Tag Archive: BDSM


what I dream about at night

Nights like these, where I can’t sleep, I turn to my good friend, the orgasm. Continue reading

Advertisements

ah, stress…

Stress has led me to be rather subtle with my approach. A subtle approach is often non-effective. I really must change this attitude I have that I have decided what will happen; it’s sabotaging my ability to get what I want. I should learn to throw caution to the wind and accept the future for what it may.

We crawl into bed and it’s hard to not talk about the stress and what’s stressing us out. Continue reading

1993

That was the year I first remember hurting myself deliberately. I concentrated very hard, considering what I was about to do. I remember assuring myself, steeling myself, saying to myself, the next step, this next step, I’m going to do it, no matter how much it hurts. Continue reading

Switch

There are times, however, when I don’t want to feel submissive. Times I don’t want to defer control. Sometimes I am the one in control … most recently, with T, the close-at-hand boyfriend.

T is submissive by himself. I daren’t ask him to dominate me … aside from the fact that Master disallows it … since he’s so submissive I doubt he could manage to truly throw me down in a way that had meaning. I have to believe it, or I’ll fight back. I don’t believe it, so I don’t fight back, or submit — I dominate. It’s a setting, almost, an if-I’m-not-being-dominated-then-dominate switch.

I dominate T in ways that don’t seem like actual domination. He came out of a relationship where he had everything he’d asked, for a long time. When he started dating me, I made it patently clear to him that he was not going to be able to ask-and-receieve … that it was up to me whether he got it or not, and that sometimes, the answer would be ‘not.’

He pays his attentions to me, occasionally getting me very riled up — I tease him back, enjoying how I manipulate his responses with my body. Eventually we are breathless, nearly on top of one another, quivering with anticipation. When he takes me, he takes me over and over again, on my urging, until we collapse in a heap, exhausted, hot and sweaty.

I like teasing him with my body and studying his responses… pretending I don’t notice the erection brushing against my wrist, pre-cum trailing down my side, my arm. I will deliberately graze sensitive areas and tease myself away — rolling over in bed and twisting. Arms wrapped around me are manipulated so they grip me in a sexual way or not at all … hard to stay unaroused when your hand encircles my breast.

It amuses my Master when I tell him about it, how I coax and tease this man into a frenzy with my body, and let him give me orgasms until I am gasping and dry-mouthed. I return the favor … painfully slowly … but the painful holding back always gives way to a grappling acrobatic sex act, something stimulating mentally as well as physically. I know he enjoys having the opportunity to enjoy my curves, dampness and folds, to bury himself in woman as I know he desires. I am predatory in my ways, yes, but my prey is not mishandled.

My master soothed me on the phone today, telling me about how I shouldn’t be afraid to talk about how much I love sex, even sex with men who aren’t him, even how much I enjoy fucking T. He has the option to not read it, and would rather hear about my enjoyable moments than have me keep my mouth shut about all the good parts for fear he’ll get jealous. If he only hears the bad parts he is similarly disinclined to let me play with boys!

I remember the last time I played with girls in earnest, how I beat the one with the crop, how disappointed I was when she cried out “too much!” … my Master talks of one day acquiring a lovely little slut besides myself, and training her to be a third. I imagine, sometimes, watching my Master fuck her, fill her with semen … I like to imagine what a theater show that would be. It would appear as if I’m a bit of a voyeur.

In talking about my tendency to switch, my Master and I discussed some of the other sexual activities I’m interested in exploring with him. We came out with a pretty impressive list, one that reads much like a porn category browser and not as a list of kinks: group sex, bisexuality, anal, DP, BDSM, voyeurism, cuckolding, roleplay, nonconsent, and on, and on. How much of this do I¬†want to explore with my Master? All of it — even if he’s not the most involved party member, and is simply the one in control.

How interesting … that I dominate when left to my own devices, but when Master is involved, he automatically gets control, in my mind. I think it’s telling … I think it’s good.

Drawing Up the Contract

There’s a lot of backstory to all of this, but I promised myself not to write this blog in chronological order. If I started at the beginning and worked my way to the end, I’d never be finished. There’s so much I’m here to discover and enjoy.

I have had all kinds of problems in my history believing certain things, good things, about myself. I was raised by alcoholics, who are well known for their ability to defer blame — it was not their fault, it was my fault, kind of thing. I grew up in this environment, somewhat toxic, with a stunted ability to love myself, to believe in myself, to stand up for myself, to know I was lovable.

I’ve struggled with mental health issues and relationship issues, especially among best-friends. I felt for a long time as if nobody would understand me, as if I was perhaps so weird as to be unlovable. That is, until I met my Master.

He loved me, and loved me so hard — it’s as if he believed that by loving me hard enough, he’d be able to reverse the brokenness in my brain. Well, he’s discovered that he can’t reverse this thing simply by loving me hard enough, but together, we’ve come up with a plan.

We’ve long enjoyed together games of power and lust and control¬†… especially with him on top, and me being submissive to him. We’ve decided together that we’re going to come up with a plan … a plan to help train me to be the person I am capable of being — that person who is lovable, and who loves herself. I’ve long frustrated my Master with my tendency to brush off compliments but take criticism in close — he has determined that there should be punishment for such a slight against his judgement, and I agree with him.

Maybe it seems a bit extreme — a beating for some self deprecation — but the upside is it’s something we both want. A new realm to explore, sexually, something special just for the two of us, something we’ve dreamed about for a long time.

I enjoy the pleasure-in-pain that comes with BDSM. I wonder if it reduces my tendency to self-injure, and why — I know I have had far fewer episodes of SI since we started talking seriously about doing bondage. That said, there’s things like stretching my piercings that some would see as SI that I am not defining as such — but the days of head-scratching lip-biting skin-pinching are over.

Mostly I enjoy deferring control to him. I worry about everything, all the time. This is no different when I’m having sex — I worry about pleasure, his pleasure, my pleasure, whether we’ll have orgasms, together, separately, whether he’s enjoying my body, whether it’s a good position, etcetera. I spend very little mental time actually enjoying the feelings of having sex … I think this is why I like to defer control.

If I’m being controlled while somebody takes me, I need not be concerned for their pleasure — it is up to them to be concerned for their pleasure. Nor do I need to be worried about my own — it is up to them to take me and have me how they will — I’ll simply enjoy the act of being taken by force and lustfully fucked.

I’m incredibly lucky in this sense to have who I have, this nonjudgmental person, gentle but strong, firm when delivering those whistling strikes to my ass. He enjoys the submissiveness of the situation too, though I’d be hard pressed to say specifically what it is about said submissiveness it is that turns him on.

I know I enjoy the feeling of helplessness, limbs restrained, as digits and perhaps toys probe my nether regions. I enjoy not being able to control what happens to me sexually — I want all the attention I can get, nevermind the technical nonconsensuality behind it. I love being something so lusted after that he can’t help but mount me and fuck me given the opportunity.

Of course, rules need to be drawn up. When is it appropriate to correct me, and for what? What are appropriate levels of correction for each infraction? What requires a single correction and what justifies an entire afternoon spent in a scene, slowly torturing me and punishing me into a whimpering pile of woman, mewling softly for cock.

I must say that the more Master and I talk about his plans for me, how he plans to train me for the future, I get all wet and excited. He assigns me homework — toys to get used to, since he’ll want to use them on me, that kind of thing — and then demands pictures via camphone. I don’t dare let anyone look at my cell phone album now — if they did, they’d see some very compromising things.

Maybe that’s part of his ulterior motive, I wonder … to make me walk around, all self-conscious, wet in the panties and with a shot of my pussy in my pocket.

That would be humiliating in the perfect way to amuse him.

He’s far-far away now, on this business trip, and we talk on the phone… he whispers to me, in a hoarse and quiet voice, hiding somewhere … a storage closet, maybe? … all the dirty things he wants to do to my body, and make me do to his. Sometimes it’s all I can do to not sink to my knees right there, at the sound of his husky master-voice, the voice he only uses with his slut, when he calls me his slut.

Until I can get close to him and see him and taste him, have me scoop me up in his arms and trot me off someplace, I will have to content myself with this — with imagery, with text, and with that expectant feeling between my legs.

First steps

I’m hoping to be able to make updating this blog a semi-regular thing. I’ve tried these blogs before but they always devolve into silence, what with me being unable to write explicitly about what I actually want to write about.

No more.

I’m in a decidedly lonely position. My common-law husband, my primary boyfriend of six-and-some years, has moved far, far away for job training. Meanwhile, I am living with my secondary boyfriend, a man I’ve been dating for eight months. My Master has only recently allowed me to have intercourse with this man, as he has been positioned to be my caretaker while my Master is gone.

I am unable to discuss my relationship in open terms — I live in an area with highly conservative and even religious tendencies, which makes being ‘open’ about my lifestyle somewhat dangerous. Then there’s the lack of those who would truly understand, who see that this isn’t just an opportunity for me to act like a hedonistic whore and fuck whoever I want within a 12 yard radius.

Though there is a little bit of that in there, too.

The last few days have been packed — with discussion, mostly on what next. I’ve been awake all night, and he all day, so our communication (long-distance of course) has consisted of a flurry of nasty text-messages sent in spurts at two in the morning. I think I communicated more with my Master than with the man I’m currently fucking — the one presently sleeping in Master’s bed.

We have this convoluted system of rules, rules we’ve built for each other out of love. He would truly do anything for me, and this is outlined in the kind of freedom I get by way of these rules.

I remember high school, dating when we were young, discussing polyamory even then. The rule was girls-only, that Master would be the only man in my life. I was happy, and pursued what came to be one of my first loves, a large-breasted curvy beauty, amazonian (near six feet tall, she proclaimed,) and delicious.

We romped until she got a boyfriend she was serious about, for a time. A man named T, who was okay with the fact she’d romped with me prior to him. He shrugged, saying simply “You were there first.” I liked him, and his opposite-ness to my Master. He was smaller, shorter, with a propensity for more romance and gentleness than my Master. I enjoyed toying with the thought of this other man… the first other man I’d ever been attracted to, besides my Master.

Meanwhile, Master and I built a loving and satisfying sex life on a mutual love for rough sex and pervy roleplaying. I adored every moment, but could feel my mind scratching at something more … I would not say I was dissatisfied. In fact, quite the opposite — I was more satisfied than I had ever been, and yet I still craved more.

I asked my Master for his permission, which was granted to me. I’m forever grateful to my Master for giving me this liberty, and it is for reasons such as this that I love him so forcefully — I know my Master would do anything for me.

I have decided to create this blog. It’s a space for me to talk about my sexuality, one place where I can be open. Open about my bisexuality, my polyamorous relationship, the dom/sub relationship I’m building … my entire sexuality, in one spot.

It is here for me to express myself.

Finally.