Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Really... It Actually Can Hurt


(Warning: This post is a ramble. New to talking about it...)

It is such a nice gesture to receive: feedback from writing a blog post or two.
Thanks to those who are reading this brand new blog and to the readers who sent messages.

A question from a reader:
"I understand the dominant/submissive thing but the "play" ..flogging...bondage...all that...sounds painful. Does it actually hurt? And if it actually does, why would you let it be done to you?" 

Of course, it is understandable  the idea of consensually engaging in activities that bring about pain or willingly have pain being inflicted upon, is a strange one. In a society where the messages are confusing on the subject it is no wonder some even find the idea offensive. Have an affliction in your body? Let's medicate it. The general consensus of society is pain is bad and should be avoided. When experiencing pain, it should be dealt with quickly, to make an end of it.

An expert on the psychology of BDSM or an educator in the kink community (there are approachable experts or much more experienced folk than I out there, who can speak with authority on this issue) I am not, nor can I give you the physiology and neurochemical breakdowns for what can happen...but there is a lot going on.

Does it actually hurt?
 It depends on the activity, the implement used and under what settings.
And its hard to compare a paddling to having a pinwheel prick along your calves.
Who is wielding the implement? How much do they want/need to cause pain to experience pleasure themselves? are determining factors.
It has a lot to do with mindset. There are certain things that the mere idea of makes me shudder. And those would probably cause more pain than others, that don't have that mental affect.
From my vantage point there are many, many wonderful activities and toys and experiences I have engaged in that has caused pain. It can hurt and does...(someone would say if it doesn't then its not being done right) but its the kind of pain it is--a good pain, but hurts in the process--, that is hard to explain.
Really thinking about this question, I realised there has maybe been only a few times of designated play scenes that left me crying, withering and sore for days afterwards. Otherwise, I'm hard pressed to point to an example of where the pain I experienced during these activities is worse than a paper cut.
But really, it can hurt.

Why I would let it be done?
Because the pain intensifies the most mundane, casual sensations, leading to pleasure,  because there is a fierce masochist streak, because it is fun to explore various sensations caused by an arrange of implements, because being a submissive is so much more than being one who receives pain but, for me at least, its tied in to part of that whole.


A couple of articles, collected over time on this subject:
The Path of Pain: Spiritual BDSM by Kal Cobalt
http://www.realitysandwich.com/path_pain_spiritual_bdsm

The Pleasure of Pain, by Marianne Apostolides
http://www.bdsmcircle.net/dslifestyle/thepleasureofpain.htm

Image Source 

Monday, 28 May 2012

Play and Discipline: Present, Acte I

( Where does the play start and end? Where is there the separation between play and punishment or discipline? Sometimes it all mushes together in one fantastically erotic mess)



He said, “Present”.
Lying on the bed with the cool sheets against my breasts and idly swinging my legs, I wait.
Enjoying the feeling of my long hair trailing down my naked back and the texture of the jeans I'm still wearing.
Insignificant thoughts drift through my mind.
Should I cut my hair?
What time did we have to meet them, tonight?
Really, we should do something about the weird noise the car is making again.
Do I have time to make a cake? Hmmm...there are those cupcakes in the freezer, we'll just bring those.
Noise from outside the room, shuts off the trail of thoughts, running water, drawers opening and closing. I am happy, eager with expectation and a washed in anticipation. There isn't an exact plan of what is coming, but sometimes, when life hasn't allowed for much more than our brand of boring martial sex and the time and space is found, every toy in our box gets pulled out. It is times like these where the differences between discipline or punishment and play merge. A catch-all.

He comes into the bedroom, humming softly. I perch up on my elbows, turn my head and smile. In two seconds, he has crossed over to the bed and his hand is spanking my jean covered bottom. Hard hand-spanking doesn't let up for several minutes and I'm infused with feelings of relief and pleasure. One or two, goodly placed spanks has made me whimper, delightfully enjoying his strong hand falling, steadily over and over.
He stops and puts a hand on the back of my neck. That little gesture communicates so much and right now, it makes me purr.
He pulls me up and without a word, I kneel on the floor, fumble with his buttons and then my mouth is around his erect cock. I take my time, slowly use my tongue and cheeks and lips to pleasure him as he guides me by keeping a hand in my hair, pulling on it gently every now and then.

His fingers gently pinch my nipple between them and then not so gently and its such a glorious sensation.
 He yanks my head up, as I swallow, tasting him on my lips. He effortlessly lifts me back onto the bed, kissing me long and slow, here and there and he teases me so gently its annoying with his his hands, his mouth, his tongue.
He puts my head down.
I move giving, just a little protest, breaking the silence (every once in a while you...because its fun because this...right now, its light and airy...).
He grabs a fistful of my hair, grabs my chin.
“Wrong you silly girl”, he said, affection clear in his voice.
He shakes his head but he's trying to hide a smile, kind of hard for a man who seldom frowns.
He lets go of my hair, reaches behind him and with his left hand, pushes my head down. I feel the leather straps sweep against my cheeks as he settles them in place, around the back of my head.
“Open”.
My mouth closes around the ball gag.


Wednesday, 23 May 2012

Too Many Orgies Can Spoil the Plot


I wasn't exactly wired with the "Let's go team" kind of mentality and if I have to be in a group or a crowd, its one of these complete opposites, for me. Meaning, if I am in a situation where interaction with others is demanded, I do much better when I have a task, a purpose. Put me behind the bar and I'll be the friendliest wench in the room. Let me give out tickets and I'll do it with a smile. Have me speak to the grouping of people and the nerves of being in a crowed room will fade away. In other words, if I have the false sense of being in charge or in control, I'll do just fine in a group.

Anyways being in an orgy isn't appealing to me. There was this one time, that could be filed under the category of being young and stupid. A good friend and a few guys, copious amounts of liquor and I think it all started by the fact that we were trying to convince one of the guys not to call a stripper and then that ended up with all of us being in various forms of nakedness. Some groping and tongue and full-making out with my friend and then the guys actually being the ones who were squeamish but somehow, we took turns being felt-up and tongued by one of them and fed really cheesy lines, which we compared later. There were some tears during the evening, from my friend who was upset by the whole thing and denied the making-out, which was really a shame because that was the highlight of my night. It ended well, with more liquor, breakfast the next morning and Leonard Cohen on the way home. That's probably the closest thing I've experienced to an orgy and it wasn't even that great, nor does it strictly meet the definition.
 Being in a setting where there is no intent of sex with multiple people but expression of various kinks, quite different. Bondage parties, "slave parties", and even co-topping have some mild appeal but those are themes I'd much rather write and fantasise about than experience in reality.

But I see orgies all the time. If you are an (successful) independent author (or want to be) its actually mandatory that you join in one.
As evident from some of the groups I've been invited to in the past:

Critique groups.
Editing groups.
First Draft groups.
Character Development Groups.
Beta-Reading groups
Point of View groups.
Character Setting Groups
and I kid thee not-
Writing Coach Groups

I'm not a successful author and maybe the reason why is because I've refused to join in, to past these orgies by.
Being more comfortable in a group setting by being in charge, maybe I'll start the Cynic Writer's Group.


Image Source: 
Many Faces Art 
 Please do not copy, share or repost text and images in this post without permission. 



Saturday, 19 May 2012

Saturday Sensations: Voice


In my experience a relationship where there are elements of BDSM in the dynamic, all of the interactions between partners are heightened. The various tools of interactions (or the tools used to cause an interaction/reaction..the sensation), the response they cause are more prominent, a deeper awareness of how they make you feel and the responses they illicit.
Sensations: Cause and effect, how the senses of the body interprets them, how they feel on mind and body.

Voice

A lot of the time, it is not the action. It isn't about the play scene or the use of a toy but it is in the attitude. 
It is in the expression. The way every motion is carried that shows, or makes me feel the submissive.
 It is found in the little gestures and sounds.
The little obscure gesture, the sounds, the posture, the visual and auditory clues that contribute to building a place of anticipation.

His voice, always calm, controlled. The millions of inflictions that gives an indication to what is occurring...and my attention to it.
His voice that says, “You are mine”, with heavy surety that the words spoken are true.
Those words, with that tone, make me feel secure.

His voice, lighthearted and everyday that says, “Its taken care of”, cool and confident, absolute belief as he says the words, it is done.
Ah, his attention to some of the day-to-day and when he speaks reassuringly like that, the sense of relief that washes over me is so welcomed.

When he is giving a command, using his full authority of being the one in charge, says “Present”, pure expectation, calm knowing what he says will happen.
The deeper intensity, that ripples through his voice with this authoritative directive, it causes me to squirm and comply.

And the times, when he uses his voice to encourage mine. The times when I don't want to speak or feel uncomfortable answering a question like, “What do you want?” the question in his voice, left dangling but with the crystal clear undertone of “you will tell me”.
As a sensation (or one that brings sensations), the voice probably not thought of much, but it can be as powerful as any impact toy.


Image Source:


Wednesday, 16 May 2012

Good Morning: Waking Him

{This was one of my first attempts at writing erotica. I was invited to audition for an anthology of shorts, focusing on stories with a morning theme, all featuring M/F. I thought I would share it here, in its raw form. I have used these characters in other shorts) 





If the blinds were down and the curtains drawn, as usual, Sarah wouldn't have been woken up by bright splashes of sunlight.
Recovering from being blinded by the light, Sarah slid her feet into her slippers, grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the door and quietly left the bedroom. No reason to disturb Felix's sleep.

Downstairs, Sarah set the coffeemaker and glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Seven o'clock on Saturday morning. Sarah put the dishes from last night away, watered the plants and really wished the sun hadn't blazed into the bedroom.
It was too early.
Passing the den, she swallowed. An oddly shaped cylinder package, still wrapped on the table. The thought of the package's contents was enough to spur on her imagination. Felix would use the new toy in wonderful, tantalizing ways on her body. Her breasts felt tight as she went back upstairs.
Felix was still asleep.
Sarah slid back into bed, beside him and curled against his side.
Do I dare? Sarah smiled at the thought.
It was a tempting thought, waking him up while she was slightly wet with anticipation.
Sarah slightly fingered herself, playing the scene out in her mind.
I'll straddle him and wake him up, she thought.
What better way than sex to start the day?
Sarah felt the tingling of nerves through her body and positioned herself on top of Felix's chest.
“Morning” she said and kissed him.
He blinked, gave a sleepy smile and gently nudged Sarah off him.
Felix rolled over, pulling Sarah tight to his side, his arms around her waist.
In his sleepy grip, Sarah squirmed.
She wanted more than a cuddle.
Sarah slowly dragged her foot along Felix;s leg, she pressed her body into his, running into his erection.
“What do you want?” Felix said.
His voice surprised Sarah. He was much more awake than she thought.
She grinded herself against him. Felix wrapped both strong arms around her, his hands under breasts.
“This?” he asked. He pinched the right nipple softly, released and then pinched the left nipple, harder.
“Yes”, Sarah said. She leaned closer against Felix, moving with his touch.
Felix let go of her nipple and Sarah arched against him.
She wanted much more.
“You woke me up”, Felix spoke against her neck.
“Didn't think you would mind”. Sarah gasped as his finger slid into her.
Felix fingered her clit and abruptly stopped. He dragged his finger, covered with her juices along her breasts, up her neck and into her mouth.
Sarah twirled her tongue around his finger, tasting herself and moaned.
Felix removed his finger from her mouth.
He sat upright and waited.
Sarah lifted herself up on all fours, her ass rising in the air.
Felix put a hand on either side of her hips and swiftly was inside Sarah, slowly he started to thrust.
He slowly started to thrust inside Sarah.
“More”. Sarah bounced, trying to find more pressure.
Felix slowly, methodically continued with long strokes. He slipped his fingers into her and quickly withdrew them, teasingly.
Felix spread Sarah's cheeks apart, stopped moving.
Sarah felt like the air had gone out and wanted to howl in frustration.
Felix lifted Sarah closer, his cock posited to enter her tight anal ring.
Sarah gasped and pushed against him.
Felix entered, slowly and Sarah relaxed.
Felix grabbed Sarah's breasts hard slammed into her, hard and deep.
Sarah bit her lip and withered under him. Felix kept changing his rhythm, keeping the release she wanted out of reach.
Two quick hard thrust and Sarah felt filled with the warmth of Felix's cum.
“I fuck you”. he said.
He withdrew from Sarah, gave her a pat on the back and rolled over back into bed.
Rung out, Sarah laid on her stomach, in complete frustration.
Her mind went back to the package on the coffee table. 
Tonight, she thought, certain her frustration would end. 
#
Please do not repost, copy or use without permission. 
Image Source: MorgueFile http://www.morguefile.com



Monday, 14 May 2012

Witches and Modern Feminism

{All opinions in this post are in the context of the evening mentioned, here. If you want to worship trees, cats or fig newtons, have fun and be merry....etc...etc..}


If given the choice between going to a large social gathering for the sheer “fun” of it and staying home, I will choose to stay home.

Recently, when I was invited to a “Women's Tent” event by an old friend, my introvert-self and common sense flew out the window. It was nice to hear from this kind lady who I have known for a long time.
 She would be thrilled if I could make the time to be there for her, at this event she was hosting. I would also know a few other women who would be attending.
Of course, was my reply.
Having been to two large social-gatherings in that same week, I talked myself into it. Thought it would be a nice break, a more relaxed environment.
The women were, like my friend, kind. Conversation ranged from work, to home, to family and what was in the news. Chitchat isn't really my thing, but I was kind of enjoying myself.
It was relaxing.
Honestly, I do not know how it suddenly went from being a group of intelligent women to misguided ones. But it did and the tide turned fast.

The talk turned to how, in the Craft (that'd be witchcraft) the god's role is not needful in today's society.
How, these women feel so much more balanced by honouring only the goddess.
Doing so—didn't I agree?--was honouring the sacred feminine in us. Like the good ole' traditions teach.
I did not say anything.
 I was still trying to figure out what had happened.
 If the evening had ended there, I might have been able to let it go. Chalk it up to wandering into a diantic-coven and wishing my friend would have given me fair warning. 
Of course, it didn't.
Every single one of these women, from the married, to the single, to the ones in some kind of committed relationship, to the couple who weren't on the hunt, cited reasons from their own, personal lives that backed up their thoughts.
 It was a rain of man-hate.
They wanted to know what I thought. Encouraging me to join in with my idealistic viewpoint of life and contribute to the conversation. 
After all, as all of them knew, I have the creds to join in a discussion about living a pagan life and it was clear they were certain of what I was going to say.
I weighed my options. I could say something piercing--which would lead to an emotional explosion-, or I could politely make my apologies and leave.
Feeling like a coward, I ran to the nearest exist.
Debating what makes a witch, hasn't been high on my list of favourite topics since my pre-teen years.
 This gathering was the last place I expected to find modern-feminism alive and well. 
Why? 
Because the Craft teaches us, divinity is both male and female. It honours the god and the goddess, it even explores how men are different than women.
Of course I understand many of these women had suffered pain from men. 
I can empathise, if you are a female and haven't been hurt by a male, I think you are probably a very rare bird. Then again, I could make a very good argument as to how it is more rare, if you are a woman and haven't been out right burned by another woman.
Yet, I can't help but think what I experienced that evening, was a glimmering example of the overall picture. ...part and parcel of the whole.
 In this group, I would have thought that they could turn their energies into more positive outlets. To embrace the positive aspects of females and males and roles and society that, they, as self-proclaimed witches, should look to their belief, at the very least as being a way in which they can add a bit of balance to the world. 
I wanted to tell these women, why and how I disagreed with them 
Okay, full disclosure: I want to tell them they are wrong.
 That would serve no purpose other than exalting in my own indignation.
 I am not going to change their minds...I really, don't wish to, either. I know they will never understand how I live my life...and that's okay..I don't need their understanding.
Without a doubt, they will not begin to imagine how I can, willingly, sanely, lovingly, put myself in a place of submission to my husband and still call myself a witch.
All I have to say in reply (if ever asked) is when it is all said and done, whether you call yourself a Wiccan, a Witch, a Pagan, BTW, or Solitary, the first lesson in all those paths is the most challenging, one that has to learned and re-learned again and again. 
 "Know thyself.”

Image: Tarot Art Nouveau, the Lovers Card


Friday, 11 May 2012

Fetish Friday: Calling It and Kinbaku

Yes, another meme. Can't really find a linky or where this originated from (feel free to point me in the direction) but my Twitter list is all a-twitter with #FetishFriday and bloggers that have written or posted pictures on, well fetishes.

 More and more, I continually rediscover that we are the odds ones out. The closet label I have been able to identify with is "Taken in Hand" but more often than not, that seems to be descriptive of a male dominant and sometimes, downright asshole or bible-thumper looking for reasons to spank his wife/significant other. Not quite fitting enough. 

Lately, I've been describing this thing we have as "a taken-in-hand marriage with a side of BDSM, Kink and Bondage" call it what you will. It means, I am a submissive female in a male-lead marriage by an Alpha Dominant (again, labels) probably will blog about this again.
Did I mention bondage?

 More accurately the rope art we enjoy (and are constantly learning about) and the practice of, is called Kinbaku. 
"Kinbaku is the combination of the technical side of tying (shibari) and the emotional exchange. The secret is not what you do but how you do it" Source 

Happy Friday Fetish!




Thursday, 10 May 2012

Thursday Thirteen: Ways to Please Him


Thursday Thirteen

Ah, the cycle of a new blog. Searching for topics, having to feed it (trying to update this three times a week) and keeping an audience interested. For help with those goals, I looked around for Memes and came across The Thursday Thirteen. Easy meme, each Thursday blog a list of thirteen things. Visiting the other blogs, it quickly became apparent that anything goes and some writers are awfully creative with this meme. Not sure if I want to do this every Thursday but for this particular Thursday, fun and frivolous was exactly what I was searching for. Enjoy!



Thirteen Ways to Please Him

  1. “My mouth is for this” showing him, on my knees.
  2. Letting a “yes Sir”, escape while in public.
  3. Skirt up, lying across the bed, a chair; presenting ass.
  4. Bringing him rope and asking for play.
  5. Five, four, three...”now”! Coming on command.
  6. Blogging.
  7. Kneeling at his side, without any prompting.
  8. Looking up new toys and saying, “Can we try this?”
  9. Going a day without using any “distasteful” language.
  10. Cooking, baking, cleaning, how the daily domestic duties delight.
  11. Quietly, sitting through yet another comic-book movie.
  12. Socializing. He likes people, I do not.
  13. Giving affection, kissing, hugging, complimenting.

To see the other Thursday 13ers visit, here http://thursday-13.com

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

But Softly and Gently



Tension is in every part of my body. My neck is stiff, my shoulders heavy, my legs are trembling.
Not tonight.
Usually, I do not protest, I follow his lead and I strive not to do anything just for the sake of evoking a reaction. I am not a damsel in distress and this dynamic isn't a chase in the pursuit of dominance. It is submission.
Tonight, when everything that was typical feels so shattered, I was hesitant. I struggled to give in and found myself going through the actions. My head is only half here, my heart is broken. And I want to be, in this moment, miles away.
Firmly, he put his hands on my shoulders, rubbing them rather vigorously to grab my attention. He lifted my chin to meet his gaze.
“Now. Trust me.”
Always.

Only tonight, that is a concept, in my head,yes, but I can't find the connection that is usually so present.
I nodded in reply. Not wanting to say anything, or to feed the unsettled emotions. Trying to trust.
He turned away from me and I gulped in a huge breath. Turning back to me, he guide me against the arm of the couch and placed a length of cord around my neck. It drapes between my breasts, to below my knees. He slowly wraps my breasts, in one big loop. There is a knot in the center, but it is very loose. The length of rope has become shorter. With the two ends, that are against either side of my hips, he ties a knot, spinning me around to gain tie it in place, in the small of my back.
“How are you feeling?”
I shrugged my shoulders, testing the resistance and found none.
“Fine” I said. Surprisingly, I did feel fine. My mind had become both empty and focused.
He put a hand to my back, above the knot, guiding me over the arm of the couch, kind of slithering me along until my body was lying across the cushions, face down.
Methodically, he tapped his fingers along my neck, my shoulders, my back, above my so loosely tied writs. More firmly, he tapped my right, then left buttocks, all the way down the back of my calves, to the back of the soles of my feet. Tantalizing and slow, but I focused on each movement and felt the tension easing.
“You're mine” he said, pulling my wrists gently.
I could easily free myself from the rope, but don't.
I murmured an agreement.
“I could flog you”, he said. He picked up the flogger from the table and brushed it across my back, up my neck and along my legs. “Couldn't I?”
“Yes”, I said, wincing as my body tensed at the thought. I will, I thought, if he goes there, I will let myself follow.
“With this”, he had switched floggers.
I laughed, as the lightweight strands tickled the side of my face.
It was the world's littlest flogger, he picked it up for sheer amusement.
“I would like that”, I volunteered.
He snapped the flogger and it was like being stroked by yarn.
“Is that good?” he asked. The little tiny leathery straps landing on the small of my back.
“Very good” I said through laughter.
“See, you needed this.”
Yes, I needed the reassurance. Despite everything, we are still whole and to feel the solidness of us.
He tossed the mini-flogger. It landed in a planter and we both laughed.
“And this”, he said, placing a finger inside me.
“That definitely” I said.
And we loved...intent on loving just a little bit more.

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

First Punishment



We had just returned home, from spending a glorious afternoon with good friends and time in the outdoors, taking in a beautiful place.
Home to where it isn't as I would like it.
Barely out of my coat, I launched into a triad.
This isn't right. We're going to be stuck here. We'll never get out of here. Why can't you make something better happen? Why can't we make it better?
Oh, the emotions. The emotions, completely justified the words and tone I used to express them, not so much. I was yelling and nearly in tears. Its like ,I had taken in every perceived wrong and put it into one little temper- rant.
He took me by the shoulders and steered me to the bedroom.
“That's just enough” he said. “You don't yell at me like that”.
I retorted, with something about having the right to yell and express how I feel.
“Everytime we go and have a nice afternoon, the minute we get home you are determined to undo all of it. It is ridiculous. I'm not going to listen to it anymore. Lie down.”
His tone was serious. I wasn't quite sure where he was going with this but by then, I was feeling badly enough about my actions and I complied.
He left the room.

He came back.
Put a hand on the back of my neck.
“this is unacceptable. I am tired of you acting like this”.
With a flick of the wrist, the paddle came down hard.
I yelped in surprise. Lifted myself onto my shoulders. Glared at him.
“What are you doing?”
He pushed me down, firmly.
“Showing you how unhappy I am with your behaviour.”
The paddle, again hard and fast hitting my ass squarely.
He's out of his mind, I thought. I am not going to just let him paddle me.
Again, his hand on the back of my neck.
The smooth wood of the paddle making contact. Over and over.
“I am not putting up with being yelled at”, he said.
He took his hand off my neck, stood up and swung the paddle.
It went on for a very long time. I felt the impact of the air as the paddle swung, up and over and down again.
I didn't move. I didn't resist. The anger in his voice started to fade as he told me how he felt. How I made him feel when I was screaming, ranting and raving. By the time he stopped, I felt thoroughly shamed. It overrode the shock of what had just happened.
“You stay here for the rest of the night.”
He kissed my cheek and left me.
Alone, I felt oddly. I turned it all over and over in my mind, still not quite believing that he had done this, that he punished me.
It made me feel cleansed, somehow. As if the slate had been cleaned and I was happy he had voiced his feelings and I saw his perspective.
The next day, I called him at work, acted as if everything was normal.
I wanted to make sure he knew I was fine. I wasn't feeling resentful or angry or upset. I had accepted what happened and what he did.
I didn't want to have any awkwardness or walk around as if we were now fragile; I could feel that being a possibility. I sent him a note, thanking him for the punishment.

Eons later, I think back to that night as the starting point. It wasn't really, I mean, why else would there have been a paddle? We had talked about it through the years. We tried one thing or another, finding some too rigours, others just too silly, some that just didn't work for us. We have found a balance, a new way of being in our relationship but that for me, was the defining moment of this new phrase--however you want to label it