blog entry. Though that was technically the conclusion, I do have some more thoughts -- continuing to expand on that idea. Those of us who are in any flavor of BDSM relationships come to them with the partners they do because of similar interests, similar kinks, a similar descriptor of fun. If we aren't having fun, then we start heading into those murky waters.
Murky waters can be great places to learn lessons from, but it's a shitty place to live. I didn't do well in those murky waters, and it was my own doing that landed me there. Master keeps asking something to the effect of "What could I have done differently to have prevented the bad feelings you were having about yourself?"
The answer is, nothing. He was feeding me the positive things I needed, but I just kept sweeping them under the rug, rather than appreciating that in my valueless place as his property, I am invaluable to him. He continued to remind me that he loved me and despite (brain malfunction) he's in this for the long haul, whatever it looks like. I was ignoring what we'd already established about why O/p and BDSM turn us on and focusing on (essentially) what FetLife's "K&P" presents as "real" BDSM. Oh, the idiocy! There is no one true way, as many kinky bloggers have already established. So the idea that being absolutely still, absolutely silent, (because that's what ALL good slaves do, doncha know?) while my Sadist goes about his business is what I needed to do was...not for me. But I was the one doing my best to put myself in that box.
See? I finally do. What I was doing in my passive participation (holding up an ideal that was completely not applicable to me) was taking away my fun, and more importantly his fun, because he never told me to be still and silent. He never told me to not be myself, the way he sees his property. He never told me I couldn't reap something positive from the playtime we have. In that passive state I was undoing all the work he'd done to make O/p work for us.
In these realizations and musings...In the little changes we've made in the last week...Though I am as tired as I was the week before Thunder happened...now I'm excited about the potentials for getting into a little kink. The things I'm responsible for are done, I'm not overwhelmed, I'm not going to cry because Master is having to do things that are supposed to be my job (because they are done! I am so pleased and excited about that! Thank you Scott & kaya for your ideas and sharing. Er...and thank Master, too, because that is silly to forget, considering he's the fire under my ass.) My outlook has shifted back to living in a state of functional, and I'm ready for more.
Friday, July 3, 2015
In part 1, I wrote about how I had stopped being an active participant in our Owner/property relationship.
Personal responsibility is something I believe in. Seriously: as a free agent (hah) I think making your decisions that manage your life, your well-being are the most important things you can do. People who own their decisions are my heroes. They don't have to always be right, and saying “I fucked up making that decision; I should have done the other thing instead” is praiseworthy.
In my blog entry titled “A new light,” which I posted in June, I mentioned that there were revelations over the last weekend in June that showed me why so much of our little world was not as right as it could be.
Master and I don’t get tons of time to connect. We’re attached parents and the number of people we trust with our little people is tiny, and they are equally busy. Master works, he has friends that sometimes he needs to spend a whole day with. And he doesn’t have the time to fix a broken thing that doesn't look broken. Everything that was wrong was wrong on the inside…hidden. Hidden inside passive participation.
He didn’t know because I didn’t say. I’d practiced passiveness to the extreme, and then was eating the personal responsibility I was not accepting (which is not a sufficient mental wellness food). I was also eating responsibility for things that weren’t my fault (which might as well be classified as a mental wellness poison).
So why wasn’t it as right as we could make it? Because passivity is death for me. I had refused to take my personal responsibility seriously by thinking that being a passive object was good enough.
If I flounder, mentally, physically, it is up to me to tell Master that I need help, before it starts feeding internalized negativity. I need to watch how I’m submitting to Master's wills, wants, and how we’re making use of our limited adult time. My submission can’t be passive. I can’t be passive. It’s why I love physical restraint in play – because restraints are something to fight against without fighting Master. I can take what Master dishes out to me – and I need it – but I can’t be passive. I have to be functional property; not a paperweight.
So, how do I take responsibility for that? How do I work to make sure that the tearing me down is also building me up?
Step one: Step up during playtime. Be active, let my masochist have fun with her pain, rather than cramming all of myself into a stillness that Master isn't forcing. Wiggle. Squirm. Laugh. Scream where appropriate. Gasp when I can't scream.
Step two: Write erotica more often. Let my imagination give forth new ideas, or make memories more vivid.
Step three: If Master asks how I'd like to play I should have some kind of answer. Not necessarily "I want this toy and that toy. Oh, and the other thing." But feeling words, like "I feel kind of animalistic" or words like, masochistic, sensual, and wild...
Step four: Realize that sometimes I am going to have to ask for validation when I need it. Master knows me well and usually gives me validation before I know I need it, but sometimes I might need a little extra. This is an important part of my self-care and self-responsibility.
Step five: Be willing to embrace the parts of my property-ness that aren't all about the fun stuff, because that enforces the whole of it, feeds the value, gives purpose to the roles and rules that
Thursday, July 2, 2015
So this little world Master and I built ourselves looks pretty…vanilla…from the outside. We came out to some friends and they were floored. Like asked if they were being punk’d. And a week later, they asked if we were really into BDSM…that we weren’t pulling their legs, over and over, until Master showed them his FetLife profile. Master and I live hard, apparently secretively.
When we scene, the best scenes are the ones that are punching, kicking, screaming, crying…acts that are not sanctioned by the United Nations. We play fucking hard, physically. Our next favorites are the psychological…again, acts that are not sanctioned by the United Nations; we play with fear, with real terror. Master and I adore the verbal aspects of degradation too. I (and my cunt) think it’s fucking hot when Master is shaking me by the neck and using filthy words to describe my value. He tears me down hard. Not everyone wants what we want, not everyone builds their kinky relationship the way we have… Not everyone can do it. And there’s no judgement, because this shit is scary (awesome for us, but still scary).
Splitting my energy between our very vanilla appearing family life our adorable, highly chatty children; and Master’s expectations and our play takes a toll. Recently, I’ve been afforded a lot of leeway because of my girlie problems (hello perimenopause), the lack of energy, sleep deprivation and a string of not quite healthy emotional/brain stuff. I’ve needed his help. A lot. He doesn’t want me to feel bad because I need the help, but it would send me into a spiral of (not good) worthless feelings because I needed the help.
The whole thing has compiled (Master’s kindness and goodness, my own thought process problems, my own emotional pitfalls) into me loosing track of why we wanted a kinky relationship. I knew there was a good reason, but I couldn't remember it, and I think I was waiting for Master to fix me or just magically get better. After all, I am in an Owner/property relationship – I don't make the decisions. In that thinking I made myself not into functional property, but a passive object. I expected all the decisions to be made by him, all the fixes to be made by him, the mistakes I made taken out of my hands, all the kinky fun completely his fault or not (until I fucked it up because my [insert body part here] was hurting or seized and I hadn’t told him before).
I was full on engaged in passive participation. Master wanted something, I'd generally do as I was told. Slowly. Or stare at it. And while kids keep stay-at-home parents busy, I was letting the kids keep me busier than I really have to be. When we did get to play, Master would pull something out and start trying to feed his sadist and my masochist, but I didn't engage. I was just a physical object that was there. So Master would try to tear me down, serve up all the things we love about being kinky, and I was taking all that in without seeing the bigger picture. That we do this because we are invaluable to each other. Without taking care of myself. Which totally doesn't make a scene or playtime sexy.
Part of that was just my brain being knackered; the bigger part of that was me suddenly failing to shoulder my share of the responsibility for our relationship.
In part 2, the conclusion, I'll finish this out with personal responsibility in O/p relationships; and it is scheduled to post on Friday.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Master and I had a fucking amazing weekend. There are some bits that I totally want to write about but can’t. There are some important bits I can.
First on the list: spankings. They have often been a trigger for me. I’ve flipped out, lost my shit, blacked out, caused myself physical harm, and attempted to harm the person spanking me (even love pats could bring forward this violent reaction!). They’ve left me feeling gross and sad. I’ve been living/playing with WIIWD (What It Is We Do) for more than 15 years and an “introductory” sort of fetish has been something beyond my reach. Master’s technique is solid, but my childhood made spanking a landmine. There were a few revelations Saturday that gave me a new perspective about how I approach my masochism and how to handle my triggers. Especially considering that I lap up kicks and punches to the same body area, previously believing that there was something about those impacts that was “significantly different.” Saturday gave me a clue: the expectation of the difference is all in my head … all in the map and memories.
But with these new ideas under my belt (see what I did there? I’m hoping that we can work up to that) Master spanked me for FORTY WHOLE MINUTES on Saturday. I loved it. I was content. It felt nice. It was grounding. I understand why people want to be spanked.
I. Understand. Spankings.
I might even want one as soon as my deep tissue bruises are healed (some).
And (maybe because of those same revelations that let Master wail on my rear for almost a whole hour, or maybe because Master was able to spank me with some rhythm and randomness for more than three swats before I became a crazy ball of bad responses) when the opportunity to play in about 20 square feet with an overhead tie-off presented itself, I was more than ready to participate with Master and engage in a scene … he and I … eye contact, screaming, laughing, shrieking, begging … a scene in which I was free to move, but unable to run away, or truly “hide” behind my flinching limbs while Master made me into a training dummy to practice martial arts on. Heh. It was a scene where anything else in the background never made it into my memory.
Feeling those kicks land with such precision and feeling certain that he’d pulled back, that he’d held back…that the ridge hand was less than a quarter of his strength, landed squarely on one of my functioning pressure points… I spent the scene jumping up and down in circles, laughing, screaming, shrieking, occasionally jumping up and trying to land a kick squarely in his belly with my hobbled feet…Smiling with him while he laughed at me…
I never wanted it to end.
I wanted to stay there forever.
It was catharsis.
It was not crying, painful catharsis. It was connecting catharsis. It was repairing the gaps of time when Master and I have been unable to play deep, heavily and long. It was mending the places where the demands of every day had tried to strip Master of his power. It was feeding the starved masochist inside my soul who had forgotten how to feed herself, how to eat like a ninja.
But forever wasn’t quite possible. Eventually my legs were too done to hold me up for very long. Too many strikes to the nerves on the outer thighs. The bruises are really just beginning to surface 24 hours later. (The first points started showing up after about four hours – now we’re getting to the multi colored stage. Squeee!)
As I write this, the masochist inside my soul is licking her fingers, as if she’s just devoured an entire chocolate cake, greedily, without apology … she’s delighted with the bruises spotting my hide. If Master isn’t touching them, I am.
Also: we were delighted to see familiar faces lit with joy, glad to put faces to names, and grateful to see so many giant smiles. May much happiness dwell in the hearts of our fellow kinksters – for those who were there at the thing I am not naming here, and those who were not.
<3 Reaper & His creature
Monday, May 18, 2015
On the whole it was an incredibly great learning experience for me. Here are the things I've learned about myself and what I need when my Master has more-than-one relationship.
First, I am glad that Master and I have such a solid relationship. Poly never would have worked if I didn't feel safe and stable as his long-term partner. As it was, I did learn that equal treatment (or at least explained unequal treatment) was important, because I had moments where I realized that there was a gram or two of envy for something that he would do for her when he would't do the same for me.
Secondly, I learned that while poly-parenting works for some people, it doesn't work for me. Our little munchkins are one of my favorite things about our life together, and I am highly protective of them. I work hard to ensure their needs are met, that we indulge some of their wants, and give them the tools they're going to need as they get older. Master and I have parenting policies and approaches that have shown they work, and a sudden change suggested by poly-partner(s) could be incredibly disruptive (especially for our oldest) and challenging for me. Master and I trust each other's parenting practices; we don’t have that background with anyone else, and I don’t expect that foundation to exist in any future relationships while our kids still need parents. We know that sometimes here on the blog, and in real life, we’ll scathingly mention that they do impact how often we get to indulge in heavy play; but that does not accurately reflect how much we adore them or how much we devote to them.
Thirdly, while Master remains poly (probably by nature, considering genetic history), I no longer hold any desire in me for extra intimate relationships. Master has poked and prodded at this statement, trying to understand the depth and breadth of it. I like friends, friends are great, and I do hope that I can be friends with any future poly-partner(s) Master might find. But I'm not so inclined to have sex with anyone except Master these days. Perhaps the waning libido of perimenopause might be to blame, or the fact that my fear of being touched has reared its head again; but it feels deeper than that – it feels like a truth of my heart. He revs my engine; he understands my strengths, my vulnerabilities and my weaknesses. With him, I feel utterly his, and those moments are so sacred that I can't imagine sharing them with anyone. Maybe I've become semi-asexual outside my relationship with Master. Who knows?
Fourth, I feel pretty comfortable in the knowledge that poly-partner(s) relationships with Master aren't about me. Nothing about them is any of my business unless they want to share; it's none of my business how often they are intimate, when or where. Same goes for uploading and sharing of pictures -- it seems foolish to ask him for advance notice that he's going to be sharing stuff on FetLife -- and the perks of him sharing is I'll get a bit of perving in myself. ;) The only thing that's any of my business is knowing that if they are intimate they are adhering to the agreed upon safe-sex practices.
Lastly; time. Oh how important this fleeting thing can be. I've learned that I'm okay being by myself. It's okay when Master isn't with me all weekend or overnight. It's okay if he needs to spend an hour in a text message conversation, or take calls from his poly-partner(s). But I now know that if I have a hope for some time that will be solely for Master and I, I need to be able to clearly voice that. When I want time to spend with Master that's uninterrupted, it's something I need to make clear to everyone (because they have needs and requests too), and not just hope that I'll get a few hours where he isn't needing to engage in conversations with his poly-partner(s).
(TL;DR) I've learned that I can be okay while Master has other partners, that I can experience a fraction of jealousy and envy if I'm not talking about how I feel or what I need. I've learned that I learned how to communicate better with Master as his property. I've learned that I can still get frustrated and not know what I need to say to express myself to someone else...but that is something I think I can learn how to do.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
If you haven't, here's the rundown. Google has decided that "adult blogs" that contain graphic forms of adult conversation or photos will be made private. So if your blogspot, like ours, talks about sex, we're essentially being removed from the internet. I don't know how many "invited" users Google will allow to these soon-to-be-private adult blogs, but obviously, they're cutting accessibility. I think they'd rather delete them all, considering a while ago, they did threaten to delete blogs that had "adult" advertising revenue.
Here's there lovely (new) email about their upcoming censorship policies:
We do have a wordpress version of this blog, but at this point, I have no idea if we'll even put the effort into continuing. We've loved all our readers, our commenters and our lurkers.
If we do continue to blog over there, I'll update here again, and you can always follow me on twitter, though I am intermittent in my activity there. We'll also still be on FetLife (that's a link to Master's profile, so you'll need to be signed in to use it).
(I wanted to title this blog "Shitty play, Google" but that just seems so obvious.)
Monday, February 16, 2015
My opinion on it is limited; I have not read it, and I'm not inclined to because I've heard that the editing leaves a lot to be desired. I make loads of mistakes in my writing, but when I read for pleasure, I don't want to be interrupted by excessive spelling, punctuation and tense errors.
I love, love, love erotic fiction though. Reading porn gets my mind running and my body tensed. I spend a lot of free time reading on literotica, some select kinky tumblr's, and browsing through the cheap and free kindle erotica. I've found some gems, some that were okay, some with excellent writing but no genuine plot, and some really horrible ones I've never read more than 10 percent of.
I read all kinds of erotic fiction, usually centered around BDSM and kinky relationships, and I totally love forced consent stories. I have a plethora of reading material between the ones I seek out, and what Master is working on. He has (several) BDSM novellas, and most of them are dubious around consent. In one, the main character was outright kidnapped and subjected to a whole new way of being. It definitely doesn't fall into Safe, Sane and Consensual, nor Risk Aware Consensual Kink. It's still fucking hot. It's fucking fantasy.
I am disappointed that supposedly, 50SOG wades into the whole safeword business, and then deviates away from it with the main character spiraling into stalker behaviors. I think, if an author bothers to enter the whole SSC/RACK/safeword zone, they should stay in it, unless their characters bother to negotiate an end to those suppositions. That's my take on it anyway, your mileage may vary.
Pardon me while I go put my lust in overdrive from reading some story where people would scream "that's abuse!"