Tuesday, 31 July 2012

Welcome to Sanctuary: Escape

(In the indie book world, spefifically in erotica ficition, there is something really exiciting taking place: authors are putting forth a greater quality of work and taking more risks, inspiring to novices like me. Much appercation to those forging the way)


Started to play with this concept here (C) 2012 Bleuame. 

The full moon, high in the sky washed the city in tinted silvery light. Noémi leaned over the balcony, the wind whipping her hair in her face and ruffling the sleeves of her dress.
It was quiet in the sanctuary, all members of the household were asleep. Noémi was awake, the moon calling her to explore the city beyond the gates.
 Noémi wanted to walk through the sleeping city, basking the moonlight, taking in the sights alone.

Her palms sweaty and her heart thundering in her chest, Noémi closed the doors to the baloney and made her way downstairs, as quietly as she could.
 At the bottom of the stairs, she heard guards laughing as they changed shifts. Noémi waited until she heard the click of the door and quickly ran to the kitchen, taking the side entrance out into the night.
The night was cool and from the vantage point of the side gate, she could see the guards but this side wasn't watched and no one noticed her as she pushed through the gates and left the compound behind.
 Noémi ran through through the streets, feeling free and basking in the rarity of not having anyone around to order her. She slowed to a walk and trailed her hand through the leaves of the trees that dotted the walkways.

As much as she loved life in the sanctuary, she loved the solitude of being by herself. Noémi walked by the shops, passed the church and wondered if she could make it to the pier before one of the watchmen came and dragged her home. This wasn't the first time Noémi took off for a few moments of solitude. A tinge of fear crept through her, she remembered the last time she was punished for leaving, when she was told that if she left again without permission, she would be dismissed. Noémi shivered and quickened her pace. Risking the displeasure of the master wasn't something she wanted but after all these years, Noémi felt she was entitled to go out alone, when the fancy struck.
 Noémi turned off the main road and took the path that lead to the lake. The winds were still blustery but the water was a still pool of reflection. Noémi heard the the noise she had been expecting. The sounds of hoof-beats. Two guards on black stallions were riding towards her.
 Noémi turned and waited for them to come to a stop. She had been caught.

“Come on now”, the lead guard said. He extended a hand to Noémi and ungracefully pulled her up and over the saddle. “We thought you knew better.”
 Noémi slumped across the saddle and wondered if a hour of freedom was worth it. Why couldn't she stay put at the compound? The allure of the moon and solitude was just too strong a feeling to ignored.
 Noémi sighed, closed her eyes as they rode home.
The gates clanged close and the guard halted his mount.

“We found her by the river”.
 Noémi flushed and her stomach rolled.
 “Down you go.”
 Only then did Noémi open her eyes. She blinked furiously and swallowed a lump in her throat. Relief swept through her, she wasn't face to face with the master but only the head guard.
 “Again Noémi ?”

The man grabbed her wrist and lead her into the inner courtyard. Catching sight of the whipping post, Noémi shuddered. She knew what it was to be naked with arms tied at the wrist as the flogger scored her back in front of the whole household with the master sitting in his chair, his gaze turned away and the memory made Noémi 's breath catch in her throat and her body warmed with a sliver of excitement.

“Master, here she is”, the guard said.
 “Noémi, I thought you were happy here?” The Master leaned against the stone wall but there was nothing casual in his stance. His left hand held a flogger.
“Master, I'm sorry”, Noémi sunk to her knees. The dampness of the grass soaked through her dress.
“Are you? “The Master grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head up.
 “Yes”, Noémi whispered.
 “I think you enjoy being sorry.”
Noémi tried to look down, but couldn't move out of the iron clad grip.

It was the thrill of being caught that really sent her out into the night and the Master knew it. The sweet humiliation of the punishment that was to follow.

A sharp streak of pain flared against Noémi's shoulders as the Master swung the flogger.

“Isn't that correct?”
The Master let go of Noémi's hair and lightly drew a finger along the side of her neck.
 “Yes”. Noémi couldn't play the game of protestation and the admittance brought sensual flickers through her body.
“It is not safe outside the compound without an escort late at night. The rule is for your protection.”
The flogger sliced the air, coming down hard on her back. Noémi gritted her teeth as the stroked landed, breaking through the sweetness of pleasurable pain and reaching the point of strong infliction.
The Master continued, steadily with the flogger.
  Noémi held herself still with willpower and finally the leather straps stopped kissing her skin.
 “What do you have to say?”
“Nothing. I know the rules are there for our protection” Noémi forced the words out.
 “You are supposed to be a role model”, the flogger came out of nowhere and landed on her right breast.
 Noémi yelped out of surprise.
 “I'm sorry Master”, Noémi said quietly.
 The Master lifted her up from the ground and caressed the side of her face.
 “Do this again and you will be dismissed. That is all.”
Noémi nodded and walked away, sufficiently punished but unfilled.




### 

Sunday, 29 July 2012

For Lugh

(A post made of thoughts and personal reflections..skimming the surface, barely of an important relationship.The arrange of topics that can be discussed on “paganism and S&M, BDSM, kink, D/s" are many...and perhaps posts for another day. Skip this, if any of those phrases offend you)

"Listen to the Lord and Lady..call their children..in the moonlight.."~Pagan chant


Tonight, I find myself in a melancholy mood.
Sentimentality has a way of making me withdraw into my cave.
The pensive vibe is a combination of many things—adjustments to home and work and nerves about starting new courses. But really, I think its the time of the year.
Lughnasadh is nearing.
Many –if not all--of my pagan acquaintance have always viewed this as a celebratory holiday. Somehow, I've never quite seen it in that light. Maybe I've just studied the myths a little too well.
As with any feasts, it is a cause for celebration and togetherness and thankfulness.
While we do not strictly adhere to following the wheel of the year, or engage in traditional rituals, we do like to make some acknowledgement of the quarters of time. I have a special Lughnasadh loaf that I make and once I'm over this bout of introspection, I'll make several to give to friends—even if the majority of them do not know the reason why and we certainly don't bother to explain.

This evening, with the cool breezes, Celtic music playing in the background, a mix of English and French being spoken, I am sorely missing a dear friend.
I think the words “teacher”, “mentor”, “guide” have become way too common place, in a way and all sacredness of what those titles meant are lost. Another term to add to that list would be “high priest”.
Glance through any wicca website and the term “high priest” is kind of thrown around like confetti. More often than not, there are arguments presented about why the role of the priest is no longer necessary.
To be fair a huge part of me can understand the “neopaganism movement” that cries out for doing away with tradition and diminishing the roles of the priesthood. I would even venture to say, we are better off without those who pretend because the ones who have lived and walked those paths are rare.

One of the most treasured relationships I've been graced with having in my life is the friendship of a high priest.
He was a rare bird.
From an old tradition and a different generation.
Served his country and worked the land.
Street smart and smart enough for Yale and any other kind of smart you could think of.
He was fiercely intense and adhered to the same weird tenet of loyalty as I do.
My friend, the priest was also an experienced Dom—though I didn't discover this until many years into our relationship.
Those who actually teach, only do so by the clarity of their examples.

I learned volumes from this man. I learned to trust and to know myself a little bit more.
From him I learned the importance of the male and female and what that balance looks like.
I learned to stand down.
From him, I learned what a marriage was all about-- because I was as close to his marriage as an outsider could possibly be.

I honestly believe that if it wasn't for this friendship, I wouldn't have been opened to the idea of D/s relationship...or taking my explorations into the world of kink further than I had up to that point in time.

When this friendship started and all the trimmings that came with it, I wasn't living in the best circumstances.
If it wasn't for the fact that I had already had my feet firmly on the witchy path and the years of prior experiences that brought, I wouldn't have been welcomed anywhere in the vicinity of where this man was. And rightly so.
Its one hell of a way to learn anything—when life has thrown you around enough to be barely holding on by threads--and I wouldn't recommend it.
There is a reason why the wise recommend taking care of the physical before venturing into spiritual-learnings.
My friend the priest, didn't take a lot. No excuses, no justifications, no explanations—any defence I put up, he would carefully, lovingly tear down but guarded my back and and helped me to pick up the pieces.
Even though where I was probably wasn't the greatest series of moments, this time in which he inhabited in my life was an exceptional period because of him.
Fast forward a few years, later..
When Horace and I got engaged, he was one of the first people we called.
My future husband and the high priest, had become close and fast friends and my friend was one of our biggest supporters.
“I want the kind of marriage you have”, I told him.
He looked me straight in the eye and slowly shook his head.
His stare packed such a punch, that I shifted nervously in my seat.
“You do not want the kind of marriage I have. That's the last thing you would ever want.”
Sometimes, when we are so close to a situation and there is adrenaline and excitement, we miss the parts that make up the whole.
Only in retrospect did I see the fault lines that were present in what I thought was solid; the power-struggles, the lack of respect and support and kindness; all elements I wanted to make sure weren't part of our marriage.
Truly, those who teach do so by the clarity of their examples.

*
Lughnasadh info:











Friday, 27 July 2012

Friday Fragments: Transparency

Being less defensive and edgy towards people is something I've been working on and maybe the fragility I'm feeling has nothing to do with the reality but its just because I'm really not used to letting my guards down, taking a chance and trusting people. 
Of course, this hang-on-to-the-defensives-for-dear-life was a result of life and experiences but when it comes to friendships, its a bit more complicated than that.
I've been really lucky. For a very long time, I have had someone in my life who I could trust entirely. 
A relationship that was always slightly one-sided and has grown into friendship as they years have gone by. Born of long traditions and a tight circle. Complex in its details but a rare kind of perfection. 
Jokingly, I blame them for all of my subsequent trust issues. 
Oh, and there is my husband of course. Surely two people one can trust completely is enough?
But it does bring limitations. 
So with the spirit of trying to change habits of a lifetime, I went out on a limb. Let down my guards.And now...kind of left wondering if I am being taken advantage of, even manipulated. 
For all the above bluster, loyalty and friendship is something I do highly value and I can be so loyal that it causes blindness. So I'm just not sure. 


*


In a busy cafe at lunchtime, I was standing in line behind an elderly man. He lightly tapped my shoulder and kind of pulled me into line in front of him (man had to at least be in his eighties).
"No, no" I said. 
"You're in a rush", he said. 
"Actually, I'm not."
"Oh no, you're young enough to rush. I have more time behind me than I do ahead of me."
I laughed and thanked him. 

Got my tea and went over to the gentlemen (who was finally at the next cash) and said, "Thank-you, you made my day."
"Did I?" he asked. "Its been awhile since I made something. Please go and enjoy". 

 Thought of the whole encounter during the rest of the week and it made me smile. 


*
On the lighter side... 


For all of us Canadian girls who despite our very best intentions, just had to fall for such a nice guy...and because it has to be one of the best tongue-in-cheek commentary on a certain book of grey, may I suggest, giving Fifty Shades of Eh a read? From Maclean's online:
http://www2.macleans.ca/2012/06/24/forbidden-passion-unspeakable-politeness/


Thanks for Reading!

Image credit:
Many Faces Art 

Tuesday, 24 July 2012

Clarifying: To Clamp?

(Please play safely, with lots of consent and sanely)

While I don't think those of us blogging about our relationships weather it be forays into BDSM/S/M/D/s' or whatever you want to call "this thing we do" are required to serve as educators on "the lifestyle" (I cringed typing that), I will admit that when you do write about something that has the curious brave enough to send you emails and its several emails on the same theme, that maybe a post to clarify would be helpful.
 I also don't think those who write erotica and BDSM fiction have to provide a 101 session with every chapter...I digress....see? I can barely talk about this.

I'm sure in the About section of this blog, I wrote something to the effect of "a mixture of fiction and fact" and I guess I need to provide some facts to this post I wrote  on being "Taped and Ready".
When I wrote the post, I was trying to capture a moment, an evening.
 Yes, I did wear bondage tape out. I have found that depending on the type, style and brand, you can wear it pretty comfortably for long hours. I've seen women create whole dresses out of the heavier kind. And in a pinch, I've used it in replace of double-sided body tape that you'd find in most lingerie stores.
Bondage tape can be frustratingly annoying to work with (again depending on what kind you buy) some of it clings and twists to itself but the better kinds, roll right off and stick just fine.
 Hopefully, that answers half the emails.

Next, at the end of that post, I made a very flippant comment about how I got off easy because it could have been clamps. Apparently my sarcasm didn't quite come through accurately enough.
While Horace likes to test my limits and is sadist enough to enjoy causing pain, he would never actually cause  me harm. He would also never make an unreasonable request or require me to do something that is improbable.
Obviously--thought I--he wouldn't actually insist that I wear nipple clamps out and about. Again, clamps come in all different shapes and sizes and strengths. Through personal experiences, I have found that in this area you really do get what you pay for.
The screw/tweezer types, I have never found to really stay on for long periods of time and that can be a little irritating. We either use clothespins (yes, really) or butterfly clamps, like the ones in the photo and can be found here .
And there is no way in goddesses' starry heaven that I could wear these evil things out for an evening. They hurt. They hurt going on and they really hurt coming off. Not my favourite toy. Eventually, I get past the shock of the pain these things cause and then enjoy the sensations. Until they come off, of course. But I can barely wear them for a handful of minutes, never mind a whole long evening
Now...if you have never had any previous--oh gods, what's the lingo here?---sensation play involving nipples and for some reason, want to to just jump right in, I would suggest that it can be easier to start and get used to the pinching feeling by not having these things directly on the nipple. 
Grabbing some skin around that sensitive area would be a really good way to warm-up and start.

I hope that clears up the confusion an awry comment lead to and please keep in mind, I can only speak from my own experiences--and sometimes not that well. Over at the wonderful Painful Ecstasy Blog, Verity Ant shared an excerpt from their (incredible, amazing) book Master's Hunt and featured clover clamps in that post. It was kind of like reading about characters who have the same car you do. 
For a good overview of all the types of nipple clamps out there, here's a good article from Literotica.

Suddenly, I need a long tall drink....







Monday, 23 July 2012

Thankfully in Ds

"If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough." ~ Meister Eckhart

We had a great weekend. In other posts, I'll write more about it but it really was an excellent three days.
In past posts, I've written on how I believe the 'attitude of gratitude' can achieve so much.
 For me, if I can pause in the middle of stressful or anxious thoughts and find someone, anything to feel thankful about, it really does put me in a different mindset. It allows my thoughts to be centered and can even shift my moods if I can go further with it. I know, new-age-ness but for me it works. It especially works when I am trying not to be so defensive—which is something I am really working on.

Besides all that, I think its good to appreciate and bask in thankfulness. We've certainly been through enough that we really don't take things for granted. I think we both strive to appreciate each other's strengths, creativity, intelligence and our relationship.

Talking to Horace last night, I was trying to explain how I think a nice side effect of this dynamic (for the sake of this post, label it as D/s) really highlights how we don't take each other for granted and kind of lets that gratefulness flow.

If I do something for him, even if its little and everydayish like cleaning or laundry or helping with the business, he takes the time to appreciate it. When he does something for me, weather its a really unexpected outing, or bringing home groceries, I really try to take the time to thank him for it.

Other than that, I think in our D/s dynamic, nothing is taken for granted. Its not just assumed I can go out with my friends, buy books, shop for clothes or wear slacks.
I have to ask his permission to do those things—and a whole list of others.

That might sound restrictive to the 'average' pairing but for us, asking his permission its a way of affirming that he is in charge and a lot of it just comes down to me wanting to be respectful and showing that I trust his authority and giving that trust in as many little ways as I can.
It helps with the bigger trust issues.

When Horace gives a nod of approval, “Yes, you may buy that book”, or “Of course, put on jeans” and I give a heartfelt “Thank-you” its acknowledging the dynamic yes, but its also acknowledging the time each of us took for those exchanges and to feed the basics. 

Friday, 20 July 2012

Friday Fragments: Content in Chaos


This has been a crazy, chaotic week.

Chaotic week has meant, I had no time to worry or pay attention to anything that was missing.
In other words, perfectly content in the chaos.

Validation, though not needful is always nice. Its weeks and nights like this that make all those quirky
choices we make about how we want to live our lives and how we go about it, worth it. It silences the naysayers and allows those who have lent us their support to celebrate with us.

This evening, we also get to wear our "kink"on our sleeves and be around some wonderful people.
I'm wearing a corset, which...took a little consideration being not as thin as I once was.
But I feel more comfortable in my own skin now than I ever have.
And I am hoping that confidence will come through.
Plus, my husband thinks I'm beautiful. Even though I'm no longer a size four.
 Gods bless the man for that.

Been thinking about....men with confidence and men who act like they have confidence, this week.
 It can be really interesting, I think, to observe how our significant others act around other people, in various settings. 
When people meet us for the first time in real life (not that we meet "Internet" friends often but there have been times we have and for work) they are surprised by him. He is never what they expect.
Contrary, I'm exactly what they expect (a passionate, emotional, neurotic mess).
 Somehow, we fit and its nice..in moments like these to take those comforts....to feel;
"We're exactly where we want to be and what's coming next is even better. We're good. Let's be happy."

 I leave you with some Coeur de Pirate







Monday, 16 July 2012

To the Right...

(This is only an opinion, like all other "mindsets" people should do what feels right to them...be safe with consent and of sound mind)


Trying to keep it blogging lite this week as I will be knee-deep and arm-deep in social interactions, overly crowded functions, mingling among my own age group (couldn't do it in my teens, can't do it now...."Didn't your mother teach you anything?" <--is a phrase I seem to constantly be swallowing with that crowd) and doing my best to be a team player. All things that do not come easily to me.
 Just figures, I've had a whole rush of topics enter my head that I want to blog about. Many of them should probably be left to those wiser and more experienced.
Its an interesting thing to take note of, how our perceptions change and reform. On Friday, being fed-up with cooking for one, I took myself down to our local pub for dinner. Completely frivolous (we don't eat out a lot) but I had a blast, sitting alone, listening to podcasts as I ate. Decked out in a low-cut top and skirt barely skimming my knee. Appreciative looks from the males in the pub. And that felt good. I kind of wanted to shout, "Yes! Before they go south, please admire", a thought that would be horrifying to my sixteen year old self. Horace, my husband was not amused to hear the play-by-play.

Anyways...so I seriously consider myself a complete novice at this kink/D/s/BDSM thing. Really. While I might have engaged in kinky activities in the time before Horace, which really is best not to think about and while we might be doing whatever non-label you'd like to employ to describe the dynamic in our relationship and while both of us have attended various munches, conferences, workshops, lectures and gatherings on these themes, 'public play' has always been in the confines of trusted and well known acquaintances and not a whole lot of it...because for most of my adulthood, I've been pretty much hitched to Horace. He has some strange notions about playing in public.

This brings me to FetLife (did you read the first paragraph? Hang in with me, please).
 My profile on there is as about as blank as the site allows. I am on there for events. To keep up with artisans and craftspeople and vendor folk that we know. I read discussions.
That's it.
 I am not allowed to talk to people through that medium.
And that's a "Not allowed. Don't even try it" kind of position. This would be one of those things that Horace has strong opinions about.
Believe me, both of us are grateful for the site's existence. Its lovely to have that kind of forum for kinky thought. There are a lot of smart people on there who know way better and way more than us.
However...
He déteste-- because the word "hate" always sounds stronger in french--the whole "before you can speak to me, please send my 'Master/Dominant/Alpha/Domme/Mistress a message---especially when these submissives more often than not, initiates contact first though the sentiments behind it can make sense; for respect, as a courtesy, for protection.
 It kind of felt like some weird protocol. And one, Horace couldn't see us engaging in. Yes, my husband certainly knows all my passwords and where and what I do online, but he doesn't have time to micromanage my life. Frankly, I would suffocate in that type of environment.
That isn't "the reason" I'm not allowed to play as much as I would want over in that playground, it is part of it. Somehow, this is different than the whole "touching me without permission". Upon reflection of the last post I wrote on that, both of us came to the conclusion that its when the initiation of contact feels like an invitation to a pissing contest, that its more bothersome than a simple handshaking/greeting. Is the "ask- -before- you-speak- to-her- any different than the don't-touch-me-thing?"

My long, drawn out rambling post to reach this point: I thought this was just an online thing. Honest. I've never been in a "kink friendly BDSM collars welcome" setting where someone asked permission to speak to me. Surely, this just had to be confined to the online realm...
Scrolling through my twitter list this evening, I stumbled upon a wonderful blog post that lays it out very well and echoes some of those thoughts I've had on this whole issue. So, because maymay said it better, go read it :
Never Ever Assume You Need Permission From A Dominant Person To Speak To A Submissive Person

Much appreciation to all those contributing to a (dare I say, "progressive") kinky forum and making novices like me constantly examine old-beliefs and thoughts. Want more examples? Just look to the right, on the sidebar.
That's where you'll find the good stuff.



Friday, 13 July 2012

Friday Fragments: Spice and Song

("Friday Fragments". The general idea being, collection of little found, thought or happened during the week.
Think there is official meme for this but also think this blog wouldn't belong on it)

*
In our pantry there is an unlabeled jar of spices for aloo pie.
A guest mistakenly thought it was cinnamon sugar and spiced their coffee.
Should probably correct that... but who doesn't want a mystery jar?

*
Coming out of the grocery store, I got lost.
I stood on the walkway as cars zoomed by for five minutes wondering, "Where am I going?"

 I shop at this store at least twice weekly.
During those five minutes, three men: one in khakis, one in jeans and
one with face piercings, asked if I needed help with my bags.
 Chivalry is not dead.

One of them asked if I wanted an escort to cross the lane way.
It was the one whose face was covered in metal
 Chivalry is often disguised.

*
Like I've said, writing well and working on that art is important to me.
Here, I've often bastardised both English and French.
The handful of french speakers reading this, forgive me for the errors.
Mon mari, gets a little annoyed by all the commas, I insist on using.
 Speaking of French....

*
During this entire week, I have been playing "A la claire fontaine" nonstop.
There is a little Canadiana attached to the traditional song and can be found here .
 If you like that kind of thing. 
Friendship comes in a multitude of different forms. 
This song brings to mind various friendships...and I was feeling sentimental. 

Chorus: "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai"
For a very long time I have loved you and won't forget you.
The video description includes English and French translations, if you want to view it on YouTube.








Thanks for reading!

Thursday, 12 July 2012

Erotic Short: Not Until You Ask

(I have spent a great deal of time learning how to ask in many areas of life..still working on it.
In a power-exchange, I think the "Asking” is the start of so much.
Coincidentally lil has a great post up today “The Submission of Asking” http://submissivesanctuary.blogspot.ca/
 To this erotic short—I originally wrote it en français.
 Lately, I like writing/reading pieces without names...its a good layout to further develop character later.
Once again, my sincere appreciation to all the erotica writers out there, who make the intricacies of sensuality look so easy to write)



Jusque-le Demander /Not Until You Ask

There was candlelight but an evil grin.
She was already warm, the start of the ripples of pleasure coursing through her body.
Clearly he had something in mind.
He stroked her hair and she leaned towards him, her hand on his shoulder, leaning in for a further touch.
He swatted her hands away.
“Not until you choose. Ask for what you want.”
A mewing sound escaped her lips, shocked by the coldness of his tone.
It was a minefield laden question to answer.
Asking for what she wants to have done to her, leads to a sweet surrender but it is a difficult submission.
Does she ask for something that matched the mood before the cool tones arrived? 
A silky black blindfold that never really blocks out the light? Or the linen ropes?
Beside her, he stretched out and casually crossed one angle over the other.
She exhaled, loudly, his lack of attention to her dilemma rather annoying.
“I'm waiting,” he said.
She shifted on the cushion, literally squirming.
There was always a little part of her that wanted to ask for what would feel harsher.
She felt a need to prove herself. To express how much she could take the punishing feel of wood, the coldness of metal and the stinging of leather.
“Tell me”. He ran a finger along her lips.
She closed her eyes and let herself fall over to him.
“Hands”, she answered.
His firm embrace and breaking smile was the perfect reward.

*

(C) Bleuame 2012 

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Ode for Rope


"C'est en faisant n'importe quoi, que l'on devient"

Rope.
That should have been accompanied by a spotlight and flashing lights with those annoying game show sounds in the background. Rope art, bondage art, shibari or Kinbaku. Anything that shows a figure being draped, intricately tied up, fabric and textures creating patterns and designs on the model/figures or different unexpected movements of the body.
It is interesting to me to watch people do things with their bodies that I couldn't even begin to figure out how—which covers all sports and is about as voyeuristic as I get.
From the day I stumbled-literally-into a “kink shop” and woke up to the interesting kinky things that exist, I was drawn to rope.
The fascination with rope really was on that visual/artistic level at first. It actually took awhile for the idea of bondage to be appealing.
It is a slight difference, maybe but it was a definitive difference.
Somehow I couldn't separate the ideas of violently being captive from the sensual and pleasurable...had that problem with all things metal too and though I don't feel that way now, metal toys are not on my favourite list.
 As with so much, I really do think its a mind thing. Once I started really looking at the demonstrators/models/riggers and how they interacted and started to study this art further, and spoke to people who were experienced players with rope my thoughts about bondage changed.
But it was actually at a conference on paganisticspritualmysticbullwhydidigo that the two ideas, the art and bondage came together. It became acceptable in my head.                                                                                            
One of the presenters at this conference was talking about how lucky we all are to be able to choose our religions and practice them without fear and then said something like:
You are so free you can choose bondage. That's freedom.
I clued into the rest of the speech from that moment on (not that there was anything else really worthwhile but you never know, fate could work with you twice) and dove further into learning all I could about practises techniques, safety, knots, etc.

Even if all of this would eventually be done to me, if I was going to consent to it, I wanted to know as much as I could beforehand.
 I'm a “try before you buy” kind of girl, as much as possible.
By the time I met mon mari* I had an okay grasp of it and that was a really good thing. There really is no shortage of men who like to tie women up.
Bondage is so literal it kind of simplifies those complex “why-do-we-do-this-dominance-submission-questions”. 
Its pretty clear when you've given absolute consent and you aren't the one doing the tying.
To overstate the obvious, rope is so high on my list it was never even tried as a usage to correct/punish.

Returning from work, I was thrilled to see the delivery man. I almost ran into him in my rush to make sure he didn't take the package away. We're constantly trying different kinds of rope and materials and had been expecting this brown box.
While the delivery man was fidgeting with his sign-this gadget, I started to wonder... if mon mari would allow it...if there was time for lovely roping this evening...
The delivery man plunked the box into my hands.
The stirrings of anticipation died.
The box weighed at least forty pounds and I was pretty sure that much rope wasn't on order.
Of course it wasn't the lovely, can't wait to try new material but a boring old reference book for work.
Come to think of it, both the doorstop and the rope was ordered around the same time, so perhaps tomorrow...

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*Mon mari= my husband

Image Sources
Aerial Silk Dance 12
Deviantart by Elfland
http://elfland.deviantart.com/art/Aerial-Silk-Dance-12-126520070

Tied with Dagger
To contact the artist directly:
chermaitreerotiqueATgmail.com and see this page on using the art








Saturday, 7 July 2012

A Little of Us

The first 30 Days of Submission post--hearing the input of others and reflecting upon it--gave me pause.And I'm not going to continue on with them but work instead on being clearer in intent and meaning, when referring to any relantionship. This is probably a better approach to the question.

The moon was full and our street was quiet. As much as I like to point out that I can be melancholy, I am happy when its us. I am happy with us and that whole just being together. Time is important. Quality time is what we strive for.

At the start of our walk we were laughing at what, I can't remember now and then I said something along the lines of "Really you think so?" and my husband retorted with "Spanked is what you'll be", and landed a firm smack on my rear end and continued to swat as we were walking along the path that leads into a park. That's when one of the kids of the neighbourhood-who we didn't see because they were in shadows--piped up with,  "Allo! My mum came over earlier when you weren't home", with a weird smile on his face. 
 We chatted with the teenager for a few minutes and continued to walk through the park. 
My husband had a stone in his shoe, sat on a bench and removed stone. By the baseball diamond, I picked up a ball that was in the grass.
"What's that you found?"
"A bouncy ball".
Bright and sparkly pink.
 I went up on the sidewalk and bounced the ball and my husband caught it and then we started playing catch on the sidewalk while we walked. Walked a few steps, tossed and chased this bouncy ball the whole way along our route. A few passing vehicles witnessed this but for the most part, we were alone.
It was fun.
Is that living life differently? I don't know. 

 We hear a lot that we "think differently and we do things unconventionally".
Its either an insult, a compliment or in most cases, the phrases are uttered with puzzlement--depending on who it is coming from of course. Do I still care what people think? Hmm.
 But how different? And what the differences are, I couldn't really tell you. 
 I don't hold him responsible for my happiness and he doesn't hold me responsible for his happiness. We support each other in that whole "following your bliss", the day-to-day and what we want to do in life, big picture wise.
 It  comes down to this--even our D/s structure: To support each other in the pursuit of our happiness.
That means, we are constantly striving to work towards those bigger-picture moments. Our happiness is a fluid moment to moment thing and equally a far-off-in-the-distance yet to have happened place. It is a combination of both our wants and needs, both our aspirations and goals and dreams.
 Together we have set that direction; he leads the way, I follow.
He is responsible for directing us and I follow, often adjusting my course to come back in alignment.

We put more empathise on creating (creating a life, creating new experiences, creating adventures and creating good relationships with family and friends) than having.
 I know, that probably sounds a little idealistic. But it isn't always easy and it isn't without some compromise that often feels like sacrifice. Sometimes its a struggle. It isn't my intent to put this out here as if its some kind of badge of honour or virtue, just so you know.

There are moments when I am caught in the worries, the anxieties, when I let the emotions take root and don't let go, when I wonder, "Why shouldn't we just make this all simpler?"
It isn't what we want. Not in line with those bigger-picture goals. 

 I have said all the words that go along with the "he leads us" concept and meant them and meant it when I said, "of course, that's a good plan" but I'm not sure I've really felt it consistently---because this seems--the emotional pull of that other stuff---, at times to be in such stark contrast. 
 Somehow that whole plan of being in the moment, going where we want to and when, not being obligated to anyone other than each other worked just fine before marriage. But in the last two years, I have looked more in direction of what our peers are doing and "where" they are and I--the girl who has never conformed--not to make a point or take a stand but just by happenstance--suddenly started to think conformity was a good idea. 
  Does this snapshot point to not trusting? I don't know.

Sorry for (another) introspective post.


Friday, 6 July 2012

Fragments

A little light on the blogging content this week...will endeavour to be in better bloggie-form next week. Working on a few erotica shorts and less introspective rants.
 Trust. 
Out of nowhere, I think its tripped me up. How is it that I can trust when it comes to the activity--the bondage, the floggers, the gags and so on but when it is in day-to-day, I'm beginning to think I haven't quite gotten it.
 Worrying obsessively--because that's what I'm used to doing--and needling, asking a volley of questions, "Are you sure?" "Is this going to work out?" "Do you think we can make that work?" isn't trusting. 
 When I think I trust my husband...then trust some more. Go further. Its kind of like riding a horse. 
Over at the blog of Verity and Derek Ant there is a great post on freedom and being who you are. Can't say enough about their blog and the authors; they make me think and learn and ponder. 


For now, I wish you all a good weekend and thank-you for all the messages, feedback and for coming by. 


A little spanking art...




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Art Usage 

Monday, 2 July 2012

30 Days of Submission: Day 1 Labels (About Us)

For an accurate answer to this question, skip down and read the comments. And I'm actually not going to continue on with these questions. 


    (“30 Days of Submission” has been floating around on Tumblr for awhile and the complete question list can be found here. Even though I'm late, thought I would join in and at the end of the 30 days, use it as an  FAQ, it covers a lot of questions I've been receiving from readers.)

    "Does your submission - either what you practice or what you strive for - have a label? Do you view your submission as Taken in Hand, domestic discipline, top/bottom, dominant/submissive, master/slave, owner/pet, or some other description or combination? If you do not use a label, why?"
Can I please skip to question number two? 
We've been together...well hovering around ten-years total, and during that time, we've grown into our relationship dynamics--though certainly both of us knew our preferences from prior experiences before the this that became "us".
 In the early days, we referred to what was going on in our bedroom as “BDSM play” but even early on, the power dynamic showed itself outside of the bedroom. We had a few false starts over the years, attempts at taking what was “play”and applying the dynamics to our everyday lives (24/7). Before living together/marriage, we tried various labels on for size. Taken in Hand, while it rings kind of true as it usually refers to "male-lead" relationships in a domestic environment, seemed to only cover spanking as did domestic discipline. Top/Bottom seemed to apply more to play scenes. Master/slave has weird connotations for both of us and we aren't comfortable using those terms. My husband is a dominant and I'm a submissive. For sake of clarifying the point, I have been terming our dynamic, “A taken in hand relationship with a side of BDSM and kink”.

To take the question a little further, I've been asked pretty often, why I refer to myself on this blog as “I” (as opposed to in the third person or using “i”). The short answer is, this is my blog, written from my point of view. I think I can make the point I am a submissive without referring to myself in the third person, using small letters or giving myself a name of a furry rodent.  Absolutely no offense to those who feel right in expressing themselves with the third person, i/W/w/Him/h etc. 

As a writer, it is important  to learn and apply the craft. When I suddenly see “He” or “Him” in erotica fiction, I seriously wonder if the book has crossed an editor's desk. A sentence like, “She arched her back towards Him—because she thought of He as a Him---in her mind”, totally ruins the reading experience for me. If the book is otherwise well-written, I can get over it but I do wonder about the casual reader who doesn't know why there is suddenly a capital on the pronoun when there shouldn't be. Granted, the contexts are different, but I don't want to write this blog differently than I would a piece of fiction. The flip side of this, it does cause some problems the few times I do interact on forums or in online groups and I have taken some flack over it.


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