How about bottoming from the Top? Hmm?

At a gathering recently I was asked to weigh in on the phenomena known as "Topping from the bottom".

It's a subject that has always annoyed me a wee bit, as i just don't see what all the hullabaloo is about. Wasn't it Eleanor Roosevelt who said that no one can have power over you unless you give it to them?

Often is seems to me that this label is used as a knee jerk reaction of disapproval to us brats who will do our equivalent of kicking Sir in the shin to let him know we'd really like some funishment.
Other people seem to be referring to a bottom saying "harder, softer, that wrapped, please no teeth" once in the scene.

Still others, a smaller group in my experience, also include a bottom who is clear about what they want in a scene.

To those of you from the first group... It is annoying, I am sure, to be Lord UberDomly Thunderpants and have your submissive glutton playfully brat you. Poor thing. If you are truly Lord UberDomly Thunderpants then you should be able to deal with this in an adult and leadership based manner. You could, perhaps, sit your submissive down and state clearly that you do not enjoy this behavior and it will not result in funishment at all, but time out. Or perhaps find out WHY your submissive is bratting rather than coming to you in an adult manner and stating clearly that he or she would REALLY like some play please. Or recognize that sometimes it is just fun to brat, and you could have fun sending them to a corner. Throwing the overused phrase "Topping from the bottom" is lazy. And in my oh so personal opinion, every bottom/sub/slave has the right to ask for what they need. Them asking does NOT force you to do a dang thing. If your sub is a SAM, (like perhaps I can be) and you don't care for it, again... Conversation. Leadership skills.

To those who feel that a bottom speaking up from within a scene is nothing but the bottom behaving like a Top, I respectfully suggest you hone your Topping skills. Or perhaps your pre-scene negotiating skills need work. If I am not getting what I need out of the scene, or getting something I do not need, I have the RESPONSIBILITY to say so. If you are bottoming to me, I EXPECT you to speak up. None of us are psychic. And Lord UberDomly Thunderpants? If you are EVER uncomfortable during a scene, you have the right to safe word and end the scene. So if you truly feel that your bottom is Topping, call yellow. Discuss it. Can't resolve it? End the scene, part amicably.

Done deal.

To those few who feel that a bottom negotiating a scene clearly is Topping.. Well no words of mine will help you. Good luck with that.

Perhaps someone can also explain to me why it is that we never hear complaining about those who sub from the Top. Why is it no one is assuming that some things that Tops do are actually submissive behaviors? Is it subbing from the Top when SirRespectful asks his bottom, "Would you like me to go harder?" Is it subbing from the Top when the bottom is asked to choose what implements? When the Top checks in with the sub to see if things are still ok? When the Top gets a buzz from what he/she is doing?

Is is subbing from the Top when Lord Confident Dom says to his bottom/submissive/slave, "I want to experience xyz, go grab the whatchamallit and use it on me."

My opinion? Not at all. But if we are going to shame a subby type for speaking up for what they need, or for trying to be playful and get playtime that way, it's only fair if any signs of respect, compassion, or desire for sensory play should be seen as subbing from the Top, no?

Not all spankings are equal

Anyone who has had me over their knee, (or watched me play hard in a dungeon) likely has figured out that this angel may be a bit of a masochist. And, as you may have guessed from the monicker I use, I love LOVE my spankings.
This year at Lupercalia we went to a Tantric Spanking class (John Ireland, you and little one rock). The class was not really a huge shock, we didn't really learn anything 'new'. Instead we were reminded that not all spankings are equal.
Not all spankings are about pain, or pain, or a well marked bottom.
Some spankings are about sex.
About love.
About feeling that slow pulse build up on ones 'nether region'.
Later, when we had a bit of time to ourselves, Firm-Hand-Buddha drew me slowly over the bead, his hand smoothing my skin, lingering touches as he disrobed me.
He grabbed my hair and let his hand tighten just so, then let go, letting my hair sift through his fingers as he cupped the back of my neck and moved his hand down my spine, to rest in that hollow that makes me shiver.
His other hand caressed my thighs, my ass cheeks, lightly slapping, plumping and slapping, fingers so close to touching me.
The details are blurry, as each touch tugged me under his very sexy spell. Every slap of his hand on my skin had me writhing, as he caressed, teased, slapped, and did what he does oh so well. I have never been so wet from a spanking, let me tell you!
Some spankings are about connecting. About using touch and eroticism for pleasure and intimacy. Yummmm.....

This masochist thanks you, Sir... Spank me anytime.

Can I be Vanilla? Do I NEED this BDSM stuff?

Can I be a girlfriend in a 'normal' relationship and still have this happy full cupboard feeling? Do I really “need” spankings and pain and tears and subspace to be content? Do I truly require the foundation of a power exchange dynamic to thrive in a long term relationship? Is this just a dopamine addiction?
I recently had a long hard look at my relationship dynamic, my beliefs, my motives, my needs and my kink filled world. I picked at every aspect of my life, realizing for the first time that BDSM is a main part off my day to day existence. My friends are part of my BDSM community. What family I have left are all aware and supportive of my lifestyle. My partner is my Sir, we share a home. We host a local group and try to promote safe BDSM play and encourage discussions on all sorts of BDSM topics. My finances include a budget for traveling to events, my education has a BDSM bent as well. Part of my income is from BDSM items.
I tried to picture my world vanilla.
I tried to remember when it was vanilla.
Was I every really 'vanilla'?
Even when I found my first husband, I was not vanilla. I had these desires and cravings that no one else seemed to have (mostly spankings, lots and lots of spankings). I wanted a power exchange (I didn't call it that then, of course). I wanted a relationship with defined parameters, in which I could defer to him and rely upon him to respect my deference. I wanted rules and fun spankings and punishment. I wanted him to be the sort of person who has enough integrity and maturity that I could respect and follow him. I did not have the terminology, nor the understanding of how to get from point A to point B, but lack of knowledge does not a Muggle make.
Even as we divorced, each lost in our non power exchange cycle of abuse and martyrdom, I was not vanilla. In our division of goods we fought not over toasters and golf clubs, but over floggers and paddles. We both mourned not just the loss of our relationship, but the loss of our kinky playmate. Our decisions to settle division of assets without overly involving lawyers was based on fear of repercussions due to our spanking activities. The little we had learned over the years regarding BDSM communication at our one event (Lupercalia) came in handy during our divorce. Being exposed to people who communicate civilly with past partners in the BDSM community helped us to stay civil.
While in my second marriage I was not vanilla, although I tried so very hard to be. I hated the lack of power structure. I resented the lack of open discussion and the lack of fun play. I resented that I could not pack away my desire for spanking fun with the seeming nonchalance that my then husband did. I felt repressed, and disdained for the needs that he once found attractive and now found 'odd' and 'unhealthy'. I spent a great part of this marriage feeling ashamed and alone.
It was within this marriage, however, that I began to really examine my self, to realize and then come to terms with my own needs and desires. It was in this sexless and loveless marriage that I realized that vanilla relationships are not meeting my needs, and I am not meeting my partner's needs. It was in those last months that I determined that with two marriages falling to the way side-each with me as the common denominator, that I needed to look to myself. What I found, at the crux of these failed relationships, is that I am a terrible girlfriend. That without clear and agreed upon parameters I give without feeling that I get. That I simply do not enjoy non BDSM typical relationships-by nature most people seem to choose polite over honest, ambiguity over blunt statements, sneaking and self sacrificing and assumptions and miscommunication. I hated it all. I hated that I felt as if I could not share my honest thoughts and feelings. The passive aggressive mannerisms and words created a burning pit of wrongness in my belly.
And so I came to terms with my own lack of ability to navigate the politics that come with vanilla relationships. And with that I began to really examine what I did want, what does make me thrive.
I looked at my need for spankings-really looked. I thought about my non spanking parents and wondered why, even as a youngster spanking was an erotic wonderful thing for me. I picked apart my spanking fetish, looking for a cause. I never found a cause.
Then I looked at what I am like before during and after. I considered how I am full of energy after, happy and content and how I feel so damned safe after. I faced my before spanking self with a bit of a cringe, noting that I am irritable, tired, depressed even.. That I feel shame and discouragement.
(Keep in mind I am talking about there being nearly a year between one spanking and the next).
I poked at that. I wondered if it was because without the beating I feel guilty.
I don't believe that to be true, at least not for me.
I wondered if this was some sort of Daddy/daughter issue, if I was just wanting to be cared about in that way that a parent cares for their child. I don't believe this is true of me either. That kind of age play actually leaves me cold. Teacher student? hellz yes. Daddy or uncle?? eeeeekkk!!! Not for me.
What I do know, is that I love the physical part of spanking. The sensations often cause me to orgasm. I know that I love the emotional aspects-from feeling accepted (my weird spanko parts and all) by my playmate, the freedom to revel in the sensation and just enjoy it without worry about their opinion of me is amazing, liberating as hell. The emotional part.... I do feel cared for and nurtured; someone is taking the time to meet my needs which in my mind is caring and nurturing. The mind fuck of it. I feel so helpless and vulnerable. I know that I have safe words, but the trust that needs to be given (will he stop?? really??). That moment of trepidation, the awkwardness of being tugged over a lap or bent over a bench (or whatever)... Hot hot hot. Being treated in such an undignified manner... oh my fucking gawd hot.
I poked at what I want in the relationship itself. That I want someone who takes charge; but only if they are worth following. Someone who won't boss me for the fuck of it, but with purpose. Someone who wants to grow with me, not help me grow then feel left out.
I wanted rules.
Clearly defined rules.
Rules without impeding on my ability to be who I am. I don't need someone to tell me how to eat, dress, be a mom or a student. No thanks.
My dear friend held my hand throughout, encouraging me to not only accept my kinky nature but to cherish it as well. Just as I began to accept who I was my husband left.
Then I was single. After a period of man-hating anger (sorry guys, but I oh so did go through a short but intense period of really hating men.. so much easier to blame the penis than to look at my own approach and relationship blunders and self delusions. Once I moved past the blaming stage and was ready to explore this BDSM playground, I placed adds in the kinky personals (not POF).
My add clearly stated that I was seeking a male playmate who was firm, yet generous spirited; who would spank me thoroughly and explore other BDSM interests with me. Rather than seek sex (and believe me I wanted to seek sex) I bartered for play, with no expectations or pressure for sex.
I went to Lupercalia, took every class, got my first dungeon spanking ever. Enjoyed it so much I was begging for another the next day. I even did some topping, reselling in the feel of doing so, near as much as I did being ass up on the bench.
I met some amazing people (you know who you are) and had some amazing times. More importantly I was really beginning to believe that I could play like this, with sessions of power exchange fun, and have my needs met without the abuse that I was finding in vanilla dating.
Hurrah!!
Then I met Firm-Hand-Buddha
A student, like me, just beginning on his career path. A fellow pervert. A patient but firm man. A communicator... oh my I love his words... we connected quickly, that spark was just there..
We built what we have now, our 'non relationship' as 'non boyfriend' and 'non girlfriend', upon the power exchange dynamic. And I fought the forming of this non relationship every step of the way.
I was terrified.
He calmed my fears by behaving with integrity, by being consistent and bearing no malice to any.
He smiled patiently.
He teased gently.
He held me when I needed holding.
He hurt me when I needed pain.
He took responsibility for his own shit.
He showed me that being honest with each other was a beautiful thing, not a trick to find ammunition to hurt me later.
He trusted me and showed himself to be trustworthy.
He is my Sir. I take care of him.
He takes care of me.
I give him the use of my body.
He cherishes that use and nurtures my body.
I nurture him with my care of the home.
He rewards that nurturing by acknowledging it for what it is.
I submit.
He dominates.
I yield.
He hurts me just right.
I suggest, ask, comment, communicate, acknowledge and defer.
He suggests, asks, comments, communicates, orders and directs.
We engage in BDSM style activities all day.
In the order in which we are served our dinner, in the manner we make choices when we do not agree, in our speech and in our body language we are in our power exchange.
He casually uses pressure points regardless of where we are.
If we remove all that... well I will be honest.
I am not sure what there is left.
Love, certainly.
Caring.
But the power exchange IS our relationship framework.
I lean on that framework.
I count on it to be there.
Yanking away that framework would wound the trust I have for him. It would leave me shaken, unsure and scared.
Our every day is BDSM... every damned day. This is a lifestyle, not a hobby, at least in our relationship.
When we can't fuck due to kids in the house (we can quietly make out still, but not the way we like otherwise) the rest of the power exchange is there to carry us through. I know I can ask respectfully for play, and that he can agree, decline or negotiate a different time. We have written and agreed upon protocols to remind us of our commitment to one another, and those protocols help me to feel safe and cherished, and to know that what I do reminds him he is safe and cherished (and absolutely adored and respected).
When there are opportunities to bicker, the power exchange is there to restore peace.
When I am cranky and he points this out, the power exchange framework is there to do so safely-and I am able to hear his words without merely reacting defensively.
When he is cranky and just needs to be sexually spoiled, the framework is there for him to take what he needs, and because of that framework this taking is actually giving-it makes me feel good.
That comes down and you have two people with their most common link removed.
Can I be a girlfriend in a 'normal' relationship and still have this happy full cupboard feeling?
No, I don't think I can. I am not 'normal' I am a card carrying pervert. Being in this power exchange with an amazing partner gives me that full cupboard feeling. That D/s that I like to call 'play' is actually our whole world.
Do I really “need” spankings and pain and tears and subspace to be content?
Yes... I really do. Those spankings and pain and tears and subspace are part of my sexuality. I do need them to be content. Just like I need touch and kisses and hair pulling and hugs and nibbles.
Do I truly require the foundation of a power exchange dynamic to thrive in a long term relationship?
Yes. Fucking yes. If long term is what is going on, for me it needs to be a power exchange. It works for me. It works for us. That framework cradles us, challenges us and connects us. I require that framework in order to blossom within the relationship, rather than being just another woman sacrificing her self to be with someone. I have never felt this good with another person in my space. I have never felt this connected to another. I have never felt so valued, nor valued another in this way.
Is this just a dopamine addiction?
I really do not believe it is. Don't get me wrong, I like the dopamine, yum yum..
But kneeling on the floor waiting for an hour, making dinner and knowing I am doing what I am directed and pleasing him, feeling him posses every inch of my body, knowing that his words are honest and his intent is pure.. these things are just as amazing as the impact play and the pain play.
So no... I don't think I can be happy in a strictly vanilla relationship. I think my spirit flies in the framework I have now-a 24/7 P/E with FHB, who earns every bit of respect and cherishes me dearly.

Struggling

I am struggling.

For the last year (or nearly a year) I have had the great luck to be living with an amazing gent who shares in my pervy interests.  It has been the most blissful and joyous period of my life.

Over the last few weeks things have changed.  Be it me, be it him, we are not connecting on that power exchange level that fills me with self acceptance, joy, and that 'full cupboard' feeling.  We instead are more like room mates, passing in the hallway but yet not connected.  Play as decreased rapidly to its current state of non existence.

Have I once again broken a man?  I have taken a man who loved sex, loved to play laugh and cause me the most exquisite pain, and I have broken him.. I have turned him into (prepare yourself...)...


A muggle.


A muggle who wants a vanilla relationship with me (for now? forever? till I freak? not...sure...)
Once again, I have improved my personal self, only to find myself alone in a house with the person I am with.

First time (first marriage) I lost 55 lbs and started school.  My marriage went from rocky but passionate, to hellacious and empty.

Second time I gained my degree, found personal growth and my marriage disintegrated.

Now I am sitting here... after being so damned determined to NEVER do this again (this being share space, be in a hearts and flowers relationship) finding that as my life comes together even more (I am getting in shape, starting to make a bit more money, nearly done my BA) that his interest may have faded.

Sigh...

No clue where I am going from here... so many things to think about, so much to consider.

Can I be in a vanilla relationship?

Do I want to?

I really don't think I can.

I will tell you one thing that will be different this time.  This time I will be taking this to my Sir.  I will be sharing my hurt, my fear and my burden with him.

FHB gets Even

I quivered as he came up the steps, startling when he dropped something on the counter, and again startling as he poked and grasped, pressed against those damned pressure points, hands and fingers going where he wished.
I moaned/whimpered as he prodded my rather (ummm) moist nether region, loving the appreciative sounds he was making and the utterly exposed feeling. Then I had a moment of panic when I realized I had forgotten the damned collar... Not sure if he forgot as well, or just decided to ignore the gaffe in light of my already stressed out state.
Then FHB ordered me up, as he drew me to my shaky feet. I helped him out of his clothes, and we chatted as he headed to shower. I quickly rounded up the mat, the keys to the toy closet (I tried for bratty and put a huge padlock on it the day before.. effort wasted as FHB didn't notice lol) and tried to wrap up a few study notes while I waited.
When FHB headed into our bath, I grabbed the key, and knelt, splayed forward, upon the bed, and waited, hands holding out the key.
MUCH later, FHB decided it was time to open the toy closet, which he communicated by yanking me to the edge of the bed and flipping me over in a smooth and caveman like motion. I lay there, feet touching the floor, hands in front of me, determined to be oh so good and just sink into the beating...
(I oh so love my beatings!!)
FHB apparently had other ideas..He fastened the collar around my neck (Why does that cause such a mix of "oh fuck" and "oh my"??) and sat beside me, one hand pressing me into the bed while the other rapidly and harshly warmed my skin. I was making all those protesting sounds and struggling to stay in place (and failing), half laughing, half whimpering when he picked up his damned flyswatter from Thorgiers That thing is a MEAN tool for warm up.. Particularly when it is being applied briskly and with non warm up force.
It was at this point that I started to figure out that a long luxurious beating was not what was in store for me. But a more ... aggressive sort of beating...
Which makes it even harder to deal with, for me. I get that half in subspace lack of cognition... mixed with a bit of "Is he wroth with me?" and the whole complex feel good, hurt feelings, desire, longing, foot stomping, pride hurt cuz struggling, glad its not easy, but I like my luxuriously long.. dammit... sort of mashup going on.
I have no real recollection of what all FHB was using after the flyswatter, a tawse (the freebee from Lupercalia.. I can't remember the store name, but I will update that when I remember.. it is incredibly stingy and makes a satisfying CRACK) that mean as hell rubber paddle and his oh so firm hands. I do know that I bucked hard enough that I got my toe whacked, which made FHB scold me (Which made me cry). I actually yellowed a couple times I think... I know that Sir had to hold me down fairly firmly at times... I have a rather vivid recollection of Sir's hand between my thighs, flooding me with humiliation over my incredibly wet to the knees state as he teased me horribly for it. (GAAWWWDDDDDD!!!!)
And no... none of that is punishment. That is just freaking amazing and wonderful fun. (for me).
The payback?
That was when I yellowed, sobbing, hating that damned rubber thing for making me beg, loving Sir for knowing that begging was the perfect speed for my angsty mood... and i felt him stand and relief coursed through me, my only thought was 'done... no more... done.. done done.." and suddenly a very sharp object was cutting me from shoulder to heel, over and over, as I squealed and begged, and pled and cried, That wartenburg thing SUCKS. I HATE IT!! Well... ok I love and hate it. I swear.. it is cutting me to ribbons and yet... not a freaking mark. NOT ONE!!!
So yes... two apples are paid for.. My apologies that the picture is so anti-climatic. Bug Firm-Hand-Buddha to post the pics of the marks from Luper-I really just don't mark up anymore....
Hopefully our stingray paddle shows up today!!
PS
I had issues sitting through my exam, my ass was so swollen after that my jeans creasing as I sat was incredibly difficult to bear. It was awesome.
xxoo to FHB

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!!

Rope Group of my own!

Tonight I hosted a gathering for rope shenanigans, and oh my what fun!
I got to top, which is always highly entertaining, and tie people up... (ooooh!!) AND I was able to show off my own rope!
Fun fun!!

This is me, learning to splice rope:

When Reality Slaps you

Have you ever been so blissfully unaware that your perception did not match your partners, that an offhand comment from him/her is a cold slap of reality?

I have been living in a D/s relationship. A 24/7 sort of deal in which I have felt completely accepted for myself. i am loving it!

For the first time in my life I have felt that someone sees me, sees my submissive sexuality, my SAM (smart assed masochism), my compulsive need to have things 'just so', my need for control clashing for me need to submit.., that someone sees me and loves me, not in spite of these things, but because of these things...

I have never been this content, or this peaceful with myself. I have never been so relaxed about my perverse needs, my kinks, my sexuality. I have never been so self accepting.

So discovering that my perception, that he understood that my submission is part of how I tick, does not match his perception, was a hard slap that left me feeling lost, isolated and even rejected.
Seems silly now, of course, cuz it's only my knowledge that has changed... But silly or not, there I was feeling like the whole foundation for all that has been lifting me had crumbled, leaving me stranded in my own insecurities, lost in my own doubts. I felt helpless, alone and hurt.

I wept. I was afraid.

I don't want to put words in his mouth... I don't remember the exact words he said, and I am painfully aware that I do not know what he was thinking... But what I heard. what i translated his words to mean was...

Everything I feel is real is just play to him. So therefore (female brain, sigh) what is real to me, and has been holding me up is a lie. I am not accepted for who I am, I am not able to meet his needs, I am not enough. That my hidden self is just that, hidden. That he has not seen me. That he has expectations of me that I cannot meet. That I have failed. From there it was a short step to feeling rejected. I put myself out there, i had thought I had been accepted, but... If he is expecting me to drop my 'role', well in my feeling sorry for myself (and pms addled, let's not forget that) brain it seemed he was rejecting me. Not just rejecting me as in turning me down, but rejecting me for who I am.
Of course, we talked about it, after I got over myself a little. We established that my translation is not exactly accurate (lmfao). We talked a bit about the differences in our perceptions. He asked questions, I struggled to answer. He is an amazing man, really.

Now, to move forward i have to do what I wanted for myself. I have to SEE him and accept him for who he is, not a hard thing at all. But I also have to deal with my own doubts, a very hard thing indeed. I have to be ok with our differences in priorities and needs. I have to learn to be more... well.. less I guess... less submissive. Doable, right?

Nothing has changed, really, yet everything has. And it is impossible to know if that is good...
or not.



Update:
We are working on this together.  I think this is amazing, really, that we can face these bumps together, when I just share my thoughts.  Even when my words carry pain, he listens patiently.  Even when we are both struggling with so many other things, he is there, listening. 

He and I define terms differently.. soon we will be working on building our own definitions, together.  

Part 2 Shadowlane Spanking Party

We arrived at the ballroom and recieved our name badges. Happily we ran into a gentleman we had been talking to on Fetlife, which helped us to not feel so stranded. The room was packed!

We wandered the vendors, spending way more than I had planned. There were so many exciting items!  What we did end up with was a very evil ebony paddle, a deceptive leather paddle that is yummy on one side and evil on the other, a twilting style cane, both of Cassandra Parks books (It's supposed to hurt), an OTK T shirt, a video and a book from Shadow lane.  All books were signed!! 

I have to say, after watching every shadow lane video I can get my hands on and reading every paperbook by Eve Howard that I have discovered, I nearly died to be standing across the table from Eve herself.  What a lovely Lady! I was all blushing with feelings of awe, turned around and nearly died on the spot!!

Some of my very favorite spankers and brats were just standing there!!  I halted, floored, then got a grip on myself and headed to The Brit's table, flustered all to heck.
There I spoke with the ladies and got myself enrolled into the academy, an event planned for the next day. I was overtired, giggly, thrilled and terrified by the entire bit... And poor Sir!! There he was, still in his traveling clothes, as his darn bag still had not shown up...
Sir and I did hang out and enjoy the dinner, taking note of suite parties and whatnot, until we finally snuck out for a breather.  We are both quite shy and felt way out of our element.

Once in our room we discovered that his bag had been found!!  If we had just waited a few minutes before leaving for the dinner, Sir could have dressed up some...
Sir decided this was my fault (not fair!! I oh so did NOT set the time for dinner!! Can I help it that I like to arrive in a timely fashion???) and we had a long playtime in which he used all of our new toys and most of the toys we arrived with... It isn't often that I kick my feet, but I sure did for that darn leather paddle!! I love the other side though... It is my new favorite!

After a shower and a cuddle we dressed for spanking Olympics (LATE!!!) and headed to the appropriate suite.  The Olympics were fabulous!  I judged one event and we watched a few before Sir dragged me out of there.  I believe he could see that I was working up courage to enter us into an event, mwahahahaha.

We changed into our army outfits and headed to the sixties/nam party.  Many people there spoke to us with warmth, which was lovely.  To all of you who introduced yourselves, thank you! I wish I had been brave enough to make play dates with you!  We watched events, with me getting giddier by the minute... I am ever the voyeur, really!!
We returned to our room, exhausted.  Three hours sleep and over stimulated, I found myself bratting my way into yet another spanking, followed by unmentionable fun, shower and falling asleep wrapped safely in Sir's arms.

DAY TWO
We scooped some time at the pool, grabbed breakfast and then Sir kindly dressed me for the academy.  He laced me into my corset, snapped my stockings in and helped me into my long tight skirt and blouse.  Sir felt the need to round off this helping with a lovely blissful sighing spanking, pictures and kisses, then walked me to the academy...
OH MY GOOD GRIEF!!! What a wicked fun day.  Mrs. Darling and her co-star (oops I  mean co-spanker) were amazing role players.  Some of the girls were incredible at playing naughty schoolgirls, I was quite jealous.
I did end up over Mrs. Darlings knee once, and sent to the superintendent once, but for the most part I was too busy giggling at the girls to brat it up (and shy... so shy).
Other ladies have told this tale better than I can, check them out in the list of blogs at shadow lane.

Sir came and got me about three o'clock, so I missed the end of class.  We went and did some shopping, then I had more spankings, (at which he was shocked that I had no marks at all, and proceeded to try and fix this)  I love the way Sir spanks... But I certainly had some whimpers this time.. i may not mark much, but some areas were getting quite sensitive!!
We headed to the dinner, but left shortly after as Sir needed ZZZ time.
I waited till he was asleep and pouting I dressed up and snuck out to the suite parties. 
Bad.. I know... BUT

Although I wandered the parties, talked to many and had one lovely lady give me the tiniest of spankings, I did stay out of trouble.  I did not drink, i did not play with anyone (not that anyone asked me :), which made it easy to not get into trouble, no?)  I returned to the suite, pj'ed up and crawled into bed... sad that there was only one night left.

The next day we went to spanking court, where someone tattled about my solo adventure.  After court was yet another of Sir's rather hard spankings... Which I pretended to be whiny about, not that I fool him any.  We headed to the strip, shopped and went to a show. 

FINAL THOUGHTS
If I was more gregarious I would have had a wicked good time.  So many people spoke to me that I would have loved to play with, but I had not idea how to convey that, or if it was acceptable to even approach people.. All that talk on fet about creepers asking to play had me hesitant as hell.. We still had a great time!!! But most of my fun came from Sir. Which seems silly if you go all the way to Vegas, lol. But.. We met some amazing people!

Next time We will do things differently.  More networking, more mingling, less drinking, no gambling and twitter from day one.

Hugs and laughter

Life Lessons and Self Fulfillment

So.. Things with Mr. NAB (Not A Boyfriend) have been clicking along.

If you missed the fetrant, it is helpful to understand that as I was getting ready to go meet Mr. NAB, who was supposed to be a potential friend with benefits such as regular spanking dates for yours truly... A completely NSA arrangement, casual as all heck. 

Anyone that knows me is aware that I am not exactly all expert at casual.  Not me.. I fall in love, get married, spend a decade finding out that love is not enough, get divorced fall in love... you see? So after two failed marraiges I am a weeee bit relationship shy.. weeee as in the word boyfriend has me feeling a bit naseous, my heart pounding while I scan teh area for an escape route.. But I am needy and a glutton.  I NEEED regular (at least once a week!!) spanking time.  I need that subspace/flying or whatever.  I need spoiling (of the attention sort not money thanks).  I am kinda high maintenance. 
So I figured, I could do both! Just find a playmate with the time and energy to keep up with me, but no vanilla time.
Right?

Apparantly not.  A couple coffee in and my NonDate turned into my NonDominant and I found myself easily falling into submission., 

So ... We agreed that we'd just kinda go with it. No, I do not konw what that means really, but I know what it feels like...

It has been the most relaxing and yet most intense learning I have ever undergone.  And considering he has no idea what he is doing... (no experience with the 'rule book' style BDSM.. he just does what 'works'  and yes.. yes.. it works.)  ... well, color me overwhelmed. 

The Lessons Sir has taught me..

I have learned that I am not just sexually submissive, but in certain circumstances I am pretty damned 24/7 submissive --But only to my dominant... which brings us to the next lesson...

I have learned that in submitting myself to his will, I am not weaker, or less capable but Stronger and More capable. 

I have learned that facing scary things and working past that fear is incredibly empowering. 

I have learned, repeatedly, that one can not die from embarrassment, that shame is not an option being offered, and blushing is not a safeword.

I have learned that the world does not end if I am called a four letter word with all the reverence others might be called pet names.

I have learned that I gain more in submission than I do in questioning, doubts, worries, apprehension, uncertainty, hesitancy, guilt and shame.

I have learned that resistance without cause has no place in my life.  That resistance should have meaning-even if that meaning is to be playful.  That resistance with meaning is always rewarded but submission with blind trust is cherished.

I have learned that teasing is not always malice based.

I have learned that I am immature in many ways, childish in some ways and overly responsible in others.

I have learned that I am a valuable person, who, although bruised from other relationships, DOES have something to offer.  That even my gluttony can be a gift.

I have learned that this gift of learning, in the guise of a pinch to sensitive skin, a swat to tougher skin, teeth sinking into the meat of my shoulder, a hand on my neck not squeezing but there regardless, that these things are tools of fulfillment.  that each lesson fills me, leaving me sated, tired and renewed all at once.

Love the journey... just do

AND.. No jealousy?  No suspicion? No having to hide my past??
wow

Minor Update

Soo... I have been pretty quiet lately, not posting much or as often.

Truth is, I have been busy, confused, and struggling to sort out how I feel about a few things. You see, I met this person... A wonderful guy really, who was supposed to fall under a 'hang out once in a while pal with play time' sort of category but morphed quickly into a 'hang out all the time pal who is also my Dominant' sorta category. 

Not complaining, now that I  have kinda wrapped my head around having a person in my life that I spend this much time with, but am not bonded to by any legal certificate (I really am terrified of marriage lol)...

So now, here I am, living a D/s lifestyle but from separate homes, (no shack up expectations!! how cool is that?) with someone who is being oh so respectful of all those minefields I have set to protect myself... Sometimes respecting them, and other times gently pointing out that they are no longer needed...

A bit scary.  But yet... so not.  And for once I really understand that relationships do not have to be built with forever in mind, but more with right now in mind, moment by moment. That I can grow within this, and that is ok.  That I can grow outside of this and that too is ok.  That friends can both play (bdsm) and play (sex) and still be friends.

So for now... assume that silence means I am busy learning more about who I am, what I want, what makes me tick and more about teh world around me and how I fit into it.

Hugs and Laughter,

Welcome to My Journey

Life is a journey!

It can be an adventure, or not, as we choose.  Adventure blossoms first in the mind, does not require any level of ability or fitness or health.  Adventure, residing within our minds as a possibility, is within our complete control as individuals.

For me, life is an opportunity to travel through self awareness, self discovery and self empowerment. While it can be extremely challenging to reach for self awareness, it is incredibly rewarding. I look forward to every step!

It is not about judgment, racism, sexism or negativity-not for me.  It is about accepting myself so that I can truly accept others, about understanding myself so I can truly connect with others.  It is looking at our amazing planet with eyes full of wonder, grateful for the chance to be here.
Yes... Some days my glass is half empty.  But those days are few, as out of pure stubborn defiance I refuse, REFUSE to not see my glass as half full, fillable-I just can't live in a state of negativity.  Yes, some adventures hurt, some live me breathless with the pain of it-but that is still feeling-it is still life.
I'm ALIVE! And I am going to take this adventure, get as much out of it as I can, then find new ways to discover new adventures.

Giving power as self empowerment

Just mulling over how this whole power thing works... Funny that it is easy to just assume that by allowing someone to have power or control we must be weak, lesser, victimized and abused and yet... the power of being ABLE to make such a choice, with a partner that does not abuse it, is incredible.
Self empowerment is in so many of the little details.  Taking control of one's own day to day, for certain.  But what about being comforatable with one's needs? Being able to have boundaries that while flexible are not weak? Walking nude across the room in front of someone without any shame, being able to have someone disagree with you without your feeling of self disintegrating...
So many ways to gain self empowerment.
Every choice I make for myself, every stride I take towards being comfortable with who I am and hwa tI need is empowerment.
And.. I like it.. I like it very much.  Long ways to go but..