Blossoming Submission

September 27th, 2012

I don’t think I did justice to the topic of my journey into submission in my long rambling post. Not sure I really did justice to any of the topics I covered, but this one struck me especially. I talked more about my development over the last few years, mixed with a few popular questions of the day, around the cyclical nature of D/s and how a strong woman can be submissive. All those thoughts about control came much later, when I finally got the language for it. But how, exactly, did the submissive grow within me to start with?

Early desires, and my most guilty pleasures, revolve around over the knee spankings. I don’t know why this came about, but it started as early as grade school with an unhealthy(or so I thought) enjoyment of the poem The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. And in middle school blossomed into school girl fantasies that I very much enjoy to this day. With stops along the way to incorporate a Newsie spanking fantasy or two, as well.

This is where my submissive side started. A desire to bend, or be bent by, a person of authority. I was a good girl, I didn’t like causing real trouble, never got a detention, though I came close once, only got grounded once, I don’t even remember ever being spanked as punishment, though I’m sure I was when I was very young. But in these fantasies, I would get into mild trouble, and the person punishing me wouldn’t actually be angry, they’d simply be teaching me a lesson, usually in private. Punishing me for being “bad” or “naughty,” but without the public humiliation of being paddled in front of class, or others. And after I became a bit more sexually mature, I would always thank them for this lesson.

In grade school, we had a hierarchy among my friends. The one at the top of the pyramid could still the rest of us with a look, and usually a smile. I never wanted this power, but I certainly respected it. And fantasied about it. To be quelled and cowed with just a look. It made me shiver, it aroused me. It took me years to understand why. We gave him that control, and he used it, without abusing it, so he got to keep it. He ruled our part of the playground, but he was always kind and always fair. He took care of us, so we followed him. That exchange of power, so simple on the playground, and so much more powerful in a relationship, has always thrilled me. And for those who can express it with just a look, it still makes me shiver and smile.

I comment in the long rambling piece about meeting “strong men,” but what I really meant was strong dominants. Men can be strong without being sexually/kinkily dominant. And I met a woman, as well, who fit this role. I had a few boyfriends that were tops – we played physically, the only power exchange being that I was physically submitting to having things done to me. Usually things like biting, spanking, pinching, pressure points.

Then I met a couple of friends online, who, when they were dating, adopted me in a non-kinky RPG we were all playing. I still call him Daddy, or my Aussie Daddy, to this day, though it never was kink-related. When I lived with him for a (US) summer/(Australian) winter, he preferred Sir in our play. They taught me about what power exchange really felt like. I loved it, though many will say online isn’t the real thing, it was where I was first able to explore it. And explore it I did, in role play, in cybersex chats, in long-distance telephone calls. When I went to Australia, Daddy wasn’t active in the community, but we made the best of our time together. Our kink relationship was mostly physical, but I also enjoyed the bits of D/s we tossed in here and there, as well.

It was a long while before I found that again. Hubby, a sensualist, enjoyed the physical play I asked for, but D/s was not something we managed to figure out on our own. When we found the community, our explorations took different paths, as I found two dominant men that I was drawn to, and he found his own path to kink.

This blog tells the story of my journey since then, for the most part. Exploring different types of D/s and the different ways to submit and serve, learning about taking and giving control. I have tripped and fallen many times. I have had high expectations, and been crushed by reality. I have lost sight of the path and been shown the way back. I have run headlong into the darkness, and survived the fall. I have been taught, guided, chided and chastised. I have been cared for, comforted, crushed and rebuilt. I have been programmed and reprogrammed. I have experienced amazing scenes, awesome service, and incredible love, trust and understanding. Submission has always been inside of me, and these last four years have made it a rich part of my life.

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Special Request

March 8th, 2012

And a special, bonus post, by special request of him, just in case two posts isn’t enough to fulfill your craving this week.

 

The movie was over, they hadn’t really watched it, too distracted by each other, but they had to go now. They had to get back to her dorm for bed check before midnight. The all-girls, private prep school she attended had very strict rules about being out of bed past curfew. She was eighteen years old, but her parents were not quite ready to let her go to college out in the real world, yet. So they’d sent her here, where she’d met the man of her dreams, and broke every rule to see him.

Heading back to the school, they crossed through a wooded area before the wide open grounds. He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck. She leaned back against him happily. They had a few minutes before they had to be back, she decided.

“You’re such a bad girl.” He breathed into her ear.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at his mock stern tone.

“Wandering through the woods at this time of night. Good girls are all in bed. But you’re out with a man in the forest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know what we do with naughty girls, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” She shivered as his belt slid free.

He turned and put left foot up on a fallen tree and bent her over his knee. Pulling up her skirt, and down her panties, he exposed her bare ass. Stroking it with his folded belt, he put his hand on her back to hold her steady. Then brought the belt to bear.

She yelped, and he swung again. Her yelping soon turned to moans of pleasure as she writhed over his leg. He reddened her pale skin, with harder and harder strokes. Until she began to beg.

“Please, oh please, sir.”

“Please, what?”
“Please, I want you.”

“Oh?”

“Please, sir, please.”

He stopped and let her go, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Pulled his pants open the rest of the way and eagerly took him in her mouth. He gasped and entwined his fingers in her hair, guiding her eagerness. She moaned as he groaned, and when they were done, he pulled her to her feet, and held her tight.

After a moment to breathe, they were off again, racing towards the dorm, and up the fire escape to here room. Her roommate was in the infirmary for the night, so they had it all to themselves. She shooed him under the bed until bed check came through a few minutes later, and then pulled him back up. Collapsing on the bed, he pulled her close.

“Such a bad girl, pulling a man’s pants down out in the open like that.”

“Yes, sir.” She expected him to be sleepy, but he seemed far from it.

“And now, you’ve snuck him into your bedroom, into a girls only dorm.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sat up and pulled her over his lap, keeping her skirt down to muffle the noise, he took his hand to her this time. Spanking the already tender flesh. She buried her face in the blankets to cover her moans. She squirmed against his lap, but he held her tight, spanking her tender bottom until her moans got so loud, the blankets could not stop them.

“Please, sir, oh gods, please sir.”

“Yes?”

“Please, take me, sir.”

He gave her a few more swats that nearly made her scream before flipping her around and back onto the bed, shedding his clothes and then pulling her free of hers. He joined her back in bed and covered her mouth with his to keep her moans of pleasure from waking her dorm mates while he rode her to exhaustion.

 

The alarm went off early the next morning and she shooed him under the bed again for morning check. Then she got ready and went down to breakfast. He snuck out the window while everyone was eating and she spent the rest of the day in a happy haze. Until the end of her last class, when the teacher stopped her.

“Headmaster wants to see you. Come with me.”

He led her towards the dorm, however and up to her room, where she saw the headmaster waiting. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she dreaded what was to come. He must have been seen leaving.

“Come in. Tell me, is anything amiss?”

“No, headmaster.”

“Is anything missing? Anything at all?”
“No, headmaster.” She knew better than to lie. If she said yes, her boyfriend would be arrested for theft.

“Strange. A man was seen climbing out of this window this morning, during breakfast. We assumed he was a thief. Are you sure that nothing is missing?”
“Yes, headmaster.”

“Did you know the man who left here this morning?”
“Yes, headmaster.”
“I see. And did you know he was in your room?”
“Yes, headmaster.”

“Would you mind telling me what he was doing here?”
“Yes, headmaster.” She blushed furiously and glanced at the teacher in the doorway.

“Thank you, that will be all.” The headmaster dismissed the teacher and closed the door before turning back to her. “What was he doing here?”

She stared at his shoes, too embarrassed to answer.

“We could continue this conversation in my office, with a cane, if you would prefer?”

“No, headmaster. I.. I invited him up, headmaster. We had a date last night and I brought him back here.”

“I see. Tell me about it.”

“We… we went to the movies, and then we came back here to sleep.”

“Is that all? You saw a movie and you slept?”

“No, headmaster.”

“Tell me.”

“We… um… on the way back, he put me over his knee and spanked me with his belt and I went down on him. After bed check, he spanked me again, with his hand, and then we had sex before we went to sleep.”

“I see. You like that do you?”

“Yes, headmaster.” She was mortified, but lying would only make things worse.

“But you chose to continue the conversation here and not in my office with the cane?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t really like canes, sir.”

“I see. Well, let’s see how he did, then. Turn around and show me your bottom.”

What could she do, she turned around, bent over and lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties.

“It’s barely red at all. He must not have tried very hard.” The headmaster patted her bare ass. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“By rights, you should be expelled and a letter sent home to your parents.”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“But that won’t do anyone any good, so how about this. You’ll march down to my office with me, and I’ll redden that ass of yours properly, you can even thank me for it, like you did him in the woods. And once I’m satisfied, we’ll forget this ever happened. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“Go on then.” He pulled her up and opened the door, motioning her to go ahead of him.

She walked down the hallways, her face bright red and her eyes on the floor. Those she passed knew she had been caught out, but very few of them knew what for. When they got to his office she went inside. He followed and locked the door behind him. Walking to his desk, he pulled off his belt and put it on the left side, then pulled out a paddle and put it in the middle and then a cane on the right hand side.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl.” He told her and sat down, motioning her over. “Take off that skirt, it will only be in the way, and the panties.”

She did as he instructed and then he pulled her over his lap. He started with his bare hand, spanking her equally bare ass.

“This is for sneaking out last night.”

He started out soft and built up, harder and harder. Gauging her moans and squeals, occasionally checking to see how wet she was. She squirmed on his lap, embarrassed but increasingly aroused. He spanked her harder and harder until she was gasping and screaming for him.

“Please, headmaster, please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please, stop and let me thank you.” She begged, remembering his words.

He gave her a few more swats and then let her up. She dropped to her knees under his desk and fumbled his pants open. His erection was waiting. She took him eagerly, and he let her, fingers in her hair, but stopped her short of finishing him off and pulled her roughly back over his lap.

He picked up the belt next, but paused, giving them both a few moments to breathe.

“This is for having oral sex in the school forest.”

He swatted her ass with the belt, pulling a gasp, and then another. He beat her already red ass into a deeper shade of crimson. She moaned and writhed harder against him, but he held her tight. His strokes slower than the first spanking. Enjoying the fullness of her reaction. When he had her screaming again and begging, he let her up a second time. And she sunk to the floor, moaning against his cock as she sucked on him.

He only gave her a few minutes this time before pulling her back up and picking up the paddle.

“This is for sneaking a boy into the dorm.”

He struck hard and firm, leaving it against her ass as she cried out. He smiled down at her. Loving the sound of the paddle the most. He struck again, and again. She arched and cried and tried to get away. Her ass sore and bruised already. He counted down from ten, and she screamed with each one. Then he dragged her to her feet and bent her over the desk, picking up the cane.

“And this is for having sex in your dorm room.”

He took the cane to the back of her thighs and her highly abused ass. Counting down from twenty, he held her in place by her hair. Giving her time to process each strike. Screaming into the desk and stamping her feet. She cried as she dug her fingers into the wooden edge.

When he was done, he pulled her back down to the floor beneath his desk and she took him a third time, this time to completion. And then collapsed into a puddle on the floor. He redid his pants, put away his tools and let her come back to herself before sending her back to her room.

“Next time you want a spanking, just ask.” He said as he opened the door and sent her on her way.

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Santa Claus is Coming to Town

December 22nd, 2011

A silly little story for the holidays.

“Come here, young lady, sit on Santa’s lap.”

He didn’t look like any Santa she had ever seen before. Sure he was dressed in a fur-lined red hat, and black fur-lined boots, but that’s where the similarities stopped. He had on tight red leather pants and an unbuttoned red leather vest. And his short trimmed beard was far from white. Oh, his eyes twinkled with merriment, but his stomach certainly did not resemble jelly.

She walked forward slowly, chewing on her lower lip, eyes darting from the floor up to him and back down again. What was he playing at? She sat down on his knee, tugging belatedly on the hem of her very short red silk dress.

“There now, have you been a good little girl this year?”

“I…” She looked into his eyes, crinkling with laughter and made a decision. “I’ve been good at it.”

“Oh-ho-ho. Have you, now?”

“Yes.” She sat up straighter.

“Good at what, precisely, little girl?”

“At being naughty, Santa. Isn’t that why you’re here?” She grinned at him as he laughed again.

“Yes, yes it is. You’re right at the top of the naughty list, and I thought a personal visit might be in order.”

“I’m flattered. The top of the list, you say? Very flattered.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed herself against his chest.

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” He snaked one hand up her back and settled it on her neck. “But I haven’t come for a demonstration.” He spun her around and over the knee she had been sitting on, and lifted her skirt. “I didn’t think coal would quite get the message across this year.”

She squirmed and spluttered, but he held her fast with his left hand as his right lifted the back of her dress and then pulled down her black silk panties. The first smack sent shivers through her body and she yelped. He did not pause, but when straight to his work, spanking her harder and harder, til her yelps turned to moans and her moans turned to tears. She writhed in his lap, not daring to put her hands behind her, crying as her ass turned as red as his clothing.

“Oh, and I must not forget your present.” He paused and reached into the sack beside him, pulling out a wooden paddle. Engraved on one side was the word Naughty and on the other, Nice. “Just so you remember.”

He flipped the paddle so that Nice was facing her already bruise bottom and brought it down hard. She screamed and flailed, but he held her tightly and brought it down again, in exactly the same spot. Over and over, creating a purple outline of Nice in the reddened flesh. She slumped in his lap, sobbing but accepting as he took a couple more shots, just to make sure it would last. Then he let her slide to the floor, and kneel with her eyes on his boots.

After a few minutes, she collected herself and looked up at him. “Thank you, Santa.”

“You’re welcome, young lady. Now, which list will you be on next year?”

“With that paddle, Santa, I think I’ll try and make the top of Both lists.”

He laughed and scooped her up into a hug and a deep kiss.

Merry Christmas, Happy Yule and whatever other holidays you may celebrate, may they be filled with love, laughter and kinkiness.

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1950s Monday

September 15th, 2011

Nervous anticipation. We have Plans, it’ll be alright. We’ve gone shopping and have everything we need. Packing, checking, dressing, checking again. Don’t forget it at home! Go back, get the food out of the kitchen. Okay. I’m there. Need to calm down. Kneel on the wooden floor til toy arrives. It only takes her a few minutes, still bubbling over. Cleaning first. Put away dishes, wash up a couple. Floors, sweep and vacuum. Toy does the tables, couches and garbage. What else? Spot check the house. All looks good.

Okay, clothes. Latex panties first. Ah, Mother Nature, why do you hate women so? All shined up, but for how long? Stockings, not too bad considering their age (they got progressively worse as the night went on). Okay, corset-y thing. No support at all, but it’s cute and lacy and it has garter-y things. Toy, help, I can’t get the top hooks closed. Okay, now for those garter-y things. Strangest clothing accessory ever. What’s so sexy about suspenders for stockings? Success. Okay, dress. Toy, need your help zipping it up. Shoes and it’s too hot for the sweater.

Out to the kitchen, it’s nearly six, hurry hurry. Aprons on. Coffee, toy. I fiddle with the oven and we decided 350 will just have to do. Coffee, toy! She starts cutting up the chicken. Can you do the coffee, Miss? Okay, 8 scoops? Can’t get it to turn on… oh, hey, what’s this piece? There, that works. Coffee. And the cookies go in. What else? Steam the broccoli. Won’t that ruin the coffee/cookie smell? Oh well. He isn’t on time, thank gods, hurry coffee! Pans found, chicken wrapped. Cookies done. Wait, not long enough, falling apart. Wait. Better. Coffee done. Plate two cookies, mug of coffee, robe. It’s way too hot for a robe. And here he comes.

She with his coffee, me with cookies. He comes in, and takes us in, all grins. Hug and a kiss, hug and a kiss. We flutter a little over a spill and then head down to the couch. Sweater on now I’ve cooled off. Pulling off his shoes and socks, toy cradles his feet and we snuggle and talk about our weekends. Quite a lot to talk about, and then it’s late and dinner isn’t cooking, yet. Where’s my dinner, toy? Not cooked yet, Sir. And she’s over his knee for a spanking. He lets her up to go cook and I stand to follow, and follow I do, right over his knee for my spanking. Ah, the echo of smacking latex mixed with moans, delicious. Ass warmed, I head upstairs.

Turn the oven back on, cut the bread, garlic butter it and pop it in. Apron, Miss? Oh, yeah. Salads next,lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and croutons. Dressing on the table so they don’t get soggy. Stir the boiling pasta, make the sauce/chicken/broccoli mixtures. Toy is minding all the pots on the stove. Five minutes, Sir. Set the table, plate the pasta, put out the bread. Toy sauces their plates and I sauce mine. Marinara to their Alfredo. On the table, aprons off and call him up.

We begin discussing work, and toy drips something. Napkins! I realize and get up to get them as he realizes their lack as well. I return and toy is looking upset. Why’re you upset, I was the one that set the table. But he misunderstands, thinking it was her job. Out by the hair and over the couch he takes her for another spanking. She returns, fidgeting with her dress and garters, and distracting, forgetting to Sir him. He offers me a chance to help her and I try to give her a hint, but it doesn’t get through, back to the couch for another and he leaves her there a moment.

Deciding the spanking isn’t enough deterrent, he gets the flyswatter. We both whimper and twitch as he brings it to the table. Is this the thing he owns that makes me most skittish? Those weren’t the words, but they got lost in the following conversation and I can’t remember them exactly now. Yes, Sir. But, Miss, what about needles? No, toy, those take time, preparation. This he can just whip out and hit me with. But he catches the thread and runs. Hey, an idea. You both roll a d6 and whatever number toy rolls, Miss takes that many needles, and whatever number Miss rolls, toy takes that many. I’m shuddering, but game. Toy, however says no, Sir. He goes on about increasing the die each week, eventually getting to doubles. Toy just keeps saying no, until she finally says it’s upsetting her stomach to talk about it, so he stops, reminding her that if she tries to throw me under the bus, she’s falling, too.

Finished with dinner, we don our aprons again to clean up. He decides they would definitely be enough coverage alone. I agree, but toy just keeps cleaning. We get the food put away and the dishes done again, and then head downstairs. He has cotton ropes and red silk strips laid out on the couch. I sit down by them. Toy takes his shoes upstairs and then we wait for him to reappear, with more ropes. He starts with ankles, one rope a piece and then pulls us to our feet. Time to play a game.

“Toy, what’s Miss’s birthday?”

She stares and stutters, as he counts down on his fingers from five. She cannot remember. Off comes my sweater.

“What was my previous nickname?”

Oh, I know I’ve heard this story, but I can’t remember either. Off comes toy’s belt.

“Okay toy, who is my kink hero?”

“The Insex guy…. JD?”

Nope, off comes my dress. He very much likes what he finds beneath, and realizes that’s as far as I’ve got without ruining the look, and ties my arms behind my back.

“Do you know?”
“PD.” I answer and he nods, my question next.

“How did I get my rank?”

I toss out a couple things, all wrong, and toy loses her skirt.

“What year did I meet my wife?”

“1995?” She tries.

“No. You?”
“2001?” I think.

“Nope.” And her shirt came off, to finish her under outfit.

Our underclothes revealed, he stops to enjoy the view and pulls us together for hugs and kisses. Blindfold next, he picks up a strip of the red silk and ties it around my head. I close my eyes behind blindfolds, so I don’t know how effective it is when he asks. It’s keeping my eyes closed, good? They murmur appreciatively at the site of white, black and red. Doesn’t she look sexy? Yes, Sir. He puts another strip over my mouth, but then decides to knot it up to make a gag. I panic for a few moments, coughing and gasping and he grabs my throat as I bite down on the gag.

“Are you going to panic anymore?”
“o, ir.” I mumble through the silk.

“Is the gag on top of your tongue?”

“o, ir.”

“Under it?”

“o, ir. I uh uhh.” I’m trying to say in front of, but the gag takes away vowels. I never let my tongue get trapped by a gag, I always pull it back and that was super easy to do with the silk knots.

He lifts me up and lays me out on the couch. Comfy? Yes, Sir.

And then goes to tie up toy. I hear the rustle of ropes, occasionally a tail tossed over my legs, dragged across the stockings. I relax, listening to the music and to him tying her up. Eventually I feel pressure on the cushion at my feet, she must have joined me on the couch.

The rattle of the plastic drapes and he returns with a cane. Swatting thighs, I squeal and squirm. Up to breasts, yipping with tender nipples. He pulls them free for better aim. Shrieking and whimpering. He moves down again. Shoes come off and he hits the soles of my feet, much better. Then he canes toy for a bit, and then back and forth. Kisses and caning. Shrieks and squealing. Squirming and writhing.

Silence and more drape-rattling. I hear something click open. I think it’s a TENS, but then zap. I squeal at the unexpected shock of the Violet Wand – paintbrush attachment. He paints up and down my legs and breasts. I squirm too much, and he takes firm hold of my right breast, painting the nipple, I can barely feel it over his grip, and then the left. I moan and squirm happily as he moves back down to my legs, again and holds my feet to tickle them while I squeal. Then over to toy. I listen to her whimpers, he goes back and forth a little and then puts that away, too.

I hear the rustle of a bag, oh god, my nipples are so tender. He attaches clips, they’re too strong for the cloverleafs, I don’t even register that there isn’t a chain against my chest. I scream and squeal and thrash, shaking my head, kicking my feet. They hurt so much, oh god they hurt so much. Gasping and crying and screaming, trying to process. Growling at myself because I feel like I can’t, because the rational side of my brain is screaming red, and the pain slut side is saying no way, not like last time, I will get through this pain. Toy’s done something. I hear her say she was worried about me and didn’t know where he was. She must have peeked. Really, toy? He can hear my screams just as well as you, he didn’t go far. Silly, worried toy. He comments about leaving them on longer. I squeal in panic. I start coughing on the gag and spit it out. Able to draw a full breath, I calm down. Breathing deeply, I stop screaming. My legs still swaying to process the pain, but not thrashing anymore. I try to get the gag back. Sticking out my tongue, no good. Pressing it against the couch, nope. He isn’t commenting or shoving it back in. Must be okay. I certainly appreciate the breath, so I don’t ask for it back either.

I focus back on them, a vibrator, he’s using a vibrator on her. Leaves her with it and comes back to me. Rubbing the latex with his fingers, whispering appreciatively. Toy, are you going to orgasm? Miss won’t get to unless you do. I’m tormenting her, but she can’t unless you do. You better convince her to. I beg and plead, to no avail. He goes back over to her to try to help, but she can’t, too much pressure. He adds another clip to each nipple. I scream and shake and breathe deeply to get it under control again. Toy, please, toy, please. I beg, it’s not working, he tries to help, but she’s not quite there. A third clip and I keep it under control, this last one only adds a little to the pain already blooming there. I change my tact. Reminding toy to think of the ropes and the (is she?) blindfold and the vibrator. He goes over again to help, asking her what she needs. She just moans, unable to answer. Toy, please answer toy. Apparently the clips aren’t enough, he gets the flyswatter and I scream. Toy, oh god, please toy, answer his question. He zaps me a couple times before she blurts something out. He goes to her, and together they figure out where she wants the vibrator and what she needs. She has two and then one more powerful to save me.

He returns to me, asks if I can have six. Yes, Sir. One after each clip? Yes, Sir. He pulls four off, one at a time, an orgasm and thank you, Sir apiece. Shaking and curling and gasping with the pain and pleasure. Two left. You enjoying this. Yes, Sir. I should do this more often. Yes, Sir. Are you telling me what to do? I mean, please, Sir. Please, Sir. Which one hurts more? The left, Sir. So that one last. Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. Right one, off and orgasm, thank you, Sir. So, any 10s for you? No, Sir. What then? 7’s, Sir. So what gets you to 10? Usually oral, Sir. So, if I was licking you? Yes, Sir. He repositions, grabs the last, rips it off as he licks. I scream and gasp, writhing against him. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I am nearly in tears as I keep thanking him, shaking and riding the wave back down.

I hear him cleaning up, putting things away. He unties toy first. I feel the ropes across my legs again. Then it’s my turn, ankles first, then sitting up for my arms. Gag off my neck and then the blindfold. I blink in the light, looking at toy relaxing by my feet. He finishes cleaning up and sets up the massage table. Toy fetches her lotion. We join him and work his tired muscles, back, arms and legs. He turns and we go for chest, arms and thighs. Then snuggle in together, holding him and him holding us, before getting dressed and heading back to the couch for aftercare cookies, cuddles and chatting.

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Birthday Wishes

July 21st, 2011

So, this extra post is inspired by a several things. One, it’s my birthday on Sunday. Two, toy was giving me a hard time about not asking for things I want (for my birthday). And three, he made a comment the other day that a lot of our play has been about things that he likes(it’s awesome and fortunate, that our kinks match up so well), and due to various things over the last week, he’s curious to try some of the stuff that I like. Thus the straitjacket on Monday. So, without further ado, here’s a short list of scene ideas that came to mind when I thought about my upcoming birthday… while at work… and bored… in the order they came to me.

 

    1. Obviously, over the knee, barehanded birthday spankings. This one’s just a given. It’s tradition in all parts of life, to give birthday spankings. So, I want bare hand on bare ass and dear gods, please over the knee, but hey. Girl’s gotta have something special.
    2. Clothes cut off. I have had this in my head for a while now, but I never really thought too much on it. But when I was writing this list it was second to come to mind. I realized that Every kidnap fantasy I have, they cut off my clothes. This is one I’ve never indulged (it requires pre-planning or the sacrifice of cute clothes), but apparently is a huge turn-on for me.
    3. Suspension. It’s just all kinds of wonderful and always on my mind. He suspended me last week, quick and dirty, but oh so nice, and spacy. Lovely. So, I think this wish has been nicely fulfilled.
    4. Sex. Oral. Masturbation. Well, duh, it’s fun. (I’ll get a little more creative further down the page.)
    5. Intense rope scene. You know the kind. Tied up tight, rope after rope, losing freedom bit by bit. Digging in, dropping down, nothing but you, him and the rope. Eeling optional. The kind of eeling that when you get something free, he just ties it down tighter. And you’re both exhausted by the time the last rope is removed.
    6. Electric oral. I’ve been curious about this for ages. Since the first time he mentioned it. In that kind of terrified, but oh so curious kind of way.
    7. TENS masturbation. I want to find the right places. I’ve played with TENS units on various occasions in various ways, but I’ve never found The Spots. Yeah, we’ve turned me all tingly and what not, but I hear stories of more and better. Of getting it to cross the clit. Of getting it to cause orgasms. So very curious.
    8. Vibrator orgasms until collapse. Writing this made me laugh, then blush. There’s nothing like a Hitachi going on and on until you’ve had so many orgasms that you’re begging for it to stop. And then being forced to have more.
    9. Clothespin challenge. I wrote this at work with ?’s around it because most of my thoughts were not around painful scenes. The idea popped into my head, inspired by Monday, and spurred on by memories of a game show. How many clothes pins would it take? How many is too many? I think lying down I could take more than standing up. I have this problem with breathing. And then what about taking them off? One by one? Or a big long zipper?
    10. Sensual flogging or drumming. The rhythmic kind, meant for spacing out and massage. Not the pain of catharsis, not looking for tears or challenge. Just music and thumping and letting go.
    11. Full body massage. This goes on the same line. Just soft sensation, of touching and caring and love.
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Perverted Imp FAQ

June 2nd, 2011

Who is The Perverted Imp?

I am a 30-something woman with a degree in creative writing. Except for a three year stint out west, I’m a MidWestern girl. During college, I traveled to Ireland, England and Australia, as well as all over the US. I work with books in the morning and computers in the afternoon. By night, I am a social butterfly, hanging out with my loved ones, gaming, and participating in a kinky stage show. I enjoy most music in which I can comprehend the lyrics, movies that are not full of senseless gore, and books with interesting characters. I love forests, meadows and rivers. I have rheumatoid arthritis, and allergies to Neosporin, mice, dust and cats, in that order. My favorite color is cobalt blue, and I adore watermelon, pizza and bacon.

 

Who are the other people mentioned here?

Hubby – is my husband of nearly seven years as of this posting. He is my Master, the love of my life, and my rock. He is the one I come home to, the one who supports me no matter what. He understands me, protects me and takes care of me every day of our life together. I am in love with him, forever and always.

Him/he – is my boyfriend of about a year and a half now. Rigger, Dom, Mentor, Teacher, Sir, and friend. He guides me and helps me and challenges me to go places I never thought I could go. He holds up a mirror and a light, showing me myself and the path I have chosen. I am in love with him, may it last forever and always.

Toy – is an amazing young woman that he and I have taken under our protection. She has agreed to be our toy, to play with us, learn from us, and teach us about herself. Through her, I am learning a lot about myself. I love her dearly.

Lover – is now an ex. He was my play partner, lover, or boyfriend for around two years. He taught me many things, about kink and poly as well as about finances, health and business. He made a great contribution to my life, though we are not together anymore. I will always have love for him.

 

Why am I blogging?

I hit two years recently. So, why am I still here? What brings me back every week? What fills my tummy with guilt if I don’t get a post done each Thursday? I don’t have a huge following. I don’t have comment conversations running into pages. I do have a handful of loyal readers who know and love me. But I could just as easily talk to them about my life. Why blog?

I read, as a child, to escape. I wrote a young woman to escape as well, and to give others escape. Then I joined this kinky world, and I didn’t need to escape anymore. My fantasies were real, my life was amazing. I wanted to share.

I wanted to let others know that they aren’t alone. I wanted to let others know that someone else made the mistakes they are making. That someone else made bigger mistakes. That someone else in this wide world feels like they do. That someone else wants what they want. That someone else enjoys the unusual things they enjoy. I wanted to reach out, and touch someone’s life, even if only for a moment, and even if I never knew. Occasionally, I get a note from a reader, letting me know I touched a life, and it makes me so happy. So here I am, and here I will be. Sharing for all who care to read.

 

How do poly and kink interact in my life? Would/could I be one without the other?

Poly is how I explore kink. No one person can be all. No one partner can satisfy every urge or desire or kink. I have different relationships, different dynamics with each of my partners. Every relationship I’ve ever had, has explored kink in a different way. Some had similarities, but they are all unique. I have a wide variety of interests, and I don’t want to try to fit it all into a single relationship. Fortunately, I don’t have to anymore. I have found poly to be part of who I am and am grateful to everyone who has helped me on this path. I have been kinky while being monogamous, but I don’t think I could ever again not be kinky or poly in nature, if not in fact.

 

What are my top kinks?

Rope Bondage – Hemp, jute, cotton, suspension, box ties, hog ties, prisoner ties. The smell of hemp from his tub, found nowhere else. Rope rubbing on skin, rope around the neck, rope through the crotch. Rope squeezing and holding and pressing. Rope marks, rope burn, rope tails whipping around. The feel of it holding me tight, letting me find freedom. Drifting off into space, secure and safe.

Intense Sensation – Over the knee spanking, bare asses spanking, slaps, flogging, dragon tails, single tails, paddles, cricket bats, canes, wicked sticks, violet wands, TENs Units, stun guns, stingers, flyswatters, biting, pinches, pokes, pressure points, forceps, nipple clamps, Leatherman tool, clothes pins, fire, fear.

Power Exchange – Kneeling(for him, at his feet, in submission, in meditation), behavior control(carry the drink just so, speak only when spoken to, eyes on the floor), hair pulling(his hand in my hair, taking complete control, mind and body), commands(with just a single word or motion, I am his), service(boot blacking, taking care of him and his things).

Sensory Deprivation – A blindfold to take a way sight. A hood or earplugs or earmuffs to take away sound. Tape or a gag to take away taste. Mittens or straitjacket or plastic wrap to take away touch. A hood to block smell. How many senses will you have left? How many do you need? Sense what you can, listen, taste, touch, hear and smell. So easily taken.

 

Random List of Words I Have Used Recently and My Attempt at Defining Them

Kink – a deviation from conventional practices in sexual behavior.

Polyamory/Poly – many loves. The practice of having or accepting more than one loving romantic relationship at a time, with full consent by all parties.

Limits – boundaries in kinky play. Soft limits are things you do not wish to do, but may do with certain partners or under certain circumstances. Hard limits are things that you do not wish to do at all. Limits can change with time.

Space – an altered state of mind caused by particular stimuli. Sub space, rope space, pain space.

Masochist – a person who enjoys receiving intense sensations for sexual pleasure. Colloquially a Pain Slut.

Sadist – a person who enjoys giving intense sensations for sexual pleasure.

Bondage – the use of restraints for sexual pleasure.

Power Exchange – the giving and taking of control, physically and mentally.

Sensory Deprivation – the removal of any or all of the five senses for sexual pleasure.

TENS Unit – a medical device in which electric current is used to stimulate nerves for therapeutic purposes, often to relieve pain.

Violet Wand – a quack medical device, in which low current, high voltage, high frequency electricity is applied to the body in a variety of ways.

Nipple Clamps – small clamps that are attached to the nipples to cause intense sensation and restrict blood flow. They come in many sizes and shapes.

Flogger – popularly known as a cat o’ nine tails, floggers can have any number of tails and be made of leather, fur, rubber or even rubber chickens. Uncle is made up of hard rubber conveyor belt cord.

Dragon Tail – a type of single-tailed whip, the Dragon tail is usually made by a wide piece of leather attached to a handle on one end and tapered to a thin tail on the other.

Bishop’s Chair – a bondage chair that is comprised of a tall back which the torso can be strapped to, crossed horizontally by a long plank which the arms can be strapped to, and a seat comprised of two planks set at a V, usually with eyelets on the legs for the ankles to be strapped to, leaving the victim spread wide, bound and vulnerable.

 

If you have any more questions, please ask.

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The Little Things

March 11th, 2011

I’ve been trying to figure out how to turn the last week into a post. All sorts of silly cliches in my head. Patience is a virtue. It’s the little things that count. Or having silly imagery in my head. I told my best friend the other day that he and I are still groping around in the dark, but he’s starting to hand me more candles. Toy has been a light in the darkness, too. A bright, shiny light that we both flutter around. I don’t know how to write about it, they were all very specific things, simple things, personal things.

On Saturday, he brought her the collar and cuffs and me the shackles. It feels good to wear those regularly again. Sold, metal, shiny and clinky. Toy likes the tinkling noise her collar makes. I love the sound of the chain between the shackles.

Later than night, he grabbed his jute and called me over. He put me in a simple box tie, and let me stay in it for most the rest of the night. I was in space as soon as the first rope went around my body. He pulled me over to show some of the audience what he was doing. They asked me if it hurt, and I only came up a little to grin and tell her no. Just two ropes, but tight and scratchy, wonderful.

It was a great and busy night, full of old friends and new. I was supervising a scene at one point and he came over. Put one hand on the right side of my face and slapped my left cheek. It has been a long time since he did that. Instant expression of the power exchange – I gave him the power and he took it. We both grinned at each other, foreheads together, happy and excited with the energy of the night.

I was wearing my latex hotpants under my skirt. Shiny and happy, just for him. He found me towards the end of the night, and spanked my rubbery ass. Fun, happy sounds, as I leaned forward over the table. Warms me up on a cold night. Inside and out.

Monday was a good evening with the toy and then we snuggled. Just quiet, relaxing contact. Tuesday, I had a really bad day, and he called me twice, just to see if I was alright.

Wednesday night was class and practice. Towards the end, he picked up some drum sticks and pointed me over to the table. He wanted to work out his arm. I dropped my shirt and lay down. He gave me such a lovely, massaging drumming scene. A scene between us, just us. Though toy did come pet my hair towards the end. Which was nice, too. It was relaxing and stimulating all at the same time. He ramped up the tempo a few times, driving me up and bringing me down. It had been a stressful week, and I had been wanting something for just the two of us. He gave it to me without me even needing to ask. Sometimes he just knows.

Thursday was like that, too. He asked me if there were things bothering me, and while he wasn’t right on the point, he was close. So we were able to talk and I was able to let things go. Then we tried out his new massage table and chair. I love helping to relieve his pain and get him to relax. It was a good evening of connecting with him.

All sorts of connections this past week. Lots of little things, that made me smile. Some big things, that made me feel loved and cared for. It has been a good week, and I’m grateful for even the little things.

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New Toy, Rushing River and a Solid Bridge

February 3rd, 2011

My mind is full and swirling this week. I thought I had about five different topics to write about, but in just a few seconds of brainstorming on the page, I came up with ten. Discussions this week have ranged from masturbation and orgasm, to STDs, to interrogation, to labels, to song and dance, to cathartic release and pleasure from pain. A new relationship is being established and others are struggling to survive. There’s a big event this weekend, but I won’t be there, I regret missing the classes, but the play parties never really were my thing. So, let’s take some of those topics and look a little deeper.

What do you want to do with our toy? He’s been asking me that for a couple weeks now, since we established she wanted to be our toy. I talk about teaching her, or helping her, or getting her to buy cute clothes. But what do I want to Do with her? I don’t know, I’ve never had a toy before. Fair to say she’s never been a toy before either. But we’re all very curious and excited about the possibilities.

I see myself in her, just starting her journey into kink. I remember when, to me, kinky was a pair of handcuffs, a set of nipple clamps and a spanking during sex. I remember coming into this community and meeting him and lover and having the doors thrust wide open before me. I remember barreling through, glad they were the ones holding my hands. There was so much to learn and do and experience, and now we have a new toy, just starting her journey and I’m excited to be the one holding her hand.

One of our conversations this week was on labels, if she wanted to take a public label, and she decided not yet. She decided that it was something she wanted to keep personal for now. Those who needed to know, would know, but it didn’t need to be declared to the world at large. This got me thinking for myself, too.

He and I are rebuilding things, and have left off kink labels, as well. I have had varying degrees of comfort and discomfort with this. I felt like I had lost something, lost something very important to us. I tried on a label for a couple weeks, but it didn’t fit well and I couldn’t explain why I wanted to wear it. I realized at the end of that attempt, that trying to label something that was still being created was just going to add to the confusion, and I stopped.

Yesterday, I was visualizing myself standing in the middle of a rushing river, I had a hand stretched out to the cliffs on either side. One cliff labeled Girlfriend, the other labeled Submissive. But back in August, the Submissive cliff broke off in my hand, and I was left floundering, with only Girlfriend to cling to. I eventually got back to my feet, with the solid help of the Girlfriend cliff, but then I started trying to shove the broken piece back into the cliff, trying to find a place where it would fit.

I realized, that I really just needed to get out of the river, stop fighting the current, there was no need. I could easily and happily sit on the Girlfriend bank, on the solid ground of our relationship. I’d like the submissive bank to be part of our life, but building a bridge to it with him is a much more secure way to get there, than standing in the rushing water, fighting to stay upright.

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BDSM Is Not Abuse

January 27th, 2011

One of the things on my mind when I was doing the Thirty Days of Kink meme was openness. There were two questions I linked to the same post about being open with my friends, but not with my family. Then the post about misconceptions – BDSM is not abuse. And my brain wandered off – wondering, is this why I don’t tell my family? Is this what I’m afraid to explain to them, afraid they just won’t understand? Afraid they’ll think I’m broken or, worse yet, that they did something wrong in raising me?

I make excuses – it’s my sex life, why would I talk to my family about the kind of sex I have? We don’t talk about such things. It’s where all my ideas about what’s “proper” or “appropriate” come from. Those words that The Ethical Slut talks about as social programming that limits us and makes us ashamed of ourselves. But what about poly? That’s my love life, that’s people who mean a lot to me. And it still falls into “inappropriate” and “improper” behavior. But people I care about is a topic of family discussion.

I think I’m wandering here. Reel it back in.

BDSM is not abuse. I posted that simply and without comment on the misconceptions day. There are so many ways that discussion can go. From how BDSM is about love and respect, to how to recognize abuse, to how to prevent abuse, to how some people just don’t understand other people’s needs and desires. To how some people’s kink is just not other people’s kink, to how some people’s kink is too extreme for other people. And on and on.

But the point in my head, when I started this post, was, is that what I’m afraid of? Is that what I don’t think I can explain to my god-fearing, bible-carrying family? You betcha. My dad once commented that a girl in college wanted him to spank her and he thought it was very odd of her and he sent her packing. I don’t know why he told me (and Hubby) that story, other than for something to say while we were traveling cross country on a family vacation, but I worried even then that I could never tell him the truth about myself.

I’ve seen a friend’s parents react very badly to the idea of their daughter being kinky. The dad did read a book on rope bondage and come to accept it as a sexual expression. But what about pain, how do you get vanilla folk to understand, or at least accept, that pain is a healthy expression of sexuality? There are kinky people who don’t fully understand the levels of pain I enjoy, but at least they’re accepting. Usually along the lines of, well, if it makes you happy.

Isn’t that what our parents want for us? That we be happy? Yes. But generally the want us to be happy within social norms, or whatever Their social norms are. Would my parents really deny me because my expressions of pleasure are different from theirs? Would they stop speaking to me because controlled pain in a life when uncontrolled pain in typical makes me feel better? Would they try and have me committed because I like a bit of electricity running through my body even when I’m not at a chiropractor? Probably not. But I still shrink from those conversations, afraid of disappointing them, or confusing them. Or that I am wrong about their capacity for acceptance.

Honestly, it’s my brother who I think would try to understand the least. And it’s poly that I think that my parents would be most upset with. I promised to my father and before my mother to be monogamous until death. I think extramarital relations would be the harder sell. I love my Hubby, and he loves me, but to forsake all others would not be true to ourselves. Love grows when it is shared.

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Day Six – Weirdest Fantasy

January 6th, 2011

Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.

I had a lot of trouble with the words “weird” and “most interesting” while considering this question. Thought about a variety of angles and scenes and potential fantasies. Discarded some for not being all that weird after all. Discarded others for having been written about before. Wondered what would be “most” interesting of all the thoughts in my head. Then I remembered my Monday post. It seems these first few are building on each other.

My best friends and I used to look at each other randomly and pose the question “Jack or Spot?” In fact, a few weeks back, I got that in a text from one of them for no apparent reason. My answer was always Spot. Spot Conlon, head of the Brooklyn newsies, in Disney’s live action musical about the newsboys strike of 1899. Shorter than Jack, more wiry, but tougher and more feared than any other newsie in the city. And those eyes, clear and sharp.

So, my weirdest fantasy that still persists to this day? Being Spot Conlon’s girlfriend come submissive. I didn’t know the latter term when I was young, but all the fantasies hinted at that type of interaction. A look from him and I would immediately still, unable to move under his gaze. A pointed finger and I would stand where he directed. Any order, I would immediately follow. If I did something wrong, he’d put me over his knee right there on the docks in front of everyone. Spanking me by hand, with a belt or with his cane until I sobbed. As I grew up, the fantasies turned more sexual. He’d take me off the dock, to a private room in the back of a warehouse to put me over his knee, so he could toss me down and fuck me afterward. Even then, we tended to have an audience, a few newsies would follow to listen and make sure I was being punished.

Perhaps the weirdest part of the fantasy when I was younger, I’d incorporate Star Trek, the newsies either being a holodeck program, or a favor from Q, taking me back in time.

My 30 Days of Kink

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