Best Laid Plans

June 1st, 2015

Well, that didn’t work out at all like I hoped. A month off from classes, and I only posted, what, Twice? To be fair, I spent one weekend at a convention, and one weekend camping with hardly any cell service, let alone wifi. But, I did have a lot of ideas, I was just so busy getting ready for these things, and then exhausted after these things, that it didn’t leave much time for blogging. Sorry about that. Summer holds my last two Masters degree classes, and just for fun, I’ve added a free basic Python class, too. Then my internship this fall – if I can get someone to take me on. When, not if. I will get that sorted out, soon. Then, on to bigger and better things.

But what about here, in kink-land?  Well, it seems to be all rope all the time. Regularly attending two monthly rope groups, and participating in two rope intensives this summer. With bits of crew thrown in the mix at least twice a month, as usual, for a bit of non-rope spice.

How’s the poly world going? He and I are doing well, making quality time where we can find it, reconnecting and having fun. And the new possibility is moving along at a slow and steady pace. Finding connection and communication as we can. Trying to not jump too fast, so everyone stays on the same page.

What else is going on? Having various discussions about poly, primals, and processing. Remembering, using, and sharing tools. Acknowledging the false stories of the IBSC, and then acknowledging the truth.  People are messy, but as long as you accept their messiness, you can work together, love together, and live together.

 

Share

I’m a Bootlicker, and That’s Okay

June 7th, 2012

He came in and sat down with his dinner. Tells me he’s really done a number on his boots, with camping and bartending, they’re a mess. I glance down and nod, indeed. Go get your kit. There’s not a lot of time. Oh we have half an hour. Hey, you wanna help? The engineer has been asking for a lesson for a while now. Sure.

So, I get my kit, get some water and set down at his feet. Me on his left foot, her on his right. I begin the lesson. Gotta get new soap. I have a bare ring left in the tin and the edge is all rusted. I get the rust on my hand and onto a spare rag. Gotta keep it off the boot. We make lather and start in. Wiping off a lot more than I usually have to, for all the gunk on them. Even the soles get work this time. We get a few stray comments from the peanut gallery and he comments on how good a massage it is. Then they are clean and I’m about to grab the grease, but I look up at him first.

“Now, this is the time to lick them.” he tells her.

I explain that some people lick after the grease, but that creeps me out, especially with the black dye in mine, but my heart is beating just a little faster. Did he really want us to?

“Guess what I read?” he says to me.

“My blog.” I answer, starting to blush.

“Yep, I got all caught up before I came out tonight.”

I’m blushing harder and mumbling to her, but she hasn’t read it yet. He really means it, he really wants me to do it. She’s a bit in shock to, as he tells her to as well. And then we begin.

I’m scared and nervous and embarrassed and excited all at once. I’ve never done this before, oh I’ve wanted to. Dreamed about it. Went to classes on it. But, but, but. Just do it.

And I do, and it tastes like clean leather. And it’s his boot. His boot. Those Carolina boots I’ve been staring down at for nearly four years now in this form or the other pair. These are the steel-toes I’ve been cleaning and caring for since he bought them. I’m holding his boot and running my tongue down the leather, from toe to heel.

And I can hear him appreciating it. I can hear people around him saying how hot it is. My face is burning, so I bury it in his boot. Kissing and licking. Pressing the sole against my chest and my shoulder as I turn my head to one side then the other. He says it’s a mix of warmth and pressure, and I’m glad he can feel it. I glance occasionally over at her and she is just as happily involved as I am.

So happy, and excited. Arousal has replaced all fear and is chasing embarrassment into a corner. I’m gasping against his boot, kissing and catching my breath. Enjoying the sensation of the tread against my chest. Loving the taste and feel and smell of the leather. I don’t want to stop,

I can hear them getting ready for class. We’ll have to stop then, we are far too distracting and distracted. Not yet, please not yet. I ignore the sounds and keep licking.

The arch of the boot is my favorite, a sensitive spot on my own foot, but hard to get to. I remember what Bootpig said about speaking to the person through bootlicking. I thought I understood it then, watching. But I really understand it now. I pour my love, gratitude and yes, arousal, out my tongue and onto his boot. And it is amazing. I never thought it would feel like this.

And I’m glad the engineer is on the other boot. There wouldn’t have been time for this if I’d had to do both. And while we are separate in our licking, together, we are making him happy.

When class does finally start, I have no idea how long we were licking, but we come up grinning like mad, and curl up, arms around his legs, happy with our first taste of bootlicking.

Share

The Violet Wand

October 9th, 2011

“Do you enjoy this?” “You’re having fun, aren’t you?” “How’d you get this job?”

Questions I get asked every weekend. I do violet wand scenes for strangers, and friends, almost every weekend. It’s volunteer, it’s not a job, though occasionally it feels like it. I do it for fun, for my chosen family, and for those random strangers who walk in off the street and are curious, drunkenly brave, or scared but pressured by their friends. Even the most macho of drunken frat boys gets a little jumpy the first time a glowing violet bulb comes near his skin.

I got the ‘job’ by showing up. By helping out, by wanting to be around, to participate, to learn, teach and share. I found family and they accepted me. They taught me, they shared so many things with me. And what could I do, but join them, and pass on what I had been given? Life, for me, is about experiences. The best gifts I have received have not been things, but adventures. Roller coasters, festivals, conferences, conventions. Flying through the air, held only by a few hemp ropes. The thrill of the first glowing bulb on my skin. The crazy run of emotions in all sorts of scenes. The first time I asked for something I wasn’t sure I really wanted, to make him happy, or because I was curious. The joy of my first virgin scene, and the one after, and the one after…

There’s nothing like that. Introducing someone to something new. Showing them there’s nothing to be afraid of, or that the fear can be intoxicating. Helping them enjoy themselves, let go a little, relax. Getting them to want more. I can’t even count the number of people who’ve sat down in the chair terrified, and got up planning to browse eBay for their very own wand. That’s why I do it. That’s what I enjoy.

And more. When they come back week after week, month after month. The ones who really enjoy it, really get into it. The ones who have no where else to go to get this particular feeling. I do it for them, too. The ones that squirm in their seat, giggle or moan. The ones who clearly enjoy themselves and give back the energy to me.

It keeps me going on nights when the macho men feel like they have to sit perfectly still and show no reaction. Or the girls are too afraid to let their boys see how much they like it. Or the ones that just feel embarrassed by their pleasure and sit stiff and nervous. I don’t mind the ones that don’t like it. I share with them the experience, the range of sensations, and if we can’t find one they like, no problem. Not everyone enjoys electricity. But the ones that don’t react at all are draining. I’ve learned to read people and I do the best I can, but when all the energy is going out and being absorbed with no return, it can be a very long night.

But even on those nights, I keep on going. I still enjoy it. Because I know, some of them will still come back. Still try again, and maybe next time, they will be calmer, more relaxed, give something back. And even on those nights, most of them still thank me, and smile when I’m done. And almost every one of those nights, I get a scene that makes up for it. A new, excited, squirmy, giggling, moaning virgin, who exudes pleasure and recharges me as I charge them up. And if all else fails, I’ve still got my family around me, and with just a few pokes and tickles, I get the energy I need to keep going.

Share

Big Week, Lots of Links and Labels

November 11th, 2010

As I posted yesterday, my first professionally published piece is available for sale. Also yesterday, Elysium Avenue reblogged my Consensual Non-Consent post.

Last week, after making my post here about drop, I found a new blog called Fearless Press and posted a few comments on a couple posts dealing with labels: The Beginning and What Did You Call Me? I last posted on labels in June of 2009. So, that’s the topic I want to make my own post on today. Labels in the kink community.

Most of my dealings with labels lately have been in reference to defining relationships as opposed to defining self. Who am I to my partner and what does that mean to us? The difficulty, as pointed out by Amethyst Wonder’s post is “that like most language, labels don’t mean the exact same thing in different people’s minds.” This is why communication is so important in relationships, to define the labels for yourselves. None of my relationships can be explained by a single word and truly be understood. We have to decide and discuss what it means to us personally, and to our other partners, as well.

Personal labels have become even more situational as I have grown and expanded my horizons in the kink community. They have become a way to explain what I’m doing, instead of who I am. I label as service top at the club where I do violet wand scenes. I label as a rope slut when talking about my love for and experience with rope. I label as a pain slut when I talk about physically intense scenes. I am all of these things, but none of them define me completely.

Submissive is the label I use most often, because it is the word I associate with my overall kinky nature. However, my submissiveness manifests in different ways with my different partners. I often find myself explaining these differences, the word is not a simple definition, but a starting place for discussion. I do not let other people tell me how a submissive should act, or that it is wrong to show different kinds of submission or different levels of submission to different partners.

Mako Allen commented that “Lao-tzu had it right. When you stop worrying about the kind of kinky person you should be, you can fully embrace the kinky person you actually are.” I enjoy what I do far too much to worry about what others think I should do. I also enjoy teaching and sharing, so labels give me a framework to start from. Then I expand that out, to share the richness of my life and my journey, to those who ask and are willing to listen.

Share

Writing, Patience and Happiness

October 15th, 2010

I failed at the writing an extra post to make up for last week’s non-kinky post. I spend at least forty-five minutes every day, writing for him because I promised myself I would. Because I was having trouble communicating, and writing is the medium I feel most comfortable in, and I felt it would facilitate better communication over all. I think it does and I think it has, and so I keep my promise, to myself and to him, to write at least five hundred words every day. These writings are very personal, occasionally nonsensical, and include every day things and other people. Sometimes they are profound, sometimes they are flowery, and sometimes they are just as randomly off the wall as last week’s post on social networking. Some days I wish I could just get up in the morning and write all day, send him his words, send my other partners their own words, and write beautiful blog posts, and let the rest of the world just float by.

Complete Shibari: Land and Sky is quickly rising to be my most popular post. It only has thirty views and two posts to topple until it reaches number one. I really wish I’d done a far better job with that post. Maybe I’ll actually get the books during the holidays and work up a better review. It’s not terrible, especially as I’ve never written a book review in my life, but I feel it doesn’t do the works justice. I’m eagerly awaiting his third book(Stars) to be released, too.

So far this post isn’t any better than last week. I keep thinking if I just keep writing, it’ll get better, I’ll come up with something intelligent to say, some great topic to post on, something insightful at the very least. I was chatting with a friend of mine earlier, saying that “Jealousy, Neediness and all those other things you try to ignore” was probably not a coherent topic. Last week I was dealing with bits of jealousy popping up. But instead of dwelling on them and letting them rule me, I quickly recognized and squashed them. With logic and compersion. Jealousy is not something we can get rid of, it reminds us what is important, but controlling it instead of being controlled by it is the key.

This week, I’m dealing with neediness. I hate it when I feel needy. Of course, I need other people and need love and attention. Sometimes, though, I feel like the need consumes me and jumps up and down like a five year old shouting for attention. It doesn’t help that this is an incredibly inconvenient time for that to rear its head. Five year olds rarely care if the time is right or horribly, horribly wrong. So, logic and empathy to squash that for now. I have many ways to fill my needs, and patience will get me everything I need in plenty. As proof, I’ll end this post with a list of things from the last three weeks that made me happy:

Over the knee spankings

Oral sex wherever we happen to be

Sleeping in

Kneeling

Rope

Suspension

Sex

Simple goals

Achieving them

Boot blacking

Second chances

Plans

Acknowledgment

Service

Carrying and holding a drink in my open palm

Drumming with anything that comes to hand

The leatherman on my skin

Bruises

Seeing and helping with someone’s first suspension

Teaching and sharing the violet wands

Fantasies

Massage

Cuddling

Sleep

A phone call from far away

A latex skirt

A kiss on the forehead

Feeling protected

Latex panties

An unexpected spanking

A relaxing evening

A good discussion

Share

Hard Limit – Sex in Public

June 10th, 2010

My current hard limit around public sex is no intercourse with more than two other people present. I don’t do orgies. I don’t do penetrative play at parties. I don’t have sex with an audience. For me, this is about the intimacy of sex. Sexual intercourse is a private thing for me, it’s about a deep love and connection with my partner.

I play in public, at parties, at clubs, in dungeons. I get aroused, I get pushed into sub space, or pain space, I orgasm. And these scenes can be very much about connection and love. They can be very intimate, very personal.

Lately, I’ve been edging towards the line with him. Masturbation and oral while driving down the road, but that felt mostly private and it was a different kind of energy we were creating. Riding his boot in public while wearing a short skirt, with people around – a new edge for me, but not sex.

So, what’s the difference?

Sex, naked and completely vulnerable. Giving everything to each other, sharing everything. It has always involved a deeper level of trust for me. A deeper connection, that I don’t want to share with other people. I want to feel our energy, our connection, not that of other, unconnected people. I have trouble with playing at big parties where the energy of strangers is flowing everywhere, and people interrupt connections. It is even more important to me that sex, and the energy it creates with my partner, be kept private and personal.

Share