The blame game: Fetlife hysteria

So many posts, tweets, reddits and what not about Fetlife not protecting its users, not upholding TOU, victim blaming, abuser protecting.. So many rants about how the kink community is upholding the" blame the victim" mentality.

But people... this is silly.  We are blaming Fetlife but, fetlife  is not a person.  It does not represent unity, a specific set of ideals, philosophies or ideals.  It is merely a social networking site that allows all of us kinky folk a place to meet and gather, talk and listen.

I realize that in a perfect world there would be a kintopia in which everyone would skip along, flogging you exactly the way you want, when you want and never a misundertanding would occur.  But that world cannot exist with us conflicted, complex and diabolic humans in it.  Just like the vanilla world does not have it's euotipia garden, neither do we bdsm'ers and the like.

Us kinksters are not so easily pigeon holed.  Sure, most of us on Fetlife are a bit kinky (or more than a bit) but our interests are widely varried, as are our beliefs, values, cultures, societal values.... and so on.  Just because we all self identify as kinky does not mean that we all think as a unit.

*Gasp* there are assholes on Fetlife?  Drama Queens? Liars?  Abusers?  Victims? Say it isn't so!!! I do not understand the shock and horror that seems to be rampant as we are told of tale after tale of non consent, assault, lies, outing and general assholerly.  Where there are people there will be problems.  Not pretty, not ideal, but very realistic.

I am part of the Fetlife community.  I am part of my local kink community.  I am part of several real world kink communities. Yet I do not support abuse.  I do not support abusers.  I do not tell sexual abusers that they are to blame.  I certainly am not the only one who works hard to play consensually-hell I am not even part of some minority group who is morally superior to the rest.  Just as the majority of humans do not murder, I suggest that the majority of Fetlifers are not abusers.  So what gives with the smear campaign? 

I firmly believe that we are all responsible for our choices. That being said, the person who violates another in any manner is ultimately responsible for those actions.  Period.  If I walk buck naked down the fucking highway I am not "asking for it".  Period. Many people, kinky or not, uphold some sort of similar value.  It is the few that do NOT that create these problems, not the entire group.

Yes our community leaders try to promote the concepts of Safe, Risk Aware, Consent, Sane, Safecalls, you name it.  That does not mean that every kinksters follow all the rules.  Hell, I bet everyone of us can come up with at least one example of a time we did not quite follow the beautiful rules.  We are a diverse group.  Humans are complicated.

Refusing to post on fetlife to show support for a victim is like refusing to orgasm to show support.  Neither of those things help the victim. Help the victim by supporting education, women's rights, programs for sex abusers.  Help the victim by sending them verbal support.  Fetlife itself is not to blame for these horrid acts.  The abuser is to blame. Baku is not responsible.  The abuser is responsible.

Baku and fetlife staff do an incredible job.  They provide us our playground, and allow us anonymity.  They don't take sides, Baku is not a judge nor a court.

Would it be lovely if he had magic and could be absolutely fucking sure who is telling the truth and who is not? If he then could ban the evils?  You bet!  But he has no magic.  He has his hands very full, I am sure, with all the reports he has to sort already.  Expecting him to just know who is a probelm and who is truly the victim is ridiculous.

So please... trashing Fetlife does not address abuse, it does not help the victims past or present.  It only creates more rifts in our community.

Incredible Journey: Sunday at Luper

Even though my Sir, Firm-Hand-Buddha had played fairly hard upon my ass and etc Friday night, by Sunday I had not a mark, which has been something Firm-Hand-Buddha has heard a great deal of whining about. I have a friend who is fairly new to the lifestyle and has that lovely skin that marks beautifully, and I am jealous!! My marks these days fade within an hour. This silly yearning for marks has led me to do all sorts of silly things, from using exfoliating cleansers on my ass to derma-abrasion... but to no avail. The skin of my ass just heals like magic these days.

The dungeon was much busier this time (in comparison to Friday). Our favorite benches were in use, and Sir decided to forgo playing with his new wand. (Yes I was disappointed dammit!! But as a spank-a-holic I prevailed and did not drag my feet at all.. .much. Sir picked out a kneeling style bench, and kindly did not use any of the eye-bolts to restrain me.

He loosened my corset, quite a bit, which is usually a sign that this is going to be long and hard-otherwise usually it is just enough for me to bend. I love my corset, just in case anyone was wondering. I could see his boots, and reached as if to untie his laces, which of course got me that playful, "Don't think about it!" (Why do those words make me so wet??)

Sir's warm up was short and sweet, leaving my backside very warm and eliciting all sorts of blush causing sounds from me. I could clearly hear the conversation of the leather folk in front of me, which, for whatever reason, added to my head space. It was Swat! Smack! "Hmmm, How about the weather here? It's so windy" Smack! Moan, Blush, writhe. "Did anyone see.." I felt as if I was of no note, not important at all. Even when the comments may have been about me or Sir (or not) it was so indirect that I felt completely objectified. Not usually my thing, really, but this time, in this moment, it was perfect.

Again I was facing the crowd (was i the only one that noted that most equipment seemed to be this way this year? Am I the only one that likes to hide their face?). With all the over-stimulation of the weekend, between classes, the market, the hundreds of kink folk everywhere...well I was not finding it difficult to sink into that lovely cocoon of safe and yummy that some call subspace.

Sir, perhaps in response to how easily I was managing his initial erm high spirited swats, stepped up his game. I swear, the moment I was able to find my rhythm, there he was smacking harder, faster or in more tender spots. My hands were not fastened and I writhed, often grabbing his leg in a desperate measure to be able to not make a spectacle of myself. I would sink into that yummy space and Sir would grin evilly (or so I imagined) and pull me up just a bit.. I would finally sink again and he would up the ante and yard me out again. I have no idea how I managed to not lift off that bench.
And so we danced.

He led the dance with his implements, working my skin and nerves to exhaustion. His hand swinging to a beat only he can hear as he led me through bucking, moaning, begging, and yes giggling. The music added an element to the dance in a very ... strong way.

He beat me and my body begged for more. He drew from me sounds, motions and emotions-I could feel myself being molded-filling with a need to just be all he demanded. In that instant I submitted in a way I had never really felt before. This was no longer about my love of spankings (etc), but this was about us. About him. About giving over myself. It was a beautiful moment.
My body followed his without my willing it. I bucked for him, I squirmed for him, I raised my hips to help him. i quivered, I sobbed, I moaned. I didn't give a flying shit if I looked ridiculous, sounded pathetic... all I cared about was the dance, his lead, the moment.

I have no idea what this was in reality, but from where I was it felt frantic, as if the speed and force were so erratic and out of control, as my hands scrambled for a way to anchor me, my hips lifted and churned... I was certainly frantic. Nothing hurt but I felt as if I had become the dance-I was the the tempo.

Then things slowed. Time fragmented as I felt ebony against my skin. i could hear my breathing, my whimpers, and every inch of my skin tingled and pulsed as he pressed that dreaded and loved paddle against my skin. My hips lifted, my body melted, relaxed.

The impact streamed red, and I begged, writhed, found my center and again lifted, and melted. And again. And again. And I had not vision of this ever ending, no concept for anything but this incredible dance. My world had become narrowed down to this sensation, the feel of my bruised flesh yeilding...
I could hear Sir talking to me, his voice wrapping around me and i became aware that I was sobbing.. Tears streamed my face. My first coherent thought was "Oh my gawd.. Am I drooling?"
As I came back into my head, Sir's hand stroking my back and face, I finally clued in to what he was saying. I don't remember the phrasing, but he had drawn blood.

With my inner voice screaming hysterically (I hate blood, no blood nooooooooooo) I calmly asked how bad it was. (points for me!). He had just smacked a welt, and it was merely a droplet. I had no idea what the dungeon protocol for this was, so we agreed he should find the DM and find out. And get a band-aid.

So there i was, DM and Sir peering at my ass while I died a thousand deaths of embarrassment, and I look up and straight into a set of friendly eyes, watching with interest. i know we spoke, but high as I still was, and as red faced as I surely was, I remember not a word, other than he was amused and I laughed as well. All while my Sir and a man I barely met are poking at my ass.

Sir wrapped me up, helped me up and half carried me to a chair. By the time he returned with a band-aid i was hyper as hell, bouncing and giddy.

Thank you Sir, for taking me to new places. For understanding how to give me what I need and never making me feel like a freak. For creating this safe, and yes damn you sacred place where I am free to be me.

Thank you to those in the crowd that unwittingly added to my scene, bwahaha. And of course, thanks to the DM.

PS. It is 8 days later and I have some lovely marks still. While I get that I can't be playing like that all the time, (sigh) this made my day!!

Why did I say that???

"You can pick whatever dungeon piece you want, I'm game" I offered foolishly. I am still unsure as to what, exactly I was thinking. Perhaps the near emptiness of the dungeon lulled me into feeling safe in such an offer... perhaps I was a bit high from all the excitement of the market and toga party... perhaps my trust in him has grown to a depth that allows for me to be ok with less dignified positions, less romantic public displays, challenges and blushes. perhaps I am just foolish...

"Those stocks look interesting," he grins at me. That grin.. Sir, you darn well know I love that grin of yours. I glanced nervously over at the piece in question (Side note... Bondage Jerry makes the most amazing stuff. If ever someone wants to gift me, that is what I want.. Equipment from Jerry... lmfao) and I swallowed nervously. It is set so that the victim faces the crowd (i prefer no one can see my face, duh. Look at my ass!! Not my face!!). It is also a very challenging position, I note. The feet are locked into the base and the body bends forward so that the neck is locked about waist high, and the hands support the weight, clenching a bar, with the wrists also pilloried. There is no real support for the waist. I try to imagine myself there and can't. So ...stuck...

I point out the piece to fyen who happily tells me that it is an evil piece, very challenging and that it has caused her some distress. I digest that, and am about to renege on my offer when my Sir gently touches my back to gather my attention.

"So? What will it be? That bench over there?" He smiles gently and my heart hurts a little. He knows, he knows... how hard it is for me to allow him to embarrass me. How easy it is for me to become embarrassed. That I prefer dignity and to be arranged attractively for public play. In the face of such respect, without a hint of disappointment (although I damn well could see how much the stock one appealed), I just can't disappoint-myself or Him.

"The stocks are fine." I blurt, beet red. I wander over there, wishing I had negotiated for a tender scene, rather than leaving it to him. (Yes, I oh so am allowed to ask for sweeter spankings, or harder ones, as I feel the need. My Sir feels pride that I trust him with my needs- he does not feel threatened by it, nor do we feel this is an issue in our power exchange. I don't always get my way, of course... but he always hears me out and respects my input). A part of me hopes he pushes me a bit, while the other part is already mortified at the idea of strangers watching me struggle.

He tenderly helps me out of my clothing and shoes, takes my hand and helps me onto the damned piece. My feet are secured (and of course I had to try to move them...) and then he smiles and tumbles me gently forward, securing my neck in the "collar" which triggers a very primitive response in me. I feel... owned. I feel so very naked.

He fusses with all the closures, getting my wrists locked in. As he moves behind me I feel that lovely tightening of muscles and I know I am wet, exposed and that I am fucked really.

The music is loud, I can hear people talking, and it is hard to relax.

Firm-Hand-Buddha moves to the toy bag, which I can't really see. I notice that I can't see much really. The feet of those in front of me, and my hands and my breasts... oh great. I moan a bit in nervousness and embarrassment, and shift my weight a bit.

Then it begins.

That incredible dance of sensation. Impact on skin, nerve ending jumping, the tightening of all those sexy places. I can't relax, as I have to hold myself up. His hand sooths my skin once in awhile, and sounds come out of my mouth without my consent.

I am flying so quickly though, every sensation amazing. Heat gathers, he picks up tempo and force, stopping once and again to sooth, and he checks in, makes me check in.

I am lost in space with each sting, each thud. My body sings, I want more.. more more more.
He works my body like a magician, my Sir does. Slow when needed, hard and fast when needed, until I am a mess of I can't, I want, stop, more, harder, can't, want. I no longer care that everyone can see me struggle. I no longer care that I am thrashing and crying. I am the sensation. I am the nerve endings, I am that wetness between my legs.

Then... I am rudely thrust into my skin as I hear an unfamiliar voice beside me.. "Not like that, try this" or some such. No one's fault, but it startled me enough that I am instantly no longer subbed out. Endorphins rush out of my body and I feel that nasty drop rushing up. 'No no...' I think to myself, 'I am experienced, I can work through this..' I struggle to find that peacefulness, that joy and I just cannot.

No longer flying the next swat just hurts and I signal my Sir, my very attentive Sir who immediately realizes something is up. I try to tell him that I need to be done. and I burst into heart wrenching tears. The woman inside me rolls her eyes, but I don't care. My Sir will fix this I know it!!
Firm-Hand-Buddha undoes me, gently lifting me into his arms and wraps me up. I catch my breath, trying to explain, end up giggling and crying all at once. His arms tighten as he holds me, snugging me in.

He tells me how good I did and I feel so safe. So very safe and good and wonderful. Afterwards we laugh a bit about it. These things happen, it is interesting really what can ruin the mood for your scene.

Thank you Sir, for the incredible flight and the safety net you have created for me.
Thank you Lupercalia for all the work that went into creating our event and the dungeon. Thank you Bondage Jerry for being so deviously creative and letting the dungeon be filled with your handy work.

Thank you Firm-Hand-Buddha. Thank you for hurting me in all the right ways. Thank you for helping me grow. Thank you for not laughing when I asked for a collar. Thank you for not saying "I told you so" or some such.

Thank you for your strength and acceptance.

Introduction to a sadistic, devious FemDom (me)

All names have been changed. This series is a mix of fact and fiction
I am starting at the beginning... if you want to skip the introspection and go to the 'fun parts' go to part TWO.
A while back a dear dear friend of mine, Daniel, trusted me enough to ask me to play a role in his fantasy. He wanted to spend several days being utterly owned and dominated by a female (I guess that would be me), or females (plural). I agreed to consider it and then spent a couple of months trying to envision it, exploring my thoughts on it.
I rope top easily, it's true. I have done a great deal of topping within a scene or session. I love flogging and I am a spanking enthusiast, (all types of spankings, it is my MAIN fetish). In my mind, however, Topping is mostly a physical thing. Yes, I use mind tricks and role play. But a Domme... well that is different. I was not sure I could take him where he wanted to go. I was not sure I could let my sadist out without dire consequences. I know myself fairly well. I can be incredibly mean-and enjoy every moment of my victim's suffering. I keep this in check, for a few reasons. First and foremost, it makes me very uncomfortable with myself. Secondly, I have never had access to a pain slut/emotional pain slut who would enjoy such treatment, even as (s)he hates it. Thirdly, I also don't like the emotional drop I get after. It requires a great deal of aftercare, for me, when I do let evil bitch out. Last, but not least, is a bad experience I had when playing with a lovely lady, Dianna, who craved that meanness, in which a scene went badly due largely in part to my inexperience. She and I made it through, and remain friends, but still...
So this was a challenge. Added to this, the gent in question is someone I consider a role model. Daniel is the closest thing I have to a parental type male role model. (He is not old enough to be my father, but I do turn to him for the advice and moral support one normally gets from their parents.) I had to come to terms with un-pigeon-holing him. (its a word now, dammit). I also had to put aside my reaction to Daniel as an authority figure.
I am a closet priss as well. While I am most comfortable talking about sex, discussing naughty things in general, I am very private and blushy about my personal sex life. Some of what Daniel was asking would require me to put aside that left over prissiness my exposure to rigid religion left me with. There is a fine line between what is ok and what is not as far as my relationship goes with FHB, as well. We are an monoamoury couple, as are Daniel and his partner Cindi. So the negotiations needed to include our partners, respect everyone's boundaries, and yet still create enough of the fantasy that it would be worth my and Daniels time to do.
We ran into a problem. Daniel was not negotiating. Instead it was left to Cindi and I to guess, FHB to be honest with is limitations. Which led me to have time to consider my own needs. In order for this to be fun for me as well, what did I need? And Cindi... what would she need? Cindi and I schemed on and off for a couple of months. As the D date came closer we schemed more, and FHB certainly added his two cents worth with a glee I should have (but did not) expect.
Frustrated with the lack of open and honest communication from Daniel, (whom, by the way, is usually very good at being open and honest) I emailed him a blunt email with a list of things I wanted to do (and some that I didn't). I asked him to respond WITH A YES OR NO to each one. Days went by, no response. The day before I left to travel he finally answered. Rather than answer my questions he gave me long winded directives couched as responses. "Foot Worship?" I had asked. "Not the licking boots type... But kissing, washing, massaging, would certainly make sense for a slave." Was his reply. And so my mood was set.
I spent a few days at the local kink event, as slave to my own Master. When FHB returned home, he left me at Daniels for five days of fun and adventure. My mind was spinning as Cindi and I had whispered conversations trying to decide how to begin, what our limits were and rolling our eyes over Daniels oh so obviously "topping from the bottom" behaviour.
I was thoroughly enjoying watching Daniel squirm in the combination of anticipation and apprehension -I was seeing a side of him I had never seen before. Finally, I was done with the procrastination.
"I am going to have a shower, and then we will begin." I told him.
"Sure. I should be done the walk by then." He responded, flushing. I arched a brow, filing away that bit of impudence and so we began.
I excited the bathroom, dressed in my every day clothes, having rejected the idea of needing a 'costume' to get in role.
Daniel stood there, giving the impression of a child hopping from foot to foot.
"Is that how you present yourself as a slave?" I queried, completely unimpressed.
"um" Was his response.
"You can strip." I ordered. "Right here."
Daniel disrobed, folding his clothing neatly, then falling to a nice slave pose. Noting his unshaven self I scowled and lectured him. "Really, slave? This is how one presents themselves to their mistress? Not even groomed? And you! An experienced Master yourself, you think this is acceptable?" Cindi shot me a giggly smile behind Daniels back. She had already explained that this was part of his fantasy, being washed and shaved. I felt, and still do, that fantasy or not, one should certainly not be presenting themselves as a slave un-groomed. His hair was practically a bush!
Cindi and I ushered him upstairs where I schemed while she set up a lovely massage table. In hindsight I wish I had made him set it up... so many punitive moments lost!! in short order we had him on the bench and she began the long task of trimming that wild growth of hair. We took turns scolding him, and Cindi surprised me (pleasantly) with her tone and lectures. I timed the entire trimming. When it was done I explained that he would be spanked for same amount of time it took to trim, and again for the shaving-for wasting our time.
We set the timer and began to spank his buttocks and thighs, using our hands and my nasty red hairbrush, when suddenly we heard the door.
I paused, laughing softly at the look on Daniels face, as Cindi ran downstairs to hustle the intruder (one of the adult children of theirs) out. The mortification was a perfect accent, and we continued, restarting the time, much to our victim's discomfort. Cindy then shaved him and I watched. Cindi and I would talk casually, as if Daniel was not really there, then add some scolding and what not. We joked about the time it was taking, and discussed what Daniel's own reaction to having someone present themselves to him for service in such a condition. Unfortunately for Daniel it took over 15 minutes to shave him-and that was AFTER trimming.
I made him watch the timer and told him to tell me when the fifteen minutes was up. Cindi and I spanked and paddled him, scolding and mocking him the entire time. I began to notice a trend. Daniel responded to me with "yes Mistress, as you wish Mistress" and yet to Cindi he would scowl and give dirty looks, and unless promoted would not address her as he was bid, with "my Lady". I decided, there and then, that I was oh so not tolerating that, although I understood damned well that stepping outside his typical dynamic was challenging. I harassed him continuously. "Really??? Daniel, shame on you... Asking me to do this then not being prepared!!-What? Excuse me? Did I ask for you to offer excuses? Did you just sigh in exasperation?? Oh, young man, you surely should have more concern for your hide!" We made a point of not spanking the sweet spots, knowing full well that his 'leather hide' would protect him there. Instead we spanked thighs and upper buttocks, working him over until he swore.
"There will be no swearing. You may say fudgicles!!" I informed him, rather gleefully. I then harassed him about all the bragging he had done all weekend about his infamous leather butt. "Thought you were telling newbies you cannot feel pain from spanking? hmmm??? " This continued until Daniel said, "Mistress, we are at 14 minutes." Cindi and I exchanged a look, and I lit into him again. "Did I ASK you to tell me when we were at 14? (swat, smack, swat) I am VERY (SMACK SMACK) CERTAIN (SWAT) that I SAID (SMACK SMACK SMACK) 15!!( THWACK!!)"
Daniel protested and I overrode him again. "I did not ASK you to think. I TOLD you 15, I damn well wanted you to do as told!!!"
I paddled him furiously for a moment, then caressed the marks lightly. After a few moments I helped him stand up. Cindi, noting the look on his face, became quite concerned. We told him to clean things up and she and I headed downstairs. After hearing out her concerns, when Daniel came down I had a candid conversation with him, out of role. He assured us he was fine, that it was 'perfect'. I reminded him of safewords (more to reassure myself and Cindi) and we continued on
I had Daniel do some odd chores, including bathing his lady, and again continued to scold him for even the smallest mistakes in protocol. Mean mean... We made dinner and let him eat at our feet, while we talked around him and about him but rarely to him. After he cleaned up all the dinner messes, I sent him to give his lady a proper massage. I went and talked to my Sir via text, and stretched and processed some of what had happened. Truly, I enjoyed keeping him off balance and I was loving that he was not finding it so easy to be a submissive slave. I knew that his attitude was going to provide lots of fun over the next few days.

Luper Subspace

Even though my Sir, Firm-Hand-Buddha had played fairly hard upon my ass and etc Friday night, by Sunday I had not a mark, which has been something Firm-Hand-Buddha has heard a great deal of whining about. I have a friend who is fairly new to the lifestyle and has that lovely skin that marks beautifully, and I am jealous!! My marks these days fade within an hour. This silly yearning for marks has led me to do all sorts of silly things, from using exfoliating cleansers on my ass to derma-abrasion... but to no avail. The skin of my ass just heals like magic these days.
The dungeon was much busier this time (in comparison to Friday). Our favorite benches were in use, and Sir decided to forgo playing with his new wand. (Yes I was disappointed dammit!! But as a spank-a-holic I prevailed and did not drag my feet at all.. .much. Sir picked out a kneeling style bench, and kindly did not use any of the eye-bolts to restrain me.
He loosened my corset, quite a bit, which is usually a sign that this is going to be long and hard-otherwise usually it is just enough for me to bend. I love my corset, just in case anyone was wondering. I could see his boots, and reached as if to untie his laces, which of course got me that playful, "Don't think about it!" (Why do those words make me so wet??)
Sir's warm up was short and sweet, leaving my backside very warm and eliciting all sorts of blush causing sounds from me. I could clearly hear the conversation of the leather folk in front of me, which, for whatever reason, added to my head space. It was Swat! Smack! "Hmmm, How about the weather here? It's so windy" Smack! Moan, Blush, writhe. "Did anyone see.." I felt as if I was of no note, not important at all. Even when the comments may have been about me or Sir (or not) it was so indirect that I felt completely objectified. Not usually my thing, really, but this time, in this moment, it was perfect.
Again I was facing the crowd (was i the only one that noted that most equipment seemed to be this way this year? Am I the only one that likes to hide their face?). With all the over-stimulation of the weekend, between classes, the market, the hundreds of kink folk everywhere...well I was not finding it difficult to sink into that lovely cocoon of safe and yummy that some call subspace.
Sir, perhaps in response to how easily I was managing his initial erm high spirited swats, stepped up his game. I swear, the moment I was able to find my rhythm, there he was smacking harder, faster or in more tender spots. My hands were not fastened and I writhed, often grabbing his leg in a desperate measure to be able to not make a spectacle of myself. I would sink into that yummy space and Sir would grin evilly (or so I imagined) and pull me up just a bit.. I would finally sink again and he would up the ante and yard me out again. I have no idea how I managed to not lift off that bench.
And so we danced.
He led the dance with his implements, working my skin and nerves to exhaustion. His hand swinging to a beat only he can hear as he led me through bucking, moaning, begging, and yes giggling. The music added an element to the dance in a very ... strong way.
He beat me and my body begged for more. He drew from me sounds, motions and emotions-I could feel myself being molded-filling with a need to just be all he demanded. In that instant I submitted in a way I had never really felt before. This was no longer about my love of spankings (etc), but this was about us. About him. About giving over myself. It was a beautiful moment.
My body followed his without my willing it. I bucked for him, I squirmed for him, I raised my hips to help him. i quivered, I sobbed, I moaned. I didn't give a flying shit if I looked ridiculous, sounded pathetic... all I cared about was the dance, his lead, the moment.
I have no idea what this was in reality, but from where I was it felt frantic, as if the speed and force were so erratic and out of control, as my hands scrambled for a way to anchor me, my hips lifted and churned... I was certainly frantic. Nothing hurt but I felt as if I had become the dance-I was the the tempo.
Then things slowed. Time fragmented as I felt ebony against my skin. i could hear my breathing, my whimpers, and every inch of my skin tingled and pulsed as he pressed that dreaded and loved paddle against my skin. My hips lifted, my body melted, relaxed.
The impact streamed red, and I begged, writhed, found my center and again lifted, and melted. And again. And again. And I had not vision of this ever ending, no concept for anything but this incredible dance. My world had become narrowed down to this sensation, the feel of my bruised flesh yeilding...
I could hear Sir talking to me, his voice wrapping around me and i became aware that I was sobbing.. Tears streamed my face. My first coherent thought was "Oh my gawd.. Am I drooling?"
As I came back into my head, Sir's hand stroking my back and face, I finally clued in to what he was saying. I don't remember the phrasing, but he had drawn blood.
With my inner voice screaming hysterically (I hate blood, no blood nooooooooooo) I calmly asked how bad it was. (points for me!). He had just smacked a welt, and it was merely a droplet. I had no idea what the dungeon protocol for this was, so we agreed he should find the DM and find out. And get a band-aid.
So there i was, DM and Sir peering at my ass while I died a thousand deaths of embarrassment, and I look up and straight into a set of friendly eyes, watching with interest. i know we spoke, but high as I still was, and as red faced as I surely was, I remember not a word, other than he was amused and I laughed as well. All while my Sir and a man I barely met are poking at my ass.
Sir wrapped me up, helped me up and half carried me to a chair. By the time he returned with a band-aid i was hyper as hell, bouncing and giddy.
Thank you Sir, for taking me to new places. For understanding how to give me what I need and never making me feel like a freak. For creating this safe, and yes damn you sacred place where I am free to be me.
Thank you to those in the crowd that unwittingly added to my scene, bwahaha. And of course, thanks to the DM.
PS. It is 8 days later and I have some lovely marks still. While I get that I can't be playing like that all the time, (sigh) this made my day!!

Luper Fun: Partial Suspension of Two Sexy Bunnies

Walking into the dungeon, my pink rope bag in hand, I was very disappointed that the frame I had been eyeballing was taken. I was pouting, I admit it. I had this clear picture in mind of what I wanted to do, and there were no other suspension areas that fit my imagination.

I was trying to envision floor ties that would be as wonderful, and was caught up in that when one of my bunnies came to tell me that R had found and secured us a spot on the multi frame. (kudos, by the way to all the talent and creativity that went into that frame, it is freaking amazing!!)
My bunnies for the night were f, (very much a lady she is, graceful and stoic, whom I have rigged once before at COPE) and bk(a true rope slut, who squeaks in a way that .. lol... watch the video.)

As I laid out the rope and the ladies stripped I was very aware of the crowd in the dungeon, the eyes appreciatively gazing on my bunnies and I felt a surge of immense pride and satisfaction that I had two such lovely ladies disrobing in front of me, willing to let me rig them as I saw fit. I was, and still am, very honoured by their trust and willingness.

BL and Firm-Hand-Buddha sat back and let me tie (r was busy mentoring). f surprised me by being the first to be disrobed, I forget that her lady like ways hide a glutton as eager as any :). I tied her harness first, after she picked her colour.

I dusted powder upon my bunnies chest and ribs, where the chest harness was likely to rub their tender skin and began the dance.

f stood prettily, allowing me to wind her this way and that. The rope slid through my hands, tightening here, loosening there and I let the motion and feel of it focus me. The noise of the crowd faded, the room faded and it was just myself, the rope and the incredibly lovely bodies in front of me. The chest harness is still my favorite base for rigging, it frames the breasts, it is slow and sensual to tie, and sets the mood for the rest of the rig. Once she was framed to my satisfaction, I gently sat her down so I could do the same for bk .

I again dusted skin with powder, this bunny has easily marked skin-and originally this tie was supposed to be so that r could demonstrate caning, while f helped bk with breathing and finding that pattern that works for her-So I knew she may be in this position for some time.

I noted as I tied, that although this was the same tie I just completed on f, the dance is different. I tie to their breathing it seems, Tightening here, tugging there, straighten and smooth here.. The rope slowly but surely framing her chest, creating a lovely anchoring point while welcoming us to the tie.
Done, I stood them side by each for a moment, admiring the contrast. I stood them so that they faced opposite directions, with f's right side touching BK's left. I wound a two collumn tie, so that their touching legs became their base, and so that their hands were joined in the same way. The rope seemed to have it's own ideas at times and I went with it, binding BK's right arm behind her back.
Then I added what I call aropedeevil addition, I had Firm-Hand-Buddha help f not fall, and BL help bk, and had them draw up their other leg to their chest, bending forward so that they were in a position nice for caning, yet off balance. I tied their bent legs into position, tested their position, then supported the tie with a support line from their chest harness to the suspension point.

Then I had the gentleman, one at a time, give me the bunny they held. I then helped the bunny release into the suspension, so that the chest tie and the one leg on the ground became their balance point.
After a few adjustments they were set, not quite comfortable, but able to stand, bent at the waist, one leg pulled up, breasts hanging down, hands clinging to each other. Hot hot hot. Their squeaks, the rope, the struggle had me thoroughly enjoying myself.

We checked in with R, but he was still busy, so I had a dillemma...

What to do with two bunnies in such a position if the gent who was going to cane them was busy??
Hmmm...BL was quick to correct the issue, applying clothespins to BK. Firm-Hand-Buddha came to offer some torturous help... He merely grabbed her toe and she squealed and shook as if he had certainly done much worse (there is a huge story there).

I lay under f, talking to her, tugging on her ropes, and it was obvious she was feeling left out. With her agreement I added some small pain to her tie as well as we both enjoyed BK's squeals and movements.

Then it was time to unwind them, sadly. I had tied each part separately so that they could come out as needed. I slowly untangled them, letting each rope fall, until I had merely a chest harness. I untied BK, as her Sir, BL, provides her aftercare and then I tended to f.

We giggled and grinned, wound ropes, hugged and laughed. I was utterly shocked to find that we had been at it for four hours.

Thank you, sexy bunnies, for the incredible night. Thank you R and BL for lending me your partner for the evening. To Firm-Hand-Buddha... I love you. Thank you for always being supportive of this girl's need to wind rope over skin. You are amazing.

hugs and laughter
aropedeevil

How did I get here?

It is amazing, the surprises that life can throw at us.  The good ones, of course, are much easier than the tragic ones, yet both can bring us to a cross roads where there are so many choices, every choice leading a different direction (it seems) and soooo hard at times to really know what choice will take is in what direction...

Years ago, I was perhaps a pure spanko.  All I wanted and fantasized about were spankings and the rituals that some spankings can be delivered with.  Being sent to the corner.  Waiting for a punishment.  The lecture... These things filled my head, made my soul tingle.  The spanking itself was almost secondary to the romance of it.

Then... I realized that knowing the only way to get a spanking was to be 'bad' was not beneficial to me.  I craved the spankings and the rituals so much that I was tempted to make bad choices in a way I would not have been otherwise. (To be clear, punishment has not been in my experience really, nor lectures, nor corner time.. sigh...)

Then I found the community.  Learned about so many other things and heard about endorphins, power exchange, reasons WHY spankings feel so damned good.

I got flogged.  I braved the cane.  I had to learn so much, accept so much.  I had to give up on needing everything to be perfectly labeled.  I had to learn to communicate my needs, to clearly set boundaries.

I learned that I am valued by those I play with.
I learned to weep.
I learned that i deserve to be spoiled.
I learned to have hope.
I learned that expectations are often a way to discover heartbreak.  That one day at a time is not necessarily a bad thing (aside from financial planning)

It has been a long road of discovery.  Some lessons were delicious (oh my good gracious.. subspace... oooh my)  Some were difficult. I learned that perhaps I actually like pain.  That I oh so do enjoy feeling helpless.  That the struggle to submit is amazing.  The amazing feeling when I can give up that unneeded pride and just ... submit.. wow.  I had to be OK with these new ideas.
Now.. hear I am.  So much has changed.  Yet somethings have not.  I top now, on occasion.  I have a lovely bunny girl that lets me tie her up and be mean to her, she is amazing.  I 'run' a group here in redneck land for kinksters like me.  I help them learn to do safely, I hope I am teaching them to be part of a community for each other and they teach me to not pigeon hole things or people.

But..

I am still a spanko at heart.  Being over a knee.  Being bossed.  Wondering if he is truly annoyed or mind fucking me... oh my.

This girl's heart still beats to a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like hand swatting an ass.. Just saying..