Preparing for C.O.P.E.

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!!!

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Little Requests

August 23rd, 2012

Stuff and things and more stuff. Car accident today. My brain is a bit scattered… well, even more scattered than usual, I guess. Got rear-ended. Her fault. Head and back ache, but not severe injuries of any kind. Car needs a new bumper. Supposed to be getting an estimate on the repairs soon. Well, technically, should already have gotten that estimate. Ah well. Posts have been a bit odd lately. Lists and things. Even less substance last week, but some good stuff in the digest this week. Added The Perverted Negress to my blogroll, too. Not sure why I didn’t have her there yet. She’s a pretty awesome lady.

This month has just been so busy, and it isn’t letting up any time soon. Anniversaries, birthdays, conventions, parties. The works, all the way through into October and then the holidays hit. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas (and all the other December/winter celebrations), and New Year’s. And this past week, what do I tell my parents? That I spend my time working at the store. Twice, my mother asked why didn’t I take the rubber bands off my wrists. I told her they help me keep from scratching (he smacks my hand when I scratch). When she asked again, habit, was my only response.

I don’t like lying to my parents, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers the Engineer. I know that even if they could handle it, my brother wouldn’t, and his kids are far too young for me to be cut out of their lives already. They’re part of the reason we moved back here, and found this amazing community. Wouldn’t that just float his boat?

The rubber bands are important to me. A thing he asked me to do. Being able to do what he asks makes me happy. Having something to look at and think of him makes me happy. I wear two on each wrist now, he only asked for one. But when one breaks, I’d be left with nothing, and they used to break all the time. So, two became my habit, so that I would always have at least one. I hardly ever take them off anymore, except to bathe, or to switch them out for new ones. I feel slightly naked without them, missing something. It might be silly to be attached to something so flimsy and replaceable as rubber bands, but it’s not the bands themselves that I’m attached to. It is the fulfillment of his request that makes me smile.

The same goes with the skirts. I have negotiated away wearing pants in his presence unless I’m leaving the house to go to work, or he specifically gives permission for pants/shorts. Recently, on our theme park trips, he told me I could wear pants or shorts so the skirt wouldn’t get caught in things. I chose shorts, both for the heat, and because I just couldn’t fathom purposefully wearing full length pants around him anymore. Not to say pants haven’t happened, they did just the other day during a slightly panicked situation, and I apologized with a short short skirt a few days later.

My reasons have shifted over the last few years, along with our relationship. Initially, he requested skirts or shorts, for ease of access to whatever he wanted, as my boyfriend and Dom. Later, when we were discussing my partner in crime’s restriction to just skirts, it was decided that even shorts went against this ease of access rule and if she couldn’t have them, neither could I. Some of that has fallen by the wayside, though the theory is still sound. He may still have access to whatever he wants, and skirts facilitate that, and so I am happy to wear them for him.

But for me, the bigger part of it, is the confidence in my body that I have gained. Yes, I still wear long skirts, because they’re fun and flowing, or warm, but my legs are still visible, to varying degrees, depending on what I’m doing. In short skirts, my legs are definitely visible, as well as the shorts I wore to the parks. He enjoys legs, and he enjoys confidence. So, my wearing skirts, or short shorts, makes him smile. I balked, hard, when he first requested this of me. My legs were the biggest part of my body that I wanted to hide. Especially my thighs. But, in the last four years, he has helped me to stop being ashamed of my legs, and to be comfortable in my skin. I am quite grateful for this, though my favorite light skirts are wearing quite thin these days. Good thing we’re heading into fall soon.

It’s the little things. The simple requests. The things that bring a smile to the lips, and joy to the heart. Being able, when so many things are spinning out of control, to do the little things you can do. To give what help you are able. To have some stability and sameness to cling to. To grow and share, and show gratitude. We are busy, and time is so limited right now. But I look down at my wrists and think of him. When he does see me, I’m wearing a skirt, for him. These little things give me comfort, even when we cannot be together, and joy when we can.

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Negotiation Win

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.

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Mistakes, Punishment & Service

February 17th, 2011

My Four Mistakes

1. I did not wear a skirt when I went over to his house last Tuesday. In fact, I wore jeans. Excuses, excuses, excuses. I did not wear a skirt, as I had agreed to do, and failing a skirt, shorts, in his presence. This was a promise I made to him, quite a long time ago. And this was the second time I had broken that promise. Both times, I had excuses and distractions, but that does not change the facts. He asked me to wear skirts or shorts so that he could have easier access to things he might want. I agreed to wear skirts and shorts for him, to always be available for that access. It became a sign of my submission to him. Being ready and available to please him at any time. To forget, no matter what the reason, to not be aware enough of myself and my promise, is unacceptable. It is disrespectful of our bond and my gift of submission to him.

To correct this mistake and keep it from happening in future, I have chosen a skirt to keep in the car at all times. It is shorter than my usual skirts, but still appropriate for wear around other people and in vanilla settings. It is a skirt I don’t mind wearing, but it is not my preferred skirt, so it will allow me to keep my promise, and remind me to be fully conscious of my choice of clothing.

2. I did not text him when I got home last Thursday. More excuses that do not matter. I know it is the rule, and it has a very solid basis in history, both his own personal history, and in our personal history. He wants to know I have gotten home safely, and I have agreed to let him know that. There are even nights when I haven’t been with him that I text to let him know I’ve gotten home safely so he does not worry. I often ask others to do the same and have recently started teaching our Toy this habit as well. I often get on Hubby’s case to let me know where he is at and I understand the worry, though not with the keenness his past has sharpened it to. Driving anywhere is always taking a risk that something might happen along the way.

To correct this mistake and keep it from happening in future, I will let go of the various things that caused excuses in my brain. Daylight or early evening is not an exception. Not playing is not an exception. Whenever I leave his presence, I will let him know when I have arrived at my destination, regardless of situation, time or place.

3. I did not follow a direct order. He told me to take off her pants and I hesitated and hemmed and hawed and used her as an excuse. He even said I was getting in trouble the more I hesitated, and I did not act. He told her I was getting in trouble, and I was still negotiating the order with her. Eventually, when a solution seemed to be reached, I did take her away and get her changed out of her pants, but I still did not take them off myself. I was acting as a buffer to her comfort levels, instead of doing as I was told.

To correct this mistake and keep it from happening in future, I will remember that she is responsible for herself, and while it is our agreement to protect her, I am also to do as I am told. She has full capability to take care of herself and stand up for herself, I must allow her to do so and not do it for her.

4. I took the cuffs off her without permission. No excuses, no demurring, I did not have permission to remove the cuffs he instructed me to put on her only minutes before. He had, in effect, put them in place, and I removed them. Putting them back on correctly makes no never mind, I took them off without asking. He bound her and I undid that. She is our toy, but the bondage, in that instance, was to him.

To correct this mistake and keep it from happening in future, I will be more aware of what I am doing for myself, for us, and what I am doing on his behalf. I will be more aware of the bonds of bondage and respectful of undoing them. I will be mindful of asking to undo things he has done, or asking to stop doing something he has begun.

Punishment and Service

I speak above about how I am going to avoid making these mistakes in future. But that is for me, that is my process. For him, I must not only correct my behavior, but also make up for these mistakes. It sets my mind running, thinking of what to offer him for these infractions. I have warring feelings of guilt and a desire to please. I know he likes to receive service, but I feel a selfish want to be punished. There are also complications of health, situation and timing, and our new toy to consider. I also do enjoy the punishment fitting the crime.

It took me a while to break the cycle of feeling pain must be involved or offered. It took him being blunt and throwing it in my face for me to realize that I had to stop. Sometimes punishments include pain, but in this case, it was not on the table. My masochism was not to be fed, my guilt was not to be relieved through physical catharsis. To truly make up for my mistakes, I need to be selfless and offer service to him, not ask him to do something for me.

I also got spun around on writing as penance. I would write about my mistakes and read it aloud to remind myself not to repeat them again. But this is hardly punishment for a writer, this is what I do. And it doesn’t really work all that well, as may be evidenced by my repeated attempts last year to stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Writing, as he pointed out, is good for reflection, but does not punish or correct mistakes. It does help me to make plans though, and that is good, but not what I need to offer to him.

And so I began again, for a third time, to think of service to offer him. To think of things he would like, that I could do for him, that would match up to the mistakes I made. Things I could do with Toy’s assistance, as well, because two of them involved her, and perhaps it would help her, as well as entertain him. Things that would not interrupt our evenings, but enhance them.

We are still negotiating the final details, but I have found my path again, with his guidance.

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Day Twenty-Eight – Kinky Clothes

January 28th, 2011

How do you dress for kink/BDSM play? What significance does your attire have to you?

I wrote about clothes in the first part of this entry. And about Latex in that one.

Dressing for play is usually about feeling attractive for myself or about making him happy by choosing something he will like. The skirts I wear on an almost daily basis are a sign of my submission to him – my desire to fulfill a request he has given me.

My 30 Days of Kink

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Lessons in Negotiation

December 30th, 2010

These last few weeks have provided many lessons in Negotiation. First as an observer and then as an active participant. I watched several new people learn their first lessons in trying to fence with him, and in trying to assist one of them, became part of the scene. Bear with me and I’ll tell you all about what I ended up agreeing to do. So, what have I learned?

No wishing for more wishes. This seems simple enough, most of us remember Robin Williams’ genie quoting this to Aladdin. But in the heat of the moment, when you don’t have any better ideas. A blank check, while dangerous, seems simple enough. You must, however, remember to stipulate, that it cannot be cashed in for more blank checks, otherwise, a single scene at his whim becomes many more.

Don’t forget your limits. Not that you might forget your limits such as they are, but always remember to include them in a negotiation. Whether it is telling a new partner what your limits are, or stipulating that the above blank check(s) cannot violate them. It is all well and good to push your limits when you want to, but make sure you want to.

Be specific. At all points of the negotiation, be clear and precise. What are you offering, what are you getting, what are the terms and the rules and the boundaries. “Test me!” might be a fun thing for an excited student to shout, but it behooves one to specify what they want to be tested on. “School girl outfit” can mean different things to different people. “Skirts” come in many different lengths and styles. “Tied together” sounds fun, but do you really want to leave the binding material up to his imagination? Stockings, hose, fishnets, knee-highs, socks all very important distinctions in how much leg is covered or uncovered.

Offer something of value. Different people value different things from different people. Some people value sex. Some people value service. Some people value suffering. Some value the passing of knowledge. Learn what it is that will be of value and find ways to offer it.

Be creative and then be even more creative. Don’t offer things you have already given or things he already has. Offer something new, offer something bigger, offer something more interesting. Start with new and interesting offers, and then push them one step further. And don’t be afraid to make them well rounded – paint the full picture, not just the center of it. Bootblacking is good, but bootblacking while naked and kneeling is better, and bootblacking while naked and kneeling followed by some boot worship is even more interesting.

Don’t let other people negotiate for you. Stay in control of your side of the negotiation. Keep your wits about you and keep your mouth moving. If you want to be happy with what is agreed to, stay actively engaged in the discussion. Stick up for yourself and stand your ground when you have to. You do not have to agree to everything they say, keep seeking compromises that work for both parties. Unless agreements to the contrary are already in place, you can always say no, and most times even then.

Be reasonable and trust the other people in the negotiation. If you have a real problem with something, explain it, trust that they care about you and will listen. (If you don’t trust them or they don’t care about you, well, that’s another entry entirely.) Then, negotiate to find a way to make it work for everyone. Try not to just say no, that is impossible. Look for solutions that benefit everyone. Most problems are only little bumps in the road.

Be flexible and open minded. Understand that everything is not going to go the way you want it to. Understand that your definitions may not be the same as his definitions. Accept that sometimes comfort zones are meant to be left behind, it is how you can grow. I am incredibly curious, sometimes I have to let the curiosity override the fear.

Relax and enjoy it. Negotiation is where you get to learn about the other person. You get to see how their mind works, what they like and don’t like, how they feel, what their state is. You get to know them, and get to share yourself with them. You are not going to get it all right, but you’re not going to get it all wrong,either. But if you’re both/all happy when it is over, then everyone wins. Keep talking until you’re happy.

So, I promised to let you know what I got myself into. A new friend was starting a negotiation with him, and I was offering some advice. When he was presented with that fact, he suggested that since I was trying to help out, perhaps I should join the negotiation. Her fate and mine became intertwined. We spent most of the rest of the night negotiating. When it was all said and done, we had quite the scene lined up:

Three of us, dressed as school girls (clothing was one of the largest parts of the negotiation) – Japanese, American and British, respectively (I hear there may be a chalkboard hung high up on the wall for sentence writing). We may not say no for the entire night (creativity will be flowing). The evening will start with bootblacking, and we will be available at any time for massage. At his leisure, he may put us in the dog cage (with a violet wand kit nearby), or bind us all together (quite possibly with saran wrap, followed by ice and then hot wax). And at some point during the evening, there will be a Japanese song and dance (whaddya mean I have to dance when I’m sober?) in front of an audience of undetermined size (our voluntary third musketeer is joyfully plotting choreography to the song chosen last night).

It shall be a Very interesting evening. I can hardly wait.

What are you thoughts on Negotiation? What traps have you fallen into?

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Beauty is Pain

December 9th, 2010

A lot on my mind this week, so I may end up with several posts, just going to start typing and see where I end up.

I had a couple random ideas last week. The first being around forced feminization. Wikipedia defines it as: when a man is forced to put on women’s clothes and instructed how to behave and talk Yes, I am a girl, yes, I previously owned skirts and dresses. But I only wore them for Very special occasions – weddings for the most part, once I got out of school, and the Renaissance Festivals. Currently, at his request, and because it is too cold for shorts in December, I wear skirts four days a week, not always the entire day, but two of those days, it is generally two different skirts or dresses.

I regularly have people bring me skirts and dresses to increase my “girlish” wardrobe. I am often teasingly scolded for my lack of stockings. At play parties, I am often told I need more appropriate footwear. One of the groups I’m involved with in town has caused me to buy more lingerie in two years than I have ever owned in my entire life. Last time my mother visited, I even let her take me shopping to buy multiple skirts, and bought a couple on my own at a thrift store, and I don’t even buy clothes for myself normally. As noted last week, skirts and other girl clothes are big items on my wish list this year.

I think Wikipedia would consider all this to be consensual feminization, but every now and then I pause and wonder. Wow, when did I become such a girl? And then I feel better about myself when I get an invitation to shopping event involving make-up, manicures, perfume and other such things, and I remember that I am not that much of a girlie girl. Nothing wrong with all those things, they are just not me. I’ll stick with dressing more like a girl, because it not only makes the men happy, but it also helps me feel good about myself and my body.

Second random thought was about masochism and sadism. Back to Wikipedia: Sadism is pleasure in infliction of pain or humiliation upon another person, while masochism is pleasure in receiving the pain. I went to a class taught by Midori earlier this year, where she discussed the term pain, and her preference for “intense stimulation” instead because pain can encompass so many things that are not pleasurable. But that is neither here nor there, my thoughts were running along the lines of what am I really? I identify as a pain slut, so masochist is obvious.

But I also top violet wand scenes, delight in watching him giving others intense sensations and find entertainment in my own intense sensations causing distress in others. Does this make me a sadist? The latter two are not me inflicting pain or sensation, just enjoying the results of someone else doing so. When I top electric scenes, I am not doing so to cause pain. I enjoy making people squirm and squeak, but usually I’m trying to ticklish spot. I do not go for the screaming and the expressions of pain. It is intense stimulation, I agree, but I’m doing it to teach and share my experiences and enjoyable stimulation. I do not get joy out of Causing pain and am hesitant to even try, though I can be enlisted as restraints, tickler or biter.

So, perhaps, I’m a voyeuristic sadist, enjoying watching the pain of others and occasionally being a tool to assist in the causing of the pain. I think part of that also comes from knowing how much I enjoy the sensation they are receiving. So it is a sympathetic or empathetic enjoyment, as well as enjoying the interactions for themselves and the people involved.

I think I will stop there for the moment. I have another topic to write about, but it is much bigger and more personal. So I’ll post this as it’s own post, and work on the next one separately. What are your thoughts on fashion, pain and enjoyment?



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Holiday Storm

December 4th, 2010

The holiday season is full upon us, with all the busy that it entails. Family gatherings, play parties, work parties, club parties. Presents, buying, giving, donating, shopping,wrapping, mailing cooking, decorating, planning. Everyone is running at full tilt, and the weather is crashing down around us, trying to remind us to slow down and enjoy the season.
What am I looking forward to the most this holiday season? A play party? The big party at the club? Sexy lingerie? Thigh high boots? No, this year, I’m looking forward to quiet time with my loved ones. A weekend off from the club and work to spend with Hubby. A day with no parties, no responsibilities, and no drama. We’ll have a nice dinner together and see a movie, then come home and just relax for an entire evening. The Little One is coming by for that last, the holidays are no time to be alone, so she will join in on our quiet time. I imagine irreverent movies will be the order of the evening, while snuggling all together on the big fluffy couch. There is not much family time to be had lately, with all the events and scheduling and plans and work, but on Christmas, we get to stop and just be together for a day.
I was looking back at my holiday post from last year. I did an “All I Want For Christmas” post, with a wish list of things. A few of which I purchased over the last year, but most of which remain pipe dreams. At least they are still in the pipe, though, I have not given up on them. Most of my thoughts this year run towards clothes, when they get away from fixing my computers. Thigh-high boots, thigh-high stockings, sexy-but-warmer club wear, shiny PVC skirts and shirts, and winter day-wear skirts are topping my list. Money’s tight, and I still have not figured out how it will be divided up, but I think at least one skirt will find its way under our non-existent tree this year.
It looks like Daily Flashes of Erotica Quarterly #1 is still available for Christmas purchasing. I hear Amazon delivers quickly and am still waiting on my own copies from the publisher.
What are you looking forward to this holiday season? Mistletoe kisses? Wrapped and delivered submissives? Or that New Year’s kiss from that special someone?

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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

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Latex Fetish

August 19th, 2010

He likes latex, more than likes, drools over, pets, strokes, enjoys latex. We have window shopped latex for months. Last month, for my birthday, I bought three pieces (thanks Mom and Dad, and just keep thinking I bought work pants, okay?) – hot pants, a skirt a tank top with molded breasts. I wore the hot pants first, they were quite a hit, literally (wonderful spankings ensued). Latex makes a Lovely noise when smacked. The following weekend, the skirt and tank top. The skirt fits great, except I think I have it up a little too high, I have to fold or roll the top bit down just a little (but more wonderful spankings, and the air pocket added to the fun noises). More experimenting to figure out the best fit. The tank top… well, let’s just say, my breasts are not that shape and my torso not quite that long, so it was fairly awkward, though still quite shiny.

I had to learn a bit about latex care for these new items. Never having worried all that much about taking care of my clothes before, latex requires a bit of attention. I read up online and asked friends for suggestions. Ultimately, I went out and bought baby powder, baby shampoo and a silicone based lube. The baby powder helps in putting them on and staying comfortable in them as well as keeping them from sticking together when I store them. The baby shampoo was the recommended “mild soap” to wash them after wear and has worked quite well. The lube is used to shine them up once they’re on me. Being new to the latex fetish, I did not realize that it was generally dull, unless actively shined. The first two times they were worn, I shined them up with a soft cloth as one site suggested. But the third time, this past weekend, the skirt was just not shiny enough for him. So he told me to do it again, and when he saw I had a cloth, I could just about hear his eyes roll. “Use your hands.” I put the lube on my hands and rubbed it in for a Much better shine. As he pointed out, the cloth was absorbing more than it was transferring.

So, what’s next? I have come to really enjoy latex myself. He was right that I bought it for him and my gift was his happiness (the spankings are a good benefit, too). But I’m finding that I really enjoy wearing it. It makes me feel… shiny and sexy. I’m (window) shopping for more latex. I want more than just black for certain, but also more types of pieces. My first priority is a red (non-molded) top to go with the black bottom pieces. I am also thinking about gloves, though that might be tricky, I wouldn’t be able to do electric scenes wearing them. Stockings. I keep being told I need to get stockings. Right after which I’m told I need more appropriate footwear – high heels or shinier boots. So, having no fashion sense whatsoever, I’m thinking of: black high heels, red stockings, black skirt, red top, black gloves. Also, having no extra cash flow, this is just a dream for now, but it will hopefully become simply a goal in the near future. Then, on to other colors of the rainbow, or at least purple and blue.

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