From Kaya...
His parting shot before walking out the door this morning was “maybe stepping up the domestic violence around here will step up the domestic help”.
I gave him the appropriate eye roll and “OooOoooOooh. I’m so scared!” reply.
Kidding! I didn’t. Actually, I might have humped his leg and said “Promise? Do you really promise??”
He told me I was incorrigible.
*giggles* Beloved and I have had parallel exchanges, and I'm often called incorrigible or impossible. And similarly, I don't find such comments to really be motivational. If anything, it makes me more resentful of the chores, tasks, schedules, and all I try to accomplish.
Maybe that makes me a bad sub, but given Beloved's dislike of punishments, I don't think so. Leaving the bdsm to scenes when needed...or desired...is pretty okay with me. I just wish that when Beloved desired to play, I found it easier to submit.
So, what motivates me, if it isn't bdsm? hmmmmmmm...
I absolutely adore when Beloved snuggles me into his arms and tells me what a good job I've done on XYZ. I enjoy the times when he rubs out my shoulders and body, just because *maybe* I've earned a little pampering. I appreciate it when he is willing to make something *I* want to do (like attending MAsT) happen.
With others, it's more vague, I suppose, but compliments, no matter how much I try to put them off, are wonderful. Members of the DOM expressed their enjoyment of supper last Tuesday, and I was curling my toes with delight of having "impressed" them. A "squeeeee" from a surprised friend is a joyous sound to my ears. The "exchange" of services...whether it's being able to beg a presentation space, being taught a skill, or the offer of help when I ask...is a huge reward to me.
Although I (feel like I) complain often, I generally find myself stumbling into bed, exhausted, overworked, and grateful that I've been able to serve.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
No hanky panky on the table.
My vanilla extract friend is lending us her massage table. She's a total sweetheart and is aware that Beloved and I are into "that stuff", and she very expressly said that massage is a sacred safe place and the table is...(fill in with some hand waving). I made her blush by promising that there would be no hanky panky on her massage table.
My carpet cleaning friend is also aware that Beloved and I are into "stuff", and he's quite happy to be a part of that from time to time. He had also promised me a massage after the baby was born.
Table + Massage offer = very happy pixie!
*sigh* It makes my head hurt, but I like Jason and enjoy the times we've gotten together. Beloved, naturally, enjoys teasing me about it. In his own words, I enjoy teasing you, this is material for that but little more in that capacity. I like the life it gives our relationship and the freshness it lends to our interactions.... If things get sexy today I would like a story.
So...guess why I'm writing. *smirks*
I set up the table in the living room and put some massage oil in a cup of hot water to warm up. Jason arrived, and complained a little about how firggin' cold it is today, and kissed me before asking where the table was. I showed him, and he smacked my butt. "Well, let's get started...you undress."
I'm sure there was a hint of pink in my cheeks and I know I stammered as I stripped to my birthday suit. I lay down on the table, face down. The oil was perfect, and Jason poured a river down my back. His hands were warm and firm and not shy at all. Once, he asked if he was being to rough, and I laughed and told him it wasn't quite enough. Beloved tells people I've ruined him for massage because of how deep I like the massage to go.
It was really wonderful, and Jason rubbed me out from my shoulders to my toes before asking me to flip over. Part of me was hurrahing....prematurely...that maybe I wouldn't have to write a story! The second half of the massage was still wonderful, very mature, non-sexual...except for the couple of times that Jason leaned over the table to get the oil or to draw his hands from my shoulders to my toes... When he stretched over me like that, I felt his hard cock and I knew that for all the control, the thoughts Jason's mind were NOT platonic. I peaked at him, and he just half-smiled, half-smirked.
When he was done, he leaned down to kiss me. "No hanky panky on the table!" I said. I had promised, and I am working hard to keep my promises, especially in this space. I sat up, stretched, and scooted of the table. Jason had his arms around me in a second. He kissed me, and I giggled. "So, what would YOU like?" I teased. He just shook his head. "No...it's all about you today. Whatever you say, I will do."
Jerk. What the hell is it with people insisting that I VOCALIZE my dark desires, huh? Ya'll know what I want...just relieve me of the responsibility and we can have lots of fun. Get it? *sigh*
Of course, I didn't SAY that. I teased and played with his clothed cock, hoping he'd take the hint. I swear, sometimes it's like everyone is talking about me behind my back. Finally I whispered that I'd run up and get some lube...
I cam back with lube and a condom, Jason was already naked. I kissed him, reaching down and playing with his cock a little. Squirting a little lube on his hand, he reached around me and started teasing my ass. I closed my eyes...wanting but in denial. The war inside my head was very loud. Everything from what to tell Beloved to how naughty this was to maybe Girl will wake up and save me from myself...
But no. Instead, I got a little lube on my hand and reached for his cock, playing, teasing, jerking him. Admitting, without saying a word, how much I liked this. He had warmed me up well, and I tore open the condom wrapper, unrolling it while gazing into his eyes. He turned me around, and pushed me...my hands went down on the couch, my forehead against the back. It hurt just a little as he pressed inside...and then...*smirky smile*
Beloved asked what's it like...why do I like being penetrated anally. I'm not sure how to explain it. It's not the same a vaginal penetration...it's tighter, I feel fuller, not as wet. Without lube, I think it would be hell, but just enough means that I'm not all slippery and can't feel much. I don't "get off" the same...today I have my Keeper in, so there was extra vaginal pressure because of that, and then Jason reached around and played with my clit. I grit my teeth hard because I didn't want to bite a hole in the couch fabric. Orgasm was just dangling out of reach...that sad place where I know I'm not quite going to come, but oh, it would be so nice... Jason was pretty much just toying with me, encouraging me, letting me provide all the movement. I finally brought a hand over his fingers....shhhhhhhh. It just wasn't going to quite happen, and I was on the verge of soreness. He took over, his hands on my hips, fucking my ass fast and hard. A little more lube might have been nice...but he groaned and relaxed. A moment later, he spooned me on the couch, just catching our breath. It wasn't long before I started to get chilled, and we pulled away to get dressed.
Afterwards, in the kitchen, we talked. Then he gave me a hug and kiss and opened the door to the mudroom. "You don't want to come out here...it's cold!" I agreed and gave him a quick kiss before he walked out, closing the door behind him.
I went upstairs and showered, and slowly the situation sank in. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it! I could hide everything...pretend it never happened...I could fall into the same @#$%&# trap I have in the past. Or, I could swallow my pride and tell Beloved. The RIGHT way. *growls*
I got dressed and went to the computer. Beloved had IMed me... hey love... Silly head of mine is doing overtime, thinking about all the conversations about safe calls last night, and my audiobook had a messed up scene in it.... anyhow, I'd appreciate a call.
In case it isn't clear, I love that man. I felt all mushy and lovey. I called. I told him I was safe, that I owed him a story. He managed to pry it out of me over the phone, making me strangle every. damn. word. THEN he told me I still had to write. Some times......
*sigh*
So...there's my adventure for the day. How was yours?
My carpet cleaning friend is also aware that Beloved and I are into "stuff", and he's quite happy to be a part of that from time to time. He had also promised me a massage after the baby was born.
Table + Massage offer = very happy pixie!
*sigh* It makes my head hurt, but I like Jason and enjoy the times we've gotten together. Beloved, naturally, enjoys teasing me about it. In his own words, I enjoy teasing you, this is material for that but little more in that capacity. I like the life it gives our relationship and the freshness it lends to our interactions.... If things get sexy today I would like a story.
So...guess why I'm writing. *smirks*
I set up the table in the living room and put some massage oil in a cup of hot water to warm up. Jason arrived, and complained a little about how firggin' cold it is today, and kissed me before asking where the table was. I showed him, and he smacked my butt. "Well, let's get started...you undress."
I'm sure there was a hint of pink in my cheeks and I know I stammered as I stripped to my birthday suit. I lay down on the table, face down. The oil was perfect, and Jason poured a river down my back. His hands were warm and firm and not shy at all. Once, he asked if he was being to rough, and I laughed and told him it wasn't quite enough. Beloved tells people I've ruined him for massage because of how deep I like the massage to go.
It was really wonderful, and Jason rubbed me out from my shoulders to my toes before asking me to flip over. Part of me was hurrahing....prematurely...that maybe I wouldn't have to write a story! The second half of the massage was still wonderful, very mature, non-sexual...except for the couple of times that Jason leaned over the table to get the oil or to draw his hands from my shoulders to my toes... When he stretched over me like that, I felt his hard cock and I knew that for all the control, the thoughts Jason's mind were NOT platonic. I peaked at him, and he just half-smiled, half-smirked.
When he was done, he leaned down to kiss me. "No hanky panky on the table!" I said. I had promised, and I am working hard to keep my promises, especially in this space. I sat up, stretched, and scooted of the table. Jason had his arms around me in a second. He kissed me, and I giggled. "So, what would YOU like?" I teased. He just shook his head. "No...it's all about you today. Whatever you say, I will do."
Jerk. What the hell is it with people insisting that I VOCALIZE my dark desires, huh? Ya'll know what I want...just relieve me of the responsibility and we can have lots of fun. Get it? *sigh*
Of course, I didn't SAY that. I teased and played with his clothed cock, hoping he'd take the hint. I swear, sometimes it's like everyone is talking about me behind my back. Finally I whispered that I'd run up and get some lube...
I cam back with lube and a condom, Jason was already naked. I kissed him, reaching down and playing with his cock a little. Squirting a little lube on his hand, he reached around me and started teasing my ass. I closed my eyes...wanting but in denial. The war inside my head was very loud. Everything from what to tell Beloved to how naughty this was to maybe Girl will wake up and save me from myself...
But no. Instead, I got a little lube on my hand and reached for his cock, playing, teasing, jerking him. Admitting, without saying a word, how much I liked this. He had warmed me up well, and I tore open the condom wrapper, unrolling it while gazing into his eyes. He turned me around, and pushed me...my hands went down on the couch, my forehead against the back. It hurt just a little as he pressed inside...and then...*smirky smile*
Beloved asked what's it like...why do I like being penetrated anally. I'm not sure how to explain it. It's not the same a vaginal penetration...it's tighter, I feel fuller, not as wet. Without lube, I think it would be hell, but just enough means that I'm not all slippery and can't feel much. I don't "get off" the same...today I have my Keeper in, so there was extra vaginal pressure because of that, and then Jason reached around and played with my clit. I grit my teeth hard because I didn't want to bite a hole in the couch fabric. Orgasm was just dangling out of reach...that sad place where I know I'm not quite going to come, but oh, it would be so nice... Jason was pretty much just toying with me, encouraging me, letting me provide all the movement. I finally brought a hand over his fingers....shhhhhhhh. It just wasn't going to quite happen, and I was on the verge of soreness. He took over, his hands on my hips, fucking my ass fast and hard. A little more lube might have been nice...but he groaned and relaxed. A moment later, he spooned me on the couch, just catching our breath. It wasn't long before I started to get chilled, and we pulled away to get dressed.
Afterwards, in the kitchen, we talked. Then he gave me a hug and kiss and opened the door to the mudroom. "You don't want to come out here...it's cold!" I agreed and gave him a quick kiss before he walked out, closing the door behind him.
I went upstairs and showered, and slowly the situation sank in. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it! I could hide everything...pretend it never happened...I could fall into the same @#$%&# trap I have in the past. Or, I could swallow my pride and tell Beloved. The RIGHT way. *growls*
I got dressed and went to the computer. Beloved had IMed me... hey love... Silly head of mine is doing overtime, thinking about all the conversations about safe calls last night, and my audiobook had a messed up scene in it.... anyhow, I'd appreciate a call.
In case it isn't clear, I love that man. I felt all mushy and lovey. I called. I told him I was safe, that I owed him a story. He managed to pry it out of me over the phone, making me strangle every. damn. word. THEN he told me I still had to write. Some times......
*sigh*
So...there's my adventure for the day. How was yours?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Missing...
Time. Balance. Contentment.
I'm mid-moon, so the hormone overload isn't helping.
The kids are waking me up every hour during the night.
I am confounded by the house. WTF?!?
Four months ago, I said I'd get my materials for a poly class together, but that hasn't happened...
GAH!
Beloved said that we should start with a full night sleep, go from there...sounds like a good plan.
I'm mid-moon, so the hormone overload isn't helping.
The kids are waking me up every hour during the night.
I am confounded by the house. WTF?!?
Four months ago, I said I'd get my materials for a poly class together, but that hasn't happened...
GAH!
Beloved said that we should start with a full night sleep, go from there...sounds like a good plan.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Pretties
I have always liked black-n-white photography. I thought I'd share some of the recent stuff I've been admiring...besides, it's a good way to put off trying to function. :-P
Thursday, January 21, 2010
maybe some day...
Someone once told me that when I really, truly wanted something to happen, I would make it happen. I want to believe him. But for now, I am putting another "want" on the shelf.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
"When do you suppose this young fellow will stop?"
"Stop? Well, I should. But I won't stop until..." ~Dr. Suess, If I Ran The Zoo
That's what came to mind. I was recently added as a group leader here on Fet, and I cheerfully told Beloved.
Beloved Master: ha
pixiemschf: ha?
Beloved Master: yeah
Beloved Master: you cannot stop
pixiemschf: *hangs head* no...
*sigh* No, I won't stop...I guess I'm kinda addicted to the service. I resent all the obligations sometimes, but I also take a great deal of pride and pleasure in what I accomplish on a regular basis...
That's what came to mind. I was recently added as a group leader here on Fet, and I cheerfully told Beloved.
Beloved Master: ha
pixiemschf: ha?
Beloved Master: yeah
Beloved Master: you cannot stop
pixiemschf: *hangs head* no...
*sigh* No, I won't stop...I guess I'm kinda addicted to the service. I resent all the obligations sometimes, but I also take a great deal of pride and pleasure in what I accomplish on a regular basis...
Friday, January 15, 2010
"Sugah! Have you ever used the word 'NO'?"
My friend Sassy asked the question in response to my complaint of being tired because I over-book myself try to stay busy. This morning, I am hosting a "Kids and cacophony!" playdate and have pulled the drums, rattles, and bells out of the attic. I'm sure it's going to be fun, but noisy!
At 1:15pm, I have a phone interview regarding hyperemsis. The HER Foundation, in collaboration with USC and UCLA, is studying the Genetics of Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Having survived it twice, I have volunteered my DNA for the study.
At 2pm, I am meeting with slave to discuss Beloved's leather jacket and boots. She's attending SJW this year, so this is a great way for us to meet AND she's been caring for her Master's leathers and hopefully will be able to give me a leather crash course since I know nothing about it.
At 5pm, I'm packing the kids up and taking them to my aunt's for the evening so that I can attend MAsT tonight. The topic is Emotional Barriers and Mental Blocks, which I think could be very beneficial to me, personally. Beloved isn't attending, but maybe I'll learn some stuff to bring back to him. I'm taking a notebook...
Sassy said, "Have you ever noticed that a guarantee on a car is for so many miles OR so many years? You do understand why they do that, right? It's because the car will wear out far sooner, if it is driven too many miles, or on terrain that is too rough."
Oh, I know...I understand...cognitively... But I also know that if I DON'T schedule out, then we sit at home and do pretty much nothing but argue about the television. That's no fun and tires me out MORE (I think...) I'm always getting vague offers for someone else to host, but when I ask for concrete dates/activities, all I hear is crickets. *sigh* Yeah, I guess I'm feeling defensive. I dunno what the answer is, but time is up...kids are arriving. Let the chaos begin!
At 1:15pm, I have a phone interview regarding hyperemsis. The HER Foundation, in collaboration with USC and UCLA, is studying the Genetics of Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Having survived it twice, I have volunteered my DNA for the study.
At 2pm, I am meeting with slave to discuss Beloved's leather jacket and boots. She's attending SJW this year, so this is a great way for us to meet AND she's been caring for her Master's leathers and hopefully will be able to give me a leather crash course since I know nothing about it.
At 5pm, I'm packing the kids up and taking them to my aunt's for the evening so that I can attend MAsT tonight. The topic is Emotional Barriers and Mental Blocks, which I think could be very beneficial to me, personally. Beloved isn't attending, but maybe I'll learn some stuff to bring back to him. I'm taking a notebook...
Sassy said, "Have you ever noticed that a guarantee on a car is for so many miles OR so many years? You do understand why they do that, right? It's because the car will wear out far sooner, if it is driven too many miles, or on terrain that is too rough."
Oh, I know...I understand...cognitively... But I also know that if I DON'T schedule out, then we sit at home and do pretty much nothing but argue about the television. That's no fun and tires me out MORE (I think...) I'm always getting vague offers for someone else to host, but when I ask for concrete dates/activities, all I hear is crickets. *sigh* Yeah, I guess I'm feeling defensive. I dunno what the answer is, but time is up...kids are arriving. Let the chaos begin!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
blech. Where's the restart?
I'm pretty annoyed with my cold at this point. I'm not sleeping well, thus Beloved isn't sleeping well. This morning my eyes were half-glued shut. blech!
On top of that, Beloved's mom called first thing this morning and is sick. I'm trying to put together a grocery list while Boy whines about wanting to watch television or go to Grandma's house and Girl fusses every time I put her down. I'm gritting my teet over the thought of taking both kids to the grocery story. blech.
Can't I just hit restart or something? Please???
On top of that, Beloved's mom called first thing this morning and is sick. I'm trying to put together a grocery list while Boy whines about wanting to watch television or go to Grandma's house and Girl fusses every time I put her down. I'm gritting my teet over the thought of taking both kids to the grocery story. blech.
Can't I just hit restart or something? Please???
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Last night
That's what I want to tell you about, but I find myself unsure and wondering where to begin. At the beginning, duh...
Okay. It was a rough day. I'm coming off a nasty cold, the kind the clog your sinuses with green snots and give you a raw throat and chapped skin. I spent almost 17 hours in bed on Sunday, and while I was feeling better, there's nothing like running with the kids to wear you out. On top of that, Girl is teething and screamed for about 4 hours straight while I tried to get the house picked up, make dinner, etc., and Boy had refused to take a nap. Beloved ended up working late, so I was a little frazzled by 7:30pm when we did finally sit down to eat.
Our roommate cleaned up, Beloved took the kids upstairs to get ready for bed, and I vegged for a few minutes before going up to help with bedtime routines and say goodnight. Afterwards, Beloved and I passed each other, but there weren't any sparks...just seemed like we were tired and in our own little worlds. We went up to the bedroom and I started to undress. Beloved reached over and rubbed my lymphs and neck (heaven!) and then flopped me on the bed, face down, and went deeper, pinching the muscles. It brought to mind a Fet photo of a suspension that Beloved had found. I shivered.
What was that?
Just my thinking about how I can sort of see how the hooks would work with my ropey muscles.
You mean, like this?
He grabbed my flesh and muscle, pulling up, making me cry out. It fricken HURT! He worked down my back, and then returned to my neck. He commented that I seemed more relaxed now. I wonder... And repeated the grab-pull ouchies. I was already begging him to stop.
He rubbed it out a little more and then stepped away, starting to undress himself. I looked up at him as he pulled his belt through the loops. Seeing me looking, he snapped the belt.
Would you like to feel the belt?
I don't know.
That's not a yes or a no. Would you like to feel the belt?
Part of me is curious, part of me is terrified.
That's still not a yes or no. Would you like to feel it or not?
Grinning, because I thought he was playing with me, I answered snidely, "If it would please you, Sir."
That's THREE non-answers!
The belt landed across my ass, making me squawk and jump up in surprise and hurt. His hand pushed me down, and I got a cold pit in my stomach. As if to confirm my fears, Beloved said softly, I'm not done yet.
The belt landed two more times, each with me bolting up and whimpering.
That's THREE, I stammered.
The girl can count! Why yes, yes it is. But who said I was done?
I started crying. My safeword floated through my head and I weighed it. I wasn't in trouble, I wasn't "damaged"...I was just OUCH, goddamnsonofabitch. Instead, I tried begging. Beloved did after a few more swats. I think I prefer something more...personal. His bare hand landed. I screamed into the mattress. I felt like the front of my face was going to pull off from the pressure in my sinuses, my eyes were tear-filled, my blue hair sticking to my face.
Beloved pulled me up and told me to preen. PREEN?!? As in model my beauty and pride for him? Like this??? I did...grasping at straws for the calm smile he likes. You are so beautiful. You're such a lier, I thought, but I didn't SAY it. I was feeling...well, not beautiful! At last I begged to blow my nose. He consented. I wiped my face, winced as I touched the welts. He got up on the bed, patting the spot next to him. I crawled under the blankets, snuggling.
I don't know if it was my comment or his...but we were talking about the welts. How did you like the cane when Sir used it on you?
I was so out of my head by the time Sir had used the cane on me that I barely registered it. I couldn't honestly say I had an opinion about the cane. I didn't like Beloved's reactions to the marks, though.
What if I marked you? So you like wearing the marks I give you? Hickies, welts?
I don't like being teased about them or having to explain them to others. I don't like the look of disgust Beloved's given me in the past when I had marks left from playing.
Do you still have the dowel rod from your project?
Cold was creeping back into my stomach. Yes.
Where are they?
In the kitchen, by the cookbooks.
Would you like to feel the cane?
My eyes were wide. I don't know. I don't know what the right answer is.
Beloved told me it wasn't a trap. There was no "right" answer. He appreciated my thoughts, that I talked to him, talked back to him. That he would sometimes ignore what I said in favor of what he wanted to do.
But sometimes the answer really IS I don't know. I was quivery, but I didn't quite believe Beloved would pick the scene back up. It was getting late, we'd both had long days, blah blah blah.
Tell you what. If you are still in the bedroom when I return, you will feel the cane. But if you would rather go shower, that is fine with me.
I danced in place, biting my lip. He wasn't serious!...was he?!? He wouldn't dare... He hates marks... I...I...
I peeked out the door, down the stairs Beloved was ascending, his eyes catching mine. He reached the top stair, staring at me. He walked the eight feet from the landing to the door. The thought of slamming the door crossed my mind, and then he was there.
Well, look who's still here...
He swooshed the rod, and I whimpered. I asked if we could please light the body candle...our aftercare treatment. Beloved smiled and told me to fetch it. He directed me to stand, hands above my head. I yelped when it landed, the begging began, this time to please let me lower my arms. He tsked, tapping my breasts and nipples. I held very very still...afraid of harder blows. Eventually, he had me lay face down on the mattress, and he marked me. He caned my back, my ass, my thighs, me feet. He made me snot-nosed and screaming into the mattress again. My safeword dangled in my foremind, taunting me because using it would end it all, but it wouldn't have been honest.
Then he laid the cane aside and danced his fingers over the welts. Tiger stripes, he said. There were other comments, but most were lost in my sobbing.
Thank you for sharing your pain. I remember he said that a few times. When he poured the melted oil on me, it didn't hurt the way I expected it too...but his rubbing it in was sweet agony. I finally had enough voice to ask him why. There is a line in Fight Club..."Because I needed to break something beautiful." The starkness...the rightness...I understood without understanding.
He showed me the marks in the mirror. Part of me wanted the camera, and he laughed. Playing comparison games always gets me in trouble. Besides, he'd have to give me fresh ones that would show up on film. THAT settled me quickly. Instead he asked if we should shower.
WE? He smiled. I could scrub your back. Sadistic man! He followed me anyway. It wasn't until I was under the hot water and washing that I realized how sexually excited I was. I spun away, pressing my face against the wall. Please...please tell me I'm okay?! What's wrong, kitten? Please...I...
I took his hand and showed him, unable to verbally admit the truth. Only one tease left his lips. His touch was terrible, and I was fast approaching shut-down. He kissed me gently then. Would you like me to love you?
I didn't answer outloud. Instead, I turned away from him, bending at the waist, the heat of the water and the noise of the shower covering me. Beloved took me, slowly, deeply, his hands cupping my breasts, groaning his appreciation. Then he was gone, allowing me to wash my hair and clean up.
When I did finally cuddle against him in bed, he asked what I thought of the cane now.
Even though the lights were off and the house was quiet, I had to lean over to whisper into his hair. I'm confused, I hurt...but I wonder when we can do it again.
Okay. It was a rough day. I'm coming off a nasty cold, the kind the clog your sinuses with green snots and give you a raw throat and chapped skin. I spent almost 17 hours in bed on Sunday, and while I was feeling better, there's nothing like running with the kids to wear you out. On top of that, Girl is teething and screamed for about 4 hours straight while I tried to get the house picked up, make dinner, etc., and Boy had refused to take a nap. Beloved ended up working late, so I was a little frazzled by 7:30pm when we did finally sit down to eat.
Our roommate cleaned up, Beloved took the kids upstairs to get ready for bed, and I vegged for a few minutes before going up to help with bedtime routines and say goodnight. Afterwards, Beloved and I passed each other, but there weren't any sparks...just seemed like we were tired and in our own little worlds. We went up to the bedroom and I started to undress. Beloved reached over and rubbed my lymphs and neck (heaven!) and then flopped me on the bed, face down, and went deeper, pinching the muscles. It brought to mind a Fet photo of a suspension that Beloved had found. I shivered.
What was that?
Just my thinking about how I can sort of see how the hooks would work with my ropey muscles.
You mean, like this?
He grabbed my flesh and muscle, pulling up, making me cry out. It fricken HURT! He worked down my back, and then returned to my neck. He commented that I seemed more relaxed now. I wonder... And repeated the grab-pull ouchies. I was already begging him to stop.
He rubbed it out a little more and then stepped away, starting to undress himself. I looked up at him as he pulled his belt through the loops. Seeing me looking, he snapped the belt.
Would you like to feel the belt?
I don't know.
That's not a yes or a no. Would you like to feel the belt?
Part of me is curious, part of me is terrified.
That's still not a yes or no. Would you like to feel it or not?
Grinning, because I thought he was playing with me, I answered snidely, "If it would please you, Sir."
That's THREE non-answers!
The belt landed across my ass, making me squawk and jump up in surprise and hurt. His hand pushed me down, and I got a cold pit in my stomach. As if to confirm my fears, Beloved said softly, I'm not done yet.
The belt landed two more times, each with me bolting up and whimpering.
That's THREE, I stammered.
The girl can count! Why yes, yes it is. But who said I was done?
I started crying. My safeword floated through my head and I weighed it. I wasn't in trouble, I wasn't "damaged"...I was just OUCH, goddamnsonofabitch. Instead, I tried begging. Beloved did after a few more swats. I think I prefer something more...personal. His bare hand landed. I screamed into the mattress. I felt like the front of my face was going to pull off from the pressure in my sinuses, my eyes were tear-filled, my blue hair sticking to my face.
Beloved pulled me up and told me to preen. PREEN?!? As in model my beauty and pride for him? Like this??? I did...grasping at straws for the calm smile he likes. You are so beautiful. You're such a lier, I thought, but I didn't SAY it. I was feeling...well, not beautiful! At last I begged to blow my nose. He consented. I wiped my face, winced as I touched the welts. He got up on the bed, patting the spot next to him. I crawled under the blankets, snuggling.
I don't know if it was my comment or his...but we were talking about the welts. How did you like the cane when Sir used it on you?
I was so out of my head by the time Sir had used the cane on me that I barely registered it. I couldn't honestly say I had an opinion about the cane. I didn't like Beloved's reactions to the marks, though.
What if I marked you? So you like wearing the marks I give you? Hickies, welts?
I don't like being teased about them or having to explain them to others. I don't like the look of disgust Beloved's given me in the past when I had marks left from playing.
Do you still have the dowel rod from your project?
Cold was creeping back into my stomach. Yes.
Where are they?
In the kitchen, by the cookbooks.
Would you like to feel the cane?
My eyes were wide. I don't know. I don't know what the right answer is.
Beloved told me it wasn't a trap. There was no "right" answer. He appreciated my thoughts, that I talked to him, talked back to him. That he would sometimes ignore what I said in favor of what he wanted to do.
But sometimes the answer really IS I don't know. I was quivery, but I didn't quite believe Beloved would pick the scene back up. It was getting late, we'd both had long days, blah blah blah.
Tell you what. If you are still in the bedroom when I return, you will feel the cane. But if you would rather go shower, that is fine with me.
I danced in place, biting my lip. He wasn't serious!...was he?!? He wouldn't dare... He hates marks... I...I...
I peeked out the door, down the stairs Beloved was ascending, his eyes catching mine. He reached the top stair, staring at me. He walked the eight feet from the landing to the door. The thought of slamming the door crossed my mind, and then he was there.
Well, look who's still here...
He swooshed the rod, and I whimpered. I asked if we could please light the body candle...our aftercare treatment. Beloved smiled and told me to fetch it. He directed me to stand, hands above my head. I yelped when it landed, the begging began, this time to please let me lower my arms. He tsked, tapping my breasts and nipples. I held very very still...afraid of harder blows. Eventually, he had me lay face down on the mattress, and he marked me. He caned my back, my ass, my thighs, me feet. He made me snot-nosed and screaming into the mattress again. My safeword dangled in my foremind, taunting me because using it would end it all, but it wouldn't have been honest.
Then he laid the cane aside and danced his fingers over the welts. Tiger stripes, he said. There were other comments, but most were lost in my sobbing.
Thank you for sharing your pain. I remember he said that a few times. When he poured the melted oil on me, it didn't hurt the way I expected it too...but his rubbing it in was sweet agony. I finally had enough voice to ask him why. There is a line in Fight Club..."Because I needed to break something beautiful." The starkness...the rightness...I understood without understanding.
He showed me the marks in the mirror. Part of me wanted the camera, and he laughed. Playing comparison games always gets me in trouble. Besides, he'd have to give me fresh ones that would show up on film. THAT settled me quickly. Instead he asked if we should shower.
WE? He smiled. I could scrub your back. Sadistic man! He followed me anyway. It wasn't until I was under the hot water and washing that I realized how sexually excited I was. I spun away, pressing my face against the wall. Please...please tell me I'm okay?! What's wrong, kitten? Please...I...
I took his hand and showed him, unable to verbally admit the truth. Only one tease left his lips. His touch was terrible, and I was fast approaching shut-down. He kissed me gently then. Would you like me to love you?
I didn't answer outloud. Instead, I turned away from him, bending at the waist, the heat of the water and the noise of the shower covering me. Beloved took me, slowly, deeply, his hands cupping my breasts, groaning his appreciation. Then he was gone, allowing me to wash my hair and clean up.
When I did finally cuddle against him in bed, he asked what I thought of the cane now.
Even though the lights were off and the house was quiet, I had to lean over to whisper into his hair. I'm confused, I hurt...but I wonder when we can do it again.
Friday, January 8, 2010
'The Talk'
Ironically, I've had a few people ask me about talking to kids about sex. Maybe it's just that they know I have a background with sex ed, or maybe it's something else. Given that my kids are currently 3 1/2 and 6 months, I'm pretty sure it isn't my personal experience with having 'The Talk'.
But I was browsing the Chicago Tribune and came across a story about 'The Talk'. A recent study on parent-child communication, published in Pediatrics, showed that by the time parents had "the Talk" about sex -- why it's better to wait, and birth control options -- more than 40 percent of teens in the sample already were having sex.
I can believe that! People don't want to believe that 10- 11- and 12-year old kids are having sex...but the truth is some of them are. One of my best childhood friends got pregnant in 8th grade. Granted the extenuating circumstances, but I was 9 years old when I lost my virginity.
For their sake, get over your modesty fetish and talk to your kids!
*hops of the soapbox and wanders away*
But I was browsing the Chicago Tribune and came across a story about 'The Talk'. A recent study on parent-child communication, published in Pediatrics, showed that by the time parents had "the Talk" about sex -- why it's better to wait, and birth control options -- more than 40 percent of teens in the sample already were having sex.
I can believe that! People don't want to believe that 10- 11- and 12-year old kids are having sex...but the truth is some of them are. One of my best childhood friends got pregnant in 8th grade. Granted the extenuating circumstances, but I was 9 years old when I lost my virginity.
For their sake, get over your modesty fetish and talk to your kids!
*hops of the soapbox and wanders away*
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Sick...
*sigh* Yeah...hanging out with the sick kids caught up with me. I can't speak above a whisper, and ALL I wanna do is crawl back in bed. :-(
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Vacuuming your bedding
So a friend of mine gave my name as a referral for a sales pitch on a Kirby Sentria. The guy came in, did his demo, and yeah....Beloved and I ended up buying one. Maybe we were suckered, but that's not why I'm posting.
One of the things the guy insisted on demonstrating was vacuuming the bed and pillows. I thought this kind of odd, but hey, whatever...then I saw what was pulled out of the bedding. YIKES! I went online for more information...Did you know that:
* Every person loses an average of 250ml of perspiration every night. If you share your mattress with someone, this increases to around 500ml. Even if the mattress is only five years old, this is equivalent to 900 litres of personal fluids
* Every person sheds and re-grows skin cells every 27 days.
* By the age of 70, the average person will have lost 50kg of skin. (A large portion ends up in our mattresses.)
* Dust mites are microscopic spiders that live in our houses. The main component of dust is shed skin flakes, which is the mite’s preferred food. Areas around the home that are heavily used, such as beds and upholstered furniture, will have much higher mite populations than the rest of the house.
* Dust mites don’t bite. Their bodies, secretions and faeces contain particular proteins that can trigger allergic symptoms in susceptible people. Old mattresses may contain several kilo- grams of dust mite excrement and dust mite carcasses.
* Dust mite secretions and excrement are closely related to asthma and eczema.
* Old mattresses, pillows and quilts also contain high amounts of bacteria and fungi.
* A by-product of bacteria is called an endotoxin, which can bring on asthma attacks. Old Pillows and mattresses also may contain millions of fungi spores.
I NEVER thought about vacuuming a bed or pillows before...I will now!!!
One of the things the guy insisted on demonstrating was vacuuming the bed and pillows. I thought this kind of odd, but hey, whatever...then I saw what was pulled out of the bedding. YIKES! I went online for more information...Did you know that:
* Every person loses an average of 250ml of perspiration every night. If you share your mattress with someone, this increases to around 500ml. Even if the mattress is only five years old, this is equivalent to 900 litres of personal fluids
* Every person sheds and re-grows skin cells every 27 days.
* By the age of 70, the average person will have lost 50kg of skin. (A large portion ends up in our mattresses.)
* Dust mites are microscopic spiders that live in our houses. The main component of dust is shed skin flakes, which is the mite’s preferred food. Areas around the home that are heavily used, such as beds and upholstered furniture, will have much higher mite populations than the rest of the house.
* Dust mites don’t bite. Their bodies, secretions and faeces contain particular proteins that can trigger allergic symptoms in susceptible people. Old mattresses may contain several kilo- grams of dust mite excrement and dust mite carcasses.
* Dust mite secretions and excrement are closely related to asthma and eczema.
* Old mattresses, pillows and quilts also contain high amounts of bacteria and fungi.
* A by-product of bacteria is called an endotoxin, which can bring on asthma attacks. Old Pillows and mattresses also may contain millions of fungi spores.
I NEVER thought about vacuuming a bed or pillows before...I will now!!!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
20 Questions...BDSM style
I ganked this from kaya.
Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets and I’ll tell you mine…
1. Your role?
Safe answer, housewife. heh. I cook, I clean, I care for the kids, blah blah blah. I often provide other services, but "submissive" doesn't seem to fit real well these days. I dunno.
2. Current relationship?
Easy answer, married to Beloved. Less defined but reality is I'm also in a FWB with Jason.
3. Your favorite type of play?
Mental masochism, probably. The kind of play that gets inside my head, fucks me up, makes me cry, and then brings me back to a safe point.
4. Your most hated type of play?
Hate is such a strong word...but I think I do the worst with public humiliation.
5. The most annoying habit of your owner/slave/whatever you call your SO?
The clothes on the bathroom floor. Anywhere else, and it's just something else to pick up, but the clothes in the bathroom REALLY makes me grit my teeth.
6. Your deepest fear?
Being abandoned.
7. Your most memorable public experience?
Bits and pieces pop to mind...but I don't know what I'd call the most memorable. Immediate thoughts include first spanking at club, awkwardness of dropping by the Naperville munch after everyone had discussed the "Cole" incident, cleaning and fretting for the first DOM, the first and last hour at SJW.
8. What gets you in the mood?
*laughs* If you ask Beloved, it is having his vanilla friends coming over. hahaha Or basically any time that isn't realistic (ie, middle of the workday is another good time)
9. Favorite method of masturbation?
Me, myself, and I...under the covers, when no one is home.
10. Scariest thing you’ve seen or heard of in BDSM land?
There's a lot that squicks me, but the scariest is probably the complete disappearance of the person...lock them up in the dungeon, remove every outside contact, and never let them be seen again.
11. Number of hours you spend on Fet when you should be doing other things?
On FET? Not much...maybe an hour or so. On general things on the Internet? waaaaay too many.
12.Thing that was hotter in fantasy than it was in reality?
hmmm...I guess I'd have to say enemas. I'd read a some hot erotic around enemas, but when I finally had one, I just didn't get it at all. *shrug*
13. Most longed-for experience?
*laughs* Orgasm denial! Cause that would mean I orgasmed frequently enough that denying me would be mean, cruel, and sadistic! hahahaha
14. Ouchiest toy?
The worst thing I've experienced was the rat-tail that Beloved and Cole used on me. I think the Konics spatula has a lot of potential in that department, but so far it hasn't been yielded with the same intent as the rat-tail.
15.Book or movie that every newbie has to read/see?
uh, none? I don't think there's a lifestyle book that I have read cover-to-cover and would say it was a MUST-READ.
16. Thing you’d like to change about yourself?
*sigh* My embarrassment over BDSM activities is pretty high on the list. Normal answers like weight, confidence, that kind of thing. And I'd like to be happier. I seem to be pretty pessimistic these days.
17.Thing you’re most proud of?
My kids. Seriously...they drive me crazy and make me mad and frustrated, but when the shit is really hitting the fan, my kids are stunning and amazing.
18.Funniest dom name you’ve ever heard?
The ones that just make me think, Oh-yeah, you're-totally-someone-I'd-submit-to.
19. Do your family and friends know?
Some of them know some of it, but I'm not OUT to the world. *shrug* If people aren't comfortable with the hints that are in front of their eyes, I'm not going to rub their faces in it.
20. Is twenty questions too many?
Obviously yes, since a 20th question couldn't be dreamed up! *laughs* Maybe YOU should ask the 20th question...and I'll try to answer that.
Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets and I’ll tell you mine…
1. Your role?
Safe answer, housewife. heh. I cook, I clean, I care for the kids, blah blah blah. I often provide other services, but "submissive" doesn't seem to fit real well these days. I dunno.
2. Current relationship?
Easy answer, married to Beloved. Less defined but reality is I'm also in a FWB with Jason.
3. Your favorite type of play?
Mental masochism, probably. The kind of play that gets inside my head, fucks me up, makes me cry, and then brings me back to a safe point.
4. Your most hated type of play?
Hate is such a strong word...but I think I do the worst with public humiliation.
5. The most annoying habit of your owner/slave/whatever you call your SO?
The clothes on the bathroom floor. Anywhere else, and it's just something else to pick up, but the clothes in the bathroom REALLY makes me grit my teeth.
6. Your deepest fear?
Being abandoned.
7. Your most memorable public experience?
Bits and pieces pop to mind...but I don't know what I'd call the most memorable. Immediate thoughts include first spanking at club, awkwardness of dropping by the Naperville munch after everyone had discussed the "Cole" incident, cleaning and fretting for the first DOM, the first and last hour at SJW.
8. What gets you in the mood?
*laughs* If you ask Beloved, it is having his vanilla friends coming over. hahaha Or basically any time that isn't realistic (ie, middle of the workday is another good time)
9. Favorite method of masturbation?
Me, myself, and I...under the covers, when no one is home.
10. Scariest thing you’ve seen or heard of in BDSM land?
There's a lot that squicks me, but the scariest is probably the complete disappearance of the person...lock them up in the dungeon, remove every outside contact, and never let them be seen again.
11. Number of hours you spend on Fet when you should be doing other things?
On FET? Not much...maybe an hour or so. On general things on the Internet? waaaaay too many.
12.Thing that was hotter in fantasy than it was in reality?
hmmm...I guess I'd have to say enemas. I'd read a some hot erotic around enemas, but when I finally had one, I just didn't get it at all. *shrug*
13. Most longed-for experience?
*laughs* Orgasm denial! Cause that would mean I orgasmed frequently enough that denying me would be mean, cruel, and sadistic! hahahaha
14. Ouchiest toy?
The worst thing I've experienced was the rat-tail that Beloved and Cole used on me. I think the Konics spatula has a lot of potential in that department, but so far it hasn't been yielded with the same intent as the rat-tail.
15.Book or movie that every newbie has to read/see?
uh, none? I don't think there's a lifestyle book that I have read cover-to-cover and would say it was a MUST-READ.
16. Thing you’d like to change about yourself?
*sigh* My embarrassment over BDSM activities is pretty high on the list. Normal answers like weight, confidence, that kind of thing. And I'd like to be happier. I seem to be pretty pessimistic these days.
17.Thing you’re most proud of?
My kids. Seriously...they drive me crazy and make me mad and frustrated, but when the shit is really hitting the fan, my kids are stunning and amazing.
18.Funniest dom name you’ve ever heard?
The ones that just make me think, Oh-yeah, you're-totally-someone-I'd-submit-to.
19. Do your family and friends know?
Some of them know some of it, but I'm not OUT to the world. *shrug* If people aren't comfortable with the hints that are in front of their eyes, I'm not going to rub their faces in it.
20. Is twenty questions too many?
Obviously yes, since a 20th question couldn't be dreamed up! *laughs* Maybe YOU should ask the 20th question...and I'll try to answer that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)