Birthday Wishes

July 21st, 2011

So, this extra post is inspired by a several things. One, it’s my birthday on Sunday. Two, toy was giving me a hard time about not asking for things I want (for my birthday). And three, he made a comment the other day that a lot of our play has been about things that he likes(it’s awesome and fortunate, that our kinks match up so well), and due to various things over the last week, he’s curious to try some of the stuff that I like. Thus the straitjacket on Monday. So, without further ado, here’s a short list of scene ideas that came to mind when I thought about my upcoming birthday… while at work… and bored… in the order they came to me.

 

    1. Obviously, over the knee, barehanded birthday spankings. This one’s just a given. It’s tradition in all parts of life, to give birthday spankings. So, I want bare hand on bare ass and dear gods, please over the knee, but hey. Girl’s gotta have something special.
    2. Clothes cut off. I have had this in my head for a while now, but I never really thought too much on it. But when I was writing this list it was second to come to mind. I realized that Every kidnap fantasy I have, they cut off my clothes. This is one I’ve never indulged (it requires pre-planning or the sacrifice of cute clothes), but apparently is a huge turn-on for me.
    3. Suspension. It’s just all kinds of wonderful and always on my mind. He suspended me last week, quick and dirty, but oh so nice, and spacy. Lovely. So, I think this wish has been nicely fulfilled.
    4. Sex. Oral. Masturbation. Well, duh, it’s fun. (I’ll get a little more creative further down the page.)
    5. Intense rope scene. You know the kind. Tied up tight, rope after rope, losing freedom bit by bit. Digging in, dropping down, nothing but you, him and the rope. Eeling optional. The kind of eeling that when you get something free, he just ties it down tighter. And you’re both exhausted by the time the last rope is removed.
    6. Electric oral. I’ve been curious about this for ages. Since the first time he mentioned it. In that kind of terrified, but oh so curious kind of way.
    7. TENS masturbation. I want to find the right places. I’ve played with TENS units on various occasions in various ways, but I’ve never found The Spots. Yeah, we’ve turned me all tingly and what not, but I hear stories of more and better. Of getting it to cross the clit. Of getting it to cause orgasms. So very curious.
    8. Vibrator orgasms until collapse. Writing this made me laugh, then blush. There’s nothing like a Hitachi going on and on until you’ve had so many orgasms that you’re begging for it to stop. And then being forced to have more.
    9. Clothespin challenge. I wrote this at work with ?’s around it because most of my thoughts were not around painful scenes. The idea popped into my head, inspired by Monday, and spurred on by memories of a game show. How many clothes pins would it take? How many is too many? I think lying down I could take more than standing up. I have this problem with breathing. And then what about taking them off? One by one? Or a big long zipper?
    10. Sensual flogging or drumming. The rhythmic kind, meant for spacing out and massage. Not the pain of catharsis, not looking for tears or challenge. Just music and thumping and letting go.
    11. Full body massage. This goes on the same line. Just soft sensation, of touching and caring and love.
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Fourth Monday

July 21st, 2011

Fourth Monday. Finally. Only three months to get here. Such busy, crazy lives we lead. He asks me to bring my straitjacket and blindfold. My turn for isolation. Picnic on Sunday, so some cleaning is already done, but there’s different things need doing. I set to the dishes and the grills, Toy grabs the recycling and trash. Floors are given a once over and the playspace is cleared up a little. Dressed and waiting, he’s got the collar in the truck.

Chat and chicken and dinner. We head downstairs to curl up and flip through the television. Toy heads up to get coffee and he and I discuss my jacket. Doesn’t really work with a skirt, but I’ve got underwear in the bag. Put them on and bring the jacket.

So I strip down to bra and panties – look they match. And he jackets me up, nice and tight. The straps crisscrossing between my legs. Blindfold next, then earplugs. Sound is deadened around me, and then headphones – blocking out most everything else. He puts me down on the couch, laying back on some pillows. I fold my legs, but he soon pulls them straight and shackles my ankles together with something I’ve never worn, hard metal, that seems to crank down.

I settle in, trying to see what I’ve got left. I can hear whispers of sound. His voice raises in question – can I hear him? But it sounds so faint and far away. Is he talking to me? I turn my head towards the noise, but nothing else comes. I feel like I should have answered, but he doesn’t ask again. I can’t hear anything but odd whispers of noise. A creak of the stair, the ceiling, whispers of the tv that only sound like static.

Nothing else is forthcoming, so I relax into the jacket and the blindfold and the quiet. The tv hisses. Annoying. I hear little things, indecipherable, whenever I fully relax. But I can still manage enough. Keeping still, I feel my mind sinking into my body. I feel like I’m in my bones instead of in my skin. I keep thinking about Harry Potter whenever the tv hissing pulls me up. I try to stop, I focus on my breathing, on the heavy sensation in my limbs. I could move if I needed to, but it seems like too much effort to even want to. Little ticks of pain. A prick in my foot, my nose itches, my fingertips of my left hand are pressing uncomfortably. Little movements to relieve the little ticks. Sinking, comfortable. Mind wandering, recording the sensations, knowing I’ll be writing this. I wonder what they’re doing, but no way to know, so I don’t wonder long. I’ve read so much Harry Potter lately, why won’t it stay out of my mind. Breathing, sinking.

I hear more sounds. My breathing picks up. Clanking, like chain in a bucket. What is that? Are they back? I smell hemp. The pillow below my feet moves. It scares me at first, til I realize what it is. The clanking noise stops. I strain to hear where they are, what they are doing. What he is doing.

Music starts playing. I can hear it softly, but clearly. And I relax. I don’t know why, music signals playing, but I relax. It’s a continuous sound, and I focus on it and relax. My breathing slows to normal. He hasn’t come to me yet. I sink back into myself, more easily now.

I think I hear sounds from them. Indistinct. The pillow moves again. My heart jumps, but the music soothes. Then Uncle lands. Ripping me out of myself and back into my skin. And I scream and writhe. More strikes on my thighs. I curl up and he strikes the back of my thighs. I scream and moan. Then he is gone. I curl up whimpering. Then I hear her. Hear strikes at the other end of the couch. When they stop. I whimper and fidget, cowering, and the strikes come again, legs and breasts. Squealing and thrashing, the blindfold starts to slip, he pulls it back down, but it comes up again. The headphones are taken off and a hood forced over my head, squashing my ears. It’s a hood I’ve never worn, the area around the mouth seems to have a leather piece to it. I can breathe easily through it. More strikes with something different and writhing and screams, but this stays in place.

He goes to her again, I listen to the strikes and her squeaks. Straining to hear it stop, cowering whenever it does. More strikes, he lifts my legs to hit the backs of my thighs better and strikes my breasts as well.

Clips come. Along my thighs, left thigh first. I gasp and squeak, sinking into the pain as he steps away. Then returns, my right thigh now, and two above my panties. I rock with the pain, chewing on the leather by my mouth, breathing and moving my legs to take in in and process. More clips around my legs, and then…

A clamp – forcep? – goes on my left nipple and I scream and cry and writhe and shake. He takes it off. It takes me a bit to calm down and listen to them again. He returns and puts one on the right nipple. I scream and groan and moan and twitch my foot, biting hard on the leather, determined not to let this one beat me. He strikes off the clips with a flogger and removes the forcep and I scream and shake. He retrieves them and puts them back on. Having to dig between the cushions under my ass for some of them. As I write this I am not sure I’ve got the clips and clamps in the right order, but I can’t remember clearly.

I was scared of what might come next, gasping hard through my nose, trying to calm down so I could hear. Finally, relaxing enough to uncurl some, to feel the cushion at my feet again, to listen to whimpers from Toy. And then he’s sitting beside me, a blow to my crotch and then his fingers, working away at my clit. Rough and insistent, I arch and groan, pressing back against him. Gasping and moaning, finally I beg, pathetically. Please. Please. The words aren’t even clear to me, but he seems to ask what. Please may I come? He taps my chest twice. I take this as a yes, and let myself go. Orgasming, but he does not stop, pushes harder, and I orgasm twice more before he stops. And leaves me shaking and breathless.

But not for long. He unshackles my ankles, takes off the headphones and hood, and ear plugs. I blink in the light, fidgeting in the sudden brightness and sound. I come up and out again and he sits near my feet and waves me over. Rocking myself up, I turn and cuddle my head against his chest. He kisses the top of my head and asks a few questions. I assumed two meant yes? Yes, especially when he didn’t stop. Then he points out toy, tied up in the corner of the couch and we smile. She looks beautiful.

Do you think you can untie her with you teeth? No. Well, you better try, it’s the only way you’re getting out. You two have to untie each other. I blink up at him and his wide grin. He’s not kidding. So I get up and go kneel in front of her, assessing the situation. I start for a knot at her feet, but she thinks she can get out. I let her squirm for a bit, but she only gets one foot out. So I pull the other knot by her feet and she frees the second foot. Got anything more? She tries, but doesn’t get anywhere. Okay hold still. I’m going to pull the crotch ropes through your waist rope. She squirms a bit and I scold her til she holds still. He’s laughing and enjoying the show. I pull the crotch ropes out of her waist rope, though this seems to cause them to enter other uncomfortable places.

I stand and so does she. Still trying to get her hands free she squirms, but can’t. Okay, I can see a couple more I can undo. Hold still. I pull a couple, but that does nothing to help her hands. She’s turning and fidgeting, so I stand on the rope. He’s laughing his ass off on the floor by now, watching us. Hold Still! I pull a couple more knots out and she can free her hands and get the rope off. He insists I do the blindfold and she squirms and ends up on the floor in a ball. Alright stay there then! I bend over and pull the knot free with my teeth and drop the blindfold on her back.

Up on her knees, she makes quick work of the straitjacket buckles, even without her glasses. I toss it on the couch and sit on the floor with them. She’s trying to finish untying the rope and asks for glasses back. He gives them to us both. She untangles and I coil up the jute. It didn’t taste like much but fibers. He had me clean up. I put everything back in the tub and chest while he got ready for his massage. He came back over to us, sitting on the ottoman with Toy in front of him and me behind him, all happy and glowing.

Then over to the table, back, arms, legs, feet, until our hands were getting tired, turn over. Chest, arms, legs, head and feet. Light touch when we can’t push anymore. Then toy starts to drop, energy gone. I wrap my arm around her and she lays on his chest a few moments and then up. Whispered conversation until she’s just about falling asleep on my shoulder. I lean down to wake him. We need to move to the couch. Clothes changed, tv on, coffee retrieved. We settle in to end our night cuddled up together. Most excellent experience.

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Rope Scenes

July 14th, 2011

I’ve posted a lot about rope. About why I like it, what I like about it, about scenes I’ve had with it, about buying it, about learning to tie it. There have been a lot of classes on rope lately, with more coming up, especially at COPE in September. The most recent was on Eeling. And he said he learned more about me by attending than about the subject, because he and I don’t play like that. Way back when we first met, he challenged me to get out of a tie, but not since. Our scenes are about other things that escape. So, it brought to mind today, what kinds of rope scenes are there, what kinds do I enjoy, and what do I get out of the different kinds?

Suspension is one, well, two really. There are high-flying suspensions, and there are static.

High-flying suspensions I have written about a few times, describing particular scenes or the freedom in it. The care for comfort of the tie, and the attention to detail of the rigging are very important. Swinging from a point 15-20′ in the air by thin ropes tied around the body is a feeling like no other I’ve ever experienced. We compare it to a swing set of childhood, or a roller coaster ride. But it is so much more than the first, and so much more sensual than the second. It is about trust and control. Giving it all to the person tying and flying you. One mistake and bad things could happen. But when it’s done right, with care and attention. The energy, the joy, the sense of freedom, is incredible. The dizziness from spinning well worth the feeling of the spin. The rope marks can last for days, bright red lines where the ropes lay, holding you in the sky. And for me, the scene doesn’t end when I’m back on the ground. I float as he unties, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, leaving burns with the lines. And then I sink back down to earth, surrounded by the rope, coiling it up, breathing it in. Landing mentally, only when it is all put away again.

Static suspensions share a lot of the same sensations and feelings with high-flying ones. But they tend to be more sensual for me. More about the rope touching and holding. More about the feel of him close to me, often playing with me while I’m suspended. Static lends to deeper space, less wide-eyed excitement. I sink into rope space whenever I am tied, but when left to hang in it, my mind sinks deeper into my body. Feeling everything. And floats out to him, feeling the energy and the exchange.

A similar state is achieved through floor scenes. When he ties me, not to a suspension point, but into a ball, or a hog-tie or some such, self-contained tie. These, though, have me grounded, literally, and mentally. I am not floating away, finding the freedom of being suspended. I am tied into myself, molded into the shape he wishes. I am made vulnerable in a completely different way. No longer is my life hanging by a thread, but rather, I am at his mercy. I am where and what he wants me to be. I am bound and helpless, and available for whatever he wants to do, with less safety concerns to distract. (Yes, there are always safety concerns, but not maintaining steady breathing, or a numb limb isn’t going to end a ground scene nearly as quickly as a suspension.) Floor scenes can be as simple as tying and leaving to melt, whether in a ball on the floor, or walking around with just the upper body bound. Or tying and then tormenting – whips, floggers, paddles, pinches, nipple clamps, tickling, what have you. A fully sensual and power exchange scene for me.

Coming off floor scenes, there are bed scenes. Tied down to a bed, for sex and torment. To be tied completely open and vulnerable. These have a different feel from ground scenes, for various reasons. One, obviously, if the intent is sex, is quite a bit different than the above feelings. But the other, for torment, is still different, too. Tied in a ground tie, immobilized and tormented is one thing. Often you can’t see what’s coming, or you can curl and squirm at the very least. Tied out spread eagle, unable to even pretend you can protect or defend yourself. Waiting, watching, often enduring torment that you can do nothing about. It is a similar, but uniquely delicious space. For me, there is far less sinking into the rope in these scenes. Sometimes I use pulling on the rope to process the pain, or as a focus point, but these scenes do not take me to rope space nearly as much as a ground tie.

The last type, I want to talk about is what sparked this post. Eeling. Getting out of the rope you were put in. I used to do this type of scene with the other a lot, or folks on the crew, just playing around when we were bored. See how long it took to escape a particular tie. Or tie myself up so the other could watch me escape. Or be tied up and left to escape on my own. Or one particular friend like to keep adding rope as I would untie the first few. These were interesting scenes for me. Scenes of challenge. I like challenges, challenging myself, being challenged. The ties were puzzles to be solved. And learned from. I love learning, too. I started learning suspension ties by untying them. I learned a lot about floor and bed ties by untying myself. There was discussion about what about eeling turns eels on, and about the rollercoaster that eeling scenes can be. For me – the joy of being tied, the thrill of the challenge set before me, the frustration of a difficult (or improbable to escape) tie, the thrill of getting a knot undone or getting some slack, the frustration that it did no good, continuing on to either end with the satisfaction of escaping, or the arousal of surrender. These scenes can be very tricky. The frustration can overwhelm, or the eel can cause themselves physical injury, or panic can set in (especially when combined with abandonment). But if the balance can be maintained, the frustration can be channeled and the panic controlled, and injury avoided, I enjoy these scenes very much if it is what the top is also after. I am not one to get out of any rope put on me just to see if I can. I like being in it far too much for that.

Are there any other types you enjoy? Do you have a favorite? What about the different types do you like?

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Perverted Imp FAQ

June 2nd, 2011

Who is The Perverted Imp?

I am a 30-something woman with a degree in creative writing. Except for a three year stint out west, I’m a MidWestern girl. During college, I traveled to Ireland, England and Australia, as well as all over the US. I work with books in the morning and computers in the afternoon. By night, I am a social butterfly, hanging out with my loved ones, gaming, and participating in a kinky stage show. I enjoy most music in which I can comprehend the lyrics, movies that are not full of senseless gore, and books with interesting characters. I love forests, meadows and rivers. I have rheumatoid arthritis, and allergies to Neosporin, mice, dust and cats, in that order. My favorite color is cobalt blue, and I adore watermelon, pizza and bacon.

 

Who are the other people mentioned here?

Hubby – is my husband of nearly seven years as of this posting. He is my Master, the love of my life, and my rock. He is the one I come home to, the one who supports me no matter what. He understands me, protects me and takes care of me every day of our life together. I am in love with him, forever and always.

Him/he – is my boyfriend of about a year and a half now. Rigger, Dom, Mentor, Teacher, Sir, and friend. He guides me and helps me and challenges me to go places I never thought I could go. He holds up a mirror and a light, showing me myself and the path I have chosen. I am in love with him, may it last forever and always.

Toy – is an amazing young woman that he and I have taken under our protection. She has agreed to be our toy, to play with us, learn from us, and teach us about herself. Through her, I am learning a lot about myself. I love her dearly.

Lover – is now an ex. He was my play partner, lover, or boyfriend for around two years. He taught me many things, about kink and poly as well as about finances, health and business. He made a great contribution to my life, though we are not together anymore. I will always have love for him.

 

Why am I blogging?

I hit two years recently. So, why am I still here? What brings me back every week? What fills my tummy with guilt if I don’t get a post done each Thursday? I don’t have a huge following. I don’t have comment conversations running into pages. I do have a handful of loyal readers who know and love me. But I could just as easily talk to them about my life. Why blog?

I read, as a child, to escape. I wrote a young woman to escape as well, and to give others escape. Then I joined this kinky world, and I didn’t need to escape anymore. My fantasies were real, my life was amazing. I wanted to share.

I wanted to let others know that they aren’t alone. I wanted to let others know that someone else made the mistakes they are making. That someone else made bigger mistakes. That someone else in this wide world feels like they do. That someone else wants what they want. That someone else enjoys the unusual things they enjoy. I wanted to reach out, and touch someone’s life, even if only for a moment, and even if I never knew. Occasionally, I get a note from a reader, letting me know I touched a life, and it makes me so happy. So here I am, and here I will be. Sharing for all who care to read.

 

How do poly and kink interact in my life? Would/could I be one without the other?

Poly is how I explore kink. No one person can be all. No one partner can satisfy every urge or desire or kink. I have different relationships, different dynamics with each of my partners. Every relationship I’ve ever had, has explored kink in a different way. Some had similarities, but they are all unique. I have a wide variety of interests, and I don’t want to try to fit it all into a single relationship. Fortunately, I don’t have to anymore. I have found poly to be part of who I am and am grateful to everyone who has helped me on this path. I have been kinky while being monogamous, but I don’t think I could ever again not be kinky or poly in nature, if not in fact.

 

What are my top kinks?

Rope Bondage – Hemp, jute, cotton, suspension, box ties, hog ties, prisoner ties. The smell of hemp from his tub, found nowhere else. Rope rubbing on skin, rope around the neck, rope through the crotch. Rope squeezing and holding and pressing. Rope marks, rope burn, rope tails whipping around. The feel of it holding me tight, letting me find freedom. Drifting off into space, secure and safe.

Intense Sensation – Over the knee spanking, bare asses spanking, slaps, flogging, dragon tails, single tails, paddles, cricket bats, canes, wicked sticks, violet wands, TENs Units, stun guns, stingers, flyswatters, biting, pinches, pokes, pressure points, forceps, nipple clamps, Leatherman tool, clothes pins, fire, fear.

Power Exchange – Kneeling(for him, at his feet, in submission, in meditation), behavior control(carry the drink just so, speak only when spoken to, eyes on the floor), hair pulling(his hand in my hair, taking complete control, mind and body), commands(with just a single word or motion, I am his), service(boot blacking, taking care of him and his things).

Sensory Deprivation – A blindfold to take a way sight. A hood or earplugs or earmuffs to take away sound. Tape or a gag to take away taste. Mittens or straitjacket or plastic wrap to take away touch. A hood to block smell. How many senses will you have left? How many do you need? Sense what you can, listen, taste, touch, hear and smell. So easily taken.

 

Random List of Words I Have Used Recently and My Attempt at Defining Them

Kink – a deviation from conventional practices in sexual behavior.

Polyamory/Poly – many loves. The practice of having or accepting more than one loving romantic relationship at a time, with full consent by all parties.

Limits – boundaries in kinky play. Soft limits are things you do not wish to do, but may do with certain partners or under certain circumstances. Hard limits are things that you do not wish to do at all. Limits can change with time.

Space – an altered state of mind caused by particular stimuli. Sub space, rope space, pain space.

Masochist – a person who enjoys receiving intense sensations for sexual pleasure. Colloquially a Pain Slut.

Sadist – a person who enjoys giving intense sensations for sexual pleasure.

Bondage – the use of restraints for sexual pleasure.

Power Exchange – the giving and taking of control, physically and mentally.

Sensory Deprivation – the removal of any or all of the five senses for sexual pleasure.

TENS Unit – a medical device in which electric current is used to stimulate nerves for therapeutic purposes, often to relieve pain.

Violet Wand – a quack medical device, in which low current, high voltage, high frequency electricity is applied to the body in a variety of ways.

Nipple Clamps – small clamps that are attached to the nipples to cause intense sensation and restrict blood flow. They come in many sizes and shapes.

Flogger – popularly known as a cat o’ nine tails, floggers can have any number of tails and be made of leather, fur, rubber or even rubber chickens. Uncle is made up of hard rubber conveyor belt cord.

Dragon Tail – a type of single-tailed whip, the Dragon tail is usually made by a wide piece of leather attached to a handle on one end and tapered to a thin tail on the other.

Bishop’s Chair – a bondage chair that is comprised of a tall back which the torso can be strapped to, crossed horizontally by a long plank which the arms can be strapped to, and a seat comprised of two planks set at a V, usually with eyelets on the legs for the ankles to be strapped to, leaving the victim spread wide, bound and vulnerable.

 

If you have any more questions, please ask.

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Second Monday

May 25th, 2011

Chores done. Dressed and ready. He comes home, quick chat about the day and the state of things. The fly swatter is already out as he grabs a snack. Popping sparks. Toy backs away and is called forward, she still shies and is put on her knees. Earplugs, and headphones. Can you sign to her? But her glasses are off, I have to sign quite close. Can you hear him? No. He sends me for a blindfold. Blind and deaf now, I lead Toy downstairs.

Holding Toy’s hands in the playspace. I step away to put my glasses on a shelf, she reaches out for me, not quite frantically. He sets the music, I can’t tell if she hears the beat or is just fidgeting. The movements irregular. He gets on the leather ankle cuffs for her, and then the bondage mittens. Drags her to the cage and sets her in it.

Toy looks Hot!

She does, but there’s a frown on her face. I never fully enjoy it when they frown. But Toy does look hot, all bound and sensory deprived.

He gets out some hemp, 8mm. Starts to tie.

You know, it’s going to be your turn to be ignored first soon.

Yes, Sir. I’m okay with that.

Especially if it includes sense dep, I can sink into that, into whatever senses remain, spacing out the others. Delicious.

He gets an evil idea and grabs the TENs to distract Toy. Her breathing changes, but she stays fairly quiet. He returns to the rope, starting a drum tie. Slight panic in me as I realize I’ll be upside down. It’s been a long time, will I have the stamina? The tie is tight, secure. Rope burns as it passes. I can’t quite space, Toy is too distracting in her predicament.

He pauses between ropes to change up the TENs, we watch her reactions. She’s still quiet, not sure if she’s enjoying it or not. She’s not saying anything. It takes quite a few turns before we get any moans or whimpers.

Would I rather be in Toy’s place or mine? Mine, I like leather and sense dep, but here I have rope. He points out that when I’m upside down, certain tender bits will be quite open to Uncle. I panic a bit more. Gasping and whimpering slightly. Oh gods, that’ll hurt. The ‘biner is put in place, not as painfully as I’d feared. Then comes my blindfold.

Panic. Space. Floating. I won’t be able to see what’s coming. Fear. Breathe quickens. The blindfold is tight around my forehead. My eyes close automatically. I feel myself floating away, still standing. Calm down. But I’m gone, sub space take me away.

I feel him get the lift rope. He drops me to the mats and threads it, pulls and I am up. I fidget for a moment with my arms, settling for my hands on my head. He spins me. Focus, breathe. My hands are the solid point. I’m not really spinning, I tell myself. My hands are the solid point. I am stationary in regards to my hands. Keep breathing.

He goes to Toy and I hear rhythmic flogging. I hear her, too. Whimpers and moans. I think there were a couple swipes with Uncle then. Louder moaning.

I can hear metal tinkling. Nipple clamps, I think, later I find out how wrong I was. He bring some to me, too. Sharp, tiny stabbing pain. I think it’s the ones he used last time, but it hurts so much more. I squeal and gasp, curling upwards and grabbing the bottoms of my breasts. the usual reaction to keep nipple clamps from dropping, but useless in my upside down state. I dare not touch them. So much pain, my gasps turn to tears. I can’t do it, I am going to fail so soon, I am going to yellow. Oh gods, it hurts. But he takes them off before I am completely overwhelmed. And I hang, hands back on my head. Focus and breathing take longer to find. My hands are the solid point. I am not spinning. Breathe and listen.

Uncle returns, slapping the undersides of my breasts. More squealing and curling. Forcing myself to drop my hands back to my head, exposing myself for more strikes. Promised strikes on exposed flesh, keep my legs where he puts them. Hits on the feet, solid, comforting.

Toy squeals too, but mostly I’m just listening to her for hints of new implements. A paddle, not the speed hole paddle, this one is longer and thinner, more solid. More like being hit with a big stick than a paddle. I’m at such an odd position for corporal.

I feel him untying the lift line, spinning it out. Focus on my hands. I am not spinning, my hands are the solid point. Breathe, relax. And I am in his arms and then on the ground. Gasping for breath, and toy squeals as he tosses her down behind and on top of me. Her arms and head over mine. Both of us gasping and ragged, he leaves us to recover.

The headphones are painful, but I do not protest. I twitch and she moves after a while. Thank you, Toy. But she cannot hear me. Finally, our breathing is calm. She readjusts for her own comfort, too. He returns, sits on the bishop’s chair silently. Leaves again. Returns this time with the flyswatter.

Up! Get up! He smacks us with the flyswatter.

I struggle off the floor. Toy gets up, behind me.

Kneel! Kneel properly! Show her how to kneel!

Smacking me with the flyswatter, I grab her knees, push them apart and place her mittened hands, then return to my own position. We kneel. I feel him sitting on the trunk in front of me. I can hear him stroking the flyswatter.

She’s fidgeting!

He pops me again, and I grab her hands in panic to stop her.

Is she kneeling properly?

Another pop and I grab her knees and push them apart again. Really, Toy? What are you doing?? But I say nothing and return to kneeling.

We stay there, it isn’t long, but I’m in a state of panic that she wills start fidgeting again. She doesn’t, and he takes off my blindfold.

Look up at me. Untie each other. Come meet me at the massage table.

Scene done, now for clean up and aftercare.

 

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First Monday

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.

All forty?

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.

All forty?

Yes, Sir.

Will you count for me, toy?

Yes, Sir.

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.

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Day Seven – Favorite Toy

January 7th, 2011

What’s your favorite toy?

That I own? That is hubby’s? That is his? That lover had? That I’ve seen at a play party? That exists in this great big world? Just one? Oooh, so many choices.

Rope, the leatherman, the Hitachi, the little vibrating egg, clover clamps, the spandex hood, a straitjacket, the huge deerskin flogger, clothespins. Must I choose just one?

If I must, then it would have to be rope. Rope makes my world go round. It can tie me up, tie me down, take complete control and set me free. It can burn, it can whip, it can vibrate, it can constrict. It can hold a Hitachi or an egg. It can make my skin more sensitive for the clamps or the leatherman. It can hold on a hood, or keep my hands away from it. It can act as a straitjacket, or make one tighter. It can make clothespins into a zipper, or simply a leash. It can hold me up for the deerskin flogger, or make it all the more sweet to feel.

Rope is my toy of choice. The smell of natural fibers. The feel of soft cotton or rough hemp or prickly sisal. The sound of it hitting the floor, or whipping through the air. The sight of coils around my body, and the marks it leaves in my skin. Such a wonderful toy and tool.

My 30 Days of Kink

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Why Rope?

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.

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Jute, Nipple Clamps & Tears

December 17th, 2010

“Do you want to go a round?”

“Yes.”

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?”

“Yes!”

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.

“Watch this…”

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.

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Turn Ons

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.

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