Sunday, February 27, 2011
When Daddy and I go to parties, like most people, we spend some time playing. The party we attended this weekend was no different. We’d caught up with some friends, joked around for a while, and then we’d had a fabulous caning scene. We’d used what I’d learned after the last party about communication during a scene, and it really helped both of us enjoy things much more.
But typically what happens, is that I wear Daddy out. I never thought much about being a heavy bottom, but when things get going, and especially when we’re both focused, I tire him out just as I’m getting that boost of energy for more. We’d talked about this phenomenon and as a result, I usually set up a second scene for myself. When I’m the one doing the topping.
My best friend Radagast22 is a heavy bottom. Because he’s involved in a LDR with a wonderful woman from Seattle, he’s often alone at parties. And since I know how it feels to be on the sidelines while everyone else is having fun, really needing to get flogged or caned, and going home frustrated, I usually plan my second scene with him. Because he’s my best friend, we have a somewhat different dynamic than is typically found in a dungeon. Our thing is that we like to make each other laugh. That is, until the day when I can make him cry. I’m working on that.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Septimus told me a story one time about gossip. And a feather pillow. You can read the gist of it here: Gossip
I’m seeing a hell of a lot of feathers being scattered my way. And I can’t for the life of me figure out how to put them back in the pillow.
In the past few months, I’ve had a sockpuppet account tease me with some not well-known, but not entirely hidden, information about an acquaintance of mine. I’ve had people contacting me about things that I “should” know about people I’ve never met. I’ve had people make serious accusations of wrongdoing, sometimes bordering on criminality. I’ve had messages regarding “what really happened” and read threads on Fetlife containing thinly (or sometimes not so thinly) veiled allegations of wrongdoing, wrongdomming, and blaming. And I think to myself only one thing: “what the fuck am I supposed to DO about it?”
When I respond to threads on Fetlife, I don’t do a shit ton of research into a profile. I look, but I generally try to take the questions asked at Face Value. Even if there is some backstory of which I’m unaware, I always figure that the question, and the answers it receives, might be of value to someone else. I don’t generally try to answer a question by second-guessing what’s been posted. And if there is more to the story that might affect my particular answer, I’d hope the person with the information would post openly. Or keep quiet and not send private messages. If it’s not important enough for everyone to know, it’s not important for only a few to know. And its certainly not important enough for me to be told privately. If it’s important, if it’s criminal, if it’s potentially dangerous, then keeping it to yourself or telling only a few people using hushed whispers and innuendo is not only unhelpful to anyone, it puts me in a rather precarious position of maybe knowing something about someone I don’t know which may or may not be true and about which I can’t do a damned thing.
I also have to believe that the people whispering TO me are also whispering ABOUT me. Whether they’ve “heard” something, or thought something, or made up something, I can only imagine. It wreaks havoc on my brain trying to figure out which one of my friends is going to start whispering about me.
And finally, what should I do when the next sockpuppet or covert account contacts me about YOU? (that’s a metaphorical you, not a specific one) Should I tell you? We’re friends after all. And as much as I may be friends with the person you’ve just tarred and feathered in my inbox, should I then keep those allegations from you? Being my friend and all?
Once that vicious circle has started, I can’t unhear what you’ve told me. But I do know that I’m tired of the whispers. Either own your words, put your name to them and stand behind them, or don’t tear open that featherpillow.
The goose that’s saved may someday be your own.
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Roadmaps of Consent - I fucking love consent. I love safewords. I can be much more cruel, and push much harder, if I trust my partner to tell me when I go too far.
Staying Safe - One cock, from one man, missing one condom, ultimately led to my brother’s death. And that sucks.
Flying the Friendly Skies - One button on her sweater was undone, there was a rip in her hose, scratches on her boots, and her hair was carelessly pinned back with stray wisps of hair escaping. There was a curious flavor of soiling about her, something a bit dirty and unkempt.
~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~Labels and my thoughts... - In the past year and a half I have gone from being someone that was lost, without identity that fit, rattling around inside myself to someone that has names for what they are.
~ e[lust] Editress: Dangerous Lilly
See also: Pleasurists #116 and #117 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!Kink & Fetish
5 Kinky Toys from the Dollar Store
Alive in my Skin
Digitalized for Posterity
He ripped a string of orgasms from me, and then ramped it up
Orgasms, Spoons Rests, and Fishnets! (The Play Party)
Punishment, humiliation and bondage
Schoolgirl in Saturday Detention
Steeling The Show
A Little Night Music
Crisp White Linens
dancing with (& then kinkily fucking) the dj
In the Mirror
My First Anal Sex
Schoolgirl Part 1
You're Gonna Keep My Soul
A Doggie Kind of Love
Ashamed?! Are You Kidding Me?
Giggles, Groans and Panting
I Can Imagine How You Feel
Sex As Love
6 Moves Men Need to Be Sex Gods in the Bedroom
The COME HITHER QUIVER -or- How To Squirt
What I Want
Sunday, February 20, 2011
It is the epitome of stupidity to continually do the same thing over and over again, knowing the outcome will be the same, yet hoping for a different result. I’m guilty of this. And yet I keep beating myself up because the end result never changes. And boy, can I beat myself up.
I’ve been perving videos on the Kink Academy for some fun, kinky shit to try out. I’d watched the flogging video by Dov, some rope videos by Graydancer, and even a caning video by Princess Kali and I had planned to write my next post on any of those three things. I’ve been practicing my flogging and I’d wanted to try out any or all of those things on a friend or two and write about that. I will get to that eventually. But something came up and so I turned to the Kink Academy for help.
We went to another party. It was low-key and with people that are dear friends. It had been a while since we’d really played. So I was surprised that same kind of thing that always happens, happened again. With no clear idea of what Sir had planned, without some idea of where he was going, I followed along, hoping that this time, I’d “get it right”. I never really know which reaction will appear, and I never can be sure which one is going to be the one he’s looking for. When we hit on compatible expectations, that is- with him hitting the right buttons and me reacting in a way that he expects, things work out pretty good. But when there’s a disparity, they turn out pretty badly. I cannot, despite what anyone may think, control my reactions. They just…happen.
Read More at the Kink Academy....
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
I like helping people out. Especially when it comes to porn.I jumped at the chance to take the survey, but had gotten only to the first page when it asked me for me for my name. My real name as an electronic signature. I stopped. And I backed out of the survey.
I’ve met Charlie Glickman. I’ve read his blog, heard him speak, and consider him an authority on many issues dealing with sexuality. While I would answer any questions honestly and completely, and while I don’t have a problem using my “Screen Identity”, I was squicked by the fact that I would have had to attach my real identity to questions concerning porn. Especially on the internet. The uncontrollable, wild west of intolerance, good intentions and unintentional consequences. I could have used a made up name. But that seemed worse than not answering the questions at all.
That thought made me not more than a little bit ashamed. Time for a reality check.
I’m not even sure if why I felt like that. I have friends who make porn. I have friends who sell porn, who write about porn, who advocate for porn. I watch porn. I don’t have personal morality issues with porn. Whenever I think about porn, my thoughts are usually that I don’t think overmuch about it. I know if I like it. I know what makes me uncomfortable when I watch it. And I know what turns me on. My friends who are in the industry aren’t ashamed of it. Rather, they’re willing to answer any questions I might have. I don’t know exactly how I feel about it, but whatever it was, the thought of attaching my name to a survey about it made me uncomfortable.
Considering what I do myself on a Saturday night at a party, if a kinky woman is worried about attaching her name to an educational survey about porn, that’s really fucked up. And, then it occurred to me that THAT's EXACTLY what the anti-porn people are going for. They WANT to make me ashamed of watching and LIKING porn. They want me to feel ashamed. If they could make ME feel it, I could only imagine what someone without my own personal proclivities might feel.
So, I could feel ashamed, as the anti-porn zealots would prefer; or I could feel liberated and true to myself. I could ignore the survey and not feel anything at all. But how then could I ever hope to look some of my friends in the face again? Knowing that I, a kinky fucking pervert, let some unknown person convince me that liking porn is shameful. I would feel like a fucking hypocrite to look in the face of one of my very dearest and most wonderful friends.
So, Fuck it. I like porn, erotica and sexually explicit materials. It’s not illegal, immoral or shameful. I like it for the way it makes me feel, and I even like it when it makes me uncomfortable. I’m not ashamed for liking porn. If my name somehow gets linked to the fact that I like porn, is that the worst thing?
I think I’d be in very good company.
Now excuse me, I’m off to answer a survey.
Monday, February 7, 2011
A thread on Fetlife got me thinking about service. So for my first assignment for the Kink Academy, I thought I’d try to find out a little bit more about what exactly is meant by the term “service” in a d/s context. Or rather, if my own thoughts about what it is, needed a little readjustment.
I was thinking about that thread when I starting poking around the videos at the Kink Academy to see if they could help me figure out what people meant when they talked about service. I wanted to see if I could figure out the difference between just doing “something”, and doing something as “service”. And of course, the Kink Academy didn’t let me down.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011