Growing up I remember my father telling me that a woman who has gotten naked with a man cannot be raped. If she’s gone that far with him than she’s obligated to go “all the way”. on the surface I’d say he was a madman, but I think there is an undercurrent of adherence to this belief in this world. I don’t think its openly there, but some part of most people kind of thinks this. I could be just twisted though.
Getting into BDSM one of the first things I was taught is if someone says “red” or calls out an obvious safe word the scene stops. There doesn’t have to be a reason, it doesn’t matter whats going on, and it doesn’t matter who says it everything stops and the person who stopped the scene is cared for. It was this precept that was constantly reiterated that made me comfortable enough to start exploring myself. I was finally ok with the idea that if something made me uncomfortable, no matter what I was doing, I could stop and I wouldn’t be a bad person. Some people are even into that. It’s called ‘tease and denial’ and if I’m a top in anything it would be that. Ha ha! I love being a tease. I don’t like hurting people though so I would only do it to someone who enjoyed that.
Having someone I trust unconditionally has also helped me come out of my shell. I’m a lucky girl.
Have a happy Thanksgiving and I hope you have a lot to be thankful for.
“To trudge: the slow, weary depressing yet determine walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.”
That’s me…tonight….with this stupid writing project.
“There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” -Hemmingway
That’s all wrong. First…Hemingway did not say it (that I can actually find….someone named Red Smith might have) and second…no…no…it’s not fucking easy at all. Some days I look at the white space with its flashing cursor and the damn story or poem is actually written for me. Other (most) days I look at that same space and the little blinking line just sits there mocking me like the smug little shit it is. I could decide to write 365 days a year on how I love to write but I can’t, and then suddenly I would be able to write about that either.
The problem with the opening a vein routine, for me at least, is that I don’t want to fucking hear about it. It’s all daddy issues and fuck my childhood bullshit. And if I don’t want to hear about it than you certainly don’t want to hear about it. Well…you might want to hear about my daddy issues. Not the ones that happened when I was kid…no fuck that. I mean the aftermath. I’m dating a guy 30 years my senior who fucking rocks my world. Not sure if this is daddy issues or just a girl…standing in front of guy….waiting for him to beat her in the fun way because he’s fucking amazing at it. Heh heh.
Ok…I wrote. Fuck all this shit. Diablo 3. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have a little more to write about.
I’m cheating. Season 12 of Diablo 3 came out and I’ve been enjoying my “free” time there. So I slacked on writing. You get a story I wrote a while ago. This story involves consensual non-consent. Sometimes that means what I have with my boyfriend: he can do anything he wants to me any time without discussing it first. I can ALWAYS call “red”, but it would take a lot. We have this arrangement because I trust him in a way I’ve never trusted anyone before. In the case of the following story it is what some might call fulfilling a rape fantasy. I don’t like calling it that because its not rape….consent is involved (red will always stop a scenario no matter what) even if it walks a fine edge. If this isn’t your thing move on. If it is….enjoy.
I’ve always had this fantasy of being tied and forced to orgasm long past the point of pleasure. For a long time I thought it was because I was a total freak. It turns out I’m normal in certain circles. A few months ago I gathered up my courage and went to a meeting point of one of those circles. Life hasn’t been the same sense. Tonight you get the story of my first scene.
I met a guy. He’s a sadist, though only because he gets pleasure from being on the top side of the slash. He takes nothing if his bottom isn’t enjoying it. I am a bottom because I thoroughly enjoy being on the receiving end. Marks make me giddy. I may very well be the yin to his yang. I don’t know that I can mark myself a masochist anymore. I am not a fan of pain at all, but I’m nearly addicted to the feeling of flying that hits you immediately after the pain subsides. The greater the pain the higher the feeling, and so I yearn to be able to take more. For now I’m only beginning.
My first scene starts in a dark corner with a fair bit of teasing while watching a small group converse at a picnic table. He whispers in my ear “do you want to try a little playing?” I indicate my desire and he leads me through the house to a front room a little away from everyone. He likes to be very public, but I’m still not quite there yet.
There are two crosses here; large X’s standing silently against a white wall. On the other wall is a small table with a radio playing the kind of music I love. If I knew nothing else about this group their taste in music would have made it for me. I stay there while he goes to grab his toy bag. There are so many words that will never mean the same to me again.
I’m nervous which I love. He takes out a pair of cuffs and secures them on my wrist before slipping off my dress. Leaving me only in my panties he locks my wrist to chains at the top of each side of one of the X’s. My first sensation is a pair of clothes pins attached to my nipples. They sting. I’m getting a little ache between my thighs thinking about it now. He starts with a light flogger made of wide soft leather. It’s more thuddy than stingy. I get remember all the toys he used on me now. Eventually he used a heavy piece of leather on my ass that left the most beautiful bruises. This is almost my favorite part.
He says he isn’t into playing when his play partner legitimately doesn’t like something and yet….I hate electricity. I’m terrified of it. He has something called a tazapper that doesn’t hurt, but it arcs quite vividly with a loud pop. It’s everything I hate about electricity and he hooked me with my back to the cross and started threatening me with it. I laughed and screamed at the same time. I managed to get my body behind the damn cross which is pretty impressive. I suppose you can honestly say I have a love hate relationship with this particular play.
Eventually I was standing breathless on the cross and he blindfolded me. I thought we were done, but the scene isn’t up to me and I would have it no other way. A collar was snapped around my neck and a leash to that. He led me in just my panties through the house to a chair in the living room. I had to dress while blindfolded.
I spent the rest of the night cuddling with him: safe, warm and on cloud nine. I can’t wait to do it again.
I always wanted to do “crazy” things. I wanted give a stranger a lap dance, play naked Jenga, and wear something extremely sexy. I didn’t. I don’t as nervous or scared or self concious or….I didn’t. Fuck the reason.
And people pushed.
One day I found myself at a BDSM club meeting. The very essence of this is sex, in a way, and I was there because there because it was something I wanted. Yet no one pushed.
And people offered cookies.
Within a few parties I was naked on a cross. And I can’t wait to do it again. There’s something to be said about consent that comes about out of given consent. Not coercion or alcohol induced but something you comfortably do. It’s empowering and and a joy for more than just the person watching.
I will forever defend a person whether they keep their close on or take them all off. I wish more people realized this.
My first thought was to talk about consent with a nod towards the difference between kink and sex which would foreshadow a future post. Then I was going to mention the hardest thing I ever had to except about myself; understanding that actually liking some of the twisted shit that happened to me as a kid does not make it OK for my abusers to have done it. But there…I said it…it doesn’t need a whole post. I realize now that I’m obsessed with sex. Well, I always knew that, but I’m getting older so “rediscovering” things happens a little more often.
Nope…what I’m going to talk about is the fact that I have this huge festival this weekend and I have no clue how I’m going to write at 6:30 every night. You may get shit like:
I am so drunk it took me at least 20 minutes to fall into that ditch. And have you seen my shirt?
I have spell check on my phone.
But Piratefest isn’t about drinking…it just happens. It’s actually the gathering of a few close friends that’s blossomed over the last 20 years into a small city temporarily growing in the parking rows of the campgrounds of the Texas Renaissance Festival. It’s pretty amazing. Don’t think of dusty streets, bad costumes and vendors hocking last week’s turkey legs for the cost of a sit down dinner. Imagine, instead, a group of ships moored off a deserted island with so many long boats pushed onto the shore you almost mistake them for a strange brown capped wave. Beyond that are flags and fires and tents that line a road in the sand leading to a make shift bar. There are drums and guitars and some salty bastard commandeered a violin from somewhere. We don’t ask and we most certainly don’t judge. We sing.We tell stories. We sample the spoils of our fellow crews, and revel in the friends we’ve kept along with the friends we’ve made over the last year. There’s a bittersweet scent among the smells of spitted meat and fine rum because we know it will end far to soon. All truly wonderful things have that pall, but we wouldn’t trade it for anything. So heave ho and hoist the colors high my friends, for never shall we die.
It’s been interesting here on the gulf coast reminding us that you never know what to expect out of life. I certainly never expected to wade out of my apartment with two cats and my computer hard drive on my shoulder, but that happened. Thankfully I came back to most everything. I wish everyone had been as lucky. I did get to see the human heart at its finest in the last few weeks however. I know Houston was hit hard, but there’s a little city called Dickinson just up the road from me that was nearly wiped out. My heart aches for them and everyone rebuilding after this disaster.
Now for something a little…tastier. I said I was going to do this every Friday and I meant it.
Exhibitionism is a desire to either be watched or get caught in a sexual act. It’s a fun fetish that is easily indulged.
In a fit of boredom Kayla followed her friend to a swingers club only to find herself immediately regretting it. Sex with random strangers in public was definitely not her scene. That was until she came face to face with a stranger named Jack and his is ocean blue eyes tempting her to step into his world.
I found a fun new game. ^_^
TMI Tuesday time–time to answer these…
1. If you are on facebook, when was the last time you had to “unfriend” someone and why? I think the last time I unfriended someone was because they were being a beer snob and insulting a friend who liked their beer cold. Don’t. Insult. My. Friends.
2. What are you addicted to? Nothing. I become temporarily obsessed with things. Does that count? i’m not currently obsessed with anything however.
3. What are the first 3 things you do every morning? Snooze. Snooze. Coffee.
4. How lucky are you and why? Incredibly lucky. I have amazing friends, a job I’m comfortable at, and a beautiful girl who I get to watch grow up. Also I just scored this apartment with all brand new everything. Yeah…I’m one of those annoying happy people…mostly.
5. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try? Hmmmm….I don’t embarrass easily. Which is bad. I’m constantly getting the “did you really just say that” look. Eh? I guess admitting I want to try pet play is still kind of embarrassing. I definitely watch who I would say it around.
Bonus: Are you proud of what you are doing? Yes
How to play TMI Tuesday: Follow this link: TMI Tuesday
Happy TMI Tuesday!
Who wouldn’t want me
But I’m not a cup of tea
Something like honey
I want to say he missed out. I want to say how can you not want a girl that would crawl across the floor and suck your cock like she was praying to a god?
Eh…it probably wasn’t that good. It’s been a while. I need to find someone to practice on.
But people click or they don’t. I’ve never been one to console myself with “wow did you miss out”. How can you miss out on something you didn’t want to begin with? It takes a minute to get the soap out of your hair when it burns your eyes though.