Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Between the Lines

“I don’t know what you want”.

I’d wondered for some time whether or not this blog was doing more harm than good. I know that for people finding it, looking for just someone to say that they’re not alone in their own confusion, it is helpful.

I’m just not sure if it’s helping my own relationship.

Part of the problem is that I don’t always write about things that are happening (except peripherally) in my own life. Many times I write about things I’ve read, conversations I’ve had with people, or my own opinions of whatever I feel like writing about. It helps me to write so that I can put things in sort of an order. I know my posts aren’t always the easiest to read, as I tend to write in the way that I talk. Morphing from one thought to another, trying to find answers to questions I’m not even aware I’m asking.

Writing about how I see things, while helpful to me, is often hard for daddy. But just as he’d be upset with me if I let him win at scrabble, I think he’d be upset if I tried to couch my words in ways that would make my thoughts easier for him to hear. He knows why I write. He knows the “rest of the story” that I don’t write about. But I think that quite often, he reads between the lines, not realizing that I’m not writing there.

So I thought I’d write him this post so he could read between those lines, and know exactly what is written there.

I love you. Plain and simple. To me, you’re quite simply the best man I’ve ever had the privilege to know. You are not only the most kind, loving, funny, smart, and sexy man I’ve ever met, you’re also the best kisser I’ve ever known. Your smile drives me crazy. Your voice reminds me of a very strange color, found in a blue ocean (and for those few of you that understand why I’m saying that, you’ll understand it’s not just a metaphor). It is calming and wild at the same time. You have one of the strongest backs and widest shoulders I’ve ever seen. You have more strength in you than even I’d thought. You have a quiet stability, a predictability, and a firmness that is in wonderful contrast to your impishness and laughter. You are a wonderful lover, a caring boyfriend, and a tolerant daddy. You’ve made it possible for me to do things and become someone that I didn’t realize I’d even wanted. You make me laugh. And when I cry, it’s because you found a way to let me do that again without it hurting so much. You’ve been my sounding board, my conscience, the voice of reason, and my friend. You have a way to calm me when I’m flustered, and a way to make my entire being sing. You’ve always been there for me, whether you think so or not. And if sometimes things are harder than we’d like, at least neither of us are going through them alone anymore. I am there for you, as you’ve always been for me.

So when you read my posts, and go looking between the lines for things that you think I'm saying, please remember that the answer to your question from last night is there. You know exactly what it is that I want, and you haven't had any problems giving it to me yet.

I just want you.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Assumptions and Edicts

A couple of things have struck me as we’ve began our negotiation- the first was that I found myself agreeing to things simply because they didn’t feel important enough to disagree with, or because he wanted them and they didn’t seem “too bad”.

The second was that when I realized what I was doing, I recognized that I was negotiating from a position of neediness, weakness, and general apathy about the state of things (and because I hate to see him pout). I realized I was doing the exact thing that I’ve warned so many others about in the past- I was negotiating from the bottom.

So back to square one.

I may be a “wholly owned subsidiary of Septimus”, but I’m still a person, with a personal life, needs, obligations, and personality. It may be kind of fun for him to think about having a cookie cutter Stepford girlfriend, but in reality, he’d be bored with that after a couple of days. It might be fun for us to play around with that “someday”, but not while we’re negotiating. Tacit agreement and passivity have no place when trying to figure this out.

I’m sure that most people, when you ask them about a power exchange relationship would say that “RULES” are the most important thing. Making them, obeying them, and enforcing them.

I think that the first question one asks themselves when entering into a power exchange relationship is: how much power am I willing to give and how much does he truly want to have? Now, and in the future? How will we know when it’s time to give more? And are there benchmarks that we can recognize within ourselves and about each other that will let us know that we’ve met the same goals?

It seems that before you can figure out the “rules”, you have to have a meeting of the minds about those areas where one is willing to give, and the other is willing to take.

One of the first things we’ve run across is the “assumption” problem.

One of the first things that I offered as an opening was “asking permission”. Since I’d gotten out of the habit of asking permission, mostly because it felt to me a lot of times that he’d rather just not have to make decisions, I thought that was one we could work on. I narrowed the areas that I was comfortable with giving him the power to make those decisions for me by removing work or family from the table. I offered to ask permission to attend events, go out with my friends, leave the house for shopping, etc., or even going to bed if that’s what he’d prefer.

As I said, it was an offer. A point of beginning.

I assumed that he would let me know which things he wanted to control. I assumed he knew my schedule, and I assumed that when he was otherwise occupied, that he didn’t want me just twiddling my thumbs. He assumed that what I’d offered was fait accompli. But we never talked about it (at least I don’t remember doing it).

The first time I left the house without asking permission, he got angry. When I got back, he didn’t hide his irritation, and then I got confused. We hadn’t talked about what I’d said, he just assumed that I was going to do it. I was upset that he’d taken my offer and made it a rule without telling me.

And that’s when I learned another important concept- don’t offer that which you’re not prepared to do immediately.

I don’t believe that he really wants to micromanage my life. We’re adults, and we know that each of us has obligations and responsibilities that don’t involve each other. But assuming that we know what each other wants, or is thinking, puts a lot of pressure on ourselves to be mindreaders when we both really suck at it. It’s easier to ask the question- given the above things, which do you want from me?

What I learned from this episode is that I won’t make any more proposals. And I won’t accept just any old rule just because he’s the dominant. For me, it has to make sense (even if it’s just because he prefers it that way); it has to be reasonable, the purpose has to be attainable, and it has to have a way to deviate from the application given unforeseen circumstances. Any rule based upon any power exchange needs to be accepted by the submissive or it’s not an exchange, it’s an edict.

Here’s some of what I’ll be asking myself before making any more overtures about exchanging any power:

Are there areas that I don’t wish to have him meddle in? Or is this an area where he even wants to control anything?

Is there a way that we can adapt a given circumstance that is likely to occur to meet both our needs?

Is this a model that is reasonable given our lives? Can the goal of the rule be met or am I doomed to failure because of contravening circumstances? Is it a rule that I might need help with in order to meet his need? Will it still allow me to meet mine?

I’m not assuming anything anymore. The way to figure out what we want in our relationship is to offer, talk and negotiate, make a counteroffer if it’s appropriate, and then for the final result to be accepted by both of us. Edicts are not exchanges, they’re unilateral decisions that should not be the starting point of a negotiation.

Next: Specific Rules/General Guidelines/Custom and Etiquette- Which are “real” rules?

Wednesday, December 22, 2010


My boss took me to lunch yesterday. I probably shouldn't drink wine at lunch, it does tend to make me a little silly. While the boss was driving back to work, I heard the song "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on the radio. From there, it's too hard to figure out the phrases that came into my head, but Girlmouse, Graydancer and Septimus' nose fetish seemed to just work with the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas".

So here's the tweets (cleaned up just a bit) that resulted from Christmas lunch with the boss and thinking of my tweepy friends at Christmas.


Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a @girlMouse.

The @BadBadGirlx was hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that SirX soon would be there.

The BKP were nestled all tied to their beds, While visions of orange road cones danced in their heads.

And @Silverdreams blinded by a ‘kerchief, and @Septimus1812 with his crop, Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s “nap”

When down in the dungeon there arose such a clatter, He sprang from the bed to see what the hell @kinkstergeek was up to now.

Away to the dungeon he flew like a flash, Broke out the safety shears and knocked over @toristorii who wearing her new ballet boots

The moon on @jaekinks breast was magnificent, like new-fallen snow, (but it did tend to distract him from the objects below)

When, what to my wondering eyes (once the kerchief was removed) should appear, but @b_playful with his tetruss (what a dear).

With a big old cane, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must fucking hurt like the dick(ens)

More rapid than a girl with a Hitachi his volunteers they came....

All the doms whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now @debaucheddiva! now, @Graydancer (I know, but I had to), now @SubWonder and @BrattyVixen!”

On, @ThatLauren! On, @MsNaughtyEm, on, @Bendyogagirl and on @Radagast22 too! (because you know, he's switchy like that)!

To the top of the tetruss! or tied to the wall!, Now slap away! spank away! crop away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,When they meet with an obstacle, let them be mounted.....(to the sky) [hey, it worked]

So down to the dungeon the coursers they flew, With their ass full of marks, and @Septimus1812 too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The laughing and giggling and each domly footstomp.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney @Septimus1812 tried to suspend @spunquee upsidedown (who wisely redded on that one)

The doms were dressed all in their domly best, from their heads to their feets

While their clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot (which is when they collectively decided chimney suspension was BAD)

(Note) not that anyone would notice if the doms' domly clothes were covered in ashes and clothes? hello?

So instead, a bundle of Toys they had flung on the back of their subs (who in my story would throw them down the chimney) but anyway...

And they looked like peddlers, just opening their packs, (until the subs saw things and stupidly asked 'what THIS used for')

But the doms' eyes-how they twinkled! their ass dimples how merry! (yes, it's a known fact ALL doms have ass dimples- check the books)

They thought their ass cheeks were (smelled) like roses, while looking to pop some nose fetish cherries

Their droll little mouths were drawn up like they were mean sadistic bastards or so...
And they noticed that someone's ass was as white as the snow

The ends of the hemp they held tight in their teeth, and encircled the victim just like a wreath.

The girl had a broad smile on her face but with a butterfly or two in her belly,
And the rest of the bottoms just laughed, and said lets get the jelly (toys, you pervs)!

When @Septimus1812, his right jolly old self, laughed when he saw them, in spite of himself! (it was a evil, jolly laugh)

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave the rest permission that the victim would dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And cut off the stockings, then turned with a jerk.(obvious joke omitted here)

And laying his finger aside of his nose, (nose fetish...helllo?) And giving a nod, up the chimney the girl rose!

He sprang to the dungeon, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew to see what had happened to their victim

But I heard him exclaim, ‘before he put the kerchief back on and was out of sight,

"Happy FUCKING Christmas to all, and to all it was a good-fucking night!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Wanker of the Week: Nominees for December 12, 2010

WOW! It’s been a busy week for wankers everywhere! I’m not sure if it’s because of the holidays approaching, or if it’s because I’ve shed a light on a problem experienced by far too many people who are just itching for a little payback, but my inboxes were FULL of nominations for Wanker of the Week! Thanks everyone for sending the wankers my way (wait! did I really just say that?)

First, I wanted to update about MY Wanker. As you may know, I commented on a few pictures, called him out on his douchenozzlery, and generally made myself a pest. I didn’t *overtly* say anything *too* terrible, but I did call attention to his “golden rod” (which is now a fetish on Fetlife). He got angry, then he started calling other people names, then he sent my boyfriend a threatening message:


Septimus asked me what I thought. My first inclination was to ignore it. But we figured, if someone makes a threat, the least we can do is let Fetlife know. WTF? Dude? What did you THINK was gonna happen when you sent those kinds of messages and never apologized to either of us for doing it?

I’ve narrowed down the Wanker of the Week nominees down to three. Based on the messages I’ve received from their nominators and a review of their profiles. One is from Facebook (which makes it a little harder because of the “friend” thing), and two are from Fetlife (which would be much better IMO if it HAD the “friend” thing). I’m not saying who nominated these guys, because as I’ve found out, “master-baiting” wankers results in a lot of unpleasantness.

I’ve also started seeing a trend in exactly WHO is doing the wanking. It’s far too early to post those results with such a small sampling, but a few things stand out.

A) The wankers generally are over the age of 40 and,
B) They either have no profile picture, stolen pictures, or the obligatory cockshot, and,
C) They have serious issues with spelling, grammar, and punctuation.

But enough about generalizations. Here’s the first nominees for Wanker of the Week, December 12, 2010:

First is bengal15
The nominator stated that his first message to her was "call me if you want to try black cok. there is a cok pic provided on the profile.”

How charming!

And indeed, there IS a cok (sic) pick (or is that a sick cock pic?) on the profile! After looking at his profile, it’s apparent that he really LOVES pictures, going so far as to comment several times about what “we should do” or some such nonsense. Do guys really believe that this shit works?

Next up is Ahmad Alanizy (it’s a Facebook profile and closed, so sorry I won’t bother linking)

But the nominator sent me a copy of her FIRST contact with this guy (shortly after she friended him BTW)

Nominator: Judging by the timestamps on them I'm guessing he friended me at 5:36 pm. LOL

Ahmad ALanizy
10 November at 05:37
do like be friends

Ahmad ALanizy
10 November at 05:42
(no subject)
can i fuck you

Ahmad ALanizy
10 November at 05:48
(no subject)
please show me your pussy

Ahmad ALanizy
10 November at 08:55
fuck you

Apparently, this wanker, not receiving a timely response to his absolutely charming overtures, resorted to the last bastion of wankerdoodles everywhere: insults.

This one was funny because I’m guessing that the wanker thought that everyone else was like him and LIVED on the internet, just waiting with “baited” (sic) breath for one of these guys to show up and give us a reason for owning a Hitachi.

Lastly, there is FrankAlbergo

Frank came onto my radar through a message sent to me asking me to look at a post he’d done on Fetlife: Ladys

This post basically blamed the victim for the behavior of the wanker. Enough said with this one. I can’t even find it in me to make a joke about this. But if this is what the wankers are thinking- that just because kinky girls are on the internet, that we’re somehow “asking” for it, then I’ll certainly have no problem calling them to task for this and practicing up on my CBT.

So that’s it tweeps. Send me your Vote for this weeks WOW winner. Tweet to me using the hashtag #wanker and I’ll tally the votes which will end on Sunday, December 12, 2010 at midnight, Boston time (that’s something different for you left coast folks).

And please, send me your Wanker nominees. My sample size right now matches their peens.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Fetlife Wanker of the Week

Fetlife. Both the best thing that ever happened to the kink world, and the worst.

It's the best, because it gives kinksters a place to talk about kinky shit, learn about kinky shit, and perv all manner of kinky shit, without tweaking your mother by seeing it on your Facebook. There, you can learn about needles, rope, and flogging, as well as relationships, Doctor Who, and cooking.

But it's also one of the worst, simply BECAUSE it's the best. Because so many kinky people perv Fetlife, that's where the wankers come to get their wank fodder. No more Alt or Bondage or Collar Me. Fetlife is WHERE IT'S HAPPENING, BABY!

As Fetlife makes more inroads into mainstream-ish news, advertising, and online searching for kink, the more wankers find to jizz themselves silly about over there. I'm sure there's Wank Boards everywhere extolling the virtues of the ease of perving the kinky women (and sometimes men) on Fetlife. Put up a cockshot and you're half way there to getting one of "them thare kinky gurhls to show up at your trailer to cook, clean, and get nekked!" (no offense to trailers)

I've received my fair share of wanky wannabes in the past few months. Usually they're not much more than a minor annoyance. What I usually get is that they've sent me a note saying that they're actually in FACT "wanking to my picture". Thanks for the heads up wankerdoodle, but I don't really need to know that. Leave me in my ignorant bliss okay?

But yesterday, I received a one line message from a wanker that just hit me the wrong way. The message was (and I have not changed a word or a capital letter):

"i think it's time for you to be my slave and suck my dick !"

The reason it hit me so wrong, is because this wanker is "A Master" who is looking for a submissive slave (no kidding?) And my profile clearly states that I am owned, collared and living with Septimus. In fact, you don't even HAVE to read my profile. It's right there, at the top. "Owned and Collared". You don't have to be a genius to figure out what that means, especially if one is a "Master".

I showed Daddy this message (I sometimes think that he's a little jealous that he never receives wank-y emails from women) and was writing my harsh reply to this little prick (and I mean that with NO irony) when he said, "let it go for now".

So I waited. Then I tweeted. What happened on twitter can only be described as the BEST thing about social media I've found. My friends (even if I've only met some of them ON twitter) have my back. What happened with the crossover from Twitter to Fetlife was best described by Polloraro as "a roasting". A dick roast.

After a while, the Wanker of the Week ("WOW") idea was born. So on Sunday afternoons (hopefully), I'll be awarding the WOW award to one who truly deserves it. One who disregards profiles, sends wank messages, or one who just truly "doesn't get it". I'll choose the first one (my prerogative) and then I'll cross post nominees on Twitter for the voting for subsequent ones. If you've got a nomination for WOW, you can email the profile to me, and tell me why this person is deserving of such a high Wanker honor, or you can tweet using the hashtag "#Wanker" (update 12/8/10- #WOW is getting confused with World of Warcraft). Lets see if we can't shed some light on the wankers and put them back into their own pants.

(A note about unintended consequences): I'm sure that there will be wankers who will actually TRY to win the award by acting like douches on purpose. I will not be posting the names on Fetlife so as not to encourage it, but if this gets out, Wankers of the World will likely wank themselves into a coma trying to win. Ah well. If they want to notify the world of their douchenozzlery, far be it from me to discourage them from outing their own wankery.

First Winner of the WOW is (lopresto) From a "master" whose use of the English language is lacking almost every basic skill, including the fact that he uses capitalization to tell others what he "twuely wants", to the fact that he has a really little peen (that he calls his "golden rod" ROFL!!!) that seems stuck in a bad 70's porn movie, to the obvious lack of reading anything other than Mad Magazine and also because he sent me that wonderful little tidbit telling me what time it was, lopresto is this weeks Wanker of the Week. Congratulations you little douchenozzle!

And here's the award:

Friday, December 3, 2010

Ghosts of Christmas Future

Daddy and I have started something new.

We’re beginning a period of readjustment, rebuilding and renegotiating our D/s relationship. By that I mean that we got comfortable letting things slide. We sort of let the D/s part of relationship get away from us. It’s been pretty wonderful most of the time, but neither of us is happy. It’s easier, but it’s not as satisfying.

When we first started our relationship, we talked a lot about what we each needed out of it. What we wanted from a partner, what we had missed in our previous relationships that we needed out of this one. We spent a lot of time learning about each other. Our habits, our desires, our pasts, our fears and our lives. And I think, that after almost two years together, we’d fallen back into some of the same traps that had caused problems in our previous relationships. We’d forgotten that a D/s relationship, like any other kind, needs work to make it happen. You have to want to have it. It doesn’t magically appear and it doesn’t happen just because you enjoy kinky sex.

I’d been pretty unhappy with the way that the D/s parts of our relationship always seemed to be secondary to everything else. Too often I felt lost, unwanted and unsubmissive. The change didn’t happen overnight. It slipped insidiously in every time I had to wear my big girl panties for longer and longer periods of time. In other words, the more in charge of me I became, the less I wanted someone else to be. I was getting used to doing and saying what I wanted. Without any clear goals or expectations, I again got back into my selfish bottom space. I’d questioned whether I wanted to even be his submissive and I definitely questioned whether asking for his collar had been a mistake.

It snuck up on me. At first I rationalized that because Daddy needed me to take care of myself for a while, it would eventually get back to normal. When I realized that it might be a long while, I put away the submissive. He’d needed his girlfriend (and I AM a damned fine one). When it became longer, it was too easy to justify that because everything other than our D/s relationship was going pretty good, that I didn’t really need that anymore. It snuck up on me so gradually that I really couldn’t have told anyone what was wrong. It just didn’t feel right.

I think that our playing with rope the other night solidified things in my head. When I’d said “this sucks”, it let loose something more than just the frustration with the rope I was feeling at the moment. It unleashed all those months of wanting. Without the D/s part, our relationship may not suck, but it’s not as special or satisfying either. I finally had to face the reality that I was unhappy with the way things were going. It had come to a choice: either I had to figure out a way to let Daddy know so we could decide together where to go from here; or I had to do what everyone says you should do when you’re not getting what you need from the other person- leave.

The latter wasn’t a realistic option (I do, after all, love Daddy). I knew that somehow, if only I had the balls to tell him what was going on, that we’d figure out a way. When I’d told him (via this blog- yeah, I’m a bit of a coward when it comes to unpleasant conversations) I was surprised when he’d admitted that he’d been feeling the same thing.

But strangely it also made me feel better. Because that’s when I knew that if we were both feeling the lack of that part of the relationship, that we could each recognize that we needed it back, then we’d both have incentive to do the work to integrate it back into our lives.

So, we’re back to the drawing board. We’re re-negotiating how we’re going to integrate the D/s parts of our relationship into the rest of our lives. For the first time since I met Daddy, I have to really think about what I want from him. Not from just any old theoretical D/s relationship with a 'someone', but what I want from him. How I want to feel when I’m with him, what I expect from him, and, because we do live together, how to juggle everything.

I told him that it was unfortunate that it would probably end up looking like a M/s contract. But I’m beginning to think that that wouldn’t be so bad after all. I think that part of the reason we let this get away from us to begin with is exactly because we hadn’t thought about how living together would change things in that D/s part, and we hadn't really set any parameters. It was a "I'm the dom, you're the sub" relationship. We'd made the cardinal mistake: we didn't clearly define our roles with each other and what they meant to each of us. And maybe it’s time that we think about how we want to frame that part of things, so that we can see far earlier when things start to go astray. It’s easier to get things back on track when they’ve only veered a little. We let them veer too far, and now we’ve got some work to do.

R-examining, renegotiating, and rebuilding. Looks like I got my Christmas wish a few weeks early. So, after the beginning of the year, I'll be starting a series of posts about how we negotiate a D/s relationship for a long term, 24/7, being in love situation.

I'm curious to see what happens.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

A Grown Up Christmas

All I want for Christmas is.....

In thinking about Christmas this year, I again have a holy hell of case of bah humbugs. Try as I might, I just can’t get into the whole rigamarole. Decorating, baking, looking at the lights, listening to carols, sipping hot chocolate (not a fan of eggnog) with a blanket snuggled up with someone special in front of a fire. All those things that used to make me happy, comfy and cozy going into the crap weather days of January now make me too sad to even put forth the effort. I did try some baking last weekend. And I did put out a few seasonal decorations, but much of my spirit is just flat. I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve mixed religions along with the closet, but I just don’t feel it. It’s ok. There’s always next year, right?

Things are going ok. Personally things are a little difficult. Leftover issues with the ex, problems with one of the kids, car problems and trying to get motivated to find a new job are all weighing heavily right now. And while things with Daddy and me are also going pretty ok, they’re a lot harder than I thought they’d be. I thought that moving in with Daddy would move us further in a D/s relationship. But the exact opposite has happened. While the boyfriend/girlfriend part of us is going wonderfully, the D/s part of us has lagged so far behind that I’m not quite sure if it even exists anymore.

Or is it just that I’ve settled into my role that I don’t feel like it IS a D/s relationship anymore?

I think that part of what many of us search for when looking for a D/s relationship IS a compatible person to share it with. Things that I sometimes feel I don’t have enough of, he has in abundance. Patience, humor, intelligence. There are also some things that I have more than enough of to share with him: Exuberance, impulsiveness, organization, and my shoe fashion sense. And lastly, there are things we each bring to the relationship that may not look exactly the same, but work off each other nicely- creativity, responsibility, attention, and affection. We bring a lot to the relationship with each other. And because we have a relationship outside of the D/s, we have something to fall back on when the D/s is lagging behind.

I know myself. I know that having that outside relationship with Daddy is the most important thing. But it doesn’t stop me from missing the other stuff. And I don’t want to give up the really good things we’ve got together either.

Perhaps this is why I’m bah humbugging? We’ve settled into a comfortable place. We still have date nights. We still talk ALL the time. We still snuggle and schnoodle, laugh and try to make each other laugh. We eat together, do vanilla things together, and we still fall asleep in each other’s arms. He is attentive and charming and damned sexy. We do all those things that many women would give their favorite pair of shoes for. So I wonder why I’m not happy? Is it that I’m just TOO greedy?

I’ll admit that I miss the part of us that only saw each other a few times a week. The anticipation, the frustration, and the joy of finally being together at the end of the week. I should have known that living together would remove some of that. It’s really hard to anticipate the hottness of that first five minutes together, when I get home and start dinner and laundry.

In looking over my prior posts, I’d wondered if by moving in with Daddy I’d end up feeling like a maid, a cook or an errand girl. I worried that something would change that would make things feel more like just two people living in the same house, or that I’d no longer be seen as a cherished possession, but rather a fixture that nobody notices much unless it’s needed. And while I don’t exactly feel like that (I kind of like cooking and cleaning and shopping), I’m not sure that I still feel like I’m his little girl either. There’s something missing.

So what I’d like for Christmas is to get back what’s missing. I want to put the D/s back into the relationship. I want the scales rebalanced and still keep the other parts of us that work great. I want us to work as hard at keeping the D/s in our relationship as hard as we work at keeping the other stuff working great. I want to bring back the structure, the exploration, the edge, the ritual and the protocol that we’d begun and somehow lost. It seems too much like we’re a kinky couple who discovered that vanilla is pretty good, not to mention much EASIER.

I guess I want to be his little girl again. Even Christmas isn't the same when you're a grown up.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Gone, And Almost Forgotten

“You’re not here with me”.

We were at a party at a friend’s house. That’s how parties are going to be for a while in Boston. Back to hanging with friends. In one way it’s good for me. I usually am much more relaxed at smaller spaces. Less people, less noise, less worries. But in another way, it’s also much more difficult to find something else to do when I’m not really in the mood to begin with. Or should I say, when I’m IN a mood to begin with?

We’d found ourselves plunked between two other rope “scenes”. They were both trying out a new kind of chest harness. Something that they’d learned earlier. Daddy asked me if I’d wanted to try it. He had a hopeful look on his face and rope in his hand. I’d just gotten done telling a friend that I hadn’t really had rope on me since Shibaricon and wasn’t holding out much hope for this being “the scene” for us to start playing with it again. I was hopeful that we’d start using it again. That we’d start together again with it. Hope. The dirtiest four-letter word of all sometimes.

I’d been asking Daddy off and on for a couple of months about playing with rope. But after getting shut down so many times, I’d figured that I’d just fucking blew it with all the bitching I did. Instead of getting my point across about HOW I loved rope when it’s used in certain ways, it came off as how I didn’t like rope when it was used in certain other ways. I got tired of saying that we were lost when it came to rope. Instead, I just laughed it off and told my friends that we just didn’t have time to play with it anymore. But that it was okay. We did other things.

I’m sure that one or two of them couldn’t have felt any sorrier for me. I know I’ve been feeling pretty sorry for myself.

He started to tie the rope around my chest. I leaned back into him, I brought my hand up and touched his face. I smiled at him, I whispered to him, I touched his leg. I leaned forward, trying to catch his attention. Trying desperately to let him know that I wanted his rope. I wanted us to play again. I wanted it to be like it used to be. The connection. The attention. I wanted just something to go right with it.

And got nothing back. I became the diningroom chair. And as diningroom chairs are wont to do, I became useful for a purpose, but not the one which I’d intended. It was like the entire last couple of years of rope was just gone. We'd forgotten how to do something that used to be so simple for us as connecting with rope.

After he’d tied me, we adjusted a few things, moved some rope that was slipping, and got it done. I looked around and focused on Daddy. He was looking at the ropework being done by others. He was paying attention to the rope.

And I lost it. I was too disappointed to speak. I was too upset to talk. And I just wanted out of the damned rope. I’d gone from hopeful, to trying to get him to remember, to just giving up on all of it. And who says rope isn’t amazing?

He’d looked at me and said that I wasn’t here with him. I knew what he was saying, but when I’m that upset, I tend to mouth off. I said that he’d just tied me, where else would I be? His face was different. He was upset. He was trying to figure out what the hell had happened. And he kept asking me about what I was feeling.

Until I finally thought, I’ve already given up on the rope. He might as well know it. And because I was hurt, I said the words that I vowed that I’d never say to him.

“This sucks”.

I blurted out everything: How I felt like the chair. How he was tying the rope, not the girl. How it used to be different.

He said that I needed to cut him some slack. It had been a while since he’d tied. I know it has. I’m there.

To try to salvage something, I asked him to tie ME. I didn’t care how the rope looked, how pretty it was, how the knots went. All I cared about was HIM tying ME. Both of us, using the rope to relearn how to do something that we’d forgotten how to do. Using the strings to pull each other into our personal space. To use the rope to start to mend us.

I smiled when he grabbed me. I wanted it to be a hot, sexy scene, but instead, I was too happy that he’d actually remembered how to do this, that my laughter got the better of me. And as usual, things devolved into another bout with those unintended consequences. During which all I could think of was one thing:

If you want me there with you, use ROPE!

Silly, daddy.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Revenge as a Kink

"Revenge is often like biting a dog because the dog bit you"
-Austin O'Malley

As anyone who lives in the Boston area now knows, Haven, our local place for all things kinky, is closed. Ostensibly due to someone who felt that shutting it down was fair revenge for not being allowed into an event there. I don’t know what the facts are. There’s a lot of heresay and rumor mongering.

Some people think that the kinky community doesn’t need to know who this person is. Some others (like me) think that the identity of this person should be made known. There’s speculation aplenty, but no facts that I’ve been able to ferret out. I suppose one could go and view the official complaint, but that would likely either be anonymous or reveal this person’s real name. I’m not into outing anyone, outside of this community.

But I think that this person’s identity should be made known to the area kinksters for a simple reason. If this person put his own petty revenge over the welfare of an entire kink community, he’s dangerous to everyone. And everyone should be given the choice of whether or not to associate with him.

I don’t want to seek revenge against this person. I have no wish to make this situation worse. I’m not sharpening my pitchfork, planning on calling his employer, or even blogging about how horrible this person is. I simply want to know who this is so that I don’t unintentionally show up at a place where he was prevented from attending. If he did it once, he’ll do it again. And I don’t want to be put in the same position as the proprietor of Haven. Balancing protecting my guests or my fellow party attendees, against letting an unsuitable person even HEAR about a party for fear that he might decide to take revenge.

It’s all well and good to say that it doesn’t matter if you know who it is, but you can’t build a community by protecting people who try to destroy it. The fight isn’t against the person, it’s against the idea that ONE person can ruin a good thing, simply by being pissed off. THAT is a dangerous attitude that affects everyone. I’m not asking for the information in order to take my own revenge. I’m asking so that I can AVOID having to put myself or my friends in a position of wondering if he’s been banned from the next thing and therefore itching to take some more revenge. The next thing being any event that I’m attending.

IF this person is not made known to the community, and he shows up at the next event, say the Bound in Boston, or a NEDS class, makes some friends with people, gets invited to a party, and then for some reason isn’t invited back (and from what I understand this is what happened to cause his sour grapes to begin with), would you, as an event organizer or party host WANT to go through what Arsine is going through now? How would your attendees and guests like it that they’ve been subjected to possible “issues” if any “officials” decided to act on a complaint that this guy makes? If he’s done it once, he’ll do it again.

I think it’s far better to know who this person is so that the kinky community can avoid him, hide our activities from him, and prevent him from even learning about where these things are happening from now on. We don’t have as much to worry about from the authorities as we do from this person. The authorities act within the scope of their duties. I really don’t think that they care what we’re doing. But if a complaint is made, they’re required to act. We need to avoid those people who will make those complaints. And the only way to do that, is to know who put his own vengefulness over the entire community.

Historically speaking, this sort of thing happens. There’s a list of “used to be” party places as long as my arm. Someone gets pissed because they’re not invited, or they’re banned, or they’re made fun of, and the next thing that happens is that the place is somehow put on the radar of those officials who have to act. The ultimate answer is of course, is to have a legitimate place, with legitimate operating privileges, and with the authorities only acting as if it’s just another business. But that’s a dream that takes a hell of a lot of money in this town. And a hell of a lot of goodwill from society that just doesn’t exist. Yet.

In the meantime, we’ve taken a step backwards. Back to closed lists, small parties, covert places, and private homes. It’ll make things harder, and at least for a while, people will look at those they don’t know and wonder if “this is the guy” that ruined it. Until we forget again. Until someone steps up again and opens another Haven. And until someone decides again that revenge is the ultimate kink.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Get Off My Lawn!

The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I remember when I first saw it. I was 17 years old. In Hudson, NH. At a midnight showing that I had to promise my mother months of indentured servitude in order to attend. I traded months of Saturday mornings cleaning the basement and garage to go. It was worth it. The movie, filled with inside jokes, transvestites, and Susan Sarandon in those shoes for a 17 year old was sexy and damned transgressive. I’m still not sure how I ever convinced my mother to let me see it. I suppose I should be grateful that the internet, for all intents and purposes, didn’t exist when I was 17.

We’d gone to The Rocky Horror Picture Show with Coyotetoo and SubWonder. RHPS itself was just as I’d remembered, even if there were some “new” memes, the print had seen better days and obviously attended by many people who no longer thought of RHPS as being quite as transgressive as it used to be. After all these years, it’s become campy rather than edgy. But we’d had a ball, threw some rice, danced the Time Warp, and sang the songs (you kids really have to remember to sing!). But Daddy noticed something which, after I thought about, seemed a lot of what we’re used to dealing with. He’d noticed that nearly everyone in the theater hadn’t even been born when we’d seen the show for the first time.

Talk about feeling old.

I don’t know how Daddy feels, but this reminds me of the same thing that I feel all the time when we’re at parties with our friends, many of whom are under the age of 30. I like feeling all that young puppy energy around me, and I’ve developed close friendships with (and a crush or two on) some of these “youngsters”. We try very hard not to be the “creepy old people” at these parties and the fact that we do have many friends in that age group tells me that in that at least, we’ve succeeded. We don’t tout our “experience”. We just enjoy the experience. Being around young people is a joy for me. But it also makes me remember that many of these people weren’t even born when I first started experimenting with bdsm. Which also, coincidentally enough, was around 17. Chicken and egg much?

But just as with all those young people at RHPS, who are now experiencing the colors, themes and fun seeing something that is nearly 35 years old (OMFG!), and who are now adding their own memes and putting their own take on this time honored cult movie; the kids that we’re around at parties and events are also adding their own take to the practice of bdsm. For me, both are fun to watch, and both are fun to experience. And just as I enjoyed watching RHPS with all of those new things adding to my experience of it, I also enjoy my younger friends adding to my experience with bdsm.

I may never do some of the things that they do, but then again, they’ll never get to see RHPS and experience that same transgressive feeling that I did either.

And instead of feeling old, I’m feeling pretty good. I’m happy that RHPS is still being shown, albeit with a much different take than I’d had in 1982, and that my young friends have the opportunities to explore their kink in ways that hadn’t existed in 1982.

No. I’m not old. I’m envious.

But I also remember that someday, these young kids will also be in the same position. They’ll have years of experiences and somebody ELSE will change their RHPS to suit themselves. And they'll be the ones saying "you kids get off my lawn!!"

The little sadist in me is snickering. It’ll be fun to watch. :)

Friday, November 12, 2010

Don't Take Me Down on Your Way Out

A confluence of things have caused me to think about something that should be a no-brainer.

Consent and Privacy.

In the past few weeks, a blogger, coming out about her kink in a newspaper article; a letter; and a few newspaper articles about my local scene (while being fairly complementary towards kink) but in reality may have caused a great deal of damage to it (time will tell), have come across my computer screen. The result of these items, as well as a few other things, has made me really nervous. Really nervous.

My version of my kink differs from other people’s versions of their kinks. I think we all chuckle at the phrase “your kink is not my kink but it’s ok” (YKINMYBIOK), but that is the crux of what I’m nervous about.

My family, my children, my mother, my employers and my non-kinky friends haven’t consented to even hear about my kinky activities, much less deal with the potential fall-out from their family, their mothers, their employers and their friends, should my kinks ever be exposed to the light of day, (not to mention the fact that many people still consider kink to mean that one is incapable of raising children, holding a security clearance, or even that one is mentally ill), they haven’t consented to the fallout. I try to keep my private life private from those who, for whatever reason, could make things harder for me or on them. I value my privacy, but I also enjoy sharing my kinks with those who share my outlook.

But what I don’t appreciate is the perennial arguments over about how “being out” about one’s kink is “better” for “everyone”.

What’s gotten my panties in a bunch recently is that there is a faction of local kinksters, most of whom have no children, no ex spouses, and I’m going to go out on a limb and venture to say something that sounds awful when I type it: no long term connections to employers or people outside of the kink community, who have "decided" among themselves, that being "out" is the only acceptable thing for kinksters. It’s easy to “come out” about your kink to people who are kinky or people you don’t know (vis a vis a newspaper article), especially when you have nothing to lose. Or even the fear that you will. I know what I have to lose.

But putting aside family and employment reasons, the main reason that these things coming across my computer screen have worried me, is that I haven’t consented to being outed by proxy by people who should understand that no matter what they might think, there ARE people who are their friends, who cannot or haven't consented to the risk to lose.

Let me make this perfectly clear. I have NO wish to be the poster child, test case, or a spokesperson for the kinky community outside of the kink community. I haven’t consented to my public play to be an outreach, a learning experience, or a goddamn lesson in the Constitution. That I’m into rope, but not into watersports is something that kinky people “get”. What they don’t “get” is that I’m into protecting my kinky life, while they’re into being open and vocal about theirs. They’re also forgetting, that just as people who engage in watersports know that they don’t subject others to their kinks non-consensually, that there are many others that don't share their idea of an out and proud nirvana for kinksters.

What makes me nervous is that people don’t stop and think about how coming out, being out, or looking down on those of us that aren’t, makes many kinksters shy away from those events where they’d otherwise love to be. They don't think that by forcing me to choose "out" or "stay at home", that they're forcing THEIR kink non-consensually onto me. What they don’t think about is the nervousness experienced by non-out-kinksters every time our local playspace is mentioned in the newspaper, or even the fact that their friends are now “out” and could be connected by those with rudimentary computer skills.

I do understand that the reverse is also true: that by being private and in, I'm forcing my kink onto these out kinksters. But the dividing line is mitigation of damage. Being out may allow non-kinksters to get the idea that kink isn't "bad" in the long term, but it really doesn't help other kinksters who may have to suffer the damages of educating the mass public. The question I'd put to these people is this: is the damage which may be suffered by people you call friend, who have trusted you as a kindred kinkster, who allow you to share in their experience worth the "education" of the purient or perennially intolerant public of the intricacies of our world?

I’m not saying that I don’t admire and live vicariously through many of my friends who are out. I congratulate them on having something that I’ll likely never experience in my own life. I’m happy that they’ve found more tolerance and acceptance in their own lives than I could ever hope to expect from mine. Believe me, after 45 years, I’m about as out as I’m ever likely to be. I teach and attend classes, I play in “public” and I use my own first name. Most of my kinky friends know my real last name, where I live, what I do for a living, and even my children and grandchild’s names. I’ve trusted them to recognize that we might have a different comfort level of outness, but it’s a trust that’s shared and was not given lightly. My friends are those who know all of these things about me, watch me getting my ass beat at a party, and never question my need to remain private. If I haven’t come out yet, you can be sure that there’s a damned good reason for it. Real or perceived, it makes no difference.

What I’m saying is that there is a disconnect. From what I’m getting it is that “real” kinksters are “out” and everyone else might as well just stay out of the scene. We’re not wanted, we’re a detriment, and the fact that we’re not out creates unnecessary “hardships” for those who are. And the corollary is that it is somehow they're doing it "for my own good". They have to be private when they’d rather be shouting their kink from the rooftops and shoving it down the throats of every mother and employer. I get that they might feel that I’m creating a hidden class, and I get that they might feel that us “innies” are just creating an atmosphere where remaining hidden perpetuates the idea to non-kinksters that kink is immoral or bad. Or to put it more succinctly: if EVERY kinkster was out, then there’d be understanding, tolerance, and we’d be such a force to be reckoned with that politicians and religiousians couldn’t stand against us.

I call bullshit.

So yet again, I’m forced to sit on the sidelines of the “public” scene for a while. Perhaps a long while. I’m not comfortable with my “friends” forcing me to choose sides. The “Scene” or stay home. I’m saddened that I feel like I have to do it to protect my privacy. And I’m damned pissed off that I’m considered not “freaky” enough to be kinky simply by virtue of not sharing the same kink of “out vs in”.

So be it. To my friends, thank you for respecting my wishes, thank you for understanding my need for privacy, thank you for trusting me with your lives as I’ve trusted you with mine, and thank you for truly understanding that the concept of consent doesn’t just apply to what I do to you, it also applies to what you do to me.

But most of all, to those friends or fellow kinksters who are, or may be on your way out, please remember consent of ALL those people around you (kinky people included) when you’re doing it. That way, you won’t take me down on your way out.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Talk Normal To Me

It’s been a while since I’ve written about my experiment on learning to talk dirty. In the interim, I’ve spent a lot of time listening to porn, watching how others talk, practicing phrases and conversations in my head, and trying things out on daddy. And yes, I did ask what he meant. It’s just that his answer wasn’t any more helpful than anything else.

This was a real struggle for me. Not because I don’t know how to talk dirty, but because everything I tried sounded either really silly (“manmeat”) or sounded like my normal voice when talking with daddy.

I get off on Daddy’s voice. His growls and purrs. His “good girl” and his “little slut”. I get off on the colors and tones in his speaking voice, and I really get off when he speaks Spanish to me. I don’t care if he calls me a portable refrigerator, if it’s in Spanish, it has a very marked reaction on my body. (Although I’m onto the “la nariz” thing). But even that, I can’t help myself. I willingly give up my nariz to him. His voice alone, sets off reactions that I can’t control. It’s not even the words (and I certainly can’t understand Spanish), it’s just his voice.

It never occurred to me that daddy might also get off on my voice, speaking normally, saying things that I usually say. It never crossed my mind that talking normally would work when he gave me his directive to “talk dirty to me”. I was looking for a complicated answer to a simple problem. I heard what he wanted, but thought that it couldn’t possibly be that easy.

Communication is a big catchword in bdsm. Communication about how you feel, what you want, what you don’t want, rules, protocols, consent, and negotiation. We use that word “communication” as if “oh, that explains everything” and as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. "Communication" as it relates to bdsm has become a generic catch-all term for speaking to someone about all those things that we need to discuss to keep our asses out of jail. But if you think about it, communication is much more than talking or listening. It’s also about style, body language, and intent.

I’ve always believed that I was pretty good at listening, and I’ve always thought that I was even better at understanding what I’d heard. But learning to communicate is more than just talking, listening and understanding. Learning to communicate with each other takes time, patience, and practice. Mistakes are bound to be made. Mistakes in understanding what someone else is thinking. Mistakes in applying what you think you heard. And mistakes in saying what you mean. A classic example of a miscommunication is when a ropetop says “lets play with rope” and you hear “play” and “rope”. Without knowing the intent behind the words, without knowing each other’s styles, and without knowing that Monday nights are practice nights, it’s too easy to only hear what you think you hear, and get really disappointed when your play and his play seem to be very different things.

Time together, speaking to each other, listening to your partner's body language and learning all those neat little buttons to push, and the ones never to push, is the real key to communication in bdsm. Expressing ideas is not enough when there are no set-in-stone definitions, when there are no dictionaries or board of directors to set the parameters. The biggest thing about learning to communicate is that you have to learn that the other person is listening with more than their head. They’re also listening with their emotions, their own experiences, and their own ideas of what they’ve heard you say.

I don’t know exactly when I figured out the right combination of tone and words to give daddy what he was looking for. I think it was when I’d finally given up trying to figure it out and said to myself “if he wants me to talk, I’ll just talk and then he’ll see I can’t do this”. I had no idea what I was saying, I just opened my mouth and repeated a conversation we’d had a few days earlier. It was nothing really overtly "dirty". It was just a phrase that I'd used before in another context. But I was struggling, so I figured what the hell.

And the reaction was astounding.

Since then, I’ve expanded somewhat. I still listen when we’re talking normally and put things in my brain for the “next time”. They still sound silly to me sometimes, but I’ve also learned that it’s not really the words that he’s hearing. He’s hearing my intent and my emotions. Even if I’m saying things that aren’t inherently dirty, they appear that way because I intend them to be. The same way that calling me a portable refrigerator in Spanish works on me.

This weekend I’d asked him if he thought I’d finally got this “talking dirty” thing down, because I still felt like I was repeating myself and that very often I was just talking normally.

He smiled and said, "babydoll....just talk normally to me then".

Job done.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Friday, October 29, 2010

Service and Submission

I believe both sides of the / serve the other, granted in very different ways.

That was a quote by Sir_Russel that I read on Fetlife the other day in this thread : What is Service?. It struck a chord with me.

I’m not a service submissive. I don’t fool myself into thinking this, and I don’t believe that anyone with whom I’ve ever had a relationship with would put service in the top 10 of things that they’d say about me. It’s ok. Different strokes.

I believe in service IN submission, not service AS submission. And by that I mean, that there’s things I do for Daddy that I do which may be viewed to outsiders as “service”, but to me, they’re things I do because he’s my Daddy. I know there’s people who believe differently than I do. I’m not saying one is better or more valid than the other; I’m saying that I know what works for me.

An invitation to a High D/s Protocol event got me thinking about service. At first, I was more than a little irritated with the tone of the invitation. Even though Daddy reminded me that like any event, the person holding it was going for a particular vibe, a particular theme. And that I shouldn’t be offended by it. Some events, like some forms of submission are just not my cup of tea.

The more I thought about that event, the more riled up I got. (and to tell the truth, some few threads I'd been reading on Fetlife may have contributed to my riling). I just couldn’t figure out why. Which just made things worse. Why was I having a pissing contest with myself about an event that wasn’t mandatory? Why was I so annoyed? Was I even annoyed about the event itself? I could just say no and be done with it. Daddy’s wish to attend a “Chateau night” notwithstanding. Daddy also said that I needed to think about it because it obviously unleashed something in my brain.

I consider this a collision of bad timing in receiving that email combined with reading some really ridiculous threads on Fetlife.

After really thinking what got on my nerves so much about it, I realized that I care how others see submission. I care about generalities being promulgated about it, I care that others have fantasy-filled heads about “what submission should look like”. I care because very often, the words I hear directed towards me are "you're too bratty", "you're not a submissive" or worse, that Daddy isn't "a dominant". I've had my fair share of people questioning our public play style. My submission is mine. It doesn't look like anyone else's and because of that, it matters to me that people understand that my cup of tea may be different from theirs. Not better. Just different.

And I care that there are people out there that might feel being a submissive is only about service to dominants. Sometimes not even the one that owns you. I care that between the books and the chatboards, submission often looks like neediness, emotional instability, or sadly, even, just plain sad. Too many times do I see people asking questions about whether or not their relationship should look like something else, or they’re having problems with a particular kind of submission (pain, service, poly, whatever) that doesn’t work for them. Why do submissives think that just because someone else does something else, that their submission must be the same way? It makes me angry to see those questions simply because to ask them, the person hasn’t realized that the only thing that matters is how they live their own submission. As Daddy says: “your body is mine, your self is yours”.

It’s possible that because I had a disastrous entry into the scene myself, the result is that I've spent a lot of energy talking to submissives coming into the scene to stress that they need to have a good head on their shoulders and understand that despite what Sir Lord God Domly Dom believes, they don't owe him a damned thing. Other than reciprocal courtesy. RECIPROCAL courtesy. Unless and until you've negotiated otherwise, a dominant person is exactly equal in power to a submissive one. No more, no less. And in my opinion, a dominant anyone should never define your submission. To use a phrase that Daddy hates: it is what it is. Define your submission, and then find someone who shares the same definition. Bearing in mind of course that changes also happen. Deal with it.

It makes me a little angry that so much of the “book submission” has snuck its way into how people view submission as a whole. I’m also a little angry with submissives who think that they have to BE like other submissives, that they’re in competition with each other for “submissive of the year” or who can’t or won’t be true to their own particular type of submission.

My grandmother told me to never try to be something I’m not. It’s hard enough trying to be something you are.

I submit to one and only one person- sometimes not even willingly. I do it from a place of love, understanding, trust, and because I like to see him smile. It’s not easy for me being submissive most of the time. I’ve developed some very selfish habits over the past several years of being responsible for myself. The difference is, for the most part, Daddy is either willing to overlook those things, or they’re not behaviors that he cares to amend. In other words, some of the things that I do, he enjoys me doing them. Trust me. If he didn’t like them, he’d tell me.

And I like to believe that one of the things he’s always found in me that he didn’t want to change was my overall personality. I’m a strong, sassy, independent, intelligent, audacious, sharp-witted woman and a freaking powerhouse of energy, anger, and aggression when I have to be. I don’t need to submit to him or anyone. I choose to submit to him, because it feels right. For me. And the fact that he finds it a little bit hot for such a woman to submit to him doesn't hurt. Male ego and all I suppose (wink).

Do I serve Daddy? Sure. Does he serve me? Absolutely. I view submission as a very selfish act. I’d like to think it could be altruistic, but in reality I’m selfish. I do things for him to make him smile, and so that he’ll be more inclined and happier to do things for me that will make me smile. We service each other. He provides for my needs (and usually plenty of my wants), and I provide for his. It works for us not because I am a service submissive, but because I’m HIS submissive.

It doesn’t change my idea about the party. I’m still not going. I’d be horrible at living the rules of any dominant I’m not in love with, even for a short fantasy-filled event. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of ruining the fantasy for anyone. I'm sure it will be a lovely event for those so inclined. And I'm sure Daddy would really like to go. So I'm really sorry that in this case, my definition doesn't quite match.

All I dream of is that when the fantasy is over, that the reality of submission is remembered. It’s not easy, it can’t be found in books or chatboards, and it really can’t be done unless you’re honest with yourself about how much and what kind of service you’re willing to provide, and how much you expect from the other side of the Slash.

Photo Courtesy of Digiyesica.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

e[lust] Edition #21

Photo courtesy of Evocative Abyss

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #22? Start with the rules, check out the schedule and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

Important e[lust] update
: e[lust] will be going on hiatus for the holidays. The editions for November and December would both occur around the holidays and I know I'll be short on both submissions and judges as well as personal time. e[lust] #22 will return in January, with ample advance warning, so please make sure you're subscribed for updates!

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

D/s Without the D/s? - This is one of those situations in a real time D/s relationship where much of the “fun” aspects of the D/s needs to be stuffed in the closet for a bit. And for us, it’s not a great time to be either a masochist or a sadist. We can deal with that.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Yes, Jelly Sex Toys Can be Dangerous - Even if a jelly rubber toy says “phthalate-free”, it still can contain toxic chemicals that can cause skin reactions in some people. These toys are still non-porous and can harbor dirt and bacteria because they cannot be sanitized.

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Unfortunately, this edition has no Top Three picks as I didn't have enough volunteer judges. If you'd like to volunteer to help, visit this page to find out more info and ensure that the Top Three picks continue.

See also: Pleasurists #101 and #100 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

All Painted Up...

A Modest Proposal: Should Ginger & Cooper Fuck?

Happy Sexual Freedom Day

How Do You Explain

Life in spanking after 30: part 2

Erotic Writing


Fantasy: Movie Night

Feeling Helpless

Gabrielle, Guest Star

Happy Anniversary...

History Lesson

I Still Don't Know How You Taste

Monday Morning 2am

Metallic Seduction


New Erotic Story For The Holidays - Tinsel Temptation

Putting the car into park

The Ordeal (Part Four)

The Sweetest Violation

The Young Mom

The Moment

The Soccer Mom

Timeless in a Window's Light

Kink & Fetish

A space to hate and rage and be angry (photo story)

Beyond the Bedroom

Does liking Helmut Newton equal a fetish?

Happy Halloween: Light Me Up

I am all pins and needles

Kink and Fibromyalgia

Ownership and Monogamy

Punishing the servants


Switching It Up

The Cage

The Sacred Swinger Holiday: Halloween!

the most amazing night with HIM

The Pedicure

The Right Question

Wax on, wax off!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

All Roads Lead to Acceptance... I hope!

Crisis Averted

Dear boyfriend, I love you. And your cock.

Having Great Goddamned Expectations

If You Google it, I will Answer #9

I Don't Know If I've Ever Been Really Loved By a Hand That's Touched Me

How to Massage Man’s G-spot

My Coming Out Story

National Coming Out Day

Recovering From Anorexia

Role Reversal

Sadie's Condom PSA

Monday, October 25, 2010

Seduction and D/s

Seduction - To beguile or lure someone away from duty, accepted principles, or proper conduct. To lead astray; To entice or induce someone to engage in a sexual relationship; To win over or attract someone.

To lure, beguile and entice.

Read any book, blog or website offering advice on how to maintain a happy sexual relationship, and that word will show up eventually. From dressing in plastic wrap and meeting your man at the door to the right perfumes and lingerie to wear to the various methods of crossing your legs while wearing a skirt, much has been made in the way of how to accomplish seduction.

Seduction involves an element of uncertainty. It involves mental gymnastics, innuendo, whispers, touches and looks that are meant to make your toes tingle, unleash butterflies in your stomach, and leave your good sense behind. It is to be swept up in a longing and need that results in passion. It involves enticing someone into something that they might not even know they want, until faced with the choice of not having it at all. It’s temptation, it’s heart-thumping excitement; it’s a careful dance, it’s fear, it’s fire and it’s darned sexy. It is an art learned from the earliest age when a young girl first learns the power of the hair swoop over her shoulder and downward face, upward glance, or when a young man first learns the power behind looking into a girl’s eyes and speaking softly about what those eyes do to him. It’s power as an aphrodisiac. Power in yourself, your sexuality and in someone’s desire for you.

For me, seduction starts with words, with a smile, with a soft voice whispered in my ear (preferably in Spanish) and a touch on my bare shoulder. It does not start with him calling me his bitch, pushing me to my knees and telling me to suck his cock. As nice as that is sometimes.

During one of my thinks, shortly after Daddy had to jump out of bed to meet the boy somewhere, it occurred to me yesterday that one of the things that I miss in a D/s relationship is the element of seduction. When getting a blow job is a sure bet simply by pushing me to my knees and unzipping his pants, I began to wonder if seduction is even possible in a D/s relationship. Does negotiating around boundaries about what you won’t do remove the element of uncertainty that is necessary for seduction? Where is the motivation to lure, beguile and entice if you’ve already talked your way around nearly everything, or if there's little that you won't already do in the way of things typically thought of as needing seduction? If you know you’re gonna get a blow job whenever you’d like one simply because you own your girl, is there really any reason to seduce her?

And if you know that he can just push your face onto his cock and get that blow job, or worse yet, let you suck his cock because you ASKED to do it, is there really any motivation to try a seduction?

To me, seduction in a D/s relationship ranks right up there with a whole list of really silly things that seem to be fun to play around with, but which I have no real idea how they work in real life D/s. Begging. Talking Dirty. Seduction. The more I try to figure out how those things are applicable to a relationship where I beg because he asks for it (not necessarily because I want it); where I talk dirty as a matter of course, where seduction is a power that I try to have over the one who has the power, the more I wonder if I just need a whole new dictionary.

I also began to wonder if I’d lost something by negotiating, talking, discussing, and planning the parameters of my D/s relationship. Have I lost the uncertainty of what he’s going to want from me and the spontaneity of being taken over by my excitement in his enticement? Where exactly IS the lure? Especially when there’s very little in the way of “proper conduct” that I won’t voluntarily engage in? And especially when I know that there’s little chance of him turning me down for that blow job. For more than a few minutes anyway.

How do YOU put seduction into your D/s? I’m not talking romance- flowers and candlelight. I’m talking purely seducing your partner as a testament to your own power? Or shouldn’t good little submissives want to keep some of their seductive powers intact?

When you’re in a D/s relationship, talk about the conduct of that relationship in such a great detail, and do some pretty awful things with each other on a regular basis, is there really any room for the power of a seduction?

Photo Credit:

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Do You Really Want to Burn Bridges?


January 12, 2009 was the day I was desperately trying to find a way to talk to this adorable guy I’d met a few days before. It was the day I decided that I wasn’t going to wait for him to figure out I was attracted to him by sending coyly worded messages through Fetlife. It was the day I knew I had to find some way to open a dialogue with him in order to get into his pants. It was the day I asked that infamous question which at first seemed so innocuous- “what’s twitter?”

In the almost 2 years since then, I’ve logged 14,161 (as of this moment) tweets, have followed many interesting people, and have eventually met nearly 2/3 of them. I’ve also carried on a major flirtation with that adorable guy who I now call Daddy. Twitter has been my lifeline during times I’ve been alone; my source for information and the tweeps have made me smile, laugh, learn and think. Ask a question on twitter regarding any topic and somebody has an answer.

But after watching my tweetstream yesterday become populated with comments about why some found it ridiculous or offensive that many tweeps were wearing purple in support of Spirit Day, I’d signed off for the day. I’d had enough. I was so disgusted with some of the tweets that I didn’t even want to log back in this morning. It saddened me that some people could be offended that badly, simply by people wearing purple and tweeting about it. I wondered if I should just give up supporting anything and go back to talking with my friends and flirting with Daddy.

I’d wondered why some people were offended by the idea of Spirit Day. I mean, we have Veteran’s Day in which we honor our service members (even if you don’t agree with the wars in which they’ve fought). We have Mother’s Day in which we honor our mothers. And we have Independence Day in which we honor beer and fireworks. (ok, so I’m kidding). Why get your panties all in a bunch about honoring the memory of those kids who reached the end of endurance? Why is remembering them by wearing purple and perhaps opening a dialogue with someone about why you're doing it so awful that you'd have to snark at people for it?

So to all those naysayers and bitchy tweeps who got offended by Spirit Day, all I can say is that I obviously didn’t do it to support you. You don’t need “my” support. I’m happy for you. I’m glad that you realize that you’ve got everything in your own life under control. You’ve got all the “rights” you’ll ever need and you’ll never get offended in a group of people who may question even your right to live. Not everyone is so lucky though. My support of Spirit Day wasn’t for you. It was for all those others that aren’t as lucky as you.

But before you get all whiny about whether or not allies are really allies, whether wearing purple is a good or bad thing, or whether or not it’s a bandwagon and silly, I’d ask you to remember a few things.

I don’t *have* to support anything. I’m a cis-gendered, heterosexual woman. I can live my life perfectly well within existing laws and societal mores with very little problem. I can ignore GLBTQ everything if I wish to. Disdain my support, in whatever form that it takes, and there’s little reason for me to fight to have you accept it.

But don’t ever make a mistake and think that I have no stake in the problems experienced by the GLBTQ community. I’m not supporting you if you don’t want my support. I’m supporting the people in my life that mean everything to me. Those people for whom my support matters a great deal. My sister. My friends Jon and Gerry.

And most especially for my granddaughter. You see, without my “support”, she’s liable to grow up to think exactly the same way that my parents and grandparents do about “fags”.

I’m a bridge between what was, and what could be.

So ask yourself, do you really want to burn this particular bridge?

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Tweeps Support Spirit Day 10/20/10

yep, I wore purple

October 20, 2010 is Wear Purple Day. I'll be wearing purple, will you? If you do, send me a picture or a link to your own blog and I'll repost it here.

Here's some of my twitter friends who have graciously given permission for their purple tweeple pics to be reposted:

girlMouse is wearing purple!

and so is coyotetoo

And ReneesAccount and lambie

And Septimus1812 made an effort
with the purple ink

A special friend and something of a mentor to me:

And another tweep: Radagast22 with
a BKP souvenier.

Wear Purple Online and Offline on Wednesday, October 20 to remember LGBT Youth

Americans Urged to Show Support for LGBT Youth on Spirit Day

October 18, 2010, New York, NY –October 18, 2010, New York, NY – The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) today joined millions of community members and allies to support lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) youth by participating in Spirit Day and remembering those teens who have taken their own lives as a result of bullying.

Spirit Day, created by teenager Brittany McMillan earlier this month, now counts millions of Americans committed on Facebook to wearing the color purple on Wednesday, October 20, 2010.

In addition to wearing the color purple, GLAAD is also asking Americans to turn their Facebook and Twitter photos purple until Wednesday and to share messages of support for LGBT youth. For more information on the free application and suggested messages, please visit

"I will be wearing purple on Spirit Day," said GLAAD President Jarrett Barrios. "The tragic suicides of our youth have started an important dialogue among Americans about the dangers of bullying, and now is the time to show our children that millions of Americans accept and value them regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity."

Purple symbolizes 'spirit' on the rainbow flag, a symbol for LGBT Pride that was created by Gilbert Baker in 1978. The goal of Spirit Day is to show LGBT youth who are victims of anti-LGBT bullying and harassment that there is a vast community of people who support them. As the event’s Facebook page says: "This event is not a seminar nor is it a rally. There is NO meeting place. All you have to do is wear purple."

Last week after receiving thousands of concerned e-mails from constituents, GLAAD worked with Facebook to develop a solution to address violent and hateful anti-LGBT comments posted to a Spirit Day Facebook event page. That page now has over one million people confirmed to participate.

For more information please visit these events on Facebook: "R.I.P. ;; In memory of the recent suicides due to gay abuse, wear purple" and Spirit Day, A GLOBAL Day of remembering.

LGBT youth in need of immediate help should contact The Trevor Project 's 24/7 Lifeline at 866-4-U-TREVOR (866-488-7386) or The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

Also check out Dan Savage's It Gets Better video project on Youtube.