March 14th, 2013
What to write tonight? It’s after 11 and I really have to go to bed, the next 36.5 hours are going to be rough. Work early in the morning, then rush around to get ready, pick up gear, set up for class and party, run electric scenes, clean up, go to work just a few hours after I get home, and then hopefully still be awake enough to drive home at 11am. The writing group is really not helpful for actual writing. Every week I’ve gone, I’ve taken something with me to write on, but nothing useful ever gets written. I wrote a few notes last week, an author’s name this week. One week, I wrote a tiny flash of a stun gun scene description, but it wasn’t much of anything. Damnable stun gun makes my brain go all wibbly. Did I mention he got one at WW? And there was much rejoi… whimpering. And cursing. And shaking and crying. Mmmm tasty.
Bootblack class last night. I really need to get some leather dust and acetone for my kit. I also really need to kidnap his boots so I can fix them up properly. I should probably work on my own boots soon, too. They’re all scuffed up and stuff. Oh, yeah, need the sole stuff, too. Make all the boots pretty again.
New projects in my head. Making the anthology into a real ebook, with proper editing, formatting and all that. I don’t do a whole lot of editing of my posts, especially scene descriptions, but I think I can really make some decent improvements if I just put my mind to it, with a little (lot, probably) help from my editorial friends. And format it a lot better instead of squishing it all together to make it fit in the least amount of pages, let alone taking them out of the chronological order of how they was posted. I only grouped them by topic, but I really think I could do it more cleanly with a little time and effort. Make it into an ebook people would actually want to share with friends.
Also thinking about putting together some of my more useful posts into an advice/poly/bdsm beginner ebook. Again, with the editing and adding to, and maybe even just taking the ideas, and fleshing them out into good chapters. That one is going to take a lot more work, and effort, but I think it could still be fun. Not a “here’s how you should do things” book, but more of a “what did I learn from the mistakes I’ve made” book. I sometimes feel like my blog posts aren’t… serious enough.. journalistic enough…? I’m not sure the right word. I just go off and ramble, and rarely stay strictly on topic enough that I would consider any of the quality that could be submitted to one of the many community-focused informational sites. So, I’d like to do a bit more focused writing for this project.
Third project in my head is a creating a fantasy novel with bsdm elements. But I feel like I need to read more of what is already out there, or at least become more aware of what is already out there, so I’m not just rewriting what everyone else has already written. I’ve only ever created one novel-length manuscript, and when I think of “romance” it always feels fake and false in my head. Not to mention, I have no idea what kind of plot I want to build it around. So that project is the furthest off in my head, but hanging around with the writing group has a least put it more solidly in my head as an idea.
Not to mention trying to get a real(full time) job, so I can finally achieve financial independence. And taking the time and space to be on my own and take care of me. It’s going to be an interesting year. I intend to make it an upward swing.
November 4th, 2012
This story starts with an elderly gentleman buying Fifty Shades Darker from me yesterday. He told me that he really liked the first book. I told him that others had said the books each are better than the previous. He gave me a disbelieving look/sound, and said that the last one is called Freed, how could that be better than the other two? I checked myself from going too deeply into it, and said, that while I had not read the books, “freed” didn’t necessarily mean the relationship ended. He nodded, but I don’t think he understood what I was trying to say. No, I don’t really want to know if the relationship ends in the third book, and they get “free” of each other. But I do think it’s important to understand that freedom inside your relationship and inside your kink, is a great reality, regardless of whatever fantasy you’ve built up in your head.
Onto another fantasy. Interrogation. I mention it here and there, I write fantasy ones. I get worried that I’ll never get an interrogation scene. I talk about why not. But this morning, it occurred to me that it’s a fantasy that doesn’t mesh with my reality. I don’t really want an interrogation scene. I mean, sure, it’s fun to fantasize about, and write about, but what is it really? A stranger trying to torture information out of me, without a care for me, my safety, my sanity or anything but getting that information. Again, a sexy fantasy, of complete loss of control.
But where’s the reality, what is it that I really want out of such a scene? What I really want and enjoy in extreme scenes, is the challenge, the push, the seeing how far I can go. I recently read a summary of a biography written by a woman with dwarfism. It was a teacher that first called her a dwarf and asked her what she could and couldn’t do. The summary says she has spent the rest of her life pushing herself to do more and more. I was diagnosed with RA in HS, but in college, when I saw the fencing club, I decided to do it. So what if I couldn’t straighten my right arm, or if my left knee didn’t bend or straighten fully? I would push myself to do what I wanted to do. My kink is similar, I love to push myself, to see how far I can go, what I can do, in spite of assumed physical or mental limits. Most importantly, I love doing so with him, because he loves me, cares about me, but is also willing to push me further than I think I can go. A lot further. And still knows how and when to stop. Not some random fantasy stranger who I don’t know and wouldn’t play with in any case. Reality is much better than fantasy.
There was a third part to this topic, but I’ve lost it in the football game.
March 8th, 2012
And a special, bonus post, by special request of him, just in case two posts isn’t enough to fulfill your craving this week.
The movie was over, they hadn’t really watched it, too distracted by each other, but they had to go now. They had to get back to her dorm for bed check before midnight. The all-girls, private prep school she attended had very strict rules about being out of bed past curfew. She was eighteen years old, but her parents were not quite ready to let her go to college out in the real world, yet. So they’d sent her here, where she’d met the man of her dreams, and broke every rule to see him.
Heading back to the school, they crossed through a wooded area before the wide open grounds. He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck. She leaned back against him happily. They had a few minutes before they had to be back, she decided.
“You’re such a bad girl.” He breathed into her ear.
“Yes, sir.” She smiled at his mock stern tone.
“Wandering through the woods at this time of night. Good girls are all in bed. But you’re out with a man in the forest.”
“You know what we do with naughty girls, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” She shivered as his belt slid free.
He turned and put left foot up on a fallen tree and bent her over his knee. Pulling up her skirt, and down her panties, he exposed her bare ass. Stroking it with his folded belt, he put his hand on her back to hold her steady. Then brought the belt to bear.
She yelped, and he swung again. Her yelping soon turned to moans of pleasure as she writhed over his leg. He reddened her pale skin, with harder and harder strokes. Until she began to beg.
“Please, oh please, sir.”
“Please, I want you.”
“Please, sir, please.”
He stopped and let her go, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Pulled his pants open the rest of the way and eagerly took him in her mouth. He gasped and entwined his fingers in her hair, guiding her eagerness. She moaned as he groaned, and when they were done, he pulled her to her feet, and held her tight.
After a moment to breathe, they were off again, racing towards the dorm, and up the fire escape to here room. Her roommate was in the infirmary for the night, so they had it all to themselves. She shooed him under the bed until bed check came through a few minutes later, and then pulled him back up. Collapsing on the bed, he pulled her close.
“Such a bad girl, pulling a man’s pants down out in the open like that.”
“Yes, sir.” She expected him to be sleepy, but he seemed far from it.
“And now, you’ve snuck him into your bedroom, into a girls only dorm.”
He sat up and pulled her over his lap, keeping her skirt down to muffle the noise, he took his hand to her this time. Spanking the already tender flesh. She buried her face in the blankets to cover her moans. She squirmed against his lap, but he held her tight, spanking her tender bottom until her moans got so loud, the blankets could not stop them.
“Please, sir, oh gods, please sir.”
“Please, take me, sir.”
He gave her a few more swats that nearly made her scream before flipping her around and back onto the bed, shedding his clothes and then pulling her free of hers. He joined her back in bed and covered her mouth with his to keep her moans of pleasure from waking her dorm mates while he rode her to exhaustion.
The alarm went off early the next morning and she shooed him under the bed again for morning check. Then she got ready and went down to breakfast. He snuck out the window while everyone was eating and she spent the rest of the day in a happy haze. Until the end of her last class, when the teacher stopped her.
“Headmaster wants to see you. Come with me.”
He led her towards the dorm, however and up to her room, where she saw the headmaster waiting. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she dreaded what was to come. He must have been seen leaving.
“Come in. Tell me, is anything amiss?”
“Is anything missing? Anything at all?”
“No, headmaster.” She knew better than to lie. If she said yes, her boyfriend would be arrested for theft.
“Strange. A man was seen climbing out of this window this morning, during breakfast. We assumed he was a thief. Are you sure that nothing is missing?”
“Did you know the man who left here this morning?”
“I see. And did you know he was in your room?”
“Would you mind telling me what he was doing here?”
“Yes, headmaster.” She blushed furiously and glanced at the teacher in the doorway.
“Thank you, that will be all.” The headmaster dismissed the teacher and closed the door before turning back to her. “What was he doing here?”
She stared at his shoes, too embarrassed to answer.
“We could continue this conversation in my office, with a cane, if you would prefer?”
“No, headmaster. I.. I invited him up, headmaster. We had a date last night and I brought him back here.”
“I see. Tell me about it.”
“We… we went to the movies, and then we came back here to sleep.”
“Is that all? You saw a movie and you slept?”
“We… um… on the way back, he put me over his knee and spanked me with his belt and I went down on him. After bed check, he spanked me again, with his hand, and then we had sex before we went to sleep.”
“I see. You like that do you?”
“Yes, headmaster.” She was mortified, but lying would only make things worse.
“But you chose to continue the conversation here and not in my office with the cane?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t really like canes, sir.”
“I see. Well, let’s see how he did, then. Turn around and show me your bottom.”
What could she do, she turned around, bent over and lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties.
“It’s barely red at all. He must not have tried very hard.” The headmaster patted her bare ass. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that. Don’t you think?”
“By rights, you should be expelled and a letter sent home to your parents.”
“But that won’t do anyone any good, so how about this. You’ll march down to my office with me, and I’ll redden that ass of yours properly, you can even thank me for it, like you did him in the woods. And once I’m satisfied, we’ll forget this ever happened. Is that alright with you?”
“Go on then.” He pulled her up and opened the door, motioning her to go ahead of him.
She walked down the hallways, her face bright red and her eyes on the floor. Those she passed knew she had been caught out, but very few of them knew what for. When they got to his office she went inside. He followed and locked the door behind him. Walking to his desk, he pulled off his belt and put it on the left side, then pulled out a paddle and put it in the middle and then a cane on the right hand side.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl.” He told her and sat down, motioning her over. “Take off that skirt, it will only be in the way, and the panties.”
She did as he instructed and then he pulled her over his lap. He started with his bare hand, spanking her equally bare ass.
“This is for sneaking out last night.”
He started out soft and built up, harder and harder. Gauging her moans and squeals, occasionally checking to see how wet she was. She squirmed on his lap, embarrassed but increasingly aroused. He spanked her harder and harder until she was gasping and screaming for him.
“Please, headmaster, please!”
“Please, stop and let me thank you.” She begged, remembering his words.
He gave her a few more swats and then let her up. She dropped to her knees under his desk and fumbled his pants open. His erection was waiting. She took him eagerly, and he let her, fingers in her hair, but stopped her short of finishing him off and pulled her roughly back over his lap.
He picked up the belt next, but paused, giving them both a few moments to breathe.
“This is for having oral sex in the school forest.”
He swatted her ass with the belt, pulling a gasp, and then another. He beat her already red ass into a deeper shade of crimson. She moaned and writhed harder against him, but he held her tight. His strokes slower than the first spanking. Enjoying the fullness of her reaction. When he had her screaming again and begging, he let her up a second time. And she sunk to the floor, moaning against his cock as she sucked on him.
He only gave her a few minutes this time before pulling her back up and picking up the paddle.
“This is for sneaking a boy into the dorm.”
He struck hard and firm, leaving it against her ass as she cried out. He smiled down at her. Loving the sound of the paddle the most. He struck again, and again. She arched and cried and tried to get away. Her ass sore and bruised already. He counted down from ten, and she screamed with each one. Then he dragged her to her feet and bent her over the desk, picking up the cane.
“And this is for having sex in your dorm room.”
He took the cane to the back of her thighs and her highly abused ass. Counting down from twenty, he held her in place by her hair. Giving her time to process each strike. Screaming into the desk and stamping her feet. She cried as she dug her fingers into the wooden edge.
When he was done, he pulled her back down to the floor beneath his desk and she took him a third time, this time to completion. And then collapsed into a puddle on the floor. He redid his pants, put away his tools and let her come back to herself before sending her back to her room.
“Next time you want a spanking, just ask.” He said as he opened the door and sent her on her way.
October 29th, 2011
It has been a week. And once again, Thursday was too busy for me to get a post written. Two jobs is good for the checkbook, not so good for my writing pursuits. Life is full of changes. Growing, expanding, renegotiating, learning, adding, subtracting, multiplying. Relationships are the same.
He and toy are “officially dating” now. A new young woman has entered all our lives. Schedule changes are heading our way. So things are in a little bit of flux as we try to see where it is all lands. This has led to a lot of conversations. A lot of communication. And a lot of thinking and processing. Also, a lot of reacting, but hey, that’s where it all starts. Reactions let us know what’s important, and then we figure out what to do about it.
I seem to have, for the moment, gotten over my usual reaction of replacement fears to change, and have settled into a more tetchy fear of losing time and attention. More tetchy, because those things are limited. There is only so much time in a week, and so much attention to give. I started talking about it like a pie. Fearing my slice was going to get smaller, that someone else was going to get a slice, or a bigger slice, or already had, or whatever. The trouble is, that’s life, things are always changing and adjusting. I need to focus, not on, how do I get a bigger piece, or keep my exact piece, or any of that, but how to enjoy my slice to the fullest. To do that, I have to stop worrying about other people’s slices. I only have control over how I spend my own.
To that end, I tripped over an even older mental block. Asking for what I want. In order to facilitate him making decisions about those slices, he has to know what I want and need, so he can give me whatever he is able to. And in order for me to be happy, I have to take care of my own wants and needs. This means several things. First, I have to know what I want and need. Second, I have to tell him what I want and need. Third, I have to be patient about getting those met. I have several stumbling blocks in this series. Knowing what I need seems to have gotten easier, though I sometimes have trouble with the want/need line, falling on the side of, well, I don’t really Need that, I can Survive without it. I’m still working on that.
The blocks really come with telling him. A couple problems here. I grew up in a household where wants were generally not considered important. At birthdays or Christmas, you could ask for things, but other than that, only if offered. And at those times two times a year, we made wish lists and didn’t demand particular things. To say, you must get me this one thing or I will be miserable, was just not done. We made a list and we’d usually get a few things off that list, but not everything, and often things that weren’t on the list. You got what they wanted to give you. So, how does this translate now? Well, if I have everything I need, I feel selfish asking for things I want. At birthdays and Christmas, I tend to posts lists to my blog, but I don’t really ask for things directly. If I’m asked what I want (to do), I tend to come off shy or coy because I’m not used to being that direct.
The next block comes in with the third step. I’m a fairly patient person, but sometimes to a fault. I won’t ask for things if I feel like the answer will be not right now. For a couple reasons. One, it feels like a no to me, and I don’t like hearing no, so I just won’t ask. Two, because I figure I might as well wait until the answer is likely to be yes. But, as he reminds me, if he doesn’t know what I want, I am taking away his chance to decide if there’s time/opportunity for it, nor can he plan for it in the future if there isn’t time in that moment. So I have to ask, and then be patient about receiving.
To make the most of our slice of poly pie, we have to be fully informed of each other’s wants and needs. I have to grow and overcome some roadblocks, and let myself hear not now, without it meaning no. Sharing wants should be fun, describing things I like or want should be entertaining and arousing. Fantasies and daydreams come to life is what makes our lives amazing. Why would I deny either of us that?
January 14th, 2011
How would you say real life BDSM/kink varies from fantasy BDSM/kink? If you haven’t experienced real life BDSM/kink how do you think it might differ?
I am again on the path of it being the same as the rest of life. Reality is a lot harder, grittier and more dangerous than any fantasy. It takes more work, is never perfect, and does not always go the way you planned. On the other hand, reality is more fulfilling, more satisfying, and well worth the effort it takes.
January 6th, 2011
Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.
I had a lot of trouble with the words “weird” and “most interesting” while considering this question. Thought about a variety of angles and scenes and potential fantasies. Discarded some for not being all that weird after all. Discarded others for having been written about before. Wondered what would be “most” interesting of all the thoughts in my head. Then I remembered my Monday post. It seems these first few are building on each other.
My best friends and I used to look at each other randomly and pose the question “Jack or Spot?” In fact, a few weeks back, I got that in a text from one of them for no apparent reason. My answer was always Spot. Spot Conlon, head of the Brooklyn newsies, in Disney’s live action musical about the newsboys strike of 1899. Shorter than Jack, more wiry, but tougher and more feared than any other newsie in the city. And those eyes, clear and sharp.
So, my weirdest fantasy that still persists to this day? Being Spot Conlon’s girlfriend come submissive. I didn’t know the latter term when I was young, but all the fantasies hinted at that type of interaction. A look from him and I would immediately still, unable to move under his gaze. A pointed finger and I would stand where he directed. Any order, I would immediately follow. If I did something wrong, he’d put me over his knee right there on the docks in front of everyone. Spanking me by hand, with a belt or with his cane until I sobbed. As I grew up, the fantasies turned more sexual. He’d take me off the dock, to a private room in the back of a warehouse to put me over his knee, so he could toss me down and fuck me afterward. Even then, we tended to have an audience, a few newsies would follow to listen and make sure I was being punished.
Perhaps the weirdest part of the fantasy when I was younger, I’d incorporate Star Trek, the newsies either being a holodeck program, or a favor from Q, taking me back in time.
January 5th, 2011
What was your first kinky sexual experience? If you haven’t had one yet, talk about what you hope to have happen.
First, wow. Well, remember that guy from day three. It’d have to be him, wouldn’t it? A long time ago, in a town far away… okay, so not that far away, but in the time frame of my life… I’m only thirty and I was eighteen at the time. Thinking back, I know what it was, and I remember how it felt, and I smile with how simple it was compared to my life and experiences since then. But that’s what first experiences are all about right? That first taste that pulls you in.
He was new, just met, and interested. He showed me his swords, and a catalog of knives he wanted. His gaze was intense. He was attractive and strong, pierced and tattooed. He was intelligent, warm and respectful. He asked permission to bite my neck. He did not want me to be uncomfortable, but he wanted to see if I would like it. I liked vampires, and the request made my stomach flutter. I agreed and he smiled, toothily.
I was sitting on the edge of his bed, he slipped down behind me. Wrapped one arm around my upper chest, holding my opposite shoulder. Took his free hand, and brushed my hair away from my neck, then tilted my head to the side just so. I could feel his breath on my neck and shivered, scared and excited all at once. He sank his teeth into the stretched flesh, gently, and then harder, not trying to break skin, but wanting me to feel it. I moaned out the breath I had been holding, I’m not sure if it was an audible noise or not, and sank into him, my eyes rolling back in my head, an expression he would later come to enjoy via a mirror. The teeth, the pain, the taking of physical control, my fantasy realized in one moment of pleasure.
January 3rd, 2011
How did you discover you were kinky?
I liked strange things. I had odd fantasies. Vampires turned me on. The monster under my bed became a man who wanted to kidnap me or have sex with me. I liked the thought of someone having control over me with just a look. I fantasied about Spot Conlon taking me over his knee for starting a fight on the docks. But I didn’t know what to do with these thoughts, these feelings, as a teenager living at home with religious parents. I couldn’t very well look on the internet for information with my father sitting behind me. I did not have a boyfriend to experiment with in High School. With my friends, I talked about cute boys and kissing, and occasionally whipped cream, but we didn’t talk about our darker fantasies.
In college, my second boyfriend opened me up to accepting that I was kinky, and learning what that meant to me. He liked to bite my neck and play with knives. He had piercings and tattoos and was everything my parents would disapprove of.
So, how did I discover I was kinky? When he asked to bite my neck and I realized I was not alone, that these feelings and thoughts I had were not bad and wrong. That other people felt the same way, were turned on by the same things. Realized I wasn’t just weird and disgusting. I was kinky and it was okay. (I’m not a lumberjack, but that’s okay, too. Silly Monty Python in my head.)
January 2nd, 2011
List Your Kinks
-Electric Fly Swatter
October 15th, 2010
I failed at the writing an extra post to make up for last week’s non-kinky post. I spend at least forty-five minutes every day, writing for him because I promised myself I would. Because I was having trouble communicating, and writing is the medium I feel most comfortable in, and I felt it would facilitate better communication over all. I think it does and I think it has, and so I keep my promise, to myself and to him, to write at least five hundred words every day. These writings are very personal, occasionally nonsensical, and include every day things and other people. Sometimes they are profound, sometimes they are flowery, and sometimes they are just as randomly off the wall as last week’s post on social networking. Some days I wish I could just get up in the morning and write all day, send him his words, send my other partners their own words, and write beautiful blog posts, and let the rest of the world just float by.
Complete Shibari: Land and Sky is quickly rising to be my most popular post. It only has thirty views and two posts to topple until it reaches number one. I really wish I’d done a far better job with that post. Maybe I’ll actually get the books during the holidays and work up a better review. It’s not terrible, especially as I’ve never written a book review in my life, but I feel it doesn’t do the works justice. I’m eagerly awaiting his third book(Stars) to be released, too.
So far this post isn’t any better than last week. I keep thinking if I just keep writing, it’ll get better, I’ll come up with something intelligent to say, some great topic to post on, something insightful at the very least. I was chatting with a friend of mine earlier, saying that “Jealousy, Neediness and all those other things you try to ignore” was probably not a coherent topic. Last week I was dealing with bits of jealousy popping up. But instead of dwelling on them and letting them rule me, I quickly recognized and squashed them. With logic and compersion. Jealousy is not something we can get rid of, it reminds us what is important, but controlling it instead of being controlled by it is the key.
This week, I’m dealing with neediness. I hate it when I feel needy. Of course, I need other people and need love and attention. Sometimes, though, I feel like the need consumes me and jumps up and down like a five year old shouting for attention. It doesn’t help that this is an incredibly inconvenient time for that to rear its head. Five year olds rarely care if the time is right or horribly, horribly wrong. So, logic and empathy to squash that for now. I have many ways to fill my needs, and patience will get me everything I need in plenty. As proof, I’ll end this post with a list of things from the last three weeks that made me happy:
Over the knee spankings
Oral sex wherever we happen to be
Carrying and holding a drink in my open palm
Drumming with anything that comes to hand
The leatherman on my skin
Seeing and helping with someone’s first suspension
Teaching and sharing the violet wands
A phone call from far away
A latex skirt
A kiss on the forehead
An unexpected spanking
A relaxing evening
A good discussion