are, but always remember to include them in a negotiation. Whether it is telling a new partner what your limits are, or stipulating that the above blank check(s) cannot violate them. It is all well and good to push your limits when you want to, but make sure you want to.
Be specific. At all points of the negotiation, be clear and precise. What are you offering, what are you getting, what are the terms and the rules and the boundaries. “Test me!” might be a fun thing for an excited student to shout, but it behooves one to specify what they want to be tested on. “School girl outfit” can mean different things to different people. “Skirts” come in many different lengths and styles. “Tied together” sounds fun, but do you really want to leave the binding material up to his imagination? Stockings, hose, fishnets, knee-highs, socks all very important distinctions in how much leg is covered or uncovered.
Offer something of value. Different people value different things from different people. Some people value sex. Some people value service. Some people value suffering. Some value the passing of knowledge. Learn what it is that will be of value and find ways to offer it.
Be creative and then be even more creative. Don’t offer things you have already given or things he already has. Offer something new, offer something bigger, offer something more interesting. Start with new and interesting offers, and then push them one step further. And don’t be afraid to make them well rounded – paint the full picture, not just the center of it. Bootblacking is good, but bootblacking while naked and kneeling is better, and bootblacking while naked and kneeling followed by some boot worship is even more interesting.
Don’t let other people negotiate for you. Stay in control of your side of the negotiation. Keep your wits about you and keep your mouth moving. If you want to be happy with what is agreed to, stay actively engaged in the discussion. Stick up for yourself and stand your ground when you have to. You do not have to agree to everything they say, keep seeking compromises that work for both parties. Unless agreements to the contrary are already in place, you can always say no, and most times even then.
Be reasonable and trust the other people in the negotiation. If you have a real problem with something, explain it, trust that they care about you and will listen. (If you don’t trust them or they don’t care about you, well, that’s another entry entirely.) Then, negotiate to find a way to make it work for everyone. Try not to just say no, that is impossible. Look for solutions that benefit everyone. Most problems are only little bumps in the road.
Be flexible and open minded. Understand that everything is not going to go the way you want it to. Understand that your definitions may not be the same as his definitions. Accept that sometimes comfort zones are meant to be left behind, it is how you can grow. I am incredibly curious, sometimes I have to let the curiosity override the fear.
Relax and enjoy it. Negotiation is where you get to learn about the other person. You get to see how their mind works, what they like and don’t like, how they feel, what their state is. You get to know them, and get to share yourself with them. You are not going to get it all right, but you’re not going to get it all wrong,either. But if you’re both/all happy when it is over, then everyone wins. Keep talking until you’re happy.
So, I promised to let you know what I got myself into. A new friend was starting a negotiation with him, and I was offering some advice. When he was presented with that fact, he suggested that since I was trying to help out, perhaps I should join the negotiation. Her fate and mine became intertwined. We spent most of the rest of the night negotiating. When it was all said and done, we had quite the scene lined up:
Three of us, dressed as school girls (clothing was one of the largest parts of the negotiation) – Japanese, American and British, respectively (I hear there may be a chalkboard hung high up on the wall for sentence writing). We may not say no for the entire night (creativity will be flowing). The evening will start with bootblacking, and we will be available at any time for massage. At his leisure, he may put us in the dog cage (with a violet wand kit nearby), or bind us all together (quite possibly with saran wrap, followed by ice and then hot wax). And at some point during the evening, there will be a Japanese song and dance (whaddya mean I have to dance when I’m sober?) in front of an audience of undetermined size (our voluntary third musketeer is joyfully plotting choreography to the song chosen last night).
It shall be a Very interesting evening. I can hardly wait.
What are you thoughts on Negotiation? What traps have you fallen into?
December 23rd, 2010
We are putting together a series of rope classes. I am very excited to be ordering another set of hemp ropes very soon. Just trying to find the right vendor. For the first class, the question all the presenters are answering is: Why even use rope? And here is my answer:
I’ve been a rope slut for two years now, thanks to him. Before him, I liked bondage, but I didn’t really care how it was done. Sure, leather smelled good, and rope seemed quite useful, but cheap canvas cuffs could get the work done, and a straitjacket was quick and secure. I still like all those things, but Rope became the bigger fetish – the preferred method. Why?
Rope, for me, is about the senses. The sense of touch, the feel of the rope on my skin, the bite of hemp or the softness of cotton. The feel of his hands putting it on me, the tug as he tightens, the burn as he pulls, the wraps biting into the skin, the vibrations traveling through every inch. The sense of smell when it comes to natural fibers. The deep, sweat earthly smell of hemp and jute. The sense of hearing – rope being tossed out on the ground, the creak of the suspension rig. The sense of sight. The look of smooth straight lines, cleanly outlining the body. Knots lined up, wraps decorating body and rigging.
I also like it for the methodicalness. A lot of people watch ties being done and state that they don’t have the patience for that kind of thing. That is what I like about rope. It takes time, it can be the entire scene. Cuffs or a jacket are put on before the scene and taken off after. Rope is laid carefully and precisely. It takes time, and during that time, you are becoming increasingly bound. You are becoming increasingly helpless. It is a buildup, bit by bit. It is the slowing giving and taking of control. It is a methodical exchange of power.
I also like it’s versatility. Cuffs and jackets are designed for one thing. Chains are hard, heavy, and not as pliable. Rope can be used in so many different ways. Tied to so many different things, in so many different formations. Different lengths, different thicknesses, different fibers. It can be used to blind, to gag, to choke, to beat, to whip, to burn, to suspend, to bind or to set free. And that was just off the top of my head.
December 17th, 2010
“Do you want to go a round?”
He had the jute in his hand and on his belt. He let me smell it, natural smell – not hemp, but not synthetic or horses, either. Holding it, he looked me up and down, considering. Turned me to face away and put my arms into a box tie.
“How are your shoulders?”
“Right’s a little pinchy, but much better than they have been lately.”
Tie the wrists, the bite of the natural fibers makes me happy, smiling as he warps it around me. Two lengths of eight meters around my arms and chest, wrapping, cinching down, tight, but so very comfortable.
A bit of a length left when he has me secure, and up between the legs, catching the skirt to protect the rope. Yelping as he yanks and then led around the room.
“Keep up, that’s my bad shoulder. Is it in the right place?”
The grin as he yanks a few more times and then lets it go, finishing it off in the back. Turning me to inspect and show off the work, he stops in front of me. A hand to the throat and he pushes me quickly back into the other room and tosses me on the couch.
“Feet up, prisoner tie.”
I scoot back on the couch, cross my booted ankles, trying to balance and get comfortable for what is sure to be a long tie. The third and final piece quickly secures my ankles to each other and then around to my neck. A comfortable bend for the moment, the jute biting into my skin. So delicious.
Off he goes again, returning with a Japanese washcloth to blindfold me, covering most of my face. And a leather gag to go underneath. The gag is small and flat so my moment of panic is minimized as I adjust, digging my teeth into it.
And here I lose coherent time line. I remember sinking into the rope, into the darkness, listening to conversations around me. I remember changing positions for more comfort, for legs, for back, for neck. I don’t remember how the nipple clamps arrived, but they did. I don’t remember how the other girl came to be tied, but I think it was after the nipple clamps were handed off to another girl to tug on. There was talk of envy of my position. There was talk of requests to be made. And there was tugging and pain and squeaking from me as he tied the her beside me.
I was unbalanced on the couch, squirming to try and move back, my hips were getting strange pressure. When he got her done, he lifted and shoved me further back onto the couch. Gratitude mumbled through the gag.
The tied one wanted to help pull the chain. Something caught his attention from the outer room. He left me, I heard him walk away, his voice leaving the room, but still audible. Panic, kept in check, but bubbling, as I strained to keep his voice in my ears while the first assistant continued to torment my nipples. The one beside me wanted to help, but her hands were tied. Someone else got involved and they moved her into position, got her head in my lap, so she could pull on it with her teeth. His voice returned.
“I was only gone a couple minutes and look at this…”
Multiple people were involved now, a chain of torment starting at my nipples and ending with his amusement. Blindfolded and squealing I had no clear picture of what was going on. It was a writhing mass of energy in front of me, I could identify the players, but not the actions. I knew only that the tied girl was delighted to have the chain in her teeth.
Positions changed and people moved, and there was a slip. I caught a shoulder in the throat. Instant panic and pain, but not the pain I expected. He was there, his voice breaking through my coughing, making sure I was alright. Yes, but still coughing, still panicking, fighting for control. He grabbed it, shoved me back into my place and helped me find my control again.
Camera flashes now. Our photographer capturing the scene. Teeth on chain, both of us squirming and writhing, squeaking and squealing from me. They encourage her to pull harder. I think she was the first to pull one off. The other is yanked free, and they are reset while I whimper.
He sits beside me, landing on a joint and I cringe at the bad pain, but he drops me back into the good pain and rope once more. Her phone rings and her time is up. The first one takes back the chain as he unties.
She sets back to it, testing what sounds she can cause. Enjoying the squeals and the screams. I fall into pain space and breathing and she frowns. She wants squeals. It takes sudden yanks, but she gets what she wants. He hears where I am, and leans in close.
And he counts for me, very quietly, right in my ear. She yanks at his direction, sending me higher. Surprised by my command performance. He counts several times, and I focus and use the pain.
The clamps are yanked and twisted and ripped off and replaced a few more times. I shake and gasp when they are removed.
“Did you just orgasm from pain?”
I shake my head, my fingers spelling out “not without permission,” but no one sees. The shaking is the release of energy so as not to orgasm. She pulls and twists some more. My screams grow louder, the gag slides most of the way out at the harshest of the screams.
“Get that back in! You’re not done yet.”
He grabs me by the hair as she twists and pushes. Tears begin to form.
“Go on, cry.”
He holds tight and she presses harder. I scream and gasp and bite down on the gag, trying to keep it in and breathe and cry. The pain swells, and they push, and I tip over the edge. Tears falling freely and they let me go. Leave me to my release.
I cry myself out and then curl up on myself. He is sitting in front of me while they talk, I curl up my head on my own knee, but touching his shoulder. Spacing out again, in rope and darkness.
They return to the couch, either side of me after short while. Conversation continues, but my hips are starting to protest strongly. I get his attention and mumble through my gag until he understands the problem. He frees my legs, and it is enough. She holds and pets me while they continue to talk.
I shift positions, not ready to give up, but with my legs free, I can now lean back and this puts pressure on my arms. I lean forward and back, and into her and away. Finding comfort in different ways for a while longer.
Eventually, it is enough. My wrist is in too much pain. I lean forward and turn my head towards him, waiting. He asks if I am done. I nod. He asks if my arms are numb. I shake my head. He asks what the problem is, and I try a few times, but I really am done, so I spit out the gag and tell him my wrist hurts too much, from its own swelling combined with the pressure of the rope.
He asks me to stand and I try, but am still unsteady so he has me kneel instead. The ropes come off, then the blindfold and discarded gag. The last trappings of the scene gone, I begin to shake. I take the blanket, which was covering my legs through the scene, to wrap around my shoulders. He invites me back to the couch and I snuggle back into her until the shaking passes while he puts away the rope. It is still cold and I stay snuggled between them until he has to attend to other things, another girl takes his place andI am kept warm while I come fully awake. He returns and I thank him for the wonderful scene.
Warmer clothes and breakfast, bits of teasing and discussion. I am still high and spacy, but awake and aware, and so very happy. A great scene that kept us all entertained on a cold, slow night. I felt like his canvas again. Used for his art – for his rope art, for his sadism, his instigation, and his use of mental control. Given the gifts I enjoy – tight bondage, teethy rope, nipple clamps, intensity, pain, pushing boundaries, control, hair pulling, orgasms, and release to the point of tears. Incredibly grateful for the gift of that scene.
September 30th, 2010
I have had fantasies about someone hiding under my bed and jumping me or catching me coming naked out of the shower since I hit puberty. I don’t go for the full on beat the crap out of me type of fantasy that some people may enjoy. I prefer more mental than physical taking of control. Use of fear instead of violence. The threat to keep me still and compliant, rather than being beaten into submission. I’ve never been one for violence. Yes, I like pain, but for it’s own sake, not for taking of control. It is the mind where control truly lives. When I write or imagine such scenes, the assailant usually has a gun or a knife, some physical representation of potential violence, but they never use it.
The other day Lover and I were playing and he said he was going to force me, but when we got to the bedroom, he ordered my clothes off and I complied for no reason other than he said the word Strip. Then we played and had sex. The only consensual non-consent part of the whole thing were the nipple clamps. Later that night, I was thinking about the willingness taking the power from the scene. The idea of my pants being opened and shoved out of the way, my shirt being pulled up just enough for breast access, is far more a turn on than full nudity. It feels more non-consensual that way, feels more like there is resistance, feels more like being used.
Being used. Why is that a turn on? Why on earth would I want to be used?
It is part of the overarching fantasy of giving up all will and control to someone. Being an object, a tool, a toy for their use and pleasure. The added spike of someone taking that control makes it that much hotter of a fantasy. Sex, for me, is the most intimate act, and therefore, taken without consent, the biggest violation. Therefore, it only works with someone I love and trust, it has to be consensual non-consent to turn me on in reality. It’s a fine line to walk. How do you make non-consent hot when it is consensual?
Creating the scene in the mind. Talking as though it was real. Whispered threats and hints at pushing too far. Role playing it out, creating the roles and fully stepping into them. Allowing for resistance and the taking away of control. The element of surprise can be used as well. Having agreed to the scene, but not the time and place. Choosing an unexpected place, perhaps a place with just a bit of danger of being caught, to heighten everyone’s awareness during the scene. Doing things that are unexpected. Forcing actions that are allowed, but not particularly liked. Agreeing to continue the scene until the top is done, regardless of when the bottom is done unless there is dire need to end the scene early – allowing for emergency Red, but not for Yellow.
September 24th, 2010
A day late, but hopefully not a dollar short, my dear readers. Yesterday, life and a missing power cord got in the way of my posting. It has been quite the roller coaster ride for me lately, but what would life be without some ups and downs? Today I’m going to ramble about my partners, communication and decompartmentalization, we’ll just have to see where that takes me.
This past weekend was a big event that I did not go to. Two of my partners did, with their other partners, and everyone had a blast. The trouble came, in my own mind, when Lover played with someone I did not approve of. He told me that afternoon that he was going to, I expressed some hesitation at the idea, but did not fully express my concerns or feelings. He had no idea, therefore, that I had any concerns or negative feelings. When he came back to me two days later, he was caught flat-footed by my angry, incoherent emotional state. This, eventually, a few days after that, brought us around to a discussion of my needs around his play partners. Our agreement has always been that he will listen to what I have to say, but I do not have veto power over him, none of his partners do, nor visa versa. I asked to modify that agreement, so that not only will he listen, but he will be sure to ask in advance with enough time for discussion, how I feel about an upcoming play partner. I needed time to process, get clear and feel heard before he played with this person. It also probably would have helped to know why he had chosen to play with her. We agreed that we would try to do this going forward. Communication can prevent a lot of unnecessary upset.
My weekend was about simple goals. After last week’s discoveries, I needed a way forward. Having large goals of communication and self awareness are good, but he pointed out that they are not quantifiable or immediately achievable. He wanted me to come up with things I could point to and say, look, I met that goal. Simple things, one step at a time. Friday, I stayed with be of service, I was available to him for whatever he needed or asked of me that evening. Saturday, I had more specific goals. I wore my latex skirt for him. I kept it shiny for him. I pleased him, was a body pillow for him and slept by his side. These were both girlfriend goals and submissive goals and they were all achievable and rewarding.
I have often written of keeping my partners separate, especially around play. Occasionally more than one will be at a play party or at the club, but generally, I am able to focus on one at a time, and I have taken steps to guard that. However, this week, those steps created a situation that caused upset on several fronts and I was forced to rethink my position. One particular division I had created, was now creating a public division, and I needed to think long and hard about whether that was appropriate. After discussions with all of my partners, I decided that it was time for me to change and grow. I decided to let go of the control I was holding so tightly to, and trust that we could all do what was best for everyone, while still meeting all of our own needs and wants.
It has been a a week of learning, growing and better communication. Not everything is sorted out, but the future looks bright and I am lucky to have this life and these men, all of whom are willing to work hard to solve problems and communicate clearly. Everyone knows how hard that can be. Writers do not all make the best verbal communicators, and they are all willing to accept, understand and help me with that.
September 10th, 2010
When you’re going to play with someone new, you talk about the scene, you talk about limits, you talk about health. When you’re going to play with someone you’ve been with for awhile, sometimes you don’t talk at all. You just do what you’ve always done. Play in the boundaries you’ve always had, or push the boundaries you know you can push. So what happens when the rules change? What happens when the boundaries get drawn differently? How do you take a step back and say, okay, that place is off limits for now?
I was writing about renegotiation of my submission yesterday, and the comment came to mind that it was incomplete submission. That without giving up all control, I was holding back, keeping something from him. Over the last six months, I had been striving to not hold back, to give him all the control he would take. So, for me to say that I cannot do that right now, that I have to put a limit back on the table, was difficult. The dream of no-limits submission is seductive, but it is not always possible. Even in the way we were doing it – in short spaces of time, not 24/7.
I find myself struggling with my sense of self – self awareness, self confidence. There is a picture on a book about the female brain that is a large mass of tangled phone cord. In one of my favorite fantasy books, the city designed by the female deity is akin to a labyrinth. Sometimes I feel that way about my own mind, it takes me a while to navigate and process and distill what is really going on for me. A friend commented she thought I had been getting better at this over the last few months, or at least at articulating it. She gets to talk to me only after I have done a lot of processing, though. I want to be better at on the spot self awareness. As well as the confidence to trust in myself and my instincts and act on them in the moment.
What does all this mean? What am I on about? Some of our more rough mental play hit harder than expected, and I had trouble dealing with it appropriately. I broke and let things spin out of control. Now I have to heal and grow, and pick up the pieces. I aim to come out of this an even stronger person than before. I have a wonderful life, and so many amazing people in it, who support and love me and help me grow.
August 5th, 2010
Phobia – an irrational, intense and persistent fear. I have three. Two have been tested recently. The third, needles, I am still working towards. Sparklers were used in the most recent scene. A snake was used some weeks ago. I knew these fears were strong, but I didn’t know how much.
We were moving flats in the backyard. A small garter snake was curled up under one and I quickly moved away.
I pointed at it and he picks it up, bringing it towards me. I circle in the opposite direction, keeping the distance between us. He gets to where I was and looks up. Arms crossed, heart pounding, I grimace back at him. The snake is running through his gloved hands and he starts towards me again. I try to be still, but I keep backing up, whimpering and twitching my eyes between him and the ground.
I shake my head, harder than my body already is.
I whimper and take a step, but only one. He steps forward and I back.
Another step towards me and I tense my whole body to stay still. Another step and my foot slides back.
Stop or I will throw it on you.
I force my foot a step towards him. Eyes tight to the ground, filling with tears. Overflowing as he walks towards me. Sobbing by the time he is beside me. But I stay still. Then he takes it away. He puts it near the woodpile. I calm some – enough to move the last flat to the pile. He frees me and checks in. With the snake gone, I can breathe again and the terror melts away.
Stripped, handcuffed and tossed to the ground. Ankles tied together. Lover is counting and spanking and fucking.
I know you know the box score.
I cannot stop the laughter.
I know you are keeping track. At least the third box.
The laughter continues.
I know you are know the answer. At least a good guess. I have these sparklers here.
The flick of a lighter and I twitch away.
The lighter flicks again.
They’re old. Might not light.
I writhe, trying to throw him off me.
Yes, unless you know the number of 3′s.
I laugh again, desperation, now. More flicking of the lighter. I whimper and squirm. Lover has mercy.
How about a deal? Plus or minus two if you agree to sleep in your straitjacket with my cock in your mouth.
It won’t help. The straitjacket is okay.
Yes or no?
It won’t help.
Alright, how about plus or minus four? You’re a good guesser. I’m sure you have some idea.
My answer hasn’t changed.
Then I’ll just have to light the sparklers. Here, hold it for me.
Lover puts it in my cuffed hand. I writhe and try to let go, breaking it with my other hand to get it away. He plants it in the carpet in front of me.
Look at it. I’m going to light it if you don’t give me an answer.
Lover pulls my head up, and I look at the sparkler.
Don’t burn my carpet.
Laughter, not mine this time.
What’s your answer?
It hasn’t changed. The straitjacket is okay, but it doesn’t matter, I don’t know.
I’ll have to light it then.
He picks it up and flicks the lighter, while I squirm beneath him. The flare of the sparkler lighting and I scream and cry, face in the carpet. Trying to force him off my back, but helpless.
The sparks are dropping on you. In your hair.
No, no, no, no, no.
Fizz of water and it’s out. Gasping for air and shaking beneath him.
So? What’s your answer?
It hasn’t changed. It doesn’t matter, I don’t know the number.
Another one then?
Yes, or agree to the deal?
It doesn’t matter.
The flick of the lighter and the second is burning above me. Lower this time the sparks hitting my bare flesh. Hands brushing at the sparks. Sobbing into the carpet. Struggling to get away, to not get burned as he tells me where they are falling. Sizzle and it is out. Lover lets me sob for a little while, until I can breathe and speak again.
So, what’s your answer, or do I light another one. I have four more.
No. Sure. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.
Are you agreeing? Agreement needs to come with a number.
Oh, very good. Good girl. Very good girl. If you had guessed just a little higher…
Thank you, Sir.
Fears faced, but not diminished. The terror is still there, deeply there. I have faced them and sobbed my eyes out. I have faced them and been overwhelmed. I have faced them and surrendered. But facing them has not made them less.
July 1st, 2010
A short post today. It’s been a busy week and I have more things still to do.
What turns me on? I’ve posted about my fantasies. I’ve posted about my kinks. But what really turns me on? The simple things. What gets me going?
A deep kiss, full of passion.
The joy in his eyes and the smile on his lips.
A tight grip on my hair, right against the back of my head.
Light sucking and nibbling on my earlobes.
Harsh bites on my neck; inner wrists, elbows and thighs.
Hard pinching of my nipples.
Hard rubbing and sucking on my clit.
Naked bodies pressed together.
Sucking on a cock.
Open hand spanking on my bare ass.
A knife blade on my skin.
The smell of hemp and leather.
Rope holding me tight.
Pain coursing through my body.
Fear rumbling in my chest.
Giving up control, giving up completely.
May 20th, 2010
These last few weeks, I have not done justice to myself, my partners, or to you, my readers. Last week’s post was the best of the bunch, a description of a wonderful scene. But what has been going on? What’s been happening along my journey? What were those cryptic and scattered posts about? And what ever happened to those needles? Let me begin by acknowledging my failures and then discussing them.
Firstly, when I brought him the needles, I did not beg for him to put them in me. I had been told to do this, and I had agreed to do this, but I did not. Since realizing that failure, I have only begged for the needles twice in person and once on IM. Other failures and issues have come up, and I do want the needles and we have talked about them here and there, but I find myself putting aside this want while I work on other things. It is important to me, but I continue to give other issues priority.
My second failure was letting fear and uncertainty keep me from going into object space. I was not initiating it and when he tried, I was putting him off with some form of ‘not yet’ and then not going back to it myself. Since acknowledging this failure, I had two evenings when I began initiating but did not follow through, one evening when I followed through and only slipped up once, and one evening when I followed through for a majority of the evening, but then let outside influences disrupt my focus.
I also had last week’s scene where he put me into object space for the majority of the scene. I felt very grateful that he was willing to take me there again. Within the scene, it was also a very helpful anchor for processing as he had taken away my anchors of sight and touch. The focus that it created put me in a mindset of being an object for his pleasure and his use and allowed me to not just endure, but enjoy the pain, the fear, the tears and the relinquishing of control.
My third failure involved acting like a spoiled little child. I did not just question his decisions, I flat out told him no. I whined that I was learning and and that I was doing what he asked, all the while, doing the exact opposite by the very objections and fight I was putting up. I let my initial confusion turn into fear and doubt instead of being clear and accepting and communicative. I was so far into myself that I could not even see what I was doing. He took the time, once again to hold up a mirror and shine a bright light on it until I could see. He gave me back the paragraphs I had copied for him about being looking beyond imperfection, being happy, working hard, doing without question, being intelligent, helpful, serving and not letting fear and doubt get in my way. I had failed to do any of these things, and I was to keep the papers until I could actually live up to them.
The previous day we had a scene which had me kneeling for forty-five minutes, fifteen longer than I had ever previously done. It began with begging for the needles, and ended with the only thought in my head being that I could not get up until he told me I could. I had given over all my wants and needs to that one single thought, that one want – to please him at the expense of all else, by staying on my knees. It was quite a delicious scene, to let go that fully – freeing, and cathartic as I cried for the last ten minutes of it. He ended it by lifting me off the ground and onto the couch, covering me with a blanket and bringing me water. Our time was limited that day, but he made the most of it, for us both.
The next day, he had concerns that I needed time to reflect on that scene. Walls were broken down and I needed time to reflect and heal stronger. He also had concern for the number of people installing programming in my head and the possible dangers in that. Conflicting programming could lead to hesitation and doubt. Two people pushing the same button could take things further than intended if they did not know what the other was doing or thinking. This led to more communication with all my partners about wants and needs. Defining boundaries more clearly for all involved.
My fourth failure was being presumptuous and selfish and in a hurry. I tried to give back the paragraphs. I tried to play the I’m learning card again, forgetting that what he was asking of me was not just learning, but doing – putting the learning into action. And putting it into action consistently, not just for a few days. Giving the papers back was not ‘the next step’ it was four or five steps further along my path. I had only just begun putting my lessons into action, and in fact, just two days before, I let others ruin my focus and keep me from doing what I wanted.
I spent this conversation on my knees, where I had gone to offer the papers. He kept me there until I answered his questions. I stayed there because I had put myself there, offered that submission to him, and it was his until he was done with it. I did ask to get up once and accepted his denial. At the end, he set a timer for five minutes and told me to think about how not to end up there again, not on my knees, but having failed in that way again. He would burn the papers the next time, if we both did not agree I had lived up to them. I do not know how long I was on my knees that time, over thirty minutes I know, but beyond that it did not matter. I focused on what I had done and why, and on putting learning into action. When the timer went off, he asked me if I needed to get up. I said yes, and he told me to stand. I forced myself up onto completely numb feet, using the table for support. Looking into his eyes, and using my drive to do ask he asked as motivation, I was able to stay upright while circulation returned. Determination and motivation are wonderful tools.
My fifth failure was lack of focus and attention. I had some trouble assisting with suspensions last weekend. I had not been keeping up my tying practice. I did not read situations as quickly and as well as I should have been able to. I did not keep my eyes moving between all the participants of the scene. I am grateful that he was able to communicate with me about these situations and explain to me more clearly his expectations. We had five good suspensions each night, and the patrons all enjoyed their flights and are eager for more. I have since practiced my ties, and have a clearer idea of my responsibilities in our scenes. I expect further insight on this topic once we have both had time to reflect and discuss.
So, where does all this put me now? I am learning and growing and doing. I am making mistakes, I am failing, but I am still moving forward, albeit sometimes with tiny steps. I am lucky to have him holding my hand and guiding me – showing me the path when I lose sight of it or get turned around. Our love and trust for each other keeps us together, and enables us to overcome challenges, failures and miscommunications. The image of a feudal system just came to mind: I serve him and he keeps me safe. Sometimes, he asks more of me than I think I can give, but his belief in me moves me to go beyond my own expectations and push harder and reach further than I thought possible. I have a wonderful life, wonderful partners and I am learning and growing and doing more than I ever imagined was possible.