January 31st, 2013
I wrote a bucket list for 2013, of things that I haven’t tried yet. But what about things that I’ve done before, to one degree or another, that are just fun. I don’t mean another list of what kinks I enjoy, but fun thoughts of what to do inside those kinks. Ideas for upcoming parties, scenes or what have you. If you try anything, let me know how it goes. With WW this weekend, I’ve been thinking on and off about clothes. So, I’ll start there.
Wearing nothing but rope. I’ve run around with rope on before. He even put rope under my clothes once. I’m not talking about a rope scene tied up and immobile, but to be dressed in only rope is fun and can be quite beautiful. Lots of different things one could do. Rope corsets, bracers, anklets, decorative boots, rope dresses of various designs, even full body wraps. And you get three “scenes” out if it – putting it on, wearing it around, and taking it off.
Liquid latex. I’ve only played with liquid latex a little bit, but it seems fun. I need to do more research on it. I know that complete body coverage is a bad thing, you have to leave space open so your skin can breathe. But it would be a fun way to dress up or decorate the body, putting it on can be half the fun. I also like the peeling of removal.
Speaking of removal. That’s something I really like no matter what I’m wearing. Having my clothing gently removed can be very sensual. Having it forcibly removed is very arousing. Having it ordered off speaks happily to my submissive side. Having it cut off is something I haven’t done yet, but sounds like a lot of fun in the same sense as the forcible removal. It isn’t always about wearing clothes, sometimes it’s about taking them off.
Mummification. Everyone knows I enjoy mummification, but how about with rope? I believe I tried it once, but I’m also pretty sure we didn’t go full-hog on it. I’m talking head to toe, wrap every inch of the body in rope. Now, naturally, as with any mummification, the top may want to play with various parts of the bottom, so you’ll have to strike a balance between fully covered and secure and the ability to move ropes out of the way to access the desires bits. This would take quite a lot of rope, but as they say, you can never have too much rope.
Rope races. I’ve talked about eeling often, and I’ve written about various scenes. But what if you have two rope bunnies? Why not tie them both in the same tie and have a race to see who gets out first? Or, if they’re aspiring rope tops themselves, have them each tie the other in turn, and see whose tie holds out the longest. If they’re not a competitive pair, you could do cooperative eeling instead. Tie them both up and set a time limit for them both to be completely untied by, rewards for how much under time they come. Predicaments are also fun to add to any of these ideas, or for extra challenge, pit the top against the eel, can the eel get out while the top keeps tying?
One rope scene. What can you do with just one rope? Try making a scene out of a single piece of rope. Use it to restrain, to gag, to whip, to tickle, to choke. Come up with as many different uses as you can think of and incorporate them all into a single scene.
Be the furniture. Sometimes dungeons just don’t have all the furniture your dom needs. You can offer service by standing in. Whether it’s being a drop table for his toys, an ottoman so he can put his feet up, or a cross to restrain his current victim. There are a lot of ways you can be of service by standing in as that missing piece of furniture.
Leather care and worship. I enjoy bootblacking and licking very much, but you don’t have to stop there. All leather needs taken care of, and it can be fun to do so while your dom is wearing it. Make a scene out of it. Get him in a comfortable position and go to town.
Body service. I love brushing his hair. But it doesn’t have to end there. Showering together can be quite enjoyable, just remember you’re supposed to be getting clean… but the end, at least. Massages are also a wonderful body service to provide, and happy endings are good for everyone. Take care of your dom’s body so he can take care of you.
Electricity for everyone. It is easy to zap your bottom with electricity, and sometimes easy to get them to zap themselves. But there are a few ways to take the ease out. For me, the flyswatter and the stun gun are the way. I am far less a fan of the sudden muscle spasms, and also the sound of them both makes me twitch. So, I’m not keen on hitting myself, or anyone else with them. Sometimes the violet wand is all you need, if your bottom doesn’t like hurting other people, and insisting he or she zaps another bottom(who may or may not be fond of it), or yourself. Some subs will have a harder time zapping their top, while the more bratty among them will do so gleefully. If this is the case, maybe a tit for tat game with it.
College experiment. Do you remember those videos of psych students being paid to zap other students? Why not give it a try? Without the money, of course. Set up a scene where folk can drop in and zap the obviously suffering bottom. See how many sadists you can attract. See if you can guilt any other bottoms to take your bottom’s place. Up to you how much is theater and how much is real. Another way to do this, if you’ve got a mobile unit, order your bottom to go around inviting folk to zap him or her. Maybe have a pad they have to sign after participating so you can see how many played.
Metal bits. Something fun to do is to find new metal objects that will work for electric play. Maybe there are some things in your toybag already that you haven’t even tried with electricity. Try everything out. Find new bits of metal to play with. See how conductive those needles are, that set of sounds, those hooks or cuffs or shackles and chains. Do be a bit more careful if your are restraining your bottom in hard bondage before zapping them, it’s easier to get hurt when the restraints have no give.
Target practice. Want to practice your aim? Grab a sharpie and draw targets on the bottom, then see if you can keep all your strikes within the target. Alternatively, give each target a point value, and keep score. This game can work for multiple tops or multiple bottoms. Depending who you have available. It can also be fun if the target is suspended, or able to turn, making it trickier to find the target you want. Blindfolds only encouraged on the targets. This has also been done with clothespins, set them up and knock them off, but once it’s off you don’t have a target anymore.
Pick three. Always one of my favorites. Have the bottoms pick the implements of their destruction. This can be a lot of fun, especially if you don’t use the tools the way they expect them to be used. As we always say in our classes, a single flogger can provide many different sensations. Make sure you give them a few surprises along the way.
Practice communicating. So, you’ve seen people count their birthday spankings – I’ve done it in multiple languages. But what about answering questions, too? How about both? Can the bottom keep track of a number, and answer questions at the same time? What happens when the number or answer is wrong or missing? Make sure the rules are stated at the beginning to increase the pressure. Communication is important – practice, practice, practice.
Childhood games. There are so many games you can pervert. TENs Unit Jenga. Strip can be added to just about anything with a score, and even some without. Naked Twister is ever popular. I’ve even played a perverted cross between Pictionary and Twenty Questions, using a sharpie and a willing back. Or Tic-Tac-Toe on skin. Just have fun!
Be a lazy dom. Let your submissive do the work. It’s Simon Says with a kinky twist. Sit back and have your sub do the tying, or the attaching of clips, or the zapping or whatever. Just relax and lead the scene verbally. See what all you can get him or her to do to him or herself while you watch.
Surprise me. Put the bottom into sensory deprivation. Blindfold, earplugs/headphones, what have you. Then take them somewhere to play. If you can have them stand in the middle of a room with no furniture, even better. Just stand there vulnerable while you plot their doom, I mean gather your toys. So many sensations you can provide, that will be heightened by the sens dep and anticipation.
October 20th, 2012
So I was reading posts on Fearless Press, looking for ideas for today’s post. I liked a lot of the posts, and, as I said in the previous post, the idea of labels and active D/s came to mind. Well, I guess, not labels, but label – submissive, to be precise. I might get into dominant a little, too, due to the nature of the discussion. We’ll see how it goes, shall we?
Sea’s post What is a Submissive and Who’s on First? goes into the impossibility of strictly defining what a submissive IS. He suggests, rather, starting with a ballpark, and asking the specific person about their expressions of submission. Bendyogagirl‘s post If you were really submissive, you would… talks about people’s expectations and how her style of submission did not match one her previous partner’s style, and how it got to the point where it was causing her to question if she really was submissive. This, in turn, allowed her to be able to express her experience of submission. In both this post and her post titled Respect & Cherish, she explains how it is an active exchange for her. In the former, how she needs active dominance, that brings out her submission. In the latter, she also talks about how she wants her submission to be received. She respects the dominant and wishes, not to be respected in return, but cherished. She holds him in high regard, gives him authority, and wants, in return to receive the affection of being cherished.
So, what does this all mean to me? What did I get out of it?
It got me thinking about definitions, and words, expressions and active exchanges. I get caught up in labels sometimes. In my desire to feel special, to feel wanted, to feel important. To feel owned? I put a question mark there because the words were in my head, but I’m not sure what they mean to me right now. I look at M/s dynamics, at some of the 24/7 folk, and I know that isn’t what I want. But then we’re back to defining things by others’ standards. I don’t want to be a slave, well, except for in those masturbatory fantasies. But in reality, slave is not the right word for me. I like submissive, most days I like service submissive, but I’ve only ever been that to him. I’ve been told that is untrue, that my nature is to serve and assist people. But back to the question of active exchange, those “other people” are not ones I expect anything back from for my service. (Well, except my job which pays me to help people.) And maybe that’s how my expressions of service works, I do service for the joy of helping others, but I am a (service) submissive to him, because he gives back to me. I will not be submissive to someone who does not return with dominance. That does not mean that someone who tries to show me dominance automatically receives submission. I am not a door mat, I choose when to let my submission shine.
I think I went off track there, talking about service and submission. But what about that “owned” question? Perhaps “claimed” would be a better word. He once told me that he liked the fact that without outward symbols like a collar or a ring, everyone still knew I was his. I wrote recently about enjoying the word “my” from his lips. We all like to belong in society, and I also like to “belong” to my partners. We tease that sometimes his protectiveness turns into possessiveness, but sometimes, when I’m feeling lost, I like that possessiveness, too.
He and I have gone through many changes during our relationship. At one point, we were backing away from the D/s nature of things, to give ourselves time to heal from one of our biggest explosions. He was concerned that I would continue to do things for him, as was my nature, but might begin to resent the lower rate of return from him, as he worked to rebalance things. But even during the time when we had said “No D/s” at all, we never fully let it drop. We couldn’t, it is part of how we interact. It certainly changed tunes, from heavy metal down to classical piano, if you will, but it was still there, softly playing in the background. I look at FetLife labels every now and again. He and I removed our D/s labels back then, and after a while, set them to service labels. Sometimes I want those D/s labels back, some days, I really wish I had a collar. But then I look at our relationship, and I know we are still growing. I know that service is one of the biggest parts of our D/s relationship right now, and I know that there is a lot of road left to travel.
What about active exchanges? Sometimes I look at “In service to” and “Receiving service from” and I am annoyed by the passivity of the latter phrasing. Receiving can feel so one-sided, but it really isn’t, if you’re doing it right. If you are receiving a blow job, do you just sit there without moving or reacting? I hope not. If you are receiving a promotion, didn’t you work hard to get there, and now have to work harder to keep it? I hope so. If you are receiving an award, didn’t you do something to earn it? It is the same with us. Our relationship is a very active one, we both work hard to maintain it. I serve him in various ways, all of which he is sure to acknowledge and show gratitude for.
At one convention, his wife noted that when he gave me tasks, he didn’t always thank me for doing them. He replied that he wasn’t sure I wanted it. At the time, that type of verbal, immediate gratitude would have landed wrong. I would have been embarrassed to have my service publicly acknowledged. What he did do, was at the end of the weekend, catch me privately, and tell me how much he appreciated all my hard work and service to him. That made me feel so much better than twenty thank you’s scattered about throughout the weekend ever could have.
These days, it is often done both ways. Small thank you’s throughout an event are acknowledgments that make me smile, even when he is too busy to spend individual time. And then after an event, when there is time, the private gratitude and appreciation gives one big dose of warmth and love.
You might ask, but how is showing gratitude part of a D/s exchange? How is that returning my submission with dominance? I’ll have to go with Bendyogagirl on this one, it makes me feel cherished. I thrive on affection and acknowledgment. I serve him and he values that service, and both of those things build trust between us. That trust allows us to go further, for me to serve him in more ways, and for our relationship to continue to grow.
But what about “active dominance?” What about “put you on your knees, give over complete control to him” types of D/s exchange? We have that too, in our play. It isn’t something we maintain in our day to day relationship. That is an energetic ideal, but our respective available energy and time is nowhere near the ability to maintain that anymore. Would I like a little more of that flavor in our lives? Sure, I always want more out of life and work towards that, but the first step there is figuring out what works for us. Right now, saving most of this for our scenes is what works for us.
September 6th, 2012
Last night was a new experience for me. One, I’d been expecting to have at some point in the last couple years, but it took a class for it to happen. Yes, my first waxing for hair removal experience happened with an audience. I generally trim my pubic hair, but shy from shaving it due to a tendency for infected in-grown hairs. Waxing, I was told, should be safer on this front. We shall see. The cosmetologist, licensed, but no longer professional (she both no longer gets paid to do it, and also enjoys it way too much), spoke to the class about proper procedure, cleanliness, ways to reduce the pain (most of which she didn’t do, as the class was called waxing for sadists), and proper techniques, as she applied and ripped the wax(and hair) off.
It was an odd experience, to say the least. Not excruciatingly painful, though a few of the strips reached a 7 or so on my pain scale. But the pain was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came. The harder ones were when the wax or hair didn’t come and she had to do the same spot repeatedly in quick succession. The first few strips had me arching off the table, until I got accustomed to the ripping. Some of the lower strips had me cursing (or propositioning, depending on your view) my friend, and eventually she asked me to stop screaming so one of the audience didn’t have to keep plugging his ears. The poor dear. Looking down at what she was doing was also a strange sensation. The first few times, expecting to see red, angry skin, I saw only smooth whiteness. Apparently my skin objected less than the hair follicles and the associated nerves. When she finished, it was the first time since puberty that I’ve been hairless, another unusual sight for me, and hubby. Several asked how I was doing, I was fine by then, but told them to ask me after COPE if it was worth it.
There has also been some preparation for COPE on the relationship side of things. He, the engineer and I had a group chat just the other day, to talk about expectations for our first major kink event together as a group, and their first time at COPE at all. It was a very good, and very long discussion, ranging from play, to protocols, to packing. We talked about scening together both publicly and privately. There was discussion of what “reasonable use” of Sir meant to each of us. We talked about appropriate behavior and communication, including bringing cloaks in case we are roomed on the vanilla side of the hotel. And we talked about having protocols that were natural and easily met. This weekend isn’t about trying to trip us up, but rather, about having a time to be together, play together and to take care of each other. I am very much looking forward to spending a weekend in his service.
And then I get to the clothes part of the packing. What to wear, what to wear. So many choices, and changes to be considered. Sleeping without Pjs has been decided upon, so I can at least not worry about that set of clothes. But let me ramble on the sets I think I might need: opening ceremony outfit, after play outfit, Saturday classes outfit, leave the hotel to eat lunch/dinner outfit, closing ceremony outfit, after play outfit, Sunday go home clothes. One might wonder why an after play outfit. Well, it depends on the ceremony outfit, but one of them will certainly be my new corset, and after a heavy scene, I just don’t see it going back on. So, what about just walking around nude after? Well, if it’s what he wants, that’s fine with me, but he tends to like outfits a little bit more.
So, I’ve got one outfit decided upon, probably the opening ceremony – make a good first impression, without having to wear a brand new corset for too long. I was thinking of bringing my saris for easy, toss and tie it on. Those might work really well for after play outfits. Easy on, easy off. I should really run them through the wash and hang them up so they aren’t so creased from being folded for years. Saturday class time? It’s always so cold in the hotel, but warm clothes aren’t generally conducive to practicing new rope work, and I do imagine most of our class time will be rope. My SAM tank top and a long sleeve jean shirt for easy cover up of arms or legs? If I wear that tank top, I’ll have to wear the “apology skirt” with it. Sunday and go out for dinner are the easiest, just a skirt and cute t-shirts. But what about that second ceremony/make an impression outfit? (I don’t think I’ve ever put this much thought into the clothes I wear to COPE.) I’ve got a lot of fun things these days, and less opportunity to wear them. I’ll have to put some more thought into this last choice. At least these days, I have appropriate footwear. The girls always used to tease me about going about in sexy dresses while barefoot, even at the start of the night. Some day I’ll have to dig my old prom dress out, and have it cut off me. If my high school peers could see me now…
A week and a day until COPE, so excited!!!
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.
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.
September 22nd, 2011
One of the first times I answered “the heath question” before playing with someone, that’s what I said. I’m not fragile, but I am broken. I have RA, so I have fussy joints. Hubby has a badly injured back. He has had surgery twice in the last two years. Toy has a myriad of problems, treatable and mysterious. And we all get injured, ill or just plain exhausted. So, what then? What do you do when your play partner, your loved one, is not feeling up to snuff?
He once asked me if I could be happy not being suspended by him for a whole year (at the time he was suspending me three nights a week), and suggested that such could be the case some day due to health. Now, I have not gone a full year between suspensions, but often it is months. And yes, I’m still quite happy with him. It isn’t about what we do together, but more about being together.
There is a lot of service in my submission to him, so taking care of him when he’s not feeling well comes naturally. I’m not really the maternal type, but fetching food, giving massages, just sitting and stroking his hair, all feel good to me. Hubby and I are making time to take care of each other more now, too. We plan out our date nights, but sometimes, one or both of us is feeling rough, and we just take care of one another in the same way.
Toy has a unique way of taking care of the sick. She likes to be the Get-Well Fairy and goes to the store and drops of little bags of whatever is needed or wanted. She likes to help people out, and even remembers to let us help her when she’s ill, too. She does ask for help when she really needs it, but sometimes we have to push past her reflexive “I got this, guys.”
So, this is all good and nice and happy. What about the parts I don’t do so well? This is two-fold for me. One, I don’t take care of myself. Two, I over-protect those I love. So, let’s take these in backwards order because the one leads into the other.
Over-protectiveness. If someone is not quite up to their full health, or feeling tired or sore, I assume the role of care taker. Which isn’t a bad thing, but it also means I don’t ask them for anything I might want. I feel that their health is more important and it would be selfish to ask for anything. This happens a lot on Wednesdays. If he comes in late from work and looking worn out or complaining of headache or pain, I won’t ask to play, even if it has been on my mind all day. I don’t want to push him if he’s not up to it, I don’t want him to feel bad for saying no, or make himself feel worse by saying yes. I’m taking away his ability to make that decision for himself by not asking. Bad me. There’s a bit more baggage around that one than just health issues, but that’s not today’s topic.
So, that also leads into not taking care of myself. Just because the desire mentioned above is a want instead of a need (I hesitate to call anything defined as play or sex a need), doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have it. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t ask for it. I don’t often ask for things I want, because, I tell myself, I don’t really Need them. I put those I care about first, my assumed responsibilities second, and myself third. It’s why I stopped Tai Chi and Yoga, it’s one of the reasons why I can’t get back into kneeling regularly. Those things all came to be “about me.” I’m doing them for myself, so they aren’t as important as the things I’m doing for others.* The only thing that over-rules that is exhaustion. I do veg on the couch when I’m too tired to do anything else, until I fall asleep. With taking on a second job recently, exhaustion is winning out more, and the second job is taking all the time usually reserved for “my things.” Only illness and injury slowed me down this week and did not provide for productive “me time,” and I took extra shifts to make up the missed days. So much to do, it’s hard to find the proper balance.
*As I reread this, I decided some extra discussion was, perhaps needed, to define how this ritual came to be “about me.” Roughly a year and a half ago, he asked me to kneel for him, to get up to thirty minutes a day and to reflect on our relationship during this time. Tai Chi and Yoga became part of this ritual to take care of myself, to be healthy for him. I wrote a post about this just a few weeks ago, about what I could do to reclaim this habit. However, the changes in our relationship, and the problems I had with the kneeling, and my efforts to overcome them, have cast this ritual in a different light. Yes, once upon a time, he asked me to do it. But it no longer feels like a part of our exchange. It is something I do to center myself, or to take care of myself. Not something I do for him. And so, when I fail to do it, it’s just one more thing I don’t do for myself because I don’t have or make the time after everything else I put first.
September 15th, 2011
I’ve got a few other thoughts floating in my head I’d like to share this week. First, thoughts from two of the classes I took this past weekend. And then an answer I gave to toy after she read my Monday reflection.
The thoughts from Bootpig’s service class were many. First, you have to do what they ask before you can add to it or improve it. Second, it isn’t service if they don’t want it. Third, between A and F, there are a whole lot of other letters. And regardless of how well I do something, he will still love me. Fourth, ask and keep track. If I want to do something for him, ask if he wants it, and take no for an answer. But if he says yes, or if there are things he wants/likes, keep track and remember to do them.
In her bootblacking class, I learned about boot licking. I went into the class, looking for technical pointers, but that’s not what she wanted to talk about. She talked about the different between boot licking and boot worship, and I found that the idea of conveying a nonverbal message or emotion through boot licking spoke to my heart. I only black his boots. I love him and want to please him, and have always enjoyed kneeling at or on his boots. So I enjoy taking care of them. The idea of licking them with emotional intent makes more sense to me than just ritually licking them, or licking them because it arouses something in me. She did give me advice about when to lick them (before putting on the black grease which would stain my tongue), for which I am also grateful.
Toy asked my why his grabbing my throat stopped the panic. I explained it to her thus: Grabbing my throat makes me stop. Full stop. It used to be a hard limit with everyone because sideways motion can easily put my windpipe out of place. Then it became fear play – used carefully by the other. Then he started using it to hold me down when we slept together, and I’d get all gaspy with fear, but then arousal and comfort was added into the mix. So, grabbing me by the throat still makes me stop, all focus goes to that hand on my throat in fear, and then it brings arousal and comfort.
September 8th, 2011
I’m working on a big project for friends this week, and I’ve got a deadline of tomorrow evening, so I brought home RedBull today. I’ve only had a few ounces so far, but I’m definitely feeling it. Bouncing and excited and far more awake than I have any right to be. So, cool things.
The fourth issue of Erotica Quarterly is now available to read online at Pill Hill Press for free. My story, For Him is the third story in this issue. You can buy a hard copy of this issue from Pill Hill Press, or on Amazon in a few days. I’ll be getting a one myself soon.
Next week, on Tuesday, I’ll be posting an eLust digest of a bunch of posts – erotica and articles, that I’m included in, so look for that.
COPE this weekend here in Ohio. I’m looking forward to it, I haven’t been to the last two Big events. Saturday’s classes for me will be mostly presented by Two Knotty Boys and Douglas Kent. I’m thinking of going to a service class for the extra spot, not sure yet. Maybe I’ll sleep in. Going to play with hubby, fire with a friend, and try out the sacred touch of the Scarlet Sanctuary.
Oh clothes! I haven’t officially decided what I’m wearing this weekend, but I definitely think I’ll be taking the bracelet toy got me with the Celtic bdsm symbol on it. I think part of the plan is to wear hubby’s big sparkling shirts that are just a bit too small for him anymore. I think there’s a dragon one I like. And probably the black silk pants that are just a bit too big, but fun anyway. Anyone local reading this anymore that Doesn’t know who I am?
Ah, RedBull. I should stop now while I’m ahead. See you next week. Monday is going to be excellent, I can hardly wait.
August 21st, 2011
It was the night. Finally time to fulfill our bargain for a 50 cent pair of scissors. Time to face the music and dance, literally. Bag packed, ready to go. He calls, needs help with the gear. We get it all loaded and head to the club. Wait for the owner and then lug it up and set the stages. The instigator is all bouncy and excited, she says she’s going to explode. Casting about, we finally decide everything is ready and drag toy off to the bathroom to change for the evening.
We can’t remember if there was any exact wording on the shirts, so we do our best with buttons, bras and tying. My skirt is even shorter than I remember. Instigator helps us both with our hair, pig tails for me, hello kitty barrettes for toy. Fidgeting and fussing, and we’re ready to go. Out the door and into the back corner where he sits with hubby, to show off our outfits and drop our bags. The grin in his face matches the light in his eyes as we stand before him. And only intensifies as he has us each turn and bend over to check for appropriate skirt length. Approval is granted and then the fire class begins and we gather to listen.
Class comes to a close, and our performance is announced, massage tables are cleared and instigator’s laptop is set up at the edge of the stage. I drag toy up as he explains what is happening to the curious crowd. There are a lot more unfamiliar faces than I expected, but I’m not really looking at them. Finally, it is ready, we take our places and press play.
The song is ridiculous. Japanese that toy and I have barely learned to pronounce about falling in love and seeing the world in a whole new way. We have macarana-esque parts, and kick lines and spins and air guitars. Everyone is laughing and his smile is huge. I try to look up from the screen when I can, but I’m terrified and don’t manage it nearly as much as I wanted to. But we got through the whole thing, and all fell down together at the end. Then curled up into a cuddle pile around toy, laughing our heads off. I don’t even know if they clapped.
Once we pulled ourselves together, we gathered our things for the bootblack competition. Now, earlier in the evening, instigator had asked if she could borrow my china marker for this, and I, feeling snarky for having to sing and dance, told her, but it’s a competition, aren’t you prepared? To which she replied did I want one boot to not look as good as the other? And I, feeling more snarky, said, don’t worry, I’ll fix it. So, still teasing a bit, we find a quiet space in the back to set up our supplies, turning a couch so the light is better, if not great.
He finished his conversations and came back with toy. Sitting down, he offered us each a foot and pulled toy down next to him for his entertainment while we worked. I’m not sure I’m a real bootblack, I just love his boots. Instigator’s far more inclined to clean up any boots that pass her way with a polite request for service. So we set in, scrubbing and rubbing. I start noticing some strings, but my scissors were broken. Instigator is burning the strings off her boot with a lighter. Hm. Hey, can you do that on this boot and you can use my china marker? She agrees, I can’t even just ask to borrow it, I’m phobic of sparks. She has a little extra fun making it spark to watch me twitch, burns her thumb and my arm on the hot metal as we are working in very close quarters. Then we oil and shine and whiten. Making them as shiny as we can for an oil tanned boot. Re-laced and done, he sets off to the front room for judging with toy, leaving us to clean up and drink some water toy has brought.
Returning a short while later, he says the reviews are mixed. Mine is a better shine, but speckled. Hers is more consistent, but duller and there are some buff lines in it. Toy just can’t decide who won and lost, so we give it up as a tie, both wishing we’d had better light.
Next up, massage, and there’s just the thing, a king-sized padded table nearby. Toy fetches her massage lotion and he drops his shirt and lays down. We surround him, them on his back and me on his legs. Their hands are stronger and his back is always the most knotted. In silence, we put all our focus on him, working his back, neck, legs and arms, circling around him, doing our best to pull out his stress. He turns over and we continue, upper chest, shoulders, arms, hands and legs. About the time my hands have given out completely, he looks up and smiles
Now it’s his turn to have fun. He grabs me in one hand, toy in the other, and pins instigator with his legs. I lose track of what is happening to toy at this point and only hear her moans and whimpers and Thank you, Sirs. Instigator is pinned by one leg and the other is being used to kick, poke and prod her. A boot-spanking, if you will. Me, he has by the throat to start, eyes closed, one of my hands clutching his arm and I gasp and squirm in his grip. He holds me close, turning to count occasionally, sending me spiraling into orgasm. Kisses and I love you were interspersed with numbers, the moans of the others, and the sound of his boot hitting flesh. He moved his grip to my hair, less of a fear reaction, rocketing up arousal and sensation. Still the round robin of pleasure, he raises me up to see his boot on instigator’s throat. Beautiful.
There was a moment, his grip maybe slackened or I opened my eyes a little too wide. I saw what was happening to the others, and I had a shot of envy for the physicality of what he was doing to them. Before I could process it much further than that, his hand tightened in my hair, and he counted to three. I buried my face in the mat and orgasmed through tears. When I came up again, the energy and reality of the moment reclaimed me, and the negative feeling was gone. I was in his grip, against his body, two of my best friends were sharing in this wonderful scene of pleasure, pain and orgasms with a man we all love in our own way. Just incredible.
I loved the sounds. The slap of his boot, the screams and moans and gasps, the words from his lips: I love you, 1-2-3, fucking your brainto go, taunting instigator as he found new places for his boot . The sound of his breathing as he took a moment for himself. Toy’s thanks.
We cuddled up together, me, instigator, him and toy. All lined up and snuggling. Still occasionally handing out orgasms, playing with programming, appreciating all that we had. Not someplace I ever really pictured myself ending up, but it was just right in that moment. The four of us together.
Time to rejoin the rest of the party. We gathered our stuff and headed back out to the front room. Put away our gear and gathered around in the electric area. His boots are “dirty” from kicking instigator. She offers to lick them clean again and starts to work. Toy and I look on, not really boot lickers ourselves. Then he grins and points me to the nearby violet wand. A straight rod and turned on. I hand it to him and he zaps her a few times, insisting she keep working. Tormenting her until he gets a better idea. Handing me back the wand, I’m to shock her at his direction. She stays more focused on his boots when the rod is coming from the other direction, but it’s still fun to make her jump.
Boots shinier. What else haven’t we done from the agreement? Bondage. He takes instigator’s tie and secures her hands, tormenting her with one hand and holding her other until he finally hands the tie off to me, wanting both hands free. He puts a mask over her head and we are all impressed that it fits over her hair. Then moving me around the wall to hold her hands above her head so he can return to using his boots. His tool of choice on her for the evening. He asks if anyone wants to take her place? Absolutely, I reply, unable to see what exactly he’s doing, but not really caring, her moans are delicious. He finishes her off, and sets her free after she starts squirming her hands as though the tie has become uncomfortable.
Then orders me down on his boot. It’s been a long time since we’ve done that. I kneel on his boot and he goes to work, rubbing and kicking as I moan gasp and writhe, focusing on staying on my knees with hands on my thighs. Alright, time for your favorite part, you have permission to get yourself off on my boot. Thank you, Sir. I ride the boot more intentionally now, moaning and arching into an orgasm. One more. He moves with me a little and I curl up, my head against his leg as another orgasm washes over me.
We are interrupted then, and he has to go move his truck. I sink into my position. Knees wide, hands on thighs, palms up, back straight, head down, eyes closed. Calm, satiated, joyful. I sink hard. I’m aware of instigator beside me, and only barely of toy curled up on her lap. He is only gone for a few minutes, but he doesn’t come right back. I hear his voice throughout the room. I sneak glances beside me, I can still feel instigator, but I want to see that toy is still there, too. His keys jingle louder and he returns, standing in front of me, a single kick to the crotch and I’m awake. How are you feeling? Aside from the eyelets digging into my left foot, I am very good. He motions me up and we all settle in, curled up and relaxing waiting for the club night to end.
August 18th, 2011
It has been a week. No, I’m not going to talk about details, but if you want to see reactions, take a look at my writing on Fetlife. Suffice it to say, I have a lot on my mind. Several of those things are fit to print. So there will be at least two, if not three posts made today, should time and brain power allow. The first will be the easiest and most amusing.
At the end of last year, I posted about Negotiation. I detailed a negotiation that really started our relationship with toy, and a scene that came out of it. Many months have passed, much life has happened, but we have never lost sight of that scene. Focus, yes, a few times. But that’s to be expected. The original agreed upon date came and went, due to out of state commitments. And things just kept not lining up, not to mention toy never could pin him down or negotiate a new time and place, due to a lot of factors.
However, a few weeks ago, he asked if we were ready. To perform and serve him this month. We agreed that a given Saturday was good for us all, and started practicing the song and dance again. Shortly thereafter, he poked toy about how much better this Friday would be than Saturday, given the venue and availability of our partner in crime and myself. So, it got changed to Friday. Tomorrow.
We’re ready. The night will be awesome, amazing and hilariously fun. I’m just a bit full of stage fright for the performance. I hope I keep breathing and don’t pass out. I think the dance will help with that part. Keep me moving and force me to breathe. And hey, he’ll be smiling, grinning and probably cackling with laughter. So will everyone else, I imagine. So it’ll be alright. Really, it will.
And of course, I’ll be making an after action post at some point, to share with you all, the highs and lows, the amusement, embarrassment, creativity, service, love, fun and torment of the evening. I can’t promise it this weekend, but next week at least. It is going to be Epic.