It's Been a While...

Hey everyone,

It's been a long while. And where many things have changed, rest assured we are still here, still kinky, and still loving it.

The political climate, the changes to sites such as Fetlife, Tumbler, etc, and the laws that surround free sharing of personal lives has us a bit shaken. We've all but removed ourselves from the larger scope.

For an exhibitionist, such as myself, that is hard. I love sharing our lives, our play, our fun with you all. I love the interactions it breeds, the comments, and the chance to meet some of you lovely people. However, these are not the days for it any longer. The need to retreat from the wider world in order to protect one's self and one's family has sadly become growing a necessity.

Be that as it may; we are still here, we are still us, and I am still torturing the hell out of creature whenever I have the chance. Till the world returns to a more sensible state, sadly, we will not be sharing the pictures or videos of this fun. But, please do follow us here for occasional updates of our lives and fun.

Non-Monogamy & Gregarious Flirts

Over the years of exploration, learning about my own sexuality, I've learned quite a bit. When I first entered the scene with Master (almost 20 years ago, for those counting), I didn't even really know bisexuality was a thing. Considering my family condemned gays and lesbians, and in general, talked about sex as if it were a secret thing that only a husband and wife could do, it's not surprising how much I had to learn. Of course, one of the big ones was polygamy, or non-monogamy, if you prefer.

Master is non-monogamous by nature. When we started dating again in High School, I could see that in him. I may not have understood the words I'm using now, but I knew that being with one, and only one, partner was going to be nearly impossible for him. How did I know this without the words?

Because even though he showed me how important I was to him, he was a gregarious flirt. He's charismatic when he wants to be. He loves lust (that's probably his number one kink).

So how does one cope with being in a non-monogamous relationship with a gregarious flirt? Here's what I know, and works for me. Maybe it will be helpful to someone you know, or you yourself, or maybe none of it is for you, and that's okay.

Before I go any further here, I have to stress that jealousy and envy don't really exist in me when it comes to Master and his partners. I do occasionally feel insecure, and uncertain, that he does want to be with me. I know what jealousy feels like, and for me, it is more often associated with an object than a person; I rarely have jealousy related to a relationship, but will often experience jealousy over something (house, car, computer, phone, etc.) that someone else has.

Now...My four personal steps in dealing with insecurity in my relationship:

First: I recognize the time Master invests in me. When he is with me, and I ask him for undivided attention, he gives me that. The moments he invests in me are what I use to fight back illogical thoughts of being less important to him. He's invested the time and attention to let me know I am important.

Second: Master's flirting and affection with others does not necessarily mean that he is actively pursuing another relationship. Sometimes he flirts just to flirt, sometimes he is seeking a little ego fluffing.

Third: When Master is pursuing another relationship, it is not to replace anyone he has a relationship with. He's practically insatiable, and if he had the time, he'd happily bounce from bed to bed, scene to scene. The man can be active for upwards of 36 hours without stopping. As it is, he's also a realist, and measures his time carefully and does his best not to fill it beyond his capabilities. Ethical non-monogamous people try to be sure that they have enough time for everyone; not just in the bedroom, but also for the emotional needs and considerations of their partners.

Fourth: There are certain places and times that he is more prone to seemingly random flirting. These are generally in lifestyle safe spaces. These are the places we all let our dark sides, our shadow selves, out to play. What better place to be yourself when you are an enormous flirt who loves BDSM? Knowing he's more prone to flirtatiousness at a BDSM friendly event helps me go back to review the first three and often realize he's just expressing what a great time he's having.

What do I do when I've looked at those four things and I'm still feeling insecure?

I communicate.

This is the most powerful tool in our relationship boxes, whether you are vanilla, kinky, monogamous,  non-monogamous or any combination of the above. I also have worked very, very hard at learning to use non-accusatory language. When I say “You are making me feel bad,” I'm accusing him, putting him on the defensive; this will frequently result in a yelling match and more hurt feelings.

If I turn that around though, and say something like “I'm not feeling very important to you right now. Can we talk about it?” I'm asking him to be on my side, I've expressed my feelings, let him know there's a problem and opened the discussion. When this discussion opens, it is super, super helpful to have an idea of how the balance can be restored; for me, sometimes, it's enough to have the conversation. Sometimes I need more; planning a date, planning to play a video game together...the things that make me see the stability in our relationship. The language used in this discussion really needs to be soft...

Starting your statements with yourself, using “I,” can get your point across without creating a need for your partner to go on the defensive. Compare my following example statements:

“I feel like you think she's more attractive,” or “You think she's more attractive.”

“I feel like our relationship might not be a priority to you,” or “You don't treat our relationship as if it is a priority.”

“I worry that you're looking for someone better,” or “You're looking for someone better.”

“I need to know if I'm as important to you as you are to me,” or “You don't think I'm important in this relationship, the way I think of you.”

The first ones are much softer, much kinder, more like opening a moment to be shared rather than a can of worms.

There are giant perks to being in a relationship with someone who loves to flirt. They are constantly stroking your ego as much as their own. In all of the gregarious flirts I've met (and I know a fair handful) they are deliriously infectious, they are good at making you feel good (in so many ways), and they have a glitter in their eyes that is enormously delightful. It isn't always easy to see them glitter and sparkle with someone else, but they adore their relationships, and work very, very hard to ensure that their partners can feel secure, appreciated, and valued.

If this is helpful, or you have questions about my perspective and/or relationships, I'd love to hear from you!

Blame and Shame

So. Another big celebrity is in the news with accusations of sexual assault, Harvey Weinstein. But that's not what's prompted me to put words to page tonight. Mayim Bialik, actress from “Blossom” and “The Big Bang Theory,” a neuroscientist, mother, and feminist had a bit or two to say about it.

Quick note about the following links: I am not providing hyperlinks to these as I am not looking for pingbacks, nor wanting to provide pingbacks to these articles and blogs. You'll need to copy and paste them into your browser's address bar.

On her own blog (link: groknation.com/hollywood/not-surprised-harvey-weinstein-heres/), in the New York Times opinion section (link: nytimes.com/2017/10/13/opinion/mayim-bialik-feminist-harvey-weinstein.html) and as a vlog on youtube (link: youtube.com/watch?v=WFb0EDl-JS8&feature=youtu.be), she's had lots to say about it.

What breaks me is that one of her most strongly held self-descriptors is “feminist,” and yet, in each one of those links I've given you above, she lays some of the blame on the survivors. She insinuates that she's avoided that kind of attention because of her choices to dress modestly and because she's “not a perfect ten.”

Bialik says in her vlog, that strip clubs and places where people are paid to have sex are not places people should go...she goes on to slam pornography, “ingesting pornography rarely elevates you as a human being, and likely contributes to the degradation and abuse of men and women.”

I'm not a sex worker. I've never been paid for any of the pictures or videos that we've put out there. But dammit. If people are having fun, and happy about what they do, why are we objecting to them providing it? I am a woman and it is my choice to participate in sex, in (amateur) porn, to decide if I want to go to a strip club, or be involved in a threesome. I have the right to choose those things.  I know I'm not really being coherent about this. I'm mad; I'm mad at the continual blaming and shaming that feminists like Bialik continue to put out there.

Ultimately; I am capable of making rational decisions. I am capable of choosing how to be happy. Everyone has that right. Not just people that are modest, not just people who don't want to sell something people are willing to buy. Hell, I don't love every picture that is up on FetLife – I might hate the angle of my nose or how floppy my belly skin looks – but damn, I am proud of the fun that Master and I have.

Blaming and shaming has to stop.

Has. To. Stop.

I was 17. Like Bialik, I also did not (still don't) consider myself a perfect ten. My nose is too big, my under-bite too deep, my muscles and belly too soft. I've never been part of the popular crowd. I've never been the cheerleader. I've never been good at flirting. I was wearing jeans and a loose sweater. There were no bra straps, no exposed belly. Pretty modest. I said no. I said no, over and over and over, until it was over.

I have never publicly exposed my rapist. I never wanted to, because I knew what most people would have said.

“You should have known better.”
“Boys will be boys.”
“Why were you there?”

The first person I ever confessed the event to was Master Reaper.

And up until this blog...only a handful of people knew.

O. Oh. O. No

For a really long time, Master has controlled my orgasms. We have been together, doing WIIWD for about 20 years, and the orgasm control became pretty standard by...the end of year one, maybe. The orgasms belonged to him. 

He's been very generous with them. I beg, he usually says yes. I am super orgasmic, too. The right touch and I can be there in a second.

Over our many years together, we've played with temporary denial. But once I am ramped up, my tolerance for pain is higher, my willingness is greater. 

And this week, I haven't been given permission. 

I am frothing for pain. For more sex (even if he keeps saying no). 

It is only Wednesday.

Master keeps checking with me to ask if I feel connected. 

And I do. I feel loved. I feel like his creature. 

He's said that once this week, he'll say yes. I don't know if that means one orgasm or more that one. I don't know if it/they won't be ruined orgasms. I don't know how long he'll keep me on this path of denial. 

I didn't think to ask. 

I am writhing with need.

Thank goodness for spell check because I can't even spell today.

henny's Recount of her February Visit...

I went to visit Master and Creature for a week in February, in an attempt to try out the cold weather where they live, and to try out being a part of the household. It was in the 70s all week, so that part didn’t work out, but I did get to have a visit that was less vacation-y and more day to day.

As soon as I got to Master’s house, he put my new collar on me. I love the collar! It connects me to Master all the time. I’m not taking it off unless I absolutely must. Master entrusted me with the key, so that I could go through airport security without it, but once I got through, it was on and has remained on since.

Master and Creature set me up in their room, so I could snuggle with Master at night along with Creature. Master chained my leg to the bed at night, which I liked very much.

I was given my rules for when I was at home: asking permission to use the bathroom, to eat and to sit on furniture. I had a little trouble getting used to the rules, and I made some comical moves as I realized I was about to sit on chairs or beds without permission. There were a few hot stove hops as well as a couple collapsing and sliding off of things moments. Master was strict but very patient with me as I learned my new habits.

Henny Speaks

My Darling Henny provides her perspective on being inducted into our household...

I got my first a chance to play with Master Reaper when I went to Thunder in the Mountains in July. I had been talking to him and Creature online for at least 4 years before I got the chance to meet them. They were wonderful company in every way, not just for play. Master Reaper was good at negotiating, checking in without breaking up play, and directing me to practice saying my safewords. On top of that, we were just extra compatible for play.
I had such a good time that I arranged during the same visit to Colorado to go back and have another session with Master Reaper and visit his family. His kids are super adorable and smart, and I like the respectful way that he and Creature interact with them. Creature and I turned out to be very similar in many ways. I got to play even harder than the last session when we got away by ourselves and try some new things.

As much as I like playing harder when I can, I have to be picky about some play, because I have always had a poor memory of play and sex after it happens, unless something goes wrong, in which case, I get all trauma-o-vision. Play partners have told me what happened afterwards, and taken pictures to show me. Master Reaper took some video footage, which was new and interesting for me. I knew I sometimes said things I didn’t remember during play, but it turned out I didn’t even remember some plain old lying around conversations, either, which shocked me. Watching uninterrupted video of myself playing & talking was strange when I didn’t remember it, but it helped me connect to that compartmentalized memory. Since watching those videos of myself, I find I now have a better memory for play, which is nice.

My open door?

Sooooo, I'm the new one here. HI!  This whole thing has been a fantasical adventure for me and now im here to let you all into my own little world.  So yeah, here goes, yay for copy/paste huh?

I believe wholeheartedly in the phrase “When one door shuts another door opens.” However there is a bit of a catch to it, how can one tell if another door has opened when you're stuck on the other side of the one that had shut? To put it simply, you find the strength and courage to open it and see what the outside world can look like. To some its impossible and they continue to stare at the same wall, their minds filling in the images they want to see and they grow content, settling for never truly being happy but never having to hurt. For me it was one of the hardest decisions to make and keep a hold of, to stay steadfast. There were so many things to consider when I opened my door, “How will this affect my daughter? What kind of life is she going to live because of my decision? Am I doing whats best for her AND I? Am I doing the right thing?” Finding a compromise or even an ANSWER for all of these has been the hardest part, especially when my mind swarms me with “what if's” and “could be's”.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't cried more than a few times after opening the door, that I hadn't regretted my decision and had entertained the thought of shutting myself back up in the dark room I'd lived in for so long. It'd definitely be easier, more comfortable. But who would that be helping really? My daughter would grow up thinking that feeling trapped in a relationship is a normal thing. She wouldn't see the love and light that I want to raise her in. She'd only see that overbearing darkness looming over her mother, the fear that controlled her and the paranoia that was placed there by the deeds of the one causing all of the darkness, regardless of the flecks of light that floated around like fireflies taking their final breath. After opening my door and stepping out into the blinding outer world I've felt free yet terrified, inspired yet suffocated, I've found clarity yet have been faced with even more confusion than I could have possibly imagined.

I've been taken in and collared by a Reaper of lost souls, a collector of the damned wishing only for the salvation of themselves and those most important to them. I serve alongside a Creature of beauty so elegant and bright that there is nothing in existence to compare her to and not sully her image. I often feel myself twinge with jealousy ever so slightly at how gorgeous she is, only to realize that to this Creature and our Master Reaper I am beautiful as well. They have welcomed me into their home and family, and their generosity has been staggering. For them I have shed tears of joy and sorrow. Feeling their arms around me and their heart's warmth in mine fills me with such adoration for them, yet knowing that I can never truly repay them for every thing they have done and all they wish to do in full fills me with such sadness that I cant help but feel like a burden on them. But then the collar I have been given reminds me of their hold on me, my servitude.

His collar is perpetually warm, energizing even. His touch even more so. The longing and desire, nay, NEED to serve these beings is paramount and second only to my life as a mother and the love I have for my only daughter. In secret I devote ALL of my spare time and thought to knowing his rules and his requirements for the slave of a Reaper. And where it sometimes feels like there's so much to learn and apply, I make break throughs faster than I thought possible. Even my wishes to have a life long friend has been fulfilled in his Creature. She is so much like myself yet different enough that I have something to aspire to transform into in the coming years. Her art is abstract and poetic, she is strong, steadfast, resilient beyond measure. A true wonder. And if she really feels as highly for me now as she lets on then I have been given a gift I don't entirely feel I deserve. And even in her touch, as infrequent as is it, as subtle as it can be there is an energy that fills the emptiness I find growing larger and smaller the more time comes to pass.

Within their words I find small pieces of my former self, the self I have been trying to bring back to the surface for years now. Slowly but surely small pieces of the puzzle I though I'd lost are reconnecting themselves and revealing more of me to those that are choosing to see it. And it saddens me to think that if ever the day comes the door to that dark room reopens and the room itself has changed, I may not be allowed to return to it because of the changes I have undergone. But then my keepers remind me that loss isn't mine to feel, but that world's. It is there that my being is wasted, and it is the person in that room that will long and pray for my return but with little to no avail.

In this new world I've plunged myself into I have structure and a sense of purpose. Here I have found more than companionship and life long friends, I have found love and light. I have found a GROUP that I can contribute to and be a part of. I have found kindred spirits so that I may no longer walk my path alone. Here I have discovered that regardless how I view myself, there are people that think I am a work of art, and its beginning to spread into my own way of thinking.

I loved the one that was in that dark room with me, and I still do. But what is love if you cannot trust? What is trust if there is no room to build and grow something so fragile? What is a life where there can be no evolution into something higher than what was broken and filled with pain? In my new world I am evolving, growing, trusting, and loving. I am trusted and loved in turn. I am not the only one being leaned on and I no longer am without something to lean on myself. Even a mountain needs something to hold on to when the ocean's crashing becomes too great.

This Reaper and his Creature have shown me something spectacular, and they continue to do so. Every day is an opportunity to learn, to show what I am capable of at my very core. And every chance I've had to show them just what I can do and who I am, they've been impressed with me. It is here with them that I am feeling most at home, at ease. It is here where I have the purpose I have been looking for. It is within my Master Reaper and his Creature that I am needed. So it is here I will continue my servitude, and do my best to give to them the light and hope they have given me.

-Iseley Lorraine Black

Yellow Bricks...

Master once texted “The future is a long and twisty toad.” He meant road, but his phone loves to play tricks on him.

Life is funny; it sometimes brings us to places we never expected to be.

When I last wrote about Iseley – it was my first impression of meeting her. Since then, we've spent more time together, for a while just as friends, and now, after a few hundred miles, as a cohabitant. We both wear his collar. We brat at him like crazy. And he's grinning like a mad man. We can work together as a perfect team with domestic things – she gives me no anxiety when she takes over the kitchen! – and we can hang out in the same room talking, sharing music, working on art, managing the minions... We get along as if she's always been here.

I am a giant introvert. I like to be alone, and I like having space (at least for a few hours) that is sort of mine. When her moving in presented itself as an opportunity, Master asked me if I would be okay. My honest answer was “I don't know, but this deserves a chance.”

There's a lot more I'd like to write here, but the story isn't mine alone. It isn't my place to tell you when Master first confessed to me that he had fallen in love with her; or how it was all revealed (I can say there were lots of directives to two girls to talk about “feels,” and I'd like to add that neither of us like “feelsharing”); or how she came to her own decisions about what was right for her.

The week leading up to her arriving was a ball of anxiety for me; but when she pulled in and as I texted Master to inform him she had arrived, she jumped out and hugged my car. In that moment, there was a wash of relief. She was home. And that kind of made things perfect.

There are still all sorts of things to figure out. There are things that we need to do to find our balance. We need to learn how we need to share time, so that everyone gets as much of their needs met as possible. We need to logistically divide chores and responsibilities so that none of us are overwhelmed, especially once Iseley finds the perfect job that meets her career goals and growth expectations. I don't know how it's all going to work out, but there's a certainty in my heart that it is going to work out.

In the meantime, I can see how we're all good for each other. Iseley shakes the agoraphobia out of me, and I'm more willing to go places I wouldn't normally go. She spurs all of us to actually get out the door and not hide from all the places and stuff we could be going and doing. She keeps me from being too hard on my face, my shape, my level of fitness; and I think I'm doing the same for her. She's easy to talk to, but it's also easy to just hang out in a comfortable silence with her. There's no pressure. I'm learning better how to ask for help with things, learning to let go. Her talents in the kitchen are amazing; she's a sensational chef; she's introduced all of us to a wider range of cuisine than I ever attempted.

While we have grand plans and ideas about buying two duplexes so we can just put a door between the units, that may be a long way into the twisty toad...I mean road. So in the meantime, a bigger condo? A house with a few extra rooms? And how to explain to people who visit who aren't in the know? I mean, currently, we live in a two bedroom with kids, so there's no “guest room,” and family might have some serious questions and weird responses.

But at home (despite me being a super recluse) the moments we three share... it's very comfortable.

There's something right happening.

The Risks We Accept

I was asked by a friend of ours recently, "how do you engage in polyamory without having your heart broken?" The simple answer is, you don't. There is no way, in my experience, to open yourself up so significantly to someone, invite them into the very essence of yourself, and not risk that potential for heartache. 

You can ride the highs, delight in the laughter, and become drunk on the passion. But for every peak, there is an equivalent valley. Two sides of the same coin every participant chooses as currency. Trust, caring, desire, even love: all things that have their shadow selves. These are the things we risk when we engage in this life style. 

We hope and trust that the people we choose are what they say they are, and that they care for us in kind. The only recourse we really have is to be ourselves; to give as we would, to care as we always would, and to trust. And in this, we can build incredible relationships that span years or more. Or not...

Just because we are faced with the potential for pain and heartache, doesn't mean we have to be victims of it. If we accept both the highs and the lows, face the realization that with one comes the potential for the other, we are better able to choose how we face it. To choose to care for someone when trust has been betrayed, to forgive and show compassion... It is in no way an easy thing. Succumbing to bitterness and anger, that is easy. But the right thing is never easy and the easy thing is never worth doing. 

And, sometimes, the connection we make, no matter how long or how brief, is worth that risk...

Impressions...

 

Well then...There's been a lot of really cool stuff lately. Not as much kink as we would like, but Master and I are working on building little rituals that work inside our regular day to day, which is phenomenal. Thunder was a really big help this year. Fantastic.

But this...this is kind of a vanilla post from me. See, Iseley was in our neighborhood over the weekend, so we had her over to hang out during the day.

We've been chatting via text fairly regularly for the last few weeks, so I was excited to meet her in person. Master told me she might text me if her GPS misled her, but the text I received was her letting me know she was here.

Impressions...she's adorable! Her voice is delightful, and she seems very comfortable in her skin, and expresses herself with very little reservation, though I think she definitely let her guard down a bit with me. I envy her height, because I am a "short" person who grew up with tall people. Her eyes are very expressive and fast; she caught so many things that many people don't notice, and I loved how free she felt to comment on everything. Her inner joy is catching, and she's wickedly clever and fun.

We spent many fun hours chatting, sharing some of our favorite things, she brought me delicious, delicious ginger snap cookies that she'd made, and we had a blast. I was feeling fairly shy, but we did talk quite a bit, and I smiled a lot.  We teased Master via text about the fact that I'd finished my chores early in the day so that we could do whatever we liked while he was at work. She shared some of her music, and I enjoyed listening to a genre that isn't typical for me, we doodled with sharpies for a while, and generally just enjoyed the day. When our Friday afternoon together had been spent, I was quite sad. But I was very much looking forward to Saturday. She'd promised to cook one of her favorite meals for us and stay for gaming.

The food was fantastic...and gaming was hilariously, delightfully, ridiculous (we barely finished one combat section, because we were laughing, talking and running characters about in a drunken state) but I think my favorite part is that we just laughed and smiled so much.

Being around Iseley was like finding a long-lost best friend...And I'm looking forward to the next chance we get.

Summing up an impression of someone is challenging, but little things I noticed and loved that I have to share:
♥ When she draws, she draws the way I do, with her face inches away from her art.
♥ When she listens to music, her hands move the way Master's do...like a violinist feeling the music and imagining the strings...
♥ She's courageous when meeting people for the first time.
♥ She loves owls.
♥ It's easy to be around her, and appreciate her for who she is, without expectation.



 

Pieces

Master and I went on our…well…it’s practically a religious experience for us going to a kinky convention, so…Master and I went to a sacred place last weekend. 

It was, as it always is, enlightening, refreshing…and I came away with thoughts that might help me not only battle my negative headspaces, but help both of us continue to bring our roles into all of the rules we live by. A long while ago, we actually started using a daily chore list. I am responsible for doing the thing and marking it off (or writing why it isn’t marked off). Master is responsible for checking my list and acknowledging the done things and talking with me about how or when I can get the not-done-things done. Who would have thought that I would be excited about chores? But I actually often am. I’m wiggly and waggly when I cross things off the list, and when he looks at the list and is pleased/surprised/happy that I actually managed to fulfill these goals, it makes it even better.

So now…now we’re in the process of deciding how to bring small rituals that reinforce our roles into the other things we do. We’re working on making our connections stronger, more stable, more able to withstand the stressful weeks when adulting is just too damn hard.

We also had the chance to meet wonderful people and Master got some serious play on. I don’t know when he actually slept. Or if he slept?

And one more thing. One more epically beautiful thing.

Master and I play hard. We do. But he also calls me a toy snob. Because I’d rather that he use his fists and his feet. Some toys are great, and some I can love sometimes. But practically any time Master uses his fists, his ridgehands, his kicks…I melt. I can last. I brace myself against the flurry of blows, relying on my own martial training to tense my muscles to protect the organs and tissues from harm.

Those flurries of blows, though…they blossom pain in me. And I feel like they explode, and when the pain recedes back into the source, I feel purified. Over and over again, I explode, return, explode, return, and I am more myself after every explosion, I feel as if it is a sacred experience, the  blossom of pain bringing me back into my truest version of myself. I feel able to face the challenges of every day. I feel ready to be creative and make progress with my many projects. I am ready. I am pure. When there’s a toy that we’re using for that burst of pain, it isn’t the same explosion. I don’t recede back into myself with the pain. So if I’m already feeling weak and unlike myself, a toy (a crop, a cane…) is going to leave me feeling weaker than when we started…So I need to be strong, be the truest version before we pull out the toys.

I am learning how I need help picking up my pieces and being myself.

It was sacred.

Bliss in 60...

It’s been nearly exactly six months since I posted.

Sorry.

Not gonna lie, I’ve still been struggling. I’ve withdrawn a lot on social media, both vanilla and kink, and only now am feeling like I’m ready to participate at my own speed. 2016 has been a challenge in more ways than one. There’s been my struggle with…well…life in general, our apartment was burned in a fire (no one was hurt, we had minimal losses…as far as disasters go, not the worst thing ever, though still utterly horrible), and Master and I just don’t get the time alone we desperately need. I think this is the worst. There’s an intrinsic need for both of us to have time together dripped with rope and chains; but we don’t have the structure to have it. We see the light at the end of the tunnel, really and true, we know that the structure is growing and changing and it will provide more time for Master to be Master and me to be creature without having to compartmentalize.

But recently, Master and I did have the opportunity to spend about 60 hours utterly alone together. We talked, we laughed, we went out to eat without small people running amok…and there was so much time devoted kink.

We were able to start Friday night – put some dinner in our bellies and talked about all the things we love that we never have the time to do. We piled up a slew of rope and chain downstairs and upstairs, though we wound up playing in the living room more than we did anywhere else. It was cooler, and there was more floor space for…many things. Master used my favorite rope tie on me to start, knocked me over and teased me for falling over, insisted I get up; just so he could knock me over again, I am sure. We had lots of sex. Master put me in the cage, and used the dowel rods to make it worse. He left me chained to a hitching ring he’d hidden in the closet. He kicked me, punched me, slapped me, electrocuted me, fucked me raw, denied me orgasms, overloaded me with the same, and generally treated me like a toy. Until we were both so raw and tired Sunday night, that we knew we had to sleep so that Monday wasn’t utterly miserable for Master at work. (We didn’t do very well, there; I think he was actually asleep about an hour late.)

There have been no marks that have shown, but I can feel the rawness of my flesh rubbing against socks and jeans and shoes and shirts and I’m…I’m impatient for the next round, which looks like will happen at Thunder.

Maybe we should bring Master’s cage and dowel rods along this time. Heheheh...

Oil spill

Lately, I haven’t been writing much.

It’s complicated, as is the rest of me. My life is pretty damn wonderful. Our kids are spectacular little munchkins, Master loves me, he provides me the opportunity to be at home with our kids, and in between my jobs and chores and he gives me time to work on my art and spend time with people I want to spend time with. He spoils me. He takes care of me when I’m less able to take care of myself.

While I have every reason in the world to feel content and happy, and I know at the center of me, I am content and happy; the surface is often an oil spill of anger, sorrow and loneliness. The illogical surface turmoil is incredibly problematic; it makes leaving the house painful as much as staying in the house is painful.

Master and I have had some pretty great chances to play, and I don’t feel as lonely when he’s with me. I’m still prone to bursting out with nonsensical anger or falling into a puddle of unwanted tears. This starts the whole mess into a bigger tangle, because there’s no cause that he can fix, and he so desperately does not want me to feel unlike myself.

I’ll be back and writing more again…someday. But for now, I’m doing my best to find my way back to myself.

#depressionlies

On being forced and the aftermath...

Master asked me to write about this... So I'll try to express it in some kind of cohesiveness...

A lot of my own kinks are tied up in being forced to complete a task or endure something Master expects. I touched on it once upon a time in a video (but apparently the host of said video has gone into the nether of the internet). In that post (which was headed "Admitting Wanting") I talked about not wanting to admit that I like (insert kink here). I like it, but I may not want to admit it, or ask for it. So much of what Master and I like, I have a hard time admitting that it revs my engine. In the end, even though I like...rope...for example, I spend a lot of the time complaining about the pinches or the way it is holding my body, but I'll be sorry when the rope comes off. Or Master won't use rope for a long time, and then I'll miss it like crazy, but practically can't honestly say it. Like I'm ashamed of the things that turn me on. *sigh*

So I’m often a ball of discontent sometimes when Master starts playtime. I pout at the ropes. I fuss. I complain. Master trusts my body more than he trusts my mouth. So he’ll look me in the eyes, or check how wet the cunt is…and those things always betray my want. So he lets me whine or gag me (though lately I’ve had some severe jaw issues from a tooth extraction back in September; phantom pain, I guess), and pushes on through, doing exactly whatever it is he wants.

Or I get ornery. Say he's strung me up by my arms (in play space where there’s room for that kind of thing) and then start using me for a target for his punches and devastating kicks; I’ll kick back. He’ll laugh, because I don’t have the reach he does, and I’ll laugh, gasp and cry.

The end result is almost always a pile of girl-goo and a limp creature.

I’m contented, happy, wrung out and riding the emotional high I get from not having “no” as an option.

It leaves me more pliant.

That doesn’t last; eventually I’ll get to that point where I want to make faces and pout at what he wants. And 'round we go.

You Are So Nice...

The other day I went to have some work done on my vehicle. Though I usually prefer to do as much of my own maintenance on my car, the weather made it necessary to take it in. I went to the local Walmart auto center, giving me a chance to do some holiday shopping as well. Where I also prefer to have my slave do most of the shopping errands, I can't very well have her do her own holiday shopping now can I? 

But, I digress, I checked my car into the system with a nice young lady who greeted me when I entered. She asked me the usual service questions; what type of oil, any additional services, etc. She then checked in the garage with her colleagues, who appeared to all be on break. She returned to let me know that it should take about 45 minutes, hopefully less. I never take my car in when I'm pressed for time so I was not concerned about how long it would take. I smiled and let her know that would be fine and off shopping I went. 

I should take this moment to mention that I strive to be quite mannerly in my public interactions, one thing I've always aspired to since I was young. Always the gentleman. 

Silent Too Long...

I find myself being too easily drawn into my own silence. That inner belief that what I have to say often doesn't matter, a self defeating expression of opinion. Opinions get a bad rep. Largely be cause they so often are too easily taken as fact or the way it is. I have an opinion. Hell, I have lots of opinions and I try to keep them honest to themselves. 

They are the expressions of how I see the world and how I carry my self within it. They are as important as the opinions of others, no more, no less. I've had the chance recently to have a couple of friendly debates regarding belief and such. It was refreshing to remind myself that there is always the chance to express your opinions without having to wield them like weapons with which to beat ones opponent down. To listen to the ideas and opinions of others without feeling like they are trying to reprogram oneself.

As a result, I have found my voice again. My desire to share my opinion with all of you. As many of you who have followed us over the years may have noticed, I sometimes go through periods of this silence. I thank you for sticking with us. 

I wanted to take this opportunity to once again publicly express my deep appreciation for my creature. Owned slave and property, artist, mother of two, and more... And yet she always serves with such a smile, no matter what I subject her to. Don't get me wrong, there is a fair amount of whining too. After all, what is a torture without a fair amount of begging and sobbing? And, as I've mentioned before, my slave is the type where the true reward, the pay off, is not necessarily in the action, but being helplessly forced into and through the situation. There is a lot of fun to be had in that. 

Does stress make a noise?

As usual, not enough time for everything. Master and I have managed a few stolen moments. But not many. We're craving kink pretty desperately.
But.
Real. Fucking. Life.
Loves throwing unexpected things in your faces.
So awesome.
We figured with school starting, and Master's new work schedule, things would even out again a bit.
They still might. But there's also extra stuff as Munchkin One broke an arm. I've never had a broken bone, nor has Master (beyond fingers, toes and His collarbone), so this is a completely new thing for all of us. We are working to keep Munchkin One from doing physical activities and encouraging rest, but my goodness, children are not good at keeping an arm elevated above their heart even if they do sit still. Plus there will be (practically) weekly checkups to confirm the bone hasn't shifted out of place inside the cast.
This has killed my anxiety, and since it happened, there hasn't been a day where I haven't felt sick, chewed my cuticles, and wanted to curl up and sleep for the next 2 months.

I need sex and a distraction.

Stop hurting, belly. Go to sleep, Children.

;)

(All in all, good spirits remain. Munchkin One is made of stern stuff.)

Things

I wish I had a kinky story to tell. I'm lusting so hard for something...maybe ropes? Maybe some subtle ouches? I don't know. Maybe soon. Stoopid uterus.

In the meantime, the daily chore list is working really well. Except today. Today got away from me. In part, that's because I was freaked out about getting to an appointment on time, and arrived too dang early. Hopefully I'll be less worried about getting to those things in the future and won't use a whole extra hour I don't need there. Luckily, all that was left really was getting the upstairs vacuumed, and Master will let me just tack that onto tomorrow.

I really wanted to come here and write something...but I don't know what. We don't share much about our kids on here, though one end of me is completely wrapped up in parenting, while the other end is completely wrapped around Master and working hard on doing better and being better property...and then the middle of me is the artist, working hard to accomplish a thing...which I don't really write about here either. My life is ridiculously compartmentalized and sometimes I hate that.

I don't know if anyone who reads here would even be interested in any of my art projects... *sigh* I have my typical traditional style art stuff...and then I have a project I'm working on which I'm hesitating with -- I don't want to publish it under my given name -- but I also am not sure what name I would publish it under.

This is going nowhere and it looks like a <splat> with too many "ands," but I am just going to leave it this way.

FUNctional

I used the title (pun) in my last 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.

Active Participant (part 2)

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 we have he has chosen.