Spring Ponderings

March 19th, 2016

Just about to be spring. New growth abounds. For me as well as the plants about. Starting to take to heart the need to care for myself first. I am so used to putting others first, for going when called, or showing up regardless of how I feel. But this week, I took my own needs into higher consideration. When I wasn’t feeling well, I stayed home, and took care of myself. I asked for the visits up north that I desired, and got them scheduled.

Been thinking about love languages lately. I thought I knew what mine were, but I think I might have been taking on ones that were not mine, because they were my partners’ preferred language. Or perhaps mine are changing based on my current life situation. I am finding myself craving touch as a love language more than I thought I wanted/needed. Perhaps because I’ve been living on my own for three years now. And am feeling the lack of touch created by living alone. It is hard, however, to know what to do with that in existing relationships which are used to previous levels. I  feel needy or clingy if I want more touch than I used to want. I am working out what to do with those feelings, and finding a balance.

I’ve also been working on taking control of my mind. Finding tools to be able to back myself down, or cut short, emotional reactions to situations. There’s nothing wrong with feeling emotions and expressing them, but certain situations require I control those reactions so that I can continue to communicate, or do what needs done.  I am working with new tools to, in effect, reboot my mind to better deal with situations in the moment, with a success rate of about 50% so far. A good start, for me.

Happy Spring!

Share

(Written With) Eyes Closed

July 31st, 2014

“Close your eyes.”

She felt the cool caress of silk brush her eyelids, then the material wrap around her head, a tight knot forming against her head, the tails falling against her back. His hands paused a moment on her shoulders, fingers squeezing for reassurance.

“Hands up.”

Fingertips brushed her sides, as he lifted her shirt up over her head, pulling it up over her arms. She heard it fall to the floor beside them.

“Down.”

She let her arms fall as his hands slid around her waist, his chest pressing against her back, as he pulled open her jeans. His thumbs hooked into the sides as he slide them down. His lips trailing down her spine.

“Step.”

She stepped out of her pants, and as he stood, his hands trailed up her legs, bringing goosebumps to her skin.

“Beautiful.”

She blushed and dropped her head, even though he was behind her and couldn’t see her face.

“Don’t. Don’t hide from me. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She forced her head back up, uncrossed arms she hadn’t realized she were crossed.

His hands were on her shoulders again. Warm, comforting. He rubbed the knots there, his lips resting on the back of her head, just above the knot.

“Relax. Let go.”

His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest. Just holding her for a moment.Waiting for the tension to slip away. She breathed in his scent, absorbed his warmth, settled into his arms.

“Thank you.”

He held her a moment longer. Then stepped just barely away. Fingertips brushing her skin on the way to her back. Deftly unsnapping her bra, and gently sliding it away. It fell to the floor in front of them with a whisper. He kissed her shoulders where the straps hand left their mark. Soft, warm lips on heated skin. His hands slid down her sides, catching the last scrap of clothing dividing them. Sliding it down, he lifted each foot in turn to free her.

When he came back up, his arms lifted her with him, one under her knees, the other around her back. He carried her to the bed just a few steps away, and laid her down on the soft duvet.

“Absolutely beautiful.”

He caught her chin in his hand before she could turn away. Kissed her tenderly, and then settled in beside her. Light fingertips, running from chin to wrist and back up again. Tracing her collarbone, and running down her sternum to her belly. She giggled at the feathery touch and he kissed her again.

“And tonight, all mine.”
(Part 2)

Share

Weeeeeeee!

July 20th, 2014

Brain running all over the place. It’s almost still Saturday, so I should post. Or something. Legs have pretty bruises, from practice, where our resident woodwoorker brought new toys for everyone to try. “Wicked sticks” of two different thicknesses, a variety of lengths, and solid wooden handles. We had a lot of fun testing them out. I was told I should teach a class on how to not scream. There’s a gag-rule in place at our weekly venue, but we rarely pull out the gags. Reminds me of a comment from last weekend, a friend was talking about being shushed without being given a reason. I take shushing as a challenge, myself. Still having trouble with my hands though. He kept having to order me to stop touching him. My instinct to touch, if not stop, incoming hands has grown stronger and needs to be stamped down again.

We played CAH tonight, and my brain was being too rational. Fortunately, it was a very loud and rambuncious group, so my logical comments did not make it through the noise. And because we played CAH, my mind was thinking about sex a lot, too. Which, on the drive home, turned into “conversations that must be had before sex with a new partner.” Don’t ask me why, it was after 1am. Things like: What is your definition of Sex, Total number of sexual partners, When were you last tested for STDs, What is your STD history, What are your thoughts on Birth Control/sexual barriers. Cuz, someday, I might actually have another partner again. (Yes, it’s after 2am now, brain needs sleep.)

Birthday this week, yay!

Good night.

Share

Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman

July 11th, 2013

Words of Affirmation

Quality Time

Gifts

Acts of Service

Physical Touch

 

Recently we had a book discussion night on The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. In the book, he talks about loving your spouse using their primary love language. If your partner feels most loved when they receive gifts, all the words of affirmation in the world may not make them feel loved at all. He talks about people learning their primary love language when growing up, and also about their being different dialects to every language. For some, quality time means watching TV together, for others it means turning off the electronics and talking together. I found this to be a very interesting way to look at things, and turned it inward, to look at myself and my relationships.

My primary love language is acts of service. It’s how I speak and how I receive love. I am a care-taker personality, and find joy in doing for others. It’s why I’ve lasted so long in retail even though I hate sales(thank the gods for our stores not running on commission). My family always taught that you do things for other people. Growing up in a Christian household, Jesus’ servant leadership was always the guiding light. He fed people, washed his disciples feet. This is how you show love, I was told.

It translates quite well into my relationship with my boyfriend. My submission to him is very service oriented. I help manage crew lists and care for/carry the equipment. I help around the house. I take care of his boots and his rope. Fortunately, it does seem to be what he is looking for. He believes very much in servant leadership, has always encouraged service as a way of giving thanks. He enjoys my service and gives me opportunities to provide it. He also speaks to me in this language. He offers to drive us places. He cooks wonderful meals for me. Both things I’m not as fond of doing for myself. Sometimes the scenes he gives me are also acts of service. They are things I have asked him for that may not be exactly what he was after. Though he always makes sure that he finds ways to get enjoyment as well, because who wants to do a scene that bores them.

In my marriage, I tried to take care of the house, the finances, vacation details, etc. However, when it isn’t the primary love language of my partner, these things, while probably appreciated, are not what he is looking for. I think this was the case with hubby, his primary love language seeming to be physical touch. In this case, Chapman writes that you have to put in the effort to learn your partner’s primary love language. Often, this requires asking them what they want and need from you. Doing this can make their primary love language your secondary language.

As we all know, life is never as simple as self-help books make it out to be. So what about those other four languages and me?

Words of affirmation. I like hearing I love you, and thank you, and you did a good job. I like hearing I’m proud of you, good girl, and you are beautiful. They make me feel validated. They make my acts of service feel acknowledged and appreciated. They can even make me feel warm inside. If I never received words of affirmation, I would certainly not feel loved or appreciated. Because I feel this way, I do try to give them in return, to acknowledge others as I like to be acknowledged.

Quality time. This one is important to me. I’m a solitary person, an introvert, so I’m not looking for tons and tons of time. But I do want the time spent to be quality time. And what this means can vary. I like to go Do things – amusement parks, parties, play, travel. I also like to just be together – sit and watch TV or movies, have meals together, sleep together(yes, sleep). I’m verbally challenged, but yes, sometimes, this can also mean turning off the electronics and just talking together.

Gifts. I’m not so much for physical gifts. I mean, I like them at birthday and Christmas, but non-physical gifts are nice, too. Trips to Cedar Point. Extra time spent together. A special meal. Gifts, for me, are for special occasions, and should be more about thought than price. This isn’t a good year-round language for me.

Physical touch. I enjoy physical touch. I like having human contact. I want to hug my friends and kiss my lovers. I like giving and receiving back rubs and foot rubs. Sex can be awesome. Much of my kink involves touch. Snuggling up with someone can provide me comfort and affection. I do stumble over this one for a variety of reasons, societal or introvert-based. It is something I need in my relationships at some level, but the how much can vary greatly.

 

Share

Shiny

March 12th, 2010

She was shiny. Head to toe, black latex covered not quite every inch of flesh. High heeled stiletto shoes over form fitting latex stockings, all the way up to mid thigh, stopping just short of a short slick jacket over an even shorter little black, curve-hugging dress. He was sure that if she bent over just right, he would see shiny black panties peeping out at him. Even her hands, nervously adjusting her clothes were covered in the stuff. She caught him looking at her and brightened, his smile washing away her nerves as she beamed back at him, shining as much as her clothes.

“You look good.” He held out a hand to her.

“Thank you.” She went to him, wobbling only slightly on the unfamiliar heels, stockings swishing as she walked, and took his hand.

“Turn for me.” He lifted her hand and she spun in a slow circle, giving him full view of her outfit. “You did well.”

“Glad you like it.”

He undid the belt around her coat, and pulled it aside, pushing it down off her arms to reveal bare skin from shoulder to elbow. He kissed and nibbled her skin as it was uncovered. He paused to hang the jacket on the back of his chair he turned back to her, running his hands down her smooth sides.

“I like it very much.”

He slid one hand around the back of her neck, catching her hair tightly, pulling her against himself. Kissing her softly, he ran his other hand down her back and over her ass, enjoying the feel of her tightly encased body. Slipping his hand up the inside of her thigh, he found what he was looking for, slippery panties to match her outerwear. He teased a murmur out of her and then withdrew his hand.

He stepped back half a step, and took another look at her, fingertips running along the curves of her dress, down her thighs to the tops of the stockings. He turned her around, walking fingertips on her thighs, and then trailed them up to the top of her dress. Catching the zipper, he pulled it down, savoring the sound. Then he peeled back the dress, his mouth following his fingers, licking, nibbling and kissing the exposed flesh. He pushed it off her arms and let it fall to the floor.

Grabbing her shiny hips, he turned her back to face him, and kissed her hungrily. His hands rose to her breasts, fondling, and squeezing. Fingers found nipples and pinched, eliciting a gasp into his kiss. He kissed down her neck and chest, first to the right breast, nibbling and sucking on her hard nipple and then across to the left, devouring her flesh as gloved hands stroked his hair.

His hands slid down to her waist, hooking fingers in the top of her panties. He glanced at her eyes, dark and eager. He kissed down her belly and then started to slide her underwear down, following with soft kisses over her mound, tongue flitting out as he slid them down her thighs and calves. She stepped out of them, gloved hands now finding balance on his shoulders, and he pressed in, with fingers and tongue, finding a different kind of slickness.

She moaned softly and pressed against him, her arms and legs still covered in shiny latex. He ran his hands down her thighs and calves, enjoying the feel of her as she shivered against him. He stood up, trailing hands from latex to flesh, and down her arms to latex again.

“So delicious.”

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, arm around his shoulders. He paused to savor the moment and then carried her to his bed, tossing her playfully down where she lay open and waiting to be fully devoured.

Share

Processing Intense Sensations

September 23rd, 2009

There was a recent discussion that masochists aren’t into “pain” they are into intense sensations. Based on the fact that we don’t get off on just any pain we suffer. Stubbing a toe, chronic pain, headaches, sore throats are all types of pain, but they are (generally) not turn ons for masochists. It’s intense sensations that we like, from a broad range of stimuli. This is very true for me, I enjoy the rush of intense pain and pleasure, and the mingling of those sensations all together.

Someone asked recently about processing pain. I want to turn that into a discussion of processing intense sensations of all kinds. I process in various ways, internally and externally. I process by making noise, by breath, by physical connection, by visual connection and by orgasm. Let me take these one at a time.

Noise. Anyone who has been around when I play knows that I am not quiet. I have been called tortured puppy, a mouse and delicious for the sounds I make. The type of noise changes depending on what is happening and how I’m dealing with it. Whimpers of anticipation. Begging in fear. Yips of pain. Moans of pleasure. Safe words when it is too much. I get louder with the intensity of the stimuli, until it crests over into needing another form of processing. I start with noise and then move on.

Breath. When noise is no longer enough, I process through breathing. Breathing with the waves, breathing the intensity in and out of my body, processing by focusing on my breath. I breathe with each strike or each stroke, take deep breaths to find control, catch my breath to narrow focus momentarily. Most importantly, keep breathing so it can all go on and on, moving all the energy through my body with every breath.

Physical connection. The next step for me is physical connection. It helps me to be touching the person causing the sensations. Having that physical link, to feel him there, to be connected to the source. It grounds me, gives me focus. If I am tied or cuffed or restrained in such a way that this is not possible, I take the physical connection from my bonds. It is not as good, but pulling on the bonds can also give me a focus, a physical link to the person who put me there.

Visual connection. If I can look into his eyes, I can take even more. That connection is stronger for me than physical. Looking into his eyes, seeing the joy, the love, the sadistic glee. Being able to share that mental energy directly, feeding back and forth. It is incredible.

Orgasm. This is one that is totally at his whim. Often though, my partners allow me to orgasm to help me process. Bringing me high and then giving me permission. I am then able to focus all the sensation down and actually release it. Let it flow through and out instead of maintaining the cycle and having it build higher and higher.

Share

Hemp

July 29th, 2009

What would you Do with 300 feet of hemp?

Make a nest of it, probably.

The smell of hemp makes me float. Heavy, earthy and sweet. I could curl up in a pile of it and be content for days. Tie me up in it and I could be happy for weeks. The feel of it, scratchy, rough and tight. This rope bottom’s dream. Each scene, putting it away just so. Running it through my hands, every inch of it, looking, touching, smelling. Winding it up, wrapping it around, pulling it tight. The marks it leaves, sometimes lasting only moments, sometimes hours, sometimes days. Run a finger over them and just smile. Even the occasional rope burn, just reminds me of how good it feels.

A hemp hammock sounds divine.

Share