Tuesday, 18 February 2014

And that, my friends, is how I became addicted to the Whip.

I hid in the hotel room shaking with fear, apprehension and excitement. It was already ten minutes past when I had agreed to meet, and I still wasn't sure that I had the courage to go through with it.
It had been over a month since I had sent my timid request to @Rufrider to provide me with my first whipping scene ever. My dear Sir and I had met him at an EOS function where he had given us an impromptu lesson in whip wielding. We came away from the meet with a drive to explore whips more.
@Firm-Hand-Buddha and I had discussed this at length before I messaged Rufrider. We frequently play with others but.. I have not really bottomed for anyone else since we became partners. All my gluttonous needs have been well met. I have been over a few laps-but not for a scene, and certainly not for a session.
We talked and talked. We both felt very comfortable with Rufrider. He is passionate about what he does (whips), and he certainly has skills. More importantly, though, was how respectful he is towards us as individuals and as a couple. So, with that in mind, I messaged him and we began to work out an agreement for a whipping session.
Now that the moment had come I was panicking. Whips are one of those BDSM tools that can be used gently or incredibly harshly. I had seen some heavy scenes. I wasn't sure I was up to it. Firm-Hand-Buddha was patient, letting me fuss with clothing and hair, reassuring me and yet never pressuring me.
Then my phone buzzed, with a text from the whip wielder himself, checking to see where I was at. I took a breath and down we went. For some reason or the other I ended up in the Dungeon before FHB. I spotted Rufrider and headed over.
In the way of a safe top, he sat me down and prompted me to provide more info on what we wanted from him. I was so terribly nervous. I love pain, I really do, but...
Rufrider gently led the negotiations, making sure he had all the information he needed-not just the physical aspects (health, injuries, intensity of play wanted, safewords etc), but to be sure that he understood where our boundaries are as a couple. When we were done talking, he reminded me that he was also going to talk to FHB.
I have no recollection of what the two of them said, as I was concentrating on just breathing. We picked a cross, and away we went.
I dawdled getting undressed, and the two gents chatted while I did so.
Then there I was. Naked on the cross, with FHB on the other side facing me, his fingers lightly trailing over my lower arms and hands. FHB was be there to recognize when I was getting to yellow/red, as sometimes I forget to verbalize.
I realized, as Rufrider explained that he was going to start slowly, that he would be touching my back, shoulders and hair to connect, that I was nervous about more than the actual session itself-I was worried about FHB and how he would feel about how I would feel as someone else topped me.
I asked him if he was ok, and he gave me that Buddha smile that fills me with such peace and joy. With that smile I was able to let go, to trust him to look after his own ego and to just be in the moment of the session.
And then the whip touched me. The gentlest of kisses. And before I could decide how I felt about that, the return stroke. The dance began.
The whip would caress and I would melt a little, it would sting and I would writhe. The heat and tingle built up, the harsh kiss of the whip muted by the trailing caress as it left the skin-a caress amplified by my Sir's fingers lightly dancing along my skin.
The pain was not pain, really, but more just an intensity of sensation. It grew and grew until I thought surely I was going to have to yellow. Then suddenly there was a soothing hand on my back, a roughly gentle hand in my hair, pulling my head back.
Then the fingers on my arms again, the soothing voice of my partner, as the whip smoothed against my skin again, building until those kisses were light pops, then the light pops were small cracks, the intensity moving my body as I processed the sensations. As the cracks started my Sir softly asked me to color, I whimper moaned-Green, loving the waves I was riding. Then the waves began to pull me under and I opened my mouth the yellow just as a gentle touch soothed my back, kneaded my shoulders, fingers on my face, soft words being spoken, dragging me back into that lovely space where everything is pretty and beautiful. Those hands left me, Sir's hands returned to touching my hands and arms and the whip kissed my skin again.
I have no recollection of how many times Rufrider paused and then rebuilt the waves up. I know that at least two of those waves built me to tears and gasps, moans and groans, with each wave stopping just as I became overwhelmed, right up until the last wave.
The last wave was different. Rufrider expertly built that up until I was sobbing, my body desperate for a lull, and he said my name, he said it in a way that demanded an answer. He told me to stay with him, just five more. I agreed. Just five. I can do five.
The sound moved my body and Rufrider counted it out loud. Just as I was thinking four more was ok, I could do that the second crack sounded, and the intense sensation from the First Crack filled me. I cried out with the force of it, felt it from my toes to my scalp. My mind was going fuck, not three more, fuck not three more fuck as the next crack sounded and my body responded, the heat flooding me, the scream leaving my throat, the sobs wracking me.
But it was incredible, FHB gently coaching me, telling me just two more, as Rufrider called out the third and then delivered the 4th.
That crack filled my vision with streams of colour. My body filled with vibrations of pleasure and pain, everything so intense. So much... too much.. not enough.
Firm-Hand-Buddha, that voice that anchors me, the presence that means everything to me, calmly told me one more.. just one more, his fingers holding mine.
CRACK
The last one exploded across my back and through my chest, everything in my body tightened and released in this amazing sensation of pain, pleasure and heat. Then hands touching me as I sobbed. Voices telling me I did an amazing job, arms around me, mascara running, I laughed, I cried, I was high as hell, wet to the knees, and not room in my heart for embarrassment or shame as I hugged the two amazing men that made this scene so incredible.
Thank you, Sir, my love, for encouraging me and being so amazing.
Thank you, so very much, dear Rufrider. Thank you for your time, your respect and for taking me on such an amazing journey.
And that, my dear friends, is how I became addicted to the kiss of a whip.

Monday, 10 February 2014

How not to punish THIS sub

First off, just don't.
Don't punish me.
Ever.
As a spanko i get the allure of punishment. I really do. Some of my favorite fantasies are punishment based.
Hot, right?
The silly girl (me) does something ridiculous and her kind but stern (dominant, boss, husband, teacher etc) has to take her in hand and correct her wayward ways... Yummy as hell.
But the reality just does not work for me. The sexy stories are all about girls doing crazy things-driving dangerously, spending money they don't have, being embarrassingly bratty in public, playing childish and spiteful pranks... The list goes on.
Even as a child I did not do such things. I certainly am not going to start now. I make mistakes of course. I tend to take on more tasks than I can complete efficiently. I immerse myself in hobbies. I waste time on Fetlife. I forget to put a spoon in Sir's lunch. I get cranky. As soon as I 'mess up' and realize I did so, I feel regret. I think about what happened and I apologize to anyone it may have affected. I consider better ways to do things. I then learn, move on.
If Sir had decided to punish me for the spoon incident, I would have been crushed. Taking care of him is my favorite responsibility and he knows that I take this responsibility seriously.
Once I moved past being crushed, I would have moved on to being resentful. You see, spanking, corner time and lectures are beautiful things for me. They are magic. I love them-LOVE THEM! If those things were used with intent to make me feel bad, I would resent that. Not only do I not need a punishment to feel bad when I fuck up, but spankings (for me) are a happy place. I would resent them being tarnished.
I would resent him. I would be mining his words and actions for faults and mistakes, each one would deepen my resentment.
Punishment would not 'teach me' to be 'good'. Punishment would teach me to be hostile and angry.
When I mess up, we talk about it. If I need help to find solutions, FHB is willing to do what he can. I try to take responsibility for myself.
Funishment now... that is another thing entirely..

Monday, 20 January 2014

Westcoast Bound 2014

When we decided to attend WestCoast Bound this year, I know I had certain expectations. For example, I fully expected that I would learn a great deal in the workshops and classes and to enjoy meeting new people.
I certainly wasn't disappointed-the presenters were incredible and I certainly met new people. I did not expect the lessons I came away with, however.
My journey began in the week prior to the event, in spending time with my partner, @Firm-Hand-Buddha , while taking care of work and family related responsibilities and pleasures. There were so many moments, in those days together, forced into the tedium of muggle worlds (surrounded by family as we were) in which I was completely shattered by the depth of his love for me.
For the first time in my entire life, I truly believe that I am loved. Unconditionally. Without reserve. Without expectations. I have no words for the way this realization changed me, but it was ... devastating and beautiful. I wept.
I am humbled by it.
And it was with this fresh look at my relationship with my dear Sir that I landed in the midst of the Vancouver Fet Scene. With over 25 years of kink living, 15 years of traveling to workshops much like this one, and 2 years of holding my own workshops here, I felt sure that I at least knew what to expect.
With this slightly euphoric glee (I love these conferences) but confident in my expectations I followed my gentle yet sadistic partner to our first class. I was only attending this one for FHB, he has the violet wand and is quite devious in his use of it, but it is not a huge fetish for me. (Meaning I would not seek out this type of play with anyone else, even though I have oh so enjoyed our playtime). I figured it would be about how to use the equipment (which it was) and some advanced techniques (also true).
But I came away with a different lesson entirely. As I listened to @UncleAbdul talk I realized that I had completely missed the point of a tens unit. I had dismissed this gizmo as being just another form of electrical stuff, much like what we already have. But it is an EROTIC form. I missed the point because, hey, if it's not spanking or rope.... its just 'play'. And in that moment I realized I do this with all sorts of fun, sexy opportunities. If they are not in my comfort zone, I dismiss them out of hand. Hmmm... By the end of class I was excited, filled with devious ideas, and looking forward to exploring.
Every class I attended was like this.
Rape Play with @JimDuvall was a class we attended because we have a dear friend who is very much into CNC play, and we wanted a deeper understanding. I did come away with a deeper understanding, but Jim took his class a bit further, demonstrating a courage, compassion and intelligence in his workshop that left me reeling. He had ways of making this type of play seem so very doable, safely, but with that edge of fear that is oh so sexy. And in that moment, I looked at FHB and realized, this too is a path we could explore together, should we choose. That with the trust we have, there are so many options available to us. I was starry eyed coming out of class.
Finger Ties with @Tho4ns left me with excitement to revisit some ties that I enjoy, but that never really feel complete. A great instructor with a great bunch of rope addicts.
The entire weekend played this way, with new playmates, new realizations and incredible presenters.
Thank you Vancouver, for the friendly welcome and the lovely event.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

Practicing the TK3

I am going to Westcoast Bound this year!! I am so very excited.  There is an amazing line up of presenters and classes, including some advanced rope classes.  Not sure I can get in to one, but I oh so am going to try.

So... To be sure I am ready I am practicing the TK3 tie.

My dear friend and sometimes playmate volunteered to allow me to practice on her.

As you can see from the front, this tie is not just a typical chest harness, when done correctly it is locked in place and quite lovely. Next time with jute!!

I couldn't find my last purple rope, so we added the pink to finish.

Due to the way I added the pink rope on, the web is a bit off kilter, but for a first run I will take it!

Huge hugs for my volunteer! You have no idea how good it felt to have rope in my hand once more.
xoxo
Rope and laughter
Aropedeevil

Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Rope

The feel of rope as it heats in my hands, sliding over skin.  The smell of the natural fibers, the undertones of the personal recipe I use for conditioning my ropes.  The hiss and sigh as the rope caresses and glides.  The sounds of pleasure, yearning, pain, suffering, startelment and joy from my partner.

The sight of them bound before me, the excitement as I yank them against me, jerking them this way or that, press a pressure point here, pinch there or nibble here. 

Bliss.. I love rope.

Monday, 23 December 2013

Is that you, Santa ? Oh no!!

The usually prim lady sprawled on the couch, tipsy from the Bailey's and flushed with expectation. Her lover had promised to pop by this evening, and in a burst of alcohol fueled courage she had dressed up rather tartly for him, her hair swept up, lipstick dark red, and a slutty little outfit sure to widen his eyes. A patent leather under bust corset cinched her waist, her breasts bared and a matching patent skirt that barely covered her butt clung to her curvy body. The black stockings that encased her legs were sexy as heck and spiked heels on her feet finished the look, even if she was a bit wobbly in them.

She grinned as she imagined the look on his face, and her naughty thoughts made her body tingled and tighten in the most delicious ways. She let her thoughts wander, and was just beginning to imagine all sorts of sinful fun when she heard it... the jingle of bells, the booming sound of "hohoho".
She giggled, thinking her dear lover was playing around, and flounced to the door to let him in.

Except..

It was not her lover at all, but ...

"Santa?" she gasped, staring in wonder. Santa here? What on earth!

Santa was staring too, but in horrified shock. His eyes raked over her and his demeanor changed quickly from jolly to stern and disapproving. "Miss!! Have you NO shame?"

She gasped in horror as she remembered he state of... cough undress. Her hands flew up to cover her bare breasts and she blushed a fiery red. "Oh my!! I, um, that is.. uh." She floundered, at a complete loss how to deal with this startling development. She flashed a tipsy grin at the lovely man and giggled..."Obviously I was not expecting you!!"

Father Christmas, however, was not amused. He took her by the arm and led her further into the house. Closing the door he turned back to her and shook his head in disappointment before herding her before him up the stairs. He scolded her as he shooed her into the living room, scooping a kitchen chair as he passed the table. "Miss!!! That skirt is so short your backside flashes as you walk!! What sort of lady wears such an outfit!!"

She stammered, giggled and stumbled, with half hearted excuses, apologies and sassy comments as Santa plopped the chair in front of the tree and sat down, tugging her to spill face down over his knee which elicited a startled gasp of protest from the tipsy lady herself.

"Santa!! Really! (giggle), um, usually a girl SITS on Santa's knee you see, I think you have this ALL wrong!!" She tried to stand up, but Santa placed his white gloved hand firmly upon her back.
"Good girls sit on my lap, Miss.. Not tarts!" Santa adjusted the squirming ladies body and then brought his right hand down upon her upturned cheeks.

"Naughty girls get spankings.:"

"eek!!!" She squealed, mortified as her childhood here began to swat her. "Santa, really, i must, ack.. uh.. "

"You (smack) must (smack) nothing!(smack)" Santa retorted, stepping up his pace and swatting harder to boot. "I (smack SMACK smack) didn't even (smack smack SMACK smackety smack) raise (SMACK SMACK) your (SMACK) skirt, (smack smack) you naughty (SMACK) thing, (smack smack smack) it is so short (SMACK SMACK SMACK) that it (SMACK) raised (SMACK) itself!!!(SMACK smack smack smack smack SMACK" He focused on turning her cheeks red, ignoring her protests while he scolded her.

"I cannot (smack smack)hardly (smack SMACK smack) fathom (SMACK) what has gotten (smack smack smack) into you!! (smack smack smack) Dressing like a tart (smack SMACK smack) sassing Father Christmas (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) and you are intoxicated (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) are you not?? (smack smack smack)" Santa declared.

This onslaught continued, turning her buttocks first a sweet pink, then dark pink then red, until she was kicking her feet and little crocodile tears escaped her eyes.

Then Santa snugged her in tightly and spanked her hard and fast, leaving her breathless, as he ominously queried, "Do you know what Santa does with sassy, naughty, tarty girls?"

"Spanks them?" she guessed, wryly, in between her gasps and whimpers.

"Naughty girls might get a spanking, but You, Miss" Santa replied, "have earned far more than that." He jostled her so she was more securely held and she felt something cold and hard pressed flat against her very warm cheeks. She barely had time to wonder before he lifted the item and brought it down smartly.

"Ack!!! owww!!" She flailed, trying to get off his knee as he brought the mean paddle down again..slightly harder yet. "nooooo!!!!!, stop please.. Santa!!," and again, harder still, as she kicked and squirmed. Santa paddled her now tender cheeks thoroughly, until she quit struggling and lay limply over his lap, crying softly. Then he finally lifted her off his lap and let her weep into his shoulder a moment.

Once she began to calm a bit, he stood her up and led her back into the kitchen.
"Almost done, brat. I am sure, Quite Sure, that when I am done you will not be greeting Santa EVER AGAIN in such a shameless outfit!!" With that he bent her over her table and drew off his belt. "How many days of Christmas?"

"uh.. twelve?" she said, slightly dazed..

"Twelve it is, hohoho!" Santa chortled as he brought the belt down upon her backside. "Eleven days, HoHoHo!" Thwack! and so on until the last lash had landed.

"Now, Miss" Santa said, not unkindly, as he stood her up and walked her to the corner. "You will stand here." He turned her so she was facing the corner. "Until he comes"

She stood there, feeling confused, shamed and yet... exhilarated too...

Wonder what her lover would think, to find her standing there?

Saturday, 14 December 2013

My Letter to Santa

Dear Santa
Merry Christmas!! How are you?
With Christmas fast approaching I figured I had best write, partly out of fear and partly out of my love for you.
I have tried so very hard to be a good girl this year, Santa, I really did! But it is so very hard to be good when I am surrounded by so many perverted ladies and gents who want to be rigged and bound, teased and photographed. I couldn't help myself Santa!! To be blunt and honest, I am not sorry for my ropey times and rigging fun.
I didn't mean to sass Sir those five hundred plus times. But Santa, he sets me up, I swear!! He says the most leading things and my mouth opens and my wit pops out. Truly, not fair to count this as naughty! Besides, he enjoys my wit, my bratty sass. So... this doesn't count as naughty, right Santa? Right?
I guess though I have no excuse for the defiance on at least three occasions. I know I need to learn to put pride aside and just do what I am told. But of the four times this year he gave me a directive, I listened at least once! That counts for something, hey Santa?
I know that my school work is behind. I have a list a mile long for excuses, but really, I need to learn to prioritize things, to not take on more than I can do. Sir has kindly pointed this out a few zillion times Santa. (Should nagging perhaps be put on Sir's list of naughty behaviours?) Sir already made me pay for this, with his disapproving sighs and mini lectures on looking after myself. So we are good, Right Santa?
The only other really naughty thing I have done this year is to fantasize much about your visit this year. I love you Santa! I Love your snowy beard, your jolly laugh, your sugary kisses, your firm hand, your dashing black belt, your shiny boots.. Just thinking about you makes my belly quiver and a delicious wet feeling happen 'down there'. What girl doesn't fantasize about Santa bending her naughty self over a chair back, thrashing her jiggling backside with his world famous belt, chanting, "Now Dashit it, you Bratling! You naughty Vixen! On Christmas you'll pay, for naughty behaviour!" Knowing that once she's paid she gets her reward, forgiveness and jolly good fucking. That is how it goes, right Santa? I know I am on your blacklist but...
I have done many good things too, Santa! I have cared for my loved ones and respected (mostly) my Sir. I have given of my heart freely, learned not to fear love. I have learned to love my larger sized self, to reach out for help and not to yell. I am working on the cutting comments, and learning not to use sarcasm as my communication tool. Surely these things are worth a treat or two? All I want is rope Santa, and bunnies to tie. Perhaps more time for my Sir and a collar that I can abide.
I will stay up waiting for you Santa, all Christmas eve if need be! Perhaps I will wait, bent over a chair!!
Merry Christmas Santa!
Love from
Naughty and Nice Aropedeevil