May 31st, 2012
So, let’s say someone new came up to me and asked, “Hey Imp, what do you like to do? And could you tell me why? What about those things interests you?” How would I respond, at this point in my life?
Hey, random person. Welcome to the community. I like to do a lot of different things, for a lot of different reasons.
Well, Imp, that’s not very helpful, could you be more specific?
Sure, random. I like bondage, sensation, deprivation, fear, pain, suspension, sexuality, dressing up, fire, electricity, corporal punishment, erotica, mind fucks, new experiences, serving, bootblacking, learning, teaching, submission, power exchange, biting, sucking, cuddling, challenges, sub space, and a whole host of other things.
Wow, Imp, that’s a lot. Could you tell me about all those different things?
Sure, random, let’s start at the top.
Bondage. I love bondage. Always have, always will. Cuffs, shackles, stocks, straitjackets, rope, saran wrap, or just mental. I love it all. But some for different reasons than others.
Cuffs, shackles and stocks. These are the stuff of erotic fantasies for me. Prisoner fantasies, slave fantasies, and the like. These are things for “bad girls” and as such, turn me on to that mindset. They are solid and secure and sometimes painful. They are a solid reminder that I am in bondage to the one who holds the key. I am at his mercy until he sets me free.
Straitjackets and saran wrap or mummification. These are the all encompassing, all enclosing, complete restriction of movement. They can be comforting, a big huge hug from the one who put me in it. A place to sink into myself with the outside kept at bay. Or they can be complete vulnerability. I am trapped, only allowed that which he gives me. Whether that’s simply air or pleasure. Only free when he allows it. And oh so helpless and available to whatever he wants to do. An excellent power exchange.
Rope. Glorious rope. I didn’t know how much I would love rope until it was used on me. I didn’t know I would fall in love until I first smelled hemp, and then he suspended me. And I was done. Forever a rope slut. Rope is a multitool. It can be used for sensation, for decoration, for bondage, for suspension, for pain, for pleasure, for service, and if you have enough, even for mummification. Rope makes me incredibly happy. The bite of the rough natural fibers on my skin. The taking of my power bit by bit as each limb is confined. The sense of freedom when I am held in its complete thrall.
Sensation and pain. So many different types of sensation. Floggers, whips, paddles, canes, drumsticks, clamps, clips, clothespins, slapping, spanking, body punching, kicking, biting, pinching, pressure points, scratching, knives, violet wands, stun guns, TENs, massage, wax. I’m sure I’m forgetting some.
Corporal punishment. Spanking, floggers, whips, paddles, canes, punching, kicking and drumming, all excellent examples. Let’s start with rhythmic fun. Floggers, canes, and drumming can all be used to beat someone to music, to a rhythm. This can take us both into space. Feeling connected as one as we flow and move with the same beat. Relaxing and soothing, it can also send me into the most incredible high. Spanking and paddles, also belts, are in the fantasy category for me. They send me into that “bad girl” headspace that I find so arousing. Pain space. This is where whips, body punching and kicking come in. They don’t fit in the first two categories for me, but if I want intense sensation for the purpose of going into pain space, they are added to the list of all these other tools. Pain space, for me, is a place where I fall into the pain, and enjoy both the pain and connection to the one causing it. Catharsis is another part of corporal for me. All these tools can be used to cause me such intense sensation that I am pushed through pain space into an emotional release.
Body manipulation. While I’m talking about spaces, and body punching and kicking. Let me go quickly to pressure points, biting, pinching and massage. These, for me, are direct, personal intense sensations. Biting goes into arousing fantasy, vampires and the like. Pressure points and pinching and focused intensity. He is close up, exploring my body and reactions. Some of them are painful, some of them are pleasurable. But they all make me want to kiss his hands afterward. I like the closeness, I like the personal intensity. The direct energy exchange. Massage has this, too. The closeness, the energy. It also has the element of service that I enjoy when I’m giving it. Or when I’m receiving, it makes me feel cared for and appreciated.
Sexuality. We are sexual beings. And we all express our sexuality in different ways with different people. Depending on my mood and my partner, I enjoy kissing, hugging, cuddling, nibbling, licking, orgasm control, masturbation, oral and sex. Physical connection, intimate connection, can be soothing, energizing, or just plain crazy fun.
Deprivation. On the opposite end of the physical, is the lack of input. Sensory deprivation. Sensory deprivation makes me depend on whatever I’m left with. I sink into my body away from the senses that were taken away and if I have anything left, all focus goes to that. If it has all ben removed or reduced, I’m often able to just float away deep inside. It’s incredibly relaxing. And can also be used to intensify whatever sense is left. Touch becomes so much more intense when you cannot see, hear, or smell. You are focused on the only thing you have left to sense the world around you. Pain in such a state is so much more intense for me.
Clips, clamps and clothespins. I’m not even sure how to categorize those. Pinchy things, I guess. These can be great fun and are usually a test in endurance. Last night, he showed up with two bags. One of 50 teeny tiny clothespins, and one of 24 two inch long clothespins. He decided our faces were his canvas, and went back and forth between all three of us, putting clothespins all over. It was crazy and intense and fun. I had to walk in place and keep touching him to ground, so I would keep breathing properly. These are an interesting category. They are intense sensation, and it just ramps up as you go along, without even having to do anything. And when you’re done, the fun isn’t over. You still have to take all those little things off. Which hurts a heck of a lot more in an instant than they have the whole time they’ve been on. This is why zippers are such great fun. Taking a whole line of them all off at once, can send me into such a great pain space high. This is one time when orgasms are especially appreciated for me, as a way to channel the energy created.
Electricity. Ah, electrical energy. In this category we have TENs, violet wands, electric flyswatters, and stun guns. TENs is a lot of fun. It can be therapeutic to tense or sore muscles. It can be silly giving over of control. It can be used to make Jenga a hilarious game. And it can be used to cause intense sensations and pain. Violet wands are one of the few things I top, for the crew. Anywhere for gentle vibrations of a massage, to sharp jolts of pain. Happy tickling sensations, to skin burning zaps. So versatile and fun. Electric flyswatters and stun guns are the next step up. Sharp, painful sparks when there’s a gap. Muscle jolting when held tight to the skin. For me, just the noise of these sends fear shooting through my body. Sends adrenaline racing, and depending on what he’s threatening, can drive me straight to tears. Delicious.
Fire is another of those adrenaline rushes. Someone is lighting you on fire FFS. It’s a nice warming sensation, which can also be slightly painful, but the fire is generally gone before the pain really starts. I’m not into burning/branding of the skin. But the fear. The primal fear response to being light on fire, is intoxicating. It brings my focus in to just that. Nothing else matters when you’re on fire. Then there’s sparks. Not electrical sparks, those don’t bother me. Fire sparks. A lighter, a sparkler, a log popping in the fire. Terror. Pure terror for me. This will bring me to tears faster than a stun gun, if I’m forced to be close for more than a couple sparks.
Fear. Oh yeah, fear. Sparks, needles, snakes. Fire, stun guns, flyswatters, gags, being in pain and helpless and abandoned. Fear is delicious. Adrenaline rushes are great. Phobias will bring me to tears and panic and breaking points. So they are dangerous to play with, but so far, have all gone well. Being brought to the point of panic, and then pulled right back to keep going can be an amazing power exchange, as well.
Power exchange. Submission, serving, mind fucks. All the mental stuff. To take me out of my head, to give up control. To take care of him and his boots. To dress up for him. To just simply be for him. To challenge myself. To be forced to think and use my brain. To be turned around so hard and fast that I don’t know where I am. To be scared and aroused and dropped all through the power of his voice. So many different head spaces and power exchanges. It can be absolutely amazing.
New experiences. Learning something new. Teaching someone something new. Trying something new. Helping someone else try something for the first time. There’s nothing like it. The joy, the excitement, the energy of new is unique and incredible.
And then there’s this. There’s writing about it. I love writing about it. Writing erotica about it, blog posts about it, journal entries about it. Sharing, processing, explaining. Teaching, learning. Writing it down gets it out of my head and into a place where I can look at it. Where I can share it with others. Where I can learn about myself and really see my own thoughts and reactions. Down on paper or screen, it’s not all jumbled up anymore. It’s clear and it’s wonderful. I hope you all think so, too.
March 19th, 2012
Very late posting, sorry about that. I was busy and sleepy the last few days. And well, three posts the previous week, I hoped would tide you over until I got down to work. Several things running around in my head today. Might get a couple posts again.
I’m trying to get myself back on track. Getting back into my exercise and meditation routine, this time with music to keep me going. Music without words so I don’t get distracted. I’m going to do a bit of research on meditation as well. I want to make this a sustainable, healthy habit. Not get stuck in my head running circles like I did last time. That wasn’t the intent and I want to do better now.
Working on eating better as well. I’ve been slacking in my own shopping, and while I do enjoy eating regular meals with him and with hubby, I have to at least eat more alkaline on my own. Healthier imp means happier imp means better able to do relationship work means healthier and happier relationships. Everyone wins.
The engineer asked me a good question the other night that I want to ramble about. She asked my why submissives get such joy and fulfillment out of kneeling and/or sitting at their dom’s feet. I answered her saying, it gives me a feeling of being in my place, of being below and looking up to him. So, where does this come from? Old systems of government where you knelt to your sovereign? Slaves kneeling before masters? It has always been a symbol of a power exchange. The one kneeling giving up power to or acknowledging the power of the one standing or sitting above them.
My mind wanders now, to kneeling for him. As a symbol of the power I give to him. Even when he is not there, in front of me. It was the reason, originally. To think of him and what we had, when he wasn’t there. I warped and twisted it as things got difficult. Used it as time to dwell instead of internally reconnect. I get so lost inside my own head sometimes, but that was not a healthy way to explore it. Kneeling is about the exchange between us, not about the problems or the confusion or even about communication. It is a symbol of my submission to him, given freely.
I have gotten a lot of joy from blacking his boots. I put my kit together specifically for his boots, with just a extra tin of polish just in case. I found a fun box for it at work, and soon the engineer will be letting me borrow a headlamp so I can do better in the dark club. My boots this Saturday and the angles I was at even allowed me to remain kneeling the entire time, which I haven’t managed often lately. That made me extremely happy. As did his playful rocking of his boots on my thighs that caused quite delicious pain. I still have a couple happy marks from it.
Through all the ups and downs, and busy times, and changes in schedules, this has been one of the constants. Taking care of his boots has been one way I can serve him regularly. It is something I can do at any of the venues the crew gets together at and it is something that is regularly needed. And I can do it while he works, observes or holds other conversations.
I am very grateful that I found bootblacking and that our local title holder was an open resource to me. She helped me and taught me when I first started out, and showed me how happy I could make him with such a simple service. As well as the joy I could get out of it. I have been called a baby bootblack, but really, it is more personal than that, I am his baby bootblack. And it makes me very happy.
August 18th, 2011
A friend on FetLife asked: in the context of BDSM and/or TPE relationships, what do you think is the difference between the concepts of “power” and “control”? I find this a very interesting question, and I’m going to try and wrap my brain, and my typing fingers around it today.
Let’s start with the basics of the question: power and control. Dictionary.com has this to say about power: “1. ability to do or act; capability of doing or accomplishing something. 3. great or marked ability to do or act; strength; might; force. 4. the possession of control or command over others; authority; ascendancy: power over men’s minds.” (Numbers 2 and 5 were political in nature.) And this to say about control: “6. the act or power of controlling; regulation; domination or command: Who’s in control here? 7. the situation of being under the regulation, domination, or command of another: The car is out of control. 8. check or restraint: Her anger is under control.“ To start, it lists power as the ability(normal or great) to do something. Then goes on to suggest you must have power to have control. Control, by direct definition here, seems to be more about an act than an ability, something you do, rather than something you have. The dictionary listed noun first for power, and verb first for control, though I have copied in the noun definitions for both.
How does this compare to BDSM, and in particular, my experiences with these concepts?
My first instinct is to say that power and control are the same thing. If you give someone power over you, you are giving them control over you. If you are in a power exchange, then you are giving up/receiving control. But I think this is using narrow, singular definitions of these terms.
Another way to look at control, is self-control, inner control. I would not give power to someone who is not in control. In this case, control is required to have a power exchange. I require a person to have control before they have power over me.
If we look at the first two definitions of power, we find another interesting discussion. The ability to do or accomplish something. Having the power or ability to do something would be necessary if I’m going to ask it of that person. So, from this side of things, the person would have to have the power in order for me to offer them control.
But are both things necessary and always in the same amounts? Does an offering of power always mean an offering of control or visa versa?
There are always degrees. I don’t give the same amounts or types of power and control to everyone I play with. In fact, they all get different amounts of both. The other generally got physical control, but only on rare occasions did he achieve mental control. He, on the other hand, has mental control, and physical control simply follows. Power is trickier, and I go back to my original posit that they are the same in this context, but it just doesn’t fit quite as nicely as all that. My partners have different powers, different abilities. And different powers over me, sometimes intermixed with control, and sometimes a quality of our relationship or history.
So, I agree with the dictionary. Power is something you have, whereas control is something you do. Power is your ability, learned or intrinsic, and your strength of mind and body. Control, however, for me, is actively given and received, and actively exercised.
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?
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.
April 7th, 2011
I’m having a bad day. Work was fine, the cat didn’t attack me, the weather was gorgeous, no one got hurt or is deathly ill in my immediate life(though, for my good friends who do have that in their lives, I’m incredibly sorry and wish I could be there for them more than I currently am). I didn’t break the car or lose my phone or have drama explode. Nothing changed today. But I’m having a bad day.
It happens time to time. My body fights me. My immune system attacks (mostly) my joints. I have pain and swelling in various bits and pieces depending on the day, week, month, year. I used to take a lot of drugs. A couple years ago, about the time I started this blog, I was getting worse and my doc upped my injections. I snapped, I was tired of the drugs. Tired of the chemicals, tired of getting worse. I changed my diet. Massively. It didn’t cure me, like I hoped it would. But it controls it about as well as the drugs did.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I blame the flares on not sticking as strictly to the diet as I should. On not eating raw enough. On not eating alkaline enough. But then I also have two books with opposing opinions on what is and what is not alkalizing. On stress. On empathetic pain, sometimes. I take a naproxen every now and then. If I have a really bad flare, I take a couple prednisone. Rationalizing that one or two pills a week is better than four a day and two shots a week.
I haven’t been to my rheumatologist in a over a year at this point due to money and insurance concerns and the fact I’ve stopped taking the drugs. I’ve still got spare pain killers left from the refills I did a year and a half ago. Probably, they say they should be thrown out by now, but that’s not the point.
I’m having a bad day. My wrist hurts, my elbow is buggered, my ankle’s achey, and my shoulders are cranky. None of it’s debilitating, but it was all worse this morning before I took a naproxen. I knelt tonight, made it to 28 minutes before I got up, and was in tears a short while later. Not tears of physical pain. Physical pain hardly ever makes me cry by itself.
I’m a masochist. A pain slut. I enjoy pain, I get off on it. No, Midori would say, I get off on intense sensation. No one enjoys stubbing their toe accidentally. It’s the pain I can’t control that made today bad. It’s the frustration that got me up from kneeling before 30 minutes because I wanted to stop the pain I could stop, because I couldn’t stop the other pains. And honestly, some days, that’s what keeps me there the whole 30 minutes, because I’ve chosen to be there.
It’s why I’m a masochist. I enjoy control, I get off on power exchange. I get off on giving someone else the power to cause me pain. I get off on allowing myself to feel pain because I choose it. I get off on the adrenaline and the endorphins, too. But on a bad day, I want to get off by choosing pain instead of pain choosing me.
March 11th, 2011
I’ve been trying to figure out how to turn the last week into a post. All sorts of silly cliches in my head. Patience is a virtue. It’s the little things that count. Or having silly imagery in my head. I told my best friend the other day that he and I are still groping around in the dark, but he’s starting to hand me more candles. Toy has been a light in the darkness, too. A bright, shiny light that we both flutter around. I don’t know how to write about it, they were all very specific things, simple things, personal things.
On Saturday, he brought her the collar and cuffs and me the shackles. It feels good to wear those regularly again. Sold, metal, shiny and clinky. Toy likes the tinkling noise her collar makes. I love the sound of the chain between the shackles.
Later than night, he grabbed his jute and called me over. He put me in a simple box tie, and let me stay in it for most the rest of the night. I was in space as soon as the first rope went around my body. He pulled me over to show some of the audience what he was doing. They asked me if it hurt, and I only came up a little to grin and tell her no. Just two ropes, but tight and scratchy, wonderful.
It was a great and busy night, full of old friends and new. I was supervising a scene at one point and he came over. Put one hand on the right side of my face and slapped my left cheek. It has been a long time since he did that. Instant expression of the power exchange – I gave him the power and he took it. We both grinned at each other, foreheads together, happy and excited with the energy of the night.
I was wearing my latex hotpants under my skirt. Shiny and happy, just for him. He found me towards the end of the night, and spanked my rubbery ass. Fun, happy sounds, as I leaned forward over the table. Warms me up on a cold night. Inside and out.
Monday was a good evening with the toy and then we snuggled. Just quiet, relaxing contact. Tuesday, I had a really bad day, and he called me twice, just to see if I was alright.
Wednesday night was class and practice. Towards the end, he picked up some drum sticks and pointed me over to the table. He wanted to work out his arm. I dropped my shirt and lay down. He gave me such a lovely, massaging drumming scene. A scene between us, just us. Though toy did come pet my hair towards the end. Which was nice, too. It was relaxing and stimulating all at the same time. He ramped up the tempo a few times, driving me up and bringing me down. It had been a stressful week, and I had been wanting something for just the two of us. He gave it to me without me even needing to ask. Sometimes he just knows.
Thursday was like that, too. He asked me if there were things bothering me, and while he wasn’t right on the point, he was close. So we were able to talk and I was able to let things go. Then we tried out his new massage table and chair. I love helping to relieve his pain and get him to relax. It was a good evening of connecting with him.
All sorts of connections this past week. Lots of little things, that made me smile. Some big things, that made me feel loved and cared for. It has been a good week, and I’m grateful for even the little things.
January 4th, 2011
Any early experiences that, in retrospect, hint at your kinks?
So, I brushed over some stuff in yesterday’s post. But let’s try for more specific things today.
I don’t remember how old I was anymore, somewhere in early grade school, I think. But I occasionally would try to get my friends to play make believe that involved spankings. Enacting The Little Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe. Or playing school and getting in trouble. My friends were always more hesitant about such play.
In High School, things became more pronounced. Fantasies turned darker (the aforementioned monster under the bed). I read Wizard’s First Rule and was embarrassed that I was turned on by the Mord Sith.
There was some power exchange, too, but I didn’t know what it was at the time. He was an interesting guy. Testing me, poking me, challenging me. And I had a crush on him, so I let him. He taught me to be aware of his presence, even if I was walking the halls reading. Testing me by stepping suddenly in front of me, and expecting me to be aware enough to stop. He taught me to trust him, moving as if to strike, expecting me to hold completely still, trusting he would not ever connect. It’s hard to put into words, but I gave him a lot of control in my life, and as far as I can remember, he only abused it once. Fortunately, she forgave me and I never let him do that again.
September 10th, 2009
I am between two conventions(thus the late post this week), and public play is on my mind. I have very different reactions to public play depending on the public. The different types of public for me are: play parties, conventions/large events, and playing among friends. I react differently in these situations, and differently depending on who wants to play with me in these situations.
At play parties, defined by me as a party thrown in a private home by a lifestyle group in the community, I am hesitant to play. I tend to know about half the people there, at least by face, and mostly by name. But it’s that Almost familiarity that is the sticking point, and the closeness of the space. By default, people are close to any scene being done, talking about it, watching closely, or even, occasionally invading the scene purposefully or accidentally. This makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I don’t like playing out, I don’t like including random people in my scenes. That is not to say I will not scene at such a party, it just takes more from my partner. More of a power exchange, more taking control from me, to put me in a space where I can forget my worries and Be with them.
Larger events put a different face on things. There is more anonymity, more space, and more protocol. People are far more mindful of staying out of scenes, and are far less likely to accidentally intrude. I happily play at these events, not minding those that watch from a distance, or grin at me afterwards. I still do not play out, though there may be some minor playfulness outside the dungeon with those other than my partners. The energy of such an event just lends itself to friendliness and play.
Playing among friends, which I do on a weekly basis, sometimes more, is another matter entirely. It may seem like a miniature play party, but it is so much more than that. We are family, we trust each other and we have our own rules. We protect each other, and look out for each other, whether we’re playing in private or public. We also have a hierarchy, we play differently with different members of the group. Everyone knows where they stand, what they can do and where the lines are. When lines change, or need to change, we talk it out, and things stay clear. The only place I feel safer is in the arms of my partners.