Fourth Monday

July 21st, 2011

Fourth Monday. Finally. Only three months to get here. Such busy, crazy lives we lead. He asks me to bring my straitjacket and blindfold. My turn for isolation. Picnic on Sunday, so some cleaning is already done, but there’s different things need doing. I set to the dishes and the grills, Toy grabs the recycling and trash. Floors are given a once over and the playspace is cleared up a little. Dressed and waiting, he’s got the collar in the truck.

Chat and chicken and dinner. We head downstairs to curl up and flip through the television. Toy heads up to get coffee and he and I discuss my jacket. Doesn’t really work with a skirt, but I’ve got underwear in the bag. Put them on and bring the jacket.

So I strip down to bra and panties – look they match. And he jackets me up, nice and tight. The straps crisscrossing between my legs. Blindfold next, then earplugs. Sound is deadened around me, and then headphones – blocking out most everything else. He puts me down on the couch, laying back on some pillows. I fold my legs, but he soon pulls them straight and shackles my ankles together with something I’ve never worn, hard metal, that seems to crank down.

I settle in, trying to see what I’ve got left. I can hear whispers of sound. His voice raises in question – can I hear him? But it sounds so faint and far away. Is he talking to me? I turn my head towards the noise, but nothing else comes. I feel like I should have answered, but he doesn’t ask again. I can’t hear anything but odd whispers of noise. A creak of the stair, the ceiling, whispers of the tv that only sound like static.

Nothing else is forthcoming, so I relax into the jacket and the blindfold and the quiet. The tv hisses. Annoying. I hear little things, indecipherable, whenever I fully relax. But I can still manage enough. Keeping still, I feel my mind sinking into my body. I feel like I’m in my bones instead of in my skin. I keep thinking about Harry Potter whenever the tv hissing pulls me up. I try to stop, I focus on my breathing, on the heavy sensation in my limbs. I could move if I needed to, but it seems like too much effort to even want to. Little ticks of pain. A prick in my foot, my nose itches, my fingertips of my left hand are pressing uncomfortably. Little movements to relieve the little ticks. Sinking, comfortable. Mind wandering, recording the sensations, knowing I’ll be writing this. I wonder what they’re doing, but no way to know, so I don’t wonder long. I’ve read so much Harry Potter lately, why won’t it stay out of my mind. Breathing, sinking.

I hear more sounds. My breathing picks up. Clanking, like chain in a bucket. What is that? Are they back? I smell hemp. The pillow below my feet moves. It scares me at first, til I realize what it is. The clanking noise stops. I strain to hear where they are, what they are doing. What he is doing.

Music starts playing. I can hear it softly, but clearly. And I relax. I don’t know why, music signals playing, but I relax. It’s a continuous sound, and I focus on it and relax. My breathing slows to normal. He hasn’t come to me yet. I sink back into myself, more easily now.

I think I hear sounds from them. Indistinct. The pillow moves again. My heart jumps, but the music soothes. Then Uncle lands. Ripping me out of myself and back into my skin. And I scream and writhe. More strikes on my thighs. I curl up and he strikes the back of my thighs. I scream and moan. Then he is gone. I curl up whimpering. Then I hear her. Hear strikes at the other end of the couch. When they stop. I whimper and fidget, cowering, and the strikes come again, legs and breasts. Squealing and thrashing, the blindfold starts to slip, he pulls it back down, but it comes up again. The headphones are taken off and a hood forced over my head, squashing my ears. It’s a hood I’ve never worn, the area around the mouth seems to have a leather piece to it. I can breathe easily through it. More strikes with something different and writhing and screams, but this stays in place.

He goes to her again, I listen to the strikes and her squeaks. Straining to hear it stop, cowering whenever it does. More strikes, he lifts my legs to hit the backs of my thighs better and strikes my breasts as well.

Clips come. Along my thighs, left thigh first. I gasp and squeak, sinking into the pain as he steps away. Then returns, my right thigh now, and two above my panties. I rock with the pain, chewing on the leather by my mouth, breathing and moving my legs to take in in and process. More clips around my legs, and then…

A clamp – forcep? – goes on my left nipple and I scream and cry and writhe and shake. He takes it off. It takes me a bit to calm down and listen to them again. He returns and puts one on the right nipple. I scream and groan and moan and twitch my foot, biting hard on the leather, determined not to let this one beat me. He strikes off the clips with a flogger and removes the forcep and I scream and shake. He retrieves them and puts them back on. Having to dig between the cushions under my ass for some of them. As I write this I am not sure I’ve got the clips and clamps in the right order, but I can’t remember clearly.

I was scared of what might come next, gasping hard through my nose, trying to calm down so I could hear. Finally, relaxing enough to uncurl some, to feel the cushion at my feet again, to listen to whimpers from Toy. And then he’s sitting beside me, a blow to my crotch and then his fingers, working away at my clit. Rough and insistent, I arch and groan, pressing back against him. Gasping and moaning, finally I beg, pathetically. Please. Please. The words aren’t even clear to me, but he seems to ask what. Please may I come? He taps my chest twice. I take this as a yes, and let myself go. Orgasming, but he does not stop, pushes harder, and I orgasm twice more before he stops. And leaves me shaking and breathless.

But not for long. He unshackles my ankles, takes off the headphones and hood, and ear plugs. I blink in the light, fidgeting in the sudden brightness and sound. I come up and out again and he sits near my feet and waves me over. Rocking myself up, I turn and cuddle my head against his chest. He kisses the top of my head and asks a few questions. I assumed two meant yes? Yes, especially when he didn’t stop. Then he points out toy, tied up in the corner of the couch and we smile. She looks beautiful.

Do you think you can untie her with you teeth? No. Well, you better try, it’s the only way you’re getting out. You two have to untie each other. I blink up at him and his wide grin. He’s not kidding. So I get up and go kneel in front of her, assessing the situation. I start for a knot at her feet, but she thinks she can get out. I let her squirm for a bit, but she only gets one foot out. So I pull the other knot by her feet and she frees the second foot. Got anything more? She tries, but doesn’t get anywhere. Okay hold still. I’m going to pull the crotch ropes through your waist rope. She squirms a bit and I scold her til she holds still. He’s laughing and enjoying the show. I pull the crotch ropes out of her waist rope, though this seems to cause them to enter other uncomfortable places.

I stand and so does she. Still trying to get her hands free she squirms, but can’t. Okay, I can see a couple more I can undo. Hold still. I pull a couple, but that does nothing to help her hands. She’s turning and fidgeting, so I stand on the rope. He’s laughing his ass off on the floor by now, watching us. Hold Still! I pull a couple more knots out and she can free her hands and get the rope off. He insists I do the blindfold and she squirms and ends up on the floor in a ball. Alright stay there then! I bend over and pull the knot free with my teeth and drop the blindfold on her back.

Up on her knees, she makes quick work of the straitjacket buckles, even without her glasses. I toss it on the couch and sit on the floor with them. She’s trying to finish untying the rope and asks for glasses back. He gives them to us both. She untangles and I coil up the jute. It didn’t taste like much but fibers. He had me clean up. I put everything back in the tub and chest while he got ready for his massage. He came back over to us, sitting on the ottoman with Toy in front of him and me behind him, all happy and glowing.

Then over to the table, back, arms, legs, feet, until our hands were getting tired, turn over. Chest, arms, legs, head and feet. Light touch when we can’t push anymore. Then toy starts to drop, energy gone. I wrap my arm around her and she lays on his chest a few moments and then up. Whispered conversation until she’s just about falling asleep on my shoulder. I lean down to wake him. We need to move to the couch. Clothes changed, tv on, coffee retrieved. We settle in to end our night cuddled up together. Most excellent experience.

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Second Monday

May 25th, 2011

Chores done. Dressed and ready. He comes home, quick chat about the day and the state of things. The fly swatter is already out as he grabs a snack. Popping sparks. Toy backs away and is called forward, she still shies and is put on her knees. Earplugs, and headphones. Can you sign to her? But her glasses are off, I have to sign quite close. Can you hear him? No. He sends me for a blindfold. Blind and deaf now, I lead Toy downstairs.

Holding Toy’s hands in the playspace. I step away to put my glasses on a shelf, she reaches out for me, not quite frantically. He sets the music, I can’t tell if she hears the beat or is just fidgeting. The movements irregular. He gets on the leather ankle cuffs for her, and then the bondage mittens. Drags her to the cage and sets her in it.

Toy looks Hot!

She does, but there’s a frown on her face. I never fully enjoy it when they frown. But Toy does look hot, all bound and sensory deprived.

He gets out some hemp, 8mm. Starts to tie.

You know, it’s going to be your turn to be ignored first soon.

Yes, Sir. I’m okay with that.

Especially if it includes sense dep, I can sink into that, into whatever senses remain, spacing out the others. Delicious.

He gets an evil idea and grabs the TENs to distract Toy. Her breathing changes, but she stays fairly quiet. He returns to the rope, starting a drum tie. Slight panic in me as I realize I’ll be upside down. It’s been a long time, will I have the stamina? The tie is tight, secure. Rope burns as it passes. I can’t quite space, Toy is too distracting in her predicament.

He pauses between ropes to change up the TENs, we watch her reactions. She’s still quiet, not sure if she’s enjoying it or not. She’s not saying anything. It takes quite a few turns before we get any moans or whimpers.

Would I rather be in Toy’s place or mine? Mine, I like leather and sense dep, but here I have rope. He points out that when I’m upside down, certain tender bits will be quite open to Uncle. I panic a bit more. Gasping and whimpering slightly. Oh gods, that’ll hurt. The ‘biner is put in place, not as painfully as I’d feared. Then comes my blindfold.

Panic. Space. Floating. I won’t be able to see what’s coming. Fear. Breathe quickens. The blindfold is tight around my forehead. My eyes close automatically. I feel myself floating away, still standing. Calm down. But I’m gone, sub space take me away.

I feel him get the lift rope. He drops me to the mats and threads it, pulls and I am up. I fidget for a moment with my arms, settling for my hands on my head. He spins me. Focus, breathe. My hands are the solid point. I’m not really spinning, I tell myself. My hands are the solid point. I am stationary in regards to my hands. Keep breathing.

He goes to Toy and I hear rhythmic flogging. I hear her, too. Whimpers and moans. I think there were a couple swipes with Uncle then. Louder moaning.

I can hear metal tinkling. Nipple clamps, I think, later I find out how wrong I was. He bring some to me, too. Sharp, tiny stabbing pain. I think it’s the ones he used last time, but it hurts so much more. I squeal and gasp, curling upwards and grabbing the bottoms of my breasts. the usual reaction to keep nipple clamps from dropping, but useless in my upside down state. I dare not touch them. So much pain, my gasps turn to tears. I can’t do it, I am going to fail so soon, I am going to yellow. Oh gods, it hurts. But he takes them off before I am completely overwhelmed. And I hang, hands back on my head. Focus and breathing take longer to find. My hands are the solid point. I am not spinning. Breathe and listen.

Uncle returns, slapping the undersides of my breasts. More squealing and curling. Forcing myself to drop my hands back to my head, exposing myself for more strikes. Promised strikes on exposed flesh, keep my legs where he puts them. Hits on the feet, solid, comforting.

Toy squeals too, but mostly I’m just listening to her for hints of new implements. A paddle, not the speed hole paddle, this one is longer and thinner, more solid. More like being hit with a big stick than a paddle. I’m at such an odd position for corporal.

I feel him untying the lift line, spinning it out. Focus on my hands. I am not spinning, my hands are the solid point. Breathe, relax. And I am in his arms and then on the ground. Gasping for breath, and toy squeals as he tosses her down behind and on top of me. Her arms and head over mine. Both of us gasping and ragged, he leaves us to recover.

The headphones are painful, but I do not protest. I twitch and she moves after a while. Thank you, Toy. But she cannot hear me. Finally, our breathing is calm. She readjusts for her own comfort, too. He returns, sits on the bishop’s chair silently. Leaves again. Returns this time with the flyswatter.

Up! Get up! He smacks us with the flyswatter.

I struggle off the floor. Toy gets up, behind me.

Kneel! Kneel properly! Show her how to kneel!

Smacking me with the flyswatter, I grab her knees, push them apart and place her mittened hands, then return to my own position. We kneel. I feel him sitting on the trunk in front of me. I can hear him stroking the flyswatter.

She’s fidgeting!

He pops me again, and I grab her hands in panic to stop her.

Is she kneeling properly?

Another pop and I grab her knees and push them apart again. Really, Toy? What are you doing?? But I say nothing and return to kneeling.

We stay there, it isn’t long, but I’m in a state of panic that she wills start fidgeting again. She doesn’t, and he takes off my blindfold.

Look up at me. Untie each other. Come meet me at the massage table.

Scene done, now for clean up and aftercare.

 

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First Monday

May 12th, 2011

Tonight is Rope, maybe even suspension.

We arrive on time, head in and start cleaning. Check list complete, change clothes and cuddle up to talk and wait. He is home, a couple minutes to spare. We have a short talk about the cleaning and what it brought up. Toy and I go downstairs with tub #1, but he calls us back up because we’re giggling and he’s making himself dinner.

Down again when he’s done and into the recently cleaned playspace. I sit on one leg of the bishop’s chair and toy curls up at my feet. He likes the image of us there, and puts up the suspension ring.

Toy is pulled out to the mat, put on her knees, blindfolded and her arms bound in bondage tape. She immediately begins fidgeting with it. Up to the bishop’s chair, strapped in securely. Told to listen, be aware and think.

I am brought to the mat, stripped down, pesky new skirt takes some effort. He grabs a couple lengths of hemp. Arms bound behind the back, and then ropes around the upper arm, near the shoulder and then near the elbow. A simple box-tie, and then up to the ring. He grabs my legs and I’m in the air. Wow, interesting, ow, not so nice, squeezing the arms. Remember to breathe in between moans, and down again. So nice to be experimenting again, I tell him where it hurt and he moves some the ropes down a bit. Up again, the pressure shifted, better, but still uncomfortable, but oh so interesting. And then I’m upside down, and he’s giggling. Breathing ever so irregular, but it doesn’t really matter. I feel secure and bound. He drops one leg, but I don’t touch down until he lowers the other.

Order gets fuzzy here. He opens the chest of toys. I think the riding crop comes out first. Swats toy’s thighs and then my legs. Mmm, nice little riding crop. He digs deeper, finds the paddle with speed holes. A few swats on my ass. So painful, I spin and squeal. He digs again, nipple clamps this time, it’s a kind I’ve never tried. I yelp and he says he doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. My heart races. He digs out clips for toy as well. Uncle comes out then. Oh how I’ve missed it. Ass, thighs, breasts. Are you ready, toy? Toy gets a few swats as well. He scolds me to be quiet for the neighbors. He doesn’t have to be nice here, but I should be quieter. Yanks on the chain. One comes off. The other is for Uncle. I whimper, my eyes pleading. He doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. And off it comes. Leaves me to stew. Something scary that she’s going to like, toy says. And he pulls out the TENs, puts in on her thighs. I watch intently, curious how she’ll find it. She doesn’t say much. Intriguing and a few whimpers.

Toy’s hand has gone numb from the tape. He cuts her out, unstraps her from the chair and sets me off the mat. Grabs the sawhorse to put behind me and lays her down on it. Ties one hand with jute and then comes back to me. Takes me down, unties the rope, hands it to me. I drop to my knees to coil it while he ties her more securely. Jute on the wrists and cuffs on the ankles.

We tickle her first, one at either end. He pinches her sore nipples, she squeals and squirms, quite trapped and helpless. He gets a Violet Wand. Paintbrush attachment. I hear happy trees in my head as he starts painting her skin. I tickle a little at first, but then notice I’m getting mild vibration in my fingertips, so I just run them lightly on her skin, not sure if she can even tell, or if her mind is totally captured by the shocks. He asks her questions and she struggles to answer. Teases, and plays, we grin over her helpless form. He threatens a straight rod, but grabs a bulb with a coil inside, playing over her skin. We circle her, still questioning. She loses track, forgets to answer, forgets the questions. He turns it off, torments more, she still can’t answer, forgets more questions. I know the questions, I can help, I mustn’t. We could leave her there, go for a drive… He turns out the light and we back off, watching. Waiting, tasty energy. She can’t remember the question, Sir. He sends me off for Gatorade. I return, still watching and get dressed.

The light goes back on and he unties her hands, sits her up on the horse. Bends me over the end she just emptied and pulls out the speed hole paddle again. Paddles me as I squeal and squirm. Quiet not forgotten, but nearly impossible. I even cover my mouth with my hands a few times. He has me hold the paddle. It’s light, Sir. What? Light wood, Sir. I want to apologize, it hurts like hell, but the wood and the holes make it lighter than I expected. Should she have more, toy? Yes, Sir. And more come, skirt up this time. Stings so much, and I start to slip into painspace. Yelps turning to moans and heavy breathing. But then he undoes her ankles and bends her over, too. Swats her ass some.

There are twenty more, toy. Do you want them? Or does she get them? Or do you want to share?

I want to tell her we should share, but he’s asking toy, I have to be quiet.

Toy’ll take them.

As hard as I can swing?

And then she starts using my name and I add to the torment.

Oh, no, Sir. She can have them.

I thought I was Miss, toy?

She can have them.

I thought I was Miss, toy?

Oh, no, sorry, Miss. Toy’ll take them.

All forty?

Oh no, Sir.

No? So, she gets them? I thought you liked protecting people, toy? Don’t you want to protect her? Her ass is already quite bruised.

Toy’ll take them.

All forty?

Yes, Sir.

Will you count for me, toy?

Yes, Sir.

And forty whacks, she counts beautifully.

Paddle goes down, he gives instructions for clean up and goes to the couch. Toy and I clean up, putting everything away but the cuffs on her ankles. He says they can stay. Then we join him on the couch. Snuggles, light chat, and Human Cent-Ipad. Toy is a bit traumatized, so we watch Children’s Hospital which is all sorts of odd, and silly. He sets up the chair and we start in on his back and shoulders. My wrists are being funky. He asks me to set up the table. We move over and I have a better angle. I mirror toy, her hands are stronger, but I do my best. Turns over and we finish working his arms. Then he grabs toy and torments her with logic, while I stroke his hair and giggle. She is aroused and I am amused. We finish aftercare between the kitchen and the couch. Talking, Dr. Who and snuggling, a great first night.

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One Year Ago

May 27th, 2010

Last week’s post marked one year exactly, of this blog being published. It also was the first post directly posted here.

A lot has happened in a year, and I am working on pulling all my blog entries, journal entries, emails, chats, and random ramblings together into one work. I have come a long way, and there is a long way yet to go. I have grown and learned and done so much more than I ever thought I would even have the opportunity, courage or ability to try.

Last night, I asked him to flog me. I wanted some stress relief from the week to purge and prepare me for the convention we are attending this weekend. He started with the thin tailed rubber flogs, moved on to a dragon tail, Uncle, a quirt, slapping, smacking, punching, drumming, caning, an electric flyswatter and a taser. He took me into object space and attacked me mentally as well. I was in tears nearly the entire scene. It was wonderful and painful and incredible and brutal. When he was done, when he had broken me down to the single thought of “maintain the position,” he picked me up and carried me to the bed. He took care of me with a blanket and two women to stroke me. He left me in object space for a while, before he asked for his girlfriend back, and I served and took care of our things. Afterward, we talked about the scene on the drive home.

One year ago, I would not have taken half the beating, and probably none of the electricity. One year ago, I would be a tired, worn out, droppy mess today. But as I write this, I am about to head to a hotel for a weekend long convention and I am feeling great. One year ago, I would not have been able to talk about the scene so quickly nor say I would have been happy staying in object space had he so chosen to leave me there. One year ago, I was in a very different place in my journey, and I am grateful to everyone who has helped me get to where I am now. Thank you, Husband and Master. Thank you, Lover and Top. Thank you, Boyfriend and Dominant. Thank you, friends and family.

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No Limits

March 25th, 2010

I posted my limits list some time back. Recently, however, I asked him to take me into the darkness. Deep into it, past simple submission and into places where limits only get in the way.

I had face slapping as a hard limit and he stripped it away with logic and I let it go the rest of the way in a burst of confusion, but given the chance, I did not take it back. When I am in that space, I call him Sir, except when I fail to, which is more often than either of us would like, but that is another topic entirely. He convinced me to agree that I deserved to be slapped for forgetting to say Sir because I was disrespecting him by doing so. I agreed to this, feeling he was right, I deserved to be punished for these infractions. Not long after this, he asked if he could now slap me whenever he wanted, and I said Yes, Sir, thinking he meant as punishment as we had agreed. As he laughed at my quick agreement, I realized he meant for any reason, or for none. I fluttered and stammered, but did not take it back. We talked about one reason behind the limit being facial bruising. He even asked me, if I wished to take back my agreement and I said no. I trust him, I love him and I want to give up control to him. Face slapping does not turn me on, but it is one example of stripping away my limits to give him full control.

Giving up my limits, thus far, has been smoother than I thought. Though I still cling tightly to a few, knowing full well I will give them up, but still allowing fear to hold tight so far. He has been steadily working me up to longer whips, and harder floggers since we met, pushing me and my limits. As noted above, I gave up face slapping. Just a few weeks ago, I inadvertently gave up breaking the skin and blood when he used a grill brush on my thigh that did more damage than we planned. He called my limits a checklist, and he is not wrong.

I want to give up everything to him, I want to let go of all control and all choice when I am with him in that space. Limits have no place there. To truly submit to his will, I must be willing to do anything for him, without hesitation. This scares me, but I must not let fear take the control I want to give to him. I must be willing to let him slap me, poke me with needles, whip me, yes, even wrap a snake around me, if that is what will please him. Not just let him, but ask him, ask him to use me in whatever way serves his will. Fear and limits will only hold me back, I must let go.

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Reconnected

February 11th, 2010

Do you want to do flogging or rope tonight?

Sure, get me the rope.

How much?

4, 8mm.

30s?

Yes.

Did you stretch?

No…and I stretch while he explains to her why.

Arms behind my back for a box tie. He wraps bands around my chest as well, a suspension-worthy box tie. Two lengths of 30′ and I could still eel out if I wanted to.

Do I feel screwed yet? No, I still have my feet.

He grabs the third. This one really constricts my movement, my arms cannot separate at all now, they move as a unit.

I still have my feet, but I know I’m screwed.

Up on the bed, legs crossed, he ties my ankles together, having to use a 30′ instead of a 15′ to make it sustainable, as the rope loops up around my neck. He wraps the rope between ankles and neck, tying it off to keep it from sliding. I have a wrapped handle on front and back and I’m proper fucked now.

He rolls me around, teasing, caning, Uncle. Writhing and squealing, gasping, trying to catch his eye through my legs, too close to the edge of the bed to protest too much.

He lets me breathe, then tests my trust. Balanced on the edge he lets me fall little bits, I shriek and he catches me, every time. I look into his eyes, the joy is there, the love is plain.

Time to test the new head box. He lifts me to the floor, setting me on the cold cement. The heavy box comes down, cutting me off. I am gasping, afraid Uncle will return. A stray comment and he is back, pulling my bra down and clamping my nipples. He pulls on the chain, pinches my thighs. I thrash and scream and he giggles. The box needs more padding, the hole is too big, I keep hitting my teeth on the edge. But it does a good job of isolation.

The box comes off, we give him feedback, he thanks us for trying it out.

Nipple clamps become a lead, he drags me across the floor, scooting and yelping. The right one keeps coming off, squeals when he puts it back on. Over to another chain, hooking them up above my head, I have to balance to keep from pulling them harshly. A bamboo cane now, ass and thighs, I roll and yelp and breathe with the strikes. He hits my breast and I squeal, my clamped nipple brings a scream as I find his eyes and his joy brings me solace.

My hips ache and he lets me down, having to reattached the pesky right one, yet again. Whimpering yelp. Rolling onto my back, pillow provided, the cane goes for the tender bits and thighs and ass. Then up to sitting again, he takes the clamps off, gasping and leaning against him. A moment’s reprieve.

The cane returns, I move wrong, blocking in a moment of weakness. He grabs my septum and scolds me, I cringe and grovel and force stillness as he returns to it harshly. I thrash, but keep his target clear.

If I feel teeth you’ll regret it.

I would never. My mouth is open with the pain, it will not close on flesh. Pain space is coming now, screams dwindle into heavy breathing. He moves around the body, I sink into it, and he lets me. Closing my eyes with a hand, he leaves me to drop into space.

The rope, holding me, cradling me, keeping me safe and leaving me vulnerable. My hands have shifted, but they still are held fast. My arms cannot move, but there is no pain. Circulation is complete, the problems easily solved. My neck begins to grow weary, I bring up a knee to rest it on. Not for long, I like the pull of the rope. The handle at my throat is not too close and pulls evenly.

I sink deep into the rope. I can hear the other scene, but I don’t care. I am here. I am happy. I am in His rope again. His hemp digging into my skin. Keeping me just how he wants me. Held in position, easily moved and open access to everything. A prisoner tie, and perfect.

He returned and freed my neck and ankles, ordered me to kneel, knees spread wide. He smacked my inner thighs, bright red hand prints. Pinching the bruises and putting me back into pain space.

Can I put needles in you?

I did not say no.

May I put needles in you?

Not tonight.

Yes or no.

I waffle, because my brain isn’t screaming no, and he wants to, and she has them, but I don’t think I’m ready yet. It’s been a big scene and I don’t know that I want to add that on top of it.

Yes or no.

No.

Was that hard?

Yes, my brain was arguing with itself.

My feet hurt from the pressure of kneeling. He pulls me up and begins untying.

The feel of the rope, shivers through my body. Murmuring, spacing. He drags it across my nipples and I whimper. Pure rope pleasure. One. Two. Three. So good to me.

The rope is off, we hug, just sharing the floating energy. The ropes are waiting, I sit with them, run them through my fingers, coil them and put them away.

Practice is over, everyone is gone. We sit for a few moments, reflecting.

Rope marks and bruises. Joy and love. We needed this. Reconnected.

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20 Hard Limits

November 21st, 2009

I was asked recently what I would not offer freely. This got me to thinking about my limits. I had not explored them seriously in quite some time. Just random comments of, “no red,” or “you know that’s a hard limit” when things came up. Back when Husband and I first entered the community, I did a lot with lists. Filled out fetish lists, filled out like/dislike/limits lists. But it had been quite a while since I seriously visited the topic, and limits do change over time. My partners have challenged my limits, poking them gently here and there, never Leaping over the line, just prodding it until they made a hole to slip through. Or, in a couple cases, waiting until I changed my mind and Asked to try something.

So I now have three lists. Current Hard Limits, acknowledging that things do change. Previously Hard Limits that have been pushed to Soft Limits, acknowledging that these are still tricky ground, and often partner specific. And a very short Soft Limits list of two things I didn’t know enough to have put on my Hard Limits list in the first place.

 

Current Hard Limits

Children

Age Play/Infantilism

Animals(yes, this includes snakes)

Furry Play

Shit

Piss

Puke

Blood (except for sex during menstruation)

Needles/Staples

Hooks/Piercings

Cutting of the skin (does not include scraping/scratching or breaking from impact play)

Medical Play (specifically enemas, sounds, catheters)

Removal of my pubic hair

Branding

Bull whips (longer than 4 feet)

Significant Facial Impact (smacking, hitting, punching, etc)

Unsafe sex

Public sex (more than two other people present)

Willfully Breaking the Law (only exception is private play in a public area where there is reasonable safety of not being caught, (i.e. sex after dark in a car or park))

Humiliation Play

 

Previously Hard Limits that have been pushed to Soft Limits

Breath play

Ball gags

Grabbing by the throat

Gentle face slapping

Uncle

Single Tails(under 4 feet)

Dragon Tails

Sex while menstruating

Anal

 

Soft Limits

Essential Flavored Oils

Diet/Food Control

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