Do you Really want me to Scream your Name?

November 2nd, 2016

I really like words. Half my fantasies start with describing sexual misbehavior, or threats, or instructions, or verbal seductions. I really like talking about what I like or want to do, despite my utter shyness in doing so, it really turns me on. But screaming his name in the throes of passion?

I see it on TV and in Movies – lovers calling out the name of their partners. It is prevalent enough to even be the basis of jokes – calling out the wrong name in the midst of passion. I’ve never done this – not called out the wrong name, but called out any Name during sex due to the intensity of passion. Due to my fetish for orgasm control, I have called out Sir or Master, in concert with begging for permission to orgasm, or to thank him for said orgasm. But I have never, while having sex, simply turned my moans or groans into his actual name.

It was a desire expressed by my sexual partner recently, during sex. Said once, and while not ignored by me, I wasn’t sure how to respond. And he did not say it more than once, and the desire was not discussed further. After, however, in the following days, my brain started tossing it around, thinking about how I felt about it. And mostly, there was confusion.

I have a thing with Names. Names have power to me. Not just the “oh, she said your full name, you must be in trouble” kind of power. I’m not sure how to express it, but to me, hearing “I love you” feels different than hearing “I love you, ____.”  Starting a sentence with my name, in any tone but casual catches my heart or tightens my stomach (depending on the tone).

On the BDSM side of things, with my boyfriend – he uses his real name as a safeword for us. A mental safeword – if I say his real name, it is stronger than a Red – something is breaking inside of me, not just on the physical plane. So, calling out a real name while playing has that baggage, too.

It was strange to me to consider calling out my sexual partner’s name in the heat of passion. He likes my moans and groans and squeaks and such. They are pure and honest reactions to what we are doing. To call out his name would take real, concentrated effort. Not that he isn’t worth that effort, but it’s something I would need to prepare my brain to do beforehand. A script to implant, code to rewrite.

So, it is a discussion to be had, and an understanding to create. If it is what he truly desires, then it is certainly something I can work on for him.

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Listening

August 15th, 2013

My voice is soft, and higher than I’d like to admit. I have to struggle to be heard. I have to repeat myself a lot. If I’m asked to read aloud or speak in front of a group, I blush and stammer. When I get stuck on a word, I snap my fingers to move my tongue forward. I’m not a stutterer, I’m just not used to talking. But I love to listen.

I’ve been writing poetry more often lately. Expressing myself is short, succinct lines. Boiling it all down until I’m left with bare bones. With the simplest, clearest version of my feelings. But it is poetry, so maybe it still doesn’t make sense to anyone but me. I’ve been listening to poets on YouTube lately. A gentle soul with OCD, who fell in love. A Canadian with a huge heart and a lot of pain. Their words, the rhythm of their delivery. It speaks to me.

I went to listen to and meet some big name fantasy authors last night, and they read aloud from their books. Giving their characters voices and expressions. Letting us hear how They think the characters sound. Doing the voices just like you would for your child. And we were all like children, looking up at them, smiling, laughing and begging for more. It was wonderful. To hear their passion in their words.

Music. I’ve always loved music. Listening to the words, the stories, the joys and the pains, set to instruments that move our bodies and our souls. I cannot imagine movies without music, the rising tempo that sets our hearts beating, the eerie music that holds us on edge, the heroic swells in battle. Music to scene to, to set the tempo of a beating, or the glide of your hand, to help you soar into the sky or down into your own body. Wherever you are, music helps set the mood.

I’ve thought about doing audio recordings of erotica from time to time. The Audio Erotica website appears to have disappeared at this point, though. And see above, my voice is rather soft and high. I know videos and pictures are popular, but did AE disappear because people just weren’t interested in audio books, or for other reasons? Smart ass just ran off giggling with the thought of the Siri voice reading erotica. Oh dear.

I like to listen, do you?

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My Passion

May 21st, 2012

Today, I want you to do whatever is your passion. That was the start of the GRUE this weekend. People were invited to put their passion, in the form of a class title up on the wall, and to lead classes all day to teach/discuss their passions. I’d had a few ideas to put up on the wall until that was said, then I had nothing. Instead, I went and put up his passion instead, he wanted to fly people, and to teach his favorite tie. So, that’s what we did.

He taught the drum tie, with me assisting. It was a big class, so I went around and helped those who were having trouble. I pointed out where they had gone the wrong way, or I showed them what to do next when they got lost. I helped with the tricky knots. It was great, and he often praised or thanked me for it. Once folk were tied, I helped guide their heads off the ground and back down again. In between, I got to watch them Fly.

Oh, did they fly! So many new faces, so many first times. Such joy and amazement. And him, bouncing and running and grinning so wide. The onlookers staring and laughing, all of us enjoying the moment and the energy. And when they came down, and I cradled their heads in my lap. They were still glowing so brightly. It was incredible.

And he didn’t stop. He helped put up everyone from the class that wanted to go up. And then he kept going. People kept coming and asking to go up. He had quite the queue. We didn’t even get halfway through it. All day he kept going. And people came by to learn, as well. He taught the tie at least three more times throughout the day.

I was so full of energy, I couldn’t stay still. Often, when he was tying, I would wander off. I wandered off to a bootblack class for a bit. Talking with one of the bootblacks that I learned with, and discussing technique and products with the others that showed up. I cut out halfway through to see if he needed help when I saw him lowering someone, but her boy was catching her. He did have me run out for his gloves then. I went back to bootblacking after that for more discussion. I learned a lot about high polish boots, that being the side I don’t work with at all right now.

I wandered in and out of a lot of other demo classes. Fire, paddles, floggers, cigars, another couple suspension classes. But never for very long. I was curious, but not focused on them. I wanted to keep an eye on everything going on, but I kept coming back to him. Kept checking in. Bringing him water, making his sandwich after another friend insisted on getting us both food. Fetching things from the truck. Cleaning up the ropes between scenes. Keeping track of the queue. Basking in the energy each and every suspension created.

People kept asking if I was having fun. Some concerned that I wasn’t getting suspended. I told every single one of them yes. I was having a great time. Didn’t they See the huge grin on that girl’s face? Didn’t they see how awesome a time everyone was having? It was so great to see so many people have their first experience flying. I had an amazing day.

At the closing circle, my emotions were on a rollercoaster. I was so very near to tears then calm then up near tears again, all joy, full with the energy of that room full of people. Leaning against him, his arms around me. When he spoke up, he said how great a support I had been to him all day. Several people thanked him for his passion. I couldn’t speak, afraid I would cry and be unintelligible. We went to dinner, buzzing about the day, chattering, happy. It was a great day. I’m so glad I decided to go.

I began to wonder though, as he talked about having done his passion all day. What had I done? What was my passion? Had I fulfilled my purpose at the GRUE? Had I followed the rule? I fluttered around all day. Did that mean I didn’t have a passion?

No. No, I did indeed fulfill the purpose of the GRUE. I lived my passion. I spent the entire day serving him. Even my fluttering. To learn more about bootblacking. To keep an eye on who was using the other point. To check on everyone around and see what was happening and that everyone was happy and safe. To help him teach. To help him suspend new people. To share his joy and theirs. I spent the day fulfilling my passion of service to him. And it was wonderful.

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Day Twenty-Four – A Quality Partner

January 24th, 2011

What qualities do you look for in a partner?

Intelligence, Honesty, Compassion, Passion, Respect, Love

Intelligence – He doesn’t have to have college degrees falling off the walls, or be a scientist or lawyer. But he has to have a brain, and he has to use it.

Honesty – Lying will get you no where in my world. I do not deal with deceivers. I understand that we don’t always have all the facts. I understand we change our minds and that our feelings can change, too. But outright, bold faced, intentional lying is a deal breaker.

Compassion – He must care about other people.

Passion – Being excited about something in life. Having things he cares about deeply. Living life, not just surviving.

Respect – Respect for me and for other people.

Love – It does not make sense to spend my time and energy on someone who does not love me.

My 30 Days of Kink

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Day Thirteen – What is the Appeal?

January 13th, 2011

I’m discovering that I’ve already answered some of these questions, like today, so I’m going to link to those posts.

Explain as best you can what the appeal of kink/BDSM is to you? Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?

Love, Joy and Passion

It Feels Good

My 30 Days of Kink

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The Quiet Place

January 13th, 2010

I’ve found the quiet place. Found the calm in the storm. Found focus inside myself while my body is beaten or tied. I am not ignoring those things, rather they help me. They give me a tighter focus, bring me into my body and mind, make the rest of the world go away.

This is an interesting place for me. Usually, I go into a scene, and it takes me high in one way or another – full of energy, passion, sensation, joy. This is different. This is beyond that. Taking all that in, letting all that flow through, and going further. It’s different than when a scene takes me to submission or surrender.  This is a scene taking me to personal peace. Where stress no longer has voice or reason, but is just there and can slide away.

Granted, that is not often the goal. But it is an incredible discovery for me to know that I can get there. I am very grateful. I have not learned to meditate yet, but I’m told one can achieve a similar state.

I have, unknowingly tried to do this before, knowing instinctively what I needed, and almost getting there. But it was not until recently that I was able to let go fully enough to find the quietness and peace.

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Why do you do the things you do? Why do you do these things? ~Aldonza

November 12th, 2009

Late post, sorry, busy busy life.

I was asked last night, why do I let him do certain things to me. Aside from the obvious, because I like those things, because I do not always “Like” the particular thing (Dragon’s Tails, for instance) though I like the result, I answered because it makes him Happy. The smile on his face, the joy in his eyes, the glow of happiness that radiates off of him in waves.

I will do a lot of things, endure a lot of things, try a lot of things, to give him happiness. Fortunately, I also enjoy Most of those things, or at the very least I enjoy the result of pretty much all of those things.

But Why?

Because he does the same for me. Relationships are two way streets. In all my relationships, we do things to make Each Other happy(and ourselves, of course). It isn’t me pleasing him all the time, or him doing everything to make me happy. We do things that make us both happy. It can be a cycle of: I do something that makes him happy which makes me happy which makes him happy. But it’s even better when we’re doing something that makes us both happy and then it amplifies from there.

BDSM is about having fun for me. There is the physical, the play, the bondage, the sex. But it’s the rush of Joy and Love and Passion that makes it all worthwhile in the end.

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Suffering

September 2nd, 2009

Some days, I suffer to please him. Some days, his darkness needs fed. Even in that darkness, he needs reassurance. Needs to know that it isn’t driving me away. In that darkness, I know that he still loves me, that he is still in control, that ultimately, I am safe. We reassure each other. Exchange I love you’s between begging and denials. This only makes it hotter. Tied down, aching, hurting with every motion, wanting only release from my bonds, coming to tears, thrashing, begging, falling into stillness. Yet, still able to express love, and to acknowledge his.

I know that I can end the scene, I know that Red will be heard and honored, but I hang on, pushing myself as much as he pushes me. I beg him to stop, I beg for freedom, and his passion flares ever higher, fueled by my suffering. My mind begs me to call Red, I deny it as he denies me. It curses me and bargains, and I agree, nipple clamps would be too far tonight. He threatens them, but does not follow through, my fear is pleasing enough.

It is a very tricky line, I grow angry, my teeth so close to his arm, his shoulder. It becomes hard not to bite. Then the pain overwhelms me again, and I fall to stillness, anything to please him to satisfy him, so he will stop. He enjoys the stillness, but wants more, the threats come again and I grow desperate, begging, fucking harder, and the pain intensifies. The cycle continues until I can bear it no more.

I think he is done, he seems more satisfied than other points in the scene, and I cannot take more. Thank you, Sir, Please. He pauses, asks me to repeat. Thank you, Sir, Please. Gratitude our Yellow. I need a break, but I am not calling Red if he is not done. He releases me, slowly, as I whimper, soft kisses on abused joints, rubbing the rope marks.

Then we curl up together, tightly spooning, breathing, loving. We need to get out of bed, set an alarm, clean up, but not yet. We hold tight moments longer, both needing the tenderness of touch after the darkness of the scene. He asks me how it was, but I cannot answer yet, my emotions still riding the roller coaster, the earlier scene was awesome, I say, wanting to reassure him, ask me tomorrow about this one.

A difficult scene for me, but still full of our love, and that makes it wonderful.

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