Archive | October, 2010

More on Public Play

14 Oct

Last night, i was trying to tell Mick and Molly more about what to expect at the play party they’re coming too. 

(Later, Sir D asked wryly, “Wasn’t that a bit like the blind leading the blind?”  {Laughing} “Yes, Sir, absolutely, it was!”) 

Seriously, i wasn’t trying to take an expert viewpoint;  i was just talking about what it’s been like for me.  After all, they’re newbie’s too.  (Or is that noobies?)

Of course, just talking to Mick and Molly live, in real life, was pretty cool.  Mick noticed that my accent sounds like – um, sounds like i come from the place i actually come from, which amused me.  But (just for the record) they both have nice voices and sound like – regular people. 

But here’s what i was trying to say last night:

The play party is drama.   Costumes and actors, each with an assigned role.  Stage sets and props.  Non-traditional theatre – the actors change clothes openly, preparing themselves in the lighted dressing area.  Moving in dimness, each couple or group finds their own way to their own curtain rising. 

The Dungeon Monitors keep a cautious eye on the action, available to anyone with questions, helping where needed.  They play the part of ushers, stage hands, and sometimes directors.   

Some people play the audience, simply watching the scenes unfolding around them.  This is an important role too

Rituals are carried out.  Fantasies are acted out.  Themes of passion and pain, control and abandon…

People laugh.  People cry out, moan.  Whimper.

As voyeur, it is surreal:  “having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream; unreal; fantastic.”  

Really?  Those two women have tied a naked man to that post – they stroke his back and whisper sweet nothings to him,  then calmly begin to whip him.  Really?  i’m standing here watching him squirm and struggle to escape the blows.  Seriously?   

It move me into “liminal time.”  “Betwixt and between.”  i am awake, and it is a dream.  Time stands still; time rushes by.   

Images shift and fade and reshape themselves.

The air is charged with energy, sexual energy is everywhere.  But it is controlled, chanelled, expressed and explored in the play – the drama.

O, i can’t do it justice.  It is magic, rite and ceremony, ancient wisdom and sacred space.

AND it is not mysterious at all.  i’m not trying to freak you out.  It’s just a group of ordinary people who like kinky sex.  Folks who like to get together and share their interests, like any group of hobbyists.  {Shrug}  It could be trains or crossword puzzles instead.   

We just happen to like whips and collars. 

No big deal.  You just need to use common sense.   Behave sensibly, like you would in any new situation.  

{Wicked smile}

 

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Public Events and Privacy

13 Oct

Big excitement – Mick and Molly are going to step out of the computer and into my real life!!  In a few weeks, they’re going to join Sir D and me at a munch and play party.   Last night, i was reading  Sin‘s blog reacting to Mick’s post on the upcoming event.  She was talking about her discomfort with the idea of “coming out,” so to speak.     

I can relate.  I’m not actually “out” myself.  i know people who are, but there are lots of degrees of being out.   So even someone who’s well known in the BDSM world may not be out to vanilla friends or family.  There is a certain amount of privacy built into the kink community. 

Most people at the events use only their first name.  My real first name is fairly unusual and would be easily recognized by anyone who’d heard of me, so I use “aisha,” which I think protects me to some extent.   A little bit anyhow.

Beyond that, there is a cloak of privacy over the events themselves.  The munches look like ordinary dinners – a social gathering of folks.  Not a class reunion, there’s too much age diversity.  But we could be chess players or animal rights activists or a group organized through a dating website. We have a private room in the restaurant, but dress in “granny wear” – clothes you could wear if you were seeing your granny.

The difference is in the details.  The woman with a dog collar around her neck.  Introductions – “This is my slave…”  Snatches of conversation – “So He gets out the flogger…”   “How long have you been in the lifestyle?”  “I found these really cute nipple clamps…”   Or just a reference to “the things that we do.” 

The difference is subtle.   The room is busy, people move around, greet each other, hug, laugh.  A man brings a woman her drink and instead of bending over, casually kneels beside her as he sets it down.   Was he required to do that?  A woman whispers in a man’s ear, he nods, and she heads into the bathroom.   Was she asking permission?  The dynamics play out all around us, often unnoticed.

We keep a low profile.  We are polite to the staff, and tip well.  If we have a problem with the service or a significant problem with the food, we refer it to Mr. M, our host.   

And underneath the ordinary veneer, energy hums.  We buzz.  Magic is in the air.    We say we’re like the wizzards in Harry Potter.  We go about our business and try not to let the Muggles know we exist.

After the dinner, we head for the play space.  The dungeon.

The address is carefully protected.  You have to be connected with the group in some way to know where the party is in the first place – or the munch, for that matter.  Newcomers are welcomed – and kind of vetted.  Mr. M, Miss C,  or other old timers will chat with them,  ask them how they found out about us, who they know and so on.   It’s polite; we want to know who’s in our community.

The windows of the dungeon are covered; no passer by could peep in.  And people patrol outside – showing us where to park, but also protecting.

At the dungeon,  some people change into fetish wear.   Women get laced into their corsets, men undress.  Women undress.  Leashes are attached to the collars.  The mysteries are unveiled.  

Other people are still in their vanilla clothes.   There isn’t a wrong way to do it.

Of course, there’s no guarantee i won’t run into someone i know.  It’s a small world.  And it’s happened to me already.  But it wasn’t the disaster i thought it would be.  After all, we were both very much in the same boat. 

And there are consequences for violating the privacy rules.  If you “out” someone, you’re banished from the community – and believe me, that would be gently but firmly enforced.  Other communities in the area are advised of the violation.  

So i hope to enjoy the community and still hang on to my privacy in the vanilla world. 

And i’m soooo excited about getting to meet Mick and Molly! 

 

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Take Six

12 Oct

This is my sixth attempt at a post today – damn it.  Maybe i should just do a picture and be done with it…

Results of the infamous yardstick

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On Saturday…

11 Oct

…. He was gone again. 

Yes, i had a lovely time.  Cock worship ~ elegant food ~ orgasms ~ interesting conversation, and o, yes – you already know ~ spanking. 

Actually, we had more than one of everything.  Not bad for about 20 hours together.   And even slept too! 

It was a whirlwind of pleasure.  i was half dazed  – functioning, but in some odd kind of way.   Mostly coherent, but partly lost in – o, yeah, that’s right – subspace.  That’s what it was.  

We work together pleasuring His cock.  He lets me take the lead -really, sometimes  my mouth just takes over.   i  taste and sense and savor;  i can feel what His cock wants next.    Then He shifts the rhythm, His hands in my hair, adjusts the angle so it hits my mouth a little differently.  i am learning what He likes.   His cock has its own desires.

We are in no hurry.  It is not about cuming, not yet.  i am happy sucking, licking, pleasing.  Enjoying the lovely cock filling my mouth.  When it’s time, the rhythm will change again, get serious.  The vein will throb so fiercely, i’ll feel it, and know.   Then, swirling tongue and sampling give way to steady sucking…

But that was then.   And it’s ok that He’s gone.  He had other stuff to do.  i’ll see Him again in a couple of weeks. 

i’m fine.

Really.

My orgasms were lovely too – with the little boxy vibrator, which is almost too much, almost doesn’t feel right, until at last it does.  The pleasure rises, not to a sharp peak and over – it rises to a lovely plateau – can that be right?  But it does – it hits the plateau and lingers and just when i think i’m stuck, it flows and rolls over and down, and then there’s another series of plateaus, each one a little more mellow, more pleasant than the one before.   O, so nice.

And it was so short a time. 

i’m not complaining.   It just was.

i’m fine.

i am.

Ok, i’m not. 

i’m on a stupid emotional roller coaster again.   And of course i don’t like it.  Frigging needy feelings just make me mad at myself.  

He pulls me so close to Him, and then He’s gone again.  i’m left grasping at air, struggling to keep my balance.   Crying almost before He’s out the door.  The feeling of His hand in my hair lingers.  Nipples tender, pussy still wet and ready.

i bounce in and out of that space  ~ buzzed on memories  ~ lonesome and sad ~ calm and at peace ~ over and over again.     

This evening, He IM’s me, we chat for a long time, and that helps.  i will text him Good Night, and that will help.

And – i will think of the Tibetan monks, who work with great care to create a sand mandala: 

 
 

Creating the mandala

Practically one grain of sand at a time…
They’ll work on it all week.  And when it’s done, they’ll take it to the river, and ceremoniously let the wind and water carry their creation away.  It’s about impermanence, right? and not clinging to things.
 
Tibetan monks, exiled from their home and impoverished, often seem to have smiles that transform and delight. 

With all the wonderful things in my life, how could i not be happy too?

i will remember that this week.  It won’t stop the roller coaster, but  i may remember to hold on, and let go.

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New toys

10 Oct

 “When someone beats a rug,
the blows are not against the rug,
but against the dust in it.”
— Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

Those lines are the perfect intro to His new toy. 

This is an old-fashioned carpet beater. It can be used in other ways too. Yes, that's one of them. Yikes.

He didn’t take pictures of the cross hatches on my butt.   You’ll just have to imagine them.

i think this was worse than the – you know, the cooking implement.  But it’s hard to say. 

In any case,  i think i’m pretty dust-free at the moment.  {Laughing}

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A Final Word on the Risotto Spoon

9 Oct

It's 3/4 inches thick, maple wood. He barely tapped me with it. Need I say more?

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It’s Friday…

8 Oct

…and sometime late this afternoon, His car will pull into my driveway.  i can’t wait!

Well, i guess really i can, since i have a zillion things to do before then.  A meeting this morning, and some loose ends from work to tie up.   Then,  free to do some laundry, get my nails done, shave, change the sheets, and so on.  i do love the rituals and routines of getting ready for Him.    

On a different note, i had a tough day at work yesterday, and last night i was feeling sad.  Not my own sad really, but other people’s sadness weighing on me a little bit.   i needed someone to listen to my feelings.   Not to make them go away, not to try to fix them, not to fix me.  Just  to listen.  To acknowledge them.

And  Sir D was so perfect.    He did just that, listened.  That helped contain the feelings, and i felt better.  i forget sometimes  – the power of being heard.  Even though that’s probably the main thing i do all day – hear people.   It’s good to be reminded of how good it feels on the other end.

And then, after all that, He mentioned that the risotto spoon was not the only thing He was bringing today.  He has another implement of impact  up His sleeve.  

Well, He has lots of implements at His disposal all the time, right?  i mean, this is a man who has different toy collections in different parts of His house.   But the tool He mentioned is apparently noteworthy.  Not run-of-the-mill even for Him.   So i’m sure i can’t imagine what He’s got in store for me.  

He almost sent me a picture of it, whatever “it” is.  Then He decided not to.  So i’m left in suspense.  Lots of suspense, because –

– with all these spanking fantasies i’ve been indulging myself in, it’s pretty clear that i’m going to have a spanking reality in a few hours.   And the closer i get to that, the more i want to backpedal a little.   Just a little.  Because, you know, i’m not a masochist…

…i’m not that into pain. 

Or maybe i am.  i don’t know.  

Maybe it’ll hurt too much and i won’t be able to take it and Sir will be disappointed. 

Or maybe i’ll want more, and He’ll think i’m TOO much of a pain slut. 

Or maybe i’ll make myself crazy with all my maybe’s, and waste a lot of time and energy, when really i just need to let it go and let it be what it becomes.

Hmmm {laughing} i’m thinking maybe i should check the “let it go and let it be” option.  

Which means getting centered.  Finding that sweet spot of surrender.  i know where to look for it…

…deep inside myself. 

i picture myself kneeling.  Of course.  Palms up on my thighs.  i am already aroused – moving into the last hours of orgasm denial, i am constantly wet – marinating in my own juices, as ‘Nilla says. 

My pussy throbs, clenches, a shiver runs through me.  i tingle.

My mouth longs for His taste.   Nipples harden, anticipating His touch.   i want His hand in my hair.

i am open, receptive, waiting. 

Yes, i want Him to spank me, in His time, in His way.  i let go of my fantasies and my anxieties about what it should be.   i capture all the “what-ifs” in one hand, and toss them in the air;  they fly away, like butterflies.

Free of all that nonsense, joy remains.  And excitement.   

{Smiles}  i can’t wait.

A BDSM Riddle

7 Oct

The Riddle:

A Dominant and a submissive are sitting at a table, sharing a plate of food.  You can see them, but can’t hear them.   One of them is cutting the food into bite sized portions, and feeding them to the other person.   Which one is the Dominant and which one the submissive?

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i heard that riddle at the BDSM convention of course.  And i thought about it because of Sin’s comment on my post about how much i like to rub Sir’s feet.  Sin said:

“And it makes me envious a couple of different ways. I would like to do this for him. But you know, I’d also like someone to do it for me. It sounds divinely sensual. Maybe I need a sub/slave to worship me?”

i could totally relate to what she’s saying.  i LOVE to have my feet massaged.  And i actually have a lot more experience on the receiving end of that than on the giving end.   Having my feet rubbed sends me into this blissed out space, and back in my vanilla relationship days, more than one man discovered that it leaves me grateful and open to  all kinds of suggestions.

When i got married the second time,  to a man who might or might not have actually been dominant – ok, i guess not, probably not, but maybe he thought he was for a while there, or maybe he was just humoring me, i don’t know.  Anyhow.  i’ll call him “B.”  

B liked to massage me – feet, and other parts as well.  With lotion.  Warmed a little in the microwave.  Which was – well, “nice” would be a ridiculous understatement.  Really.  He spent hours rubbing my body.  We’d be sitting on the couch watching a movie, and he’d have me put my feet in his lap and rub them. 

And it didn’t occur to me to wonder if this was a sign that he wasn’t really dominant.  i mean, we were pretty isolated in our relationship anyhow – no blogs, no munches, no one to talk about our experiences with.  So he’d say, “Feet.  Here.” maybe snap his fingers,  point to his lap and – well, who wouldn’t have obeyed?

But i wonder now.  Is that something that Dominants just don’t do? 

You know, i don’t want to get too deep into what my relationship with B was like, but he made it seem like it was a way to possess me, and that worked for me.   If anyone had told me it meant something was wrong with our D/s dynamic, i’d have probably laughed at them anyhow. 

But some rude awakenings and one divorce later –   Sin’s comment really got me thinking.    What’s your experience and thoughts?  Do Doms/Dommes, Masters/Mistresses not do massages,  foot rubs, and such?  Is that a submissive phenomenon?

O, and the riddle?  The answer, of course, is that you can’t tell who’s Dominant and who’s submissive without more information.  The submissive might be serving by feeding the Dominant.  Or the Dominant might be controlling the submissive’s food intake.  It could be either way – you can’t tell by looking. 

Which do you see first - the vase or the two women's faces?

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Just for Me?

6 Oct

i had to go handle a crisis call after work tonight, so i didn’t get home til late.  Checked my e-mail as soon as i walked in the door, and –

– there was an e-mail from Sir D.  Which is unusual.  There was an attachment.  Which i opened.  Of course. 

It was a photo:

 

You might think you’ve seen this before, but um, no. It wasn’t this one.

 

Sir says it’s “substantial.”

i say, “Yikes.”

He says, “I think I will enjoy it.”  That He’ll enjoy it, that is.

i think maybe we should make risotto with it.

{Laughing}

O – Mick – He says He got it at Jungle Jim’s.  And – now that i think about it – You started this whole risotto spoon thing.  i’ll remember that on Friday!

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Reality

6 Oct

Sir D will be here Friday!

Yes, that means i’m on orgasm denial starting – now.  Not a bad place to be, with its promise of better days coming soon.  i meant to, you know, take care of myself last night, but was so tired from the previous night that i fell asleep too fast.  That’s unfortunate.  i’ll be strung so tight by the time He gets here that i may cum if He looks at me.

O.  He won’t think that’s a bad thing, will He?      

So i tamp down the excitement and the arousal, pack it tighter.  It’s a process.  Images of Him flash through my mind – Him standing at the door, that first moment, when we are strange to each other.  And the quick shift into the familiar;  yes, i know this man, my Sir.   

i know His hands on me.  Recognze the touch that strokes, twists, pinches, caresses.  That sends shivers through me now, remembering.

i know His face, His expressions.  Tending to serious, intense.  His smile breaks through like – stupid cliches – like sunshine on a cloudy day.  (Yes, you can hum a few bars…)  His smile is inordinately thrilling for me; a reward all by itself.

i think about His feet, and how much i like to rub and caress them.  i like to take His shoes off – i untie the laces carefully, not like my own shoes that i drag off my feet still tied.  i untie his laces, open the shoe so i can slip it off His foot gently.  His socks, not yanked off and left half-balled up inside out.  i slide each one off,  trying to do it smoothly.   Stoke them as i lay them aside.

Sometimes, we talk while i rub His feet.  The motion is soothing and sensual for me.  i can talk freely, feeling less self-concious than i sometimes do when our attention is completly on the words.   And it turns me on, the pleasures of sharing thoughts and caressing Him combined – my body warms, skin tingles, moisture leaks from my pussy. Not a demanding arousal, but a foundation for more passionate intimacy. 

i write these things, and i think, Damn, woman, you’re awfully vulnerable here, aren’t you?   What are you thinking????  It’s crazy enough that you feel this way, why share it with the world?  Why share it with Him?

But that’s the beauty of BDSM and blogs and being who i am in the second half of life.  i don’t understand so many things about D/s dynamics, but i think i get this:  somehow, it makes me safe to give what i have to offer. 

That thought leads me down all kinds of paths – i want to tell you about Mollena, who presented at the BDSM workshop on submission.  i want to share my ideas about giving and receiving, and how i think that works.  And of course, i want to talk more about the experience of being with my Sir. 

All  of which will have to wait for future posts.  my morning routine demands attention.  And –

– i need to put away the longing and the lust.  Half close the door, dismiss the sensations, shake off the spell.  

Sigh.

Two more days…   

 

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