Archive for the 'depression' Category

The Week that Was

Published on January 27, 2012 in bdsm, blogs, blow jobs, D/s, depression, masochism, orgasm on command, prostate massage, sex, sex toys and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

I just want to give a quick shout out to any and all bloggers who link to my blog. Thank you! I particularly appreciate it as my output has gone down. I would imagine fewer people linking to me in that case, but it seems like a good number of bloggers like my blog. This is an awesome compliment.

I’ve been dealing with gastrointestinal issues thanks to a new medication I’m on. I keep telling my intestines that the drug is for my brain (depression) and not them, so cut it out. So far they don’t listen. Immodium has beaten them into some semblance of submission. Mid-week I was feeling the effects of dehydration before I started loading up on the Immodium. It wasn’t severe but fatigue and headache were kicking my ass. I took up drinking sports drinks, which helped a bit. The fatigue unfortunately made my night with Shane less sexy than he had hoped. He had been on a couple of dates recently, and to a kink event, but hadn’t gotten laid, so he texted me on Monday to say he planned to ravish me all night long. It would have been awesome if I felt well, but I left work early that day with a headache and immediately took a nap when I got home.

Shane didn’t lose out entirely. When I had some energy early in the evening I blew him on the couch until he came. I do like making sure my partners are taken care of if I can. But sex didn’t happen as I was just so tired. We watched a few episodes of “Stephen Fry in America” and cuddled on my bed a bit before he left when it was bedtime for me.

Our schedules are so different, it makes dating hard sometimes. He owns a business and usually gets out of work around 11:30 p.m. I’m usually in bed starting to fall asleep around then. He visits me on his day off, but of course I run out of steam before him, and I have to get up early to get to work by 9 a.m. I keep hoping he’ll meet someone else to date and fuck so he doesn’t have to rely on me only. A few times in recent months I’ve not felt well on the one night a week I see him, and while this isn’t bad for me what with MasterDoc in my life, Shane loses out. He’s a sweetie and I feel bad about that, even though he insists it’s not a problem.

Earlier in the week, before I felt the effects of more than a week of GI issues, I had some hot sex with MasterDoc. It started off with a simple blow job, but as he gagged me on his cock he told me to come. I came simply from gagging on his cock. What a perv I am! Our connection is pretty damn amazing.

We moved to me hanging my head over the end of the bed. It was really hot and I’m amazed at how much longer I can keep his cock in my throat now. Hanging my head upside down isn’t conducive to a long scene, but MasterDoc gave me this beautiful orgasm, and he lifted my head up as I came, and turned me onto my side on the bed where I finished coming. It was somehow magical. He controlled my body in so many ways for that brief period of time. I couldn’t help but tell him, “That was awesome, Sir.” I meant it wholeheartedly.

He went off somewhere in the apartment for a bit, and I grabbed my Wahl massager to warm myself up. I kept myself on the edge of coming and when he returned he was glad to see me warming up. He fucked me from above using a female condom for a change. I’m not fond of them, it was irritating my vagina at first. But then I remembered – I was just fantasizing about him hurting me moments before while he was out of the room. I managed to eroticize the discomfort and come hard. He tried to flip me over and fuck me from behind, but the outer part of the condom rubbing against the opening to my vagina was producing a lot of irritation. He said, “Oh well, you’ve come enough already!” I had to agree.

I helped him come by probing his ass with Duke, a prostate toy. It’s wonderful to see him come. He doesn’t come easily and we have to make a special effort to make sure it happens.

The Good and The Sad

Published on October 24, 2011 in anxiety, crazy, D/s, depression, emotions, exhibitionism, mental illness, musings, show, submissive and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

I’m even more behind in blogging than usual. Over a week ago, MasterDoc and I did a show for the first time in a long time. It was a guy we had had over before, and like before I finished the scene with giving our guest a prostate massage until he came all over my tits. I have a few drafts, barely started, of posts about sexual things.

I’ve had some fantastic sex with MasterDoc. I also had Shane over last week (rowr); we hung out and again had awesome sex. I rode him, and when he’d reach his fingers to rub my clit I would grab my ankles and lean back a little. I think that’s when I came the hardest.

But the terrible part is, despite great sex, despite orgasms that blew my mind, I was mired in a severe depression for a few days.

This sucker was the type to blow all my usual depressions out of the water. When I was a teen, I was hospitalized for three months with depression. This felt like that sort of depression.

I thought I was all over this deep of an illness. I had matured, gotten medicated and better able to handle mood issues. But for the first time in well over a decade, I had fears of being hospitalized again.

I’m usually quite comfortable discussing depression. I feel that if it’s not talked about it remains mysterious and strange for those who aren’t mentally ill. But this time around I felt shame. I felt shame that I am so fucked up that I’m technically one of those people who are being made fun of when people joke about crazy people. (Pisses me off that if I had cancer or diabetes or some-such, the teasing would be just shocking to everyone and the jokers would be shamed.) I struggled with simply taking care of myself, which of course makes my submissive duties much, much harder. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t be a fully effective submissive.

I get pissed off that my illness could be used against me when I speak out about the times I was raped or sexually assaulted. My being mentally ill doesn’t mean those things didn’t happen, weren’t traumatic (to even an ordinary, mentally fit person) and doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be taken seriously. It’s so easy to take advantage of the mentally ill. People don’t take us seriously. We doubt ourselves a lot. Even when I’m not in an ill state, having “crazy” thrown at me (like after I was assaulted) stings like a motherfucker.

Usually, when I’m depressed I feel sad, out of sorts, have a hard time functioning. But this Friday-Sunday it was beyond that. I spent time with MasterDoc Saturday night, and despite amazing (truly AMAZING) orgasms, I cried as we cuddled after. I just couldn’t stop the tears. He’s one of the very few people I can relax around and just go with what’s going on. And it is amazing how he lets me cry and is just there for me.

On Friday, I felt like my chosen family wasn’t taking the severity of my depression seriously. But a talk with my friend DivaSub made me realize something – I have gotten very, very good at hiding just how mentally ill I can be. That conversation reminded me of one in high school with my best friend. I couldn’t understand how people didn’t know that I was totally miserable and anxious enough for regular panic attacks. My friend pointed out to me that I always seemed happy. I have become TOO good at not letting people know what’s going on inside. I think MasterDoc is the only person who I will let my guard down around and cry because of depression.

Let me explain for those who haven’t experienced it – it’s not that I’m sad 24/7 when I’m depressed. I have ups and downs, but my mood swings wildly and the downs are more frequent and much deeper than normal. I have anxiety that makes me not want to leave the house. I fear that the careful control I have will break down and I’ll be crazy in public. So the best thing to do is avoid being out of the house as much as possible.

I fear getting so mentally ill that I have to take a break from work. I fear that everyone will know then that I’m ill.

I hate the fact that I feel shame over this. I can’t control it. I’m not a bad person. But I have bouts when I’m quite depressed, when my brain isn’t working right and I can’t muster energy for basic functions. I’m sad and teary often. Please remember though, most of the time I feel quite mentally stable. (As I feel right now.) And this is probably true for a great many mentally ill people.

Catching Up (But Not with Depeche Mode)

Published on September 18, 2011 in attraction, caning, dating, depression, happy, horny, kink, musings, poly, sex, slut and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

(Bonus music geek points if you get the reference in the title.)

MasterDoc and I had some wonderful scenes before he went away to Dark Odyssey Summer Camp with DeeDee for the weekend. I’m the lazy person who didn’t take notes right after. He caned me, because I was in the midst of premenstrual dysphoric disorder week. It is amazing how much better I feel after a good hard caning! I felt great, until the next morning when the endorphins wore off and my biochemical issues reared their ugly head again. Still, some relief is better than no relief. Truly. I wish I remembered more details, because at the time I thought how awesome the sex was. I don’t mean to brag, I’m just very lucky.

An old flame from a couple of years back has reappeared – Shane. Back in 2009, I enjoyed dating him for a few months. He was kind enough to drive all the way back to my area (after just having driven home from seeing me) when I had such bad stomach pain that I needed to go to the emergency department. That night was when I was finally diagnosed with gallstones and a few weeks after I had surgery to remove my gallbladder. (I’ve been happier and pain-free since.) But despite our not dating for long, he came, met me there and sat with me for a few hours into the wee hours of the morning. He kept me company while I vomited and wished the injection of morphine would take effect. In other words, he showed himself to be a very nice guy. He drove me home when I was released and headed home himself (for the second time!) to get some sleep.

A month or two later, our contact became sporadic, and during one IM conversation he told me he had had a car accident and hurt his back. Yikes. He pretty much disappeared after that. I didn’t feel any ill will, I just figured it was one of those things that petered out on its own. Several weeks ago, I was surprised to get a message from him on facebook. He wanted to reconnect, find out how I’m doing, etc. He didn’t assume we’d just start dating or fucking again. But we made plans to hang out, because as I said, I had liked the guy and felt no ill will when he drifted away. Turns out he was busy dealing with all sort of stressful stuff – his business being chief among them. He didn’t have time for relationships.

So with a lag of 2 years in between, I seem to be seeing him again. We hung out last night. He hadn’t assumed we’d fuck but I sure did. *grin* It was awesome. I still like spending time with him every bit as much as I did before. He should have a bit more free time now since his business is doing well, so he promises not to be a stranger for two years again. He has one of my favorite combinations – a nice, respectful guy who is kinky and dominant. Does a subby (hetero or bi) woman need much else? We’re close in age so we share some pop culture references that MasterDoc doesn’t necessarily have. My age difference with MasterDoc doesn’t have much impact on my love or how much I enjoy being with him. But now and then I want to wax poetic about some 80′s band and he’s not the one to do it with.

It’s funny, because while I’ve gotten lots of messages from guys who seem interesting on the usual dating site I inhabit, I’ve been feeling more introverted, as well as just tired of meeting new people. Shane showed up at a perfect time when spending time with a known quantity is more appealing for me than the stress of getting to know someone from scratch.

I can hear MasterDoc now, saying “Phooey” when he finds that while I’ve blogged it’s mostly about another guy. It’s just that there’s only so many ways I can call him wonderful, sexy, domly, etc. I can only gush about loving him, loving being his submissive (most of the time), and the hot sex so many times.

Angst and Sex

Published on September 8, 2011 in anxiety, D/s, depression, emotions, forced orgasm, masturbation, sex, sex toys, stress, threesome and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

I’ve been officially living with MasterDoc and DeeDee for over a week now. The stress of moving, compounded by a sinus infection and then my car being broken into and stolen from, has left me feeling depressed and almost killed my libido. This depression seems to be lingering longer than I’d like. The kicker I suppose is that I was feeling better Friday morning as I left for work… only to find the passenger side window on my car shattered and my stuff rifled through. Argh! I think I felt a little like Charlie Brown with Lucy and the football. I kept thinking, “Ok, today will be better!” only to have the “football” swiped out from under me, again.

I’ve been yearning for attention and cuddles from MasterDoc much more than sex and orgasms. We have fooled around a few times. We did some assisted masturbation where I used the Hitachi on myself and he added to the experience with grabbing my hair and such. Rowr. I came remarkably hard, but I wasn’t feeling particularly horny the rest of the time. On Saturday, MasterDoc wasn’t feeling himself (he had a rough week as well) so I did my best to be helpful to him. DeeDee and I attended to him. I sucked his cock, she did some spot worship (caressing the lovely spot of hair right in the middle of his chest). DeeDee, ever creative, went off to get something – when she came back she put some garlic powder in her palm, licked it, and spritzed MasterDoc’s cock with the new olive oil spritzer. Then she went down on him. It wasn’t erotic so much as amusing, but I give her a lot of credit for creativity.

MasterDoc had to wash after, since oil will deteriorate condoms. (You all know that right? Don’t use anything oil-based with latex.) When he came back, he decided to fuck me while DeeDee bathed. I had so turned off my desire that it was hard to shift gears and receive pleasure. The orgasms had to be pulled out of me. We expected DeeDee to come back in, but she wasn’t sure if she should.

Monday I was feeling particularly depressed and kinda moped around the place all day. I had angst over feeling needy but also being too scared to talk about it lest I be perceived as annoyingly clingy. This week I need lots of petting, reassurance and attention. I did speak up just a little, and thankfully later on MasterDoc suggested getting “freaky” as he calls it. I felt delicate mentally and he somehow found his missing mojo and provided me with the perfect combination of attention, domination, comfort, and orgasms.

He’s had his own angst because at least half of the last testosterone implants he got worked their way out of his body. He’s low on testosterone until insurance will pay for the next implants. This doesn’t stop him from being a horny dog, but his cock isn’t always as cooperative as he’d like. And like any guy, if his dick isn’t working he can feel hesitant to start fooling around. This has been the perfect week for me to remind him that while I love penis-in-vagina sex with him, he can make me feel good in so many other ways. That’s not as trite as it sounds. They say the brain is the largest sexual organ, and I tend to agree. While I need orgasms, I have needed attention and cuddles far more this week.

However, his cock decided to cooperate. Huzzah! That’s good for the old self-esteem (his and mine). He fucked me from on top, and pushed me into orgasm before he gave me the command to come. When he did give the command, I started coming harder.

Yes, I realize that with a life like this you’re probably wondering how the hell I could ever be depressed. As I pointed out to MasterDoc, my depressions seldom correlate with the quality of my life. This is why I consider it to be an illness and mostly chemical. Granted, poor behavior modeling on the part of my mother, and being a shy and intellectually precocious kid, only compounded my difficulties. These bits I can, and have, worked on and improved vastly. But the chemical bit is harder to treat. I’m medicated, but perhaps I’ve been on the same medication for too long? Or are there just going to be times where the delicate balance in my brain goes too far for the medication to handle. I don’t know.

The love and orgasms and attention from MasterDoc helped me tremendously. I am thankful for all the does for me.

Anxiety is Not a Good Party Guest

Published on July 30, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, crazy, D/s, depression, dom, embarrassment, emotions, libido, mental illness, neurosis, sex, sex parties, sex toys, stress, swinging, sybian and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

When I have a bout of angst and body issues, I sure know how to do it up.

MasterDoc and I went to a private party last night. We had partied at this person’s house before, he’s someone MasterDoc has known in the scene for many years. You’d think with my recent weight loss I’d feel like hot shit and all sort of confident. Last time I went to a party there (a couple of summers ago) I had a great time and ate out some cute woman by the edge of the pool among other things. You would think that I’d run with more abandon now that I’m not quite the “fat chick” anymore.

You would think that, but you would be wrong.

This time, there seemed to be a preponderance of hot, young people there. So many pretty women I’d gladly have made out with, but because of my overwhelming anxieties I didn’t get anywhere close. Instead I just saw many of them make out with each other as I yearned from the sidelines.

Social anxiety is something I often have, but I had long prided myself on being the first person naked at a sex party. Talking to strangers is hard, but getting naked and fucking them is not so hard. But last night I was convinced that I look worse now than when I was much heavier. The sagging skin I have from the weight loss got blown out of all proportion in my mind. The fact that I’m nearly 40 and so many women there were in their 20s intimidated the hell out of me. They were fit, with perky breasts. I felt like I’d look horrible in comparison. My clothes were on way more often than they were off.

To add to my mishegos was the fact that many of them seemed to know each other and were comfortable flirting with each other or just diving in. I felt like I was invisible much of the night. I’m sure MasterDoc was right when he told me it was because of the vibe I was giving off. But at the time I was convinced it was because I’m ugly and no one had the least amount of interest in me.

The evening started off okay. I felt awkward from second one, but I chatted lightly with a few people. I’m sure, however, that my social discomfort was showing already. I felt better when MasterDoc and I made out in the corner while two of the guests were serenaded with “Happy Birthday.” I had mentioned that I felt clingy emotionally, and early in the evening it sounded like he and I would get some quality time together, at least for part of the evening. He and I had had some cuddles alone earlier. At one point he took me into a bedroom and we stepped over the people getting it on on the floor and he fingered me to orgasm on the bed. Soon, the couple on the floor were taking over the bed, and as the woman was a pretty, young, firm-bodied blonde I felt soooooo intimidated. I felt like I must look like a sack of shit next to her.

What’s so bizarre is that my sense of attractiveness see-saws like crazy lately. When I did my make up for the evening I felt awesome. Put me around young, hot people I don’t know, and that crumbled. And not everyone there was hot or young. But somehow in my mind I was the ugliest thing on earth.

Things took another wrong turn when I thought perhaps MasterDoc and I were going to really play, but he got distracted setting up the sybian. I truly have grown to fucking hate that machine. It feels amazing to ride, but you try going to party after party with it and sitting around bored and ignored while your Dom gives women rides. I wouldn’t care if people just used it themselves and we merely provided it. But as it gets used at parties now, I HATE that thing.

MasterDoc didn’t mean anything by getting distracted. He has ADD and truly can’t help it most of the time. But in my mental state I just shut down. “Oh this is yet another party where I’m going to be ignored.” When my mood became apparent, MasterDoc focused his attention on me, but then that made me feel like it was just a case of, “Here Nadia, take your vibe, get yourself off while I watch. That will shut you up for the rest of the night.” I could not get into it at all. My view of it was terribly skewed, but arousal was not possible when I felt like such a troll.

Rather than watch the sybian rides and feel bored and left out, I took off on my own. I sat and did stuff on my phone, realizing that if there was any time I was giving off a “Don’t talk to me vibe,” it was probably then. Meanwhile, I would have been thrilled if someone talked to me. A young guy did for a bit. I wasn’t into him and I doubt very much he was into me, but he was at least friendly and nice, so I did my best effort to be chatty and friendly. It was a nice break from sitting alone.

MasterDoc had asked me to check in with him now and then, so I went to the basement and waited until he finished giving a sybian ride, checked in, and then went upstairs. I felt like eating. I mostly stuck to fruit but I had more cake than I should have. I wanted to drown my feelings in food. (Now you see how I got fat in the first place!) I felt so awful about myself, that I didn’t even go for a dip in the pool – and I love swimming. Late in the evening most people were walking around naked or semi-naked and I still had my sun dress on. I felt conspicuous, but I figured I look much better with my clothes on these days. And no one was giving me a second glance.

Yeah, the evening mostly sucked because I was filled with anxiety. What a waste. This morning I could see how I was blowing my body issues out of proportion. Sure, the loose skin is not attractive, but it’s also not as noticeable as I think it is. But around young 20-something women with the perkiest tits this side of the Mississippi, I feel ugly.

One funny point, although I’m not 100% sure that what I thought took place did. I was a bit intoxicated and a few feet away. But some guy started talking to this chubby woman and somehow seemed to think she was the “kinky librarian.” He mentioned seeing the name on the list, and wondering who that was, he wanted to meet her. I think that woman let him believe she was me. And you’d think someone pretending to be me would boost my self-esteem. It was very strange. I was tempted to go over and introduce myself, but then I wasn’t quite sure what went on in that conversation. So, dude, if you’re reading this, I was the mopey, tall brunette who stayed dressed most of the evening.

There was a break in the sybian rides, and MasterDoc and I found a room to be alone in. I got some cuddles, but pointed out that what would have been even better is if he had brought our toy bag along and fucked me silly. He noticed the condoms on the bedside table, and pointed out that we could still have fun without all our accoutrements. He fucked me silly. I was screaming in orgasm. It’s a wonder the whole house didn’t come up to see. He kept me coming and coming and suddenly my body issues melted away while I was enveloped in orgasm. Alas, they came right back after. But he made me feel spectacular, and the sex was the redeeming feature of the evening.

What’s Up?

Published on July 25, 2011 in anxiety, depression, emotions, mental illness, musings, stress, trust, Uncategorized and venting. 6 Comments

This post probably won’t be overly sexual, but just my way of blabbing about things on my mind. Hey, it’s been a week since I blogged, at least this is something, ya know?

I’ve been very sad the past day or so as someone I liked a great deal has decided that I’m a liar. This person seems to be suffering from delusions, but as I’m not a medical professional and only know what’s been on their twitter feed, I have no way to know if that’s what’s truly happening. I backed off when things started happening in this person’s life (at first thinking all the stuff was really happening – why would I doubt someone who seemed completely sane? I still suspect that some things this person has asserted really have gone on.) but I would occasionally vaguely mention them in a tweet to indicate that I was a) missing them, b) supportive of whatever was going on, c) worried about them. I hadn’t emailed them in weeks but last Tuesday I sent one. When I didn’t get a response I was left to assume that maybe their email was still compromised in some way.

Let me say as an aside, that my thinking this person is mentally ill is not meant to be a derogatory comment. I suffer from depression. I’m mentally ill. I understand that if someone’s ill it can be hard to see it and impossible to control it. I hope this person gets help – or that I’m wrong about my suspicions of their mental state.

I had backed off reading their twitter because even though I cared about this person I barely knew, I couldn’t do a damn thing and it was really up to them to get in touch with me. I would peek now and then, but wasn’t making sure to read all tweets like I had previously. Imagine my surprise when I looked Sunday morning a few minutes after they had tweeted something directed at me, calling me a liar, saying they don’t think I’m hacked (I never said I was so I don’t know where that came from) and to never email or tweet about them again. Ok. It’s hard to accept that someone I have done nothing wrong to thinks so badly about me, but if someone is mentally ill I don’t think arguing with them would help. So no more tweets, no more emails, and after this one post, no more mention of this person ever. I have no desire to bother someone who doesn’t want to hear from me. I have deliberately kept this explanation vague to give this person as much privacy as possible. I find it strange that they suddenly posted this message to me 6 days after I had last emailed (which was the first time in weeks) and 8 days after I had referred to them on twitter.

But I’m sad. I’m hurt. I’m disappointed. And I can’t do a damn thing but pick up and move on with my life. So I will. If this person happens to read my blog, hey, I’m not a bad person like you think I am but I doubt my saying so will matter. No need to tweet about not blogging about you, I won’t again and I’ve stopped reading your tweets anyway. Good bye and good luck.

___________________________________

So through the sadness I felt as I tried to process this strange turn of events, I reminded myself that I have MasterDoc. At the end of last week depression hit, but considering it was PMDD week, one day of mental illness was quite an improvement over the usual symptoms. (We’ve been playing with my birth control pill regimen – it’s useful to have a Dom who’s a doctor.) MasterDoc happened to be spending a night and morning with a playmate of his, and knowing he was going to the beach with her after I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, and wouldn’t see him for a few days after just fueled my depression. When my mind goes wonky like that, I find things to obsess over. I focused on, “But he’s my Dom, he’s supposed to take care of me!”

Thankfully, I recognized the depression and I didn’t get angry with MasterDoc (not for long anyway and not when he was home). When he got home that afternoon I was happy to see him, got myself some cuddles and found out that he had in fact been concerned that going to the beach on the last day of my premenstrual issues was not a good idea. But hey, I survived. And spending time with him for the rest of that day was wonderful. It’s wonderful that I opted to shake off negative feelings towards him, and just bask in his affection. My mood improved greatly and my mood evened out enough to make it possible for me to get through the weekend alone without too much angst. (Except the section above.)

I also have fond memories of having sex with him earlier last week. The bond we feel and the way we both know how to touch each other so that the other person twitches with arousal is pretty amazing. Lately I had been having some insecurity thing about him not desiring me any more. That insecurity was mostly squashed after that night with him.

So I’m my usual ball of angst but I’m mostly keeping it in perspective. Time to get back on track with diet and exercise (during the heatwave we had this week I mostly didn’t exercise. The one time I did I thought I’d fall over and pass out with all the sweat I was losing despite being right in front of the air conditioner!), and focusing on the things I can change in life.

Reconnecting

Published on June 26, 2011 in anal, anxiety, bdsm, crazy, cunt, D/s, dating, depression, edge play, emotions, forced orgasm, kink, libido, masochism, needle play, non-monogamy, orgasm on command, prostate massage, sadism, sex, sex toys, stress, the writer and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

It’s been a crazy week. My hormones have had their way with me via premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD). I’ve learned to contain the craziness fairly well, but it’s still a hellish week for me. I’m gonna be trying a new birth control pill and see if that one helps.

MasterDoc had been away the previous weekend, and with my emotional state I really needed to reconnect when he got back. He didn’t quite pick up on this, and decided to do play piercing. I was scared and I ultimately knew I couldn’t handle it that night. But what do you say to your Dom? Plus there’s plenty of times I was scared before intense play but in the end enjoyed it.

We got in a little cuddling, but not nearly enough for me. He had me bent over the Liberator Axis and planned to pierce my labia. I cringed. He wiped off one side of my labia with an alcohol wipe. And he told me, “You have to keep still, slut.”

Even though I knew the pain would be too much for me that night (whereas he’s done this before and I could handle it), I did my best to hold still and ride it out. As the needle slipped into my flesh I screamed. Truly screamed. Despite this being manageable on another day, it overwhelmed me and made me miserable. I didn’t feel the type of fear that arouses me, but I felt actually afraid that he might do it again. This did nothing to turn me on. I did have a slight endorphin rush, however, but not enough to lift my mood.

MasterDoc realized his misstep and didn’t pierce me again, and he soon removed the one needle from my body. He moved on to regular sex, and while it was good to have sex, I had such a hard time feeling connected and getting aroused. I think I did manage to have an orgasm eventually, but not without a lot of work. We talked after, and he agreed that when he’s been away for a few days and I’m in the midst of PMDD it’s not the best time to do some intense play.

On Wednesday I saw the writer again (the guy of the last entry who I’ve decided to call “the writer”). I managed to contain the anxiety of the PMDD and enjoy watching silly dvds with him. We fucked again and it was terrific, but I was too tired to do it more than once. He crashed at my place and I dropped him near the subway on my way to work the next morning.

Friday night I was content just for cuddles with MasterDoc. I was feeling exceptionally fatigued from the PMDD and went to bed pretty early. On Saturday the PMDD started to wane a bit. I got the evening entirely alone with MasterDoc. We talked, reconnected and I expressed how I wish he’d touch me more actively. He did more of that and it helped me feel soothed and connected. I noticed that we seem to lay a bit apart during foreplay these days, and I wish that he’d press his body up against mine more often. These are all things that can be dealt with. Even in the midst of PMDD I was able to realize that my feeling of disconnect from him was temporary, but it was still a relief to feel connected to him again. The physical contact helps the feeling of emotional connection.

I wasn’t feeling quite as fragile emotionally, so I was enthusiastic when he told me to hang my head over the edge of the bed. This could only mean that he’d fuck my throat. This is hot although his balls tend to fall over my nose in this position and it’s hard to focus on opening my throat when I’m suffocating! He held them out of the way and I was able to keep his cock inside my throat for longer, although eventually my body forced it out. We didn’t do this for long but I enjoy it – perhaps all women wouldn’t but I do.

Soon after, he fucked me and made me come so much. I really thought that my arms would collapse from holding my legs up as he pounded away at me from on top. In the time he’s been having testosterone supplements his cock has become even more amazing. My vagina of steel doesn’t push his cock out as often as it used to. I can’t tell you how great an orgasm is when he can keep plumbing the depths of my cunt with his penis while I come. He managed to make me come even past the point where I thought I could. If the peak of arousal ebbed a little, he went at it a little harder or deeper until my face was contorted in ecstasy.

At some point, he made me come just by massaging my hand. I really hope all my readers out there find someone (if they haven’t already) who can do this to them.

He wanted to come and it has to be a targeted activity when he does. He had me get between his legs to play with his thighs and ass, and I playfully started kneading his butt with my toes (they were nearby at that moment). I not only have magic fingers but my toes seem to do a pretty good job too. I joked that this was probably the first time that there was a foot job and a foot fetish didn’t play into it at all.

I worked at that until my thighs were too sore from holding me upright and using my toes dexterously at the same time. I asked him if I could switch to my hands, more as a sign of respect to my Sir than any anticipation of him saying no, and of course he told me I could.

I massaged his groin, ass and thighs. He stroked his hard cock at the same time and I would pay careful attention to his reactions. He changed his mind about not fucking again and had me get on top. It was all I could do to not rest all my weight on him as he made me come again. He thrust his hips up and poked my cervix over and over. Eventually, he said, “That’s enough for you, young lady.”

I resumed playing with his ass with the intention of helping him come. He had me grab the Bob butt plug and I worked it in after having loosened his ass up with my fingers. This plug is a little more flexible than I’d want, but I slid a finger in underneath it so I could press it against the prostate. A few times I thought MasterDoc might come, but it didn’t happen. We were then interrupted by a call from DeeDee letting him know when she and her daughter would be back at the apartment. Our attention turned to snacks and away from sex. I still wish I had made him come however.

Brief Update

Published on March 6, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, bondage, crazy, D/s, depression, emotions, flogging, foursome, kink, mental illness, non-monogamy, orgasm on command, sex, shio, spanking, squirting, stress and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

I’ve been struggling with depression this week, something that seems to happen all too often lately. This week the excuse was my turbulent hormones pre-period. Going on birth control a few months ago was supposed to help this, and it did, for a while. But I struggled a great deal this week. I’m not pleasant to be around when depressed, I see everything through a darkened eye and find negative things to dwell on. (I think my subconscious makes things up too.) Bless MasterDoc for handling me. Also, I tried hard to deal with things more calmly than I would in the past. I keep working on myself.

As a consequence, when I have had hot sex I haven’t felt like writing about it. Sorry to disappoint you all, but this will probably be just a short summary of the adventures I had this week.

Sunday and Monday nights I got to spend alone with MasterDoc. I was thrilled since recent weeks have yielded minimal time alone with him. The first night, I was struggling with insecurity as big as a football field. After sobbing that I was afraid that MasterDoc no longer had interest in sex with me – I’ll wait while you laugh at that – he fucked me three long times. And each time he pushed me over the edge of orgasm – and kept me going!

Monday night he noticed himself falling into the whole “let’s watch porn, masturbate then fuck” thing he does when he feels lazy. He decided to put more effort into that evening and soon I was laying on the bed blindfolded, with a bondage tape gag. He got good and rough with me. There was lots of biting, slapping, fingering. While fucking he made me feel like a piece of meat in that particular way that makes me love it. I loved the sensory deprivation of having most of my head wrapped up.

I went without sex for a few days. (When will I take the time to find a suitable friend with benefits?) On Friday afternoon, MasterDoc lined up this Dom and sub who we’ve played with before – for the life of me I can’t remember what I’ve called them here. We met them at a hotel and played together. With my depressed mood I had a hard time getting into things, but I did my best. Funny how even when I struggle with arousal I still end up coming and squirting a freakin’ river. Thank you, MasterDoc! After the couple left, we hung out for a little longer and he gave me a beating – something I’ve been in need of but I wasn’t quite in the headspace to enjoy. He then fucked me and I squirted yet again.

Hopefully my mood will continue to improve and I will have more adventures to share and will actually take the time to write detailed entries on them!

Lucky

Published on January 24, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, blow jobs, bondage, caning, crazy, D/s, depression, emotions, gags, kink, masochism, mental illness, orgasm on command, restraints, sadism, sex toys, spanking and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

Occasionally a Dominant will read this blog and declare that MasterDoc is lucky to have me. What they don’t see is the work that goes into being my Dom and taking care of me. I make no bones about my struggle with depression and some days MasterDoc really has his hands full with me.

Certainly, in some ways he is lucky. But when I’ve slipped into depression and not realized that’s what it is, I can be horrible. The other day I just kept complaining and complaining. If my words were to be believed, MasterDoc can’t do anything right. Thankfully, part way through the day I realized MasterDoc was NOT the issue at all – depression was. Still, it was a hard day for him, but bless his heart he was patient with me the whole time, refusing to give up on me even though I could only see life through a negative lens.

I spent a lot of time alone the rest of the day, in one of his bedrooms. He would check on me periodically and DeeDee even popped in to bring me some tapioca pudding. It was a rough day for me because it was one of those rare times when I don’t just feel depressed, I feel crazy. I don’t want to get into personal details, but rest assured I was nuts and feeling miserable. I wanted to hide until I felt sane again.

Thankfully MasterDoc’s patience helped and eventually I started to feel better. That evening he gave me some delicious orgasms and feeling good physically helped me along mentally. The cuddles and his listening to me unburden the crazy thoughts in my head helped even more.

I’ve been feeling potentially unstable since then, but ultimately keeping my shit together. I had a nice weekend with MasterDoc and DeeDee, and Sunday afternoon MasterDoc and I got some time alone when I wasn’t feeling crazy. He had me blow him while he spoke on the phone, and I enjoyed having his cock in my mouth since I hadn’t had it often lately.

A bit later, he had me lay on my stomach on the bed. I lay over a pillow so my back wouldn’t bother me and the throe was between me and the pillow. He bound me down to bed using the under bed restraints. I’ve sometimes complained that I don’t get enough bondage, and the little bondage fetishist in me was doing a happy dance. He pulled the restraints snug and there was no way I could get out.

He put on my collar, a blindfold, and finally a gag. I have issues with gags that go inside the mouth and unfortunately he chose one. I did my best to remember what he taught me – breathe slowly through the nose. If you breathe too quickly your nostrils pull in and you don’t get enough air. This soon wasn’t enough, however, between a stuffy nose, the blindfold pressing on the bridge of my nose and finally trying to cope with the pain of a caning. It’s impossible to focus your breathing and breathe slowly when crying out in pain.

He didn’t go immediately to the cane, but surprised me by grabbing my ass with one of the vampire gloves I got him for his birthday last year. He swatted my ass with it, ran it up my back. It was a sensation a step away from tickling and a step away from pain. I liked it. He started caning me, and immediately before he checked to make sure I could beg for mercy through the gag. As soon as he asked that, I knew I was in for quite a ride.

He kept caning me past my usual limits. It hurt a lot, but I was able to deal with it because I knew it would end. I knew I would have a lovely sense of calm after it stopped. He would alternate with the vampire glove and every touch was a surprise. Every strike a bit of a shock.

After my ass was well reddened, he grabbed the Hitachi and placed it between my legs. He spanked a bit, I moaned and tried to get my clit in better contact with the vibe. This went on alternating and I could have come quite easily from the vibe but chose to hold off. He took the vibe away and spanked my pussy for a while. Even this was enough to put me near the edge. I finally got out, “May I please come, Sir?” (I had pushed the gag out of my mouth by this point so I could breathe.) He held off a second or two, then let me come. He pushed the Hitachi to my cunt and I kept coming harder and harder.

When he was finished I lay there, still face down, my arms and legs still bound to the bed. It was bliss. I had to ask him to release me a few minutes later because my arms were starting to hurt, secured above my head like they were. He undid my arms and ankles, and I got to cuddle close to him. I love cuddles with him. They feel amazing. Being in his arms was the best therapy I could have. I started this entry talking about how others think he’s lucky to have me, but I know that I’m lucky to have such a wonderful Dom to love and take care of me.

Random Ramblings

Published on January 2, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, blow jobs, consensual non-consent, D/s, dating, depression, kink, musings, non-monogamy, orgasm on command, poly, porn, sex, shio, slut, squirting, submissive, threesome and Uncategorized. 1 Comment

I’ve struggled with depression and loneliness (and neediness) lately. (Not that this is anything new.) I got to see MasterDoc Thursday night through Sunday morning after not seeing him for a few days. I cherish my time alone with him (although I really like hanging out with DeeDee, too). I’ve felt a bit down lately about how everyone close to me (MasterDoc, DeeDee, some friends) is truly living the poly life and having fun and relationships with a few different people. I do date Blondie as well, but she’s been away and busy over the holidays. I feel bummed about going days without intimacy or physical affection (orgasms are nice too).

I read Colette’s novel Cheri recently (and The Last of Cheri) and was intrigued with the older courtesan, Lea, having an affair with the young, vain and terribly handsome Cheri. It was the sort of relationship where she taught him the arts of the boudoir, they enjoyed each others company, but knew it was never meant to last forever. I think that’s something I’d like for myself. The man needn’t be young. Experience is more desirable to me than inexperience. I don’t want a relationship that takes a lot of time and effort. I want a companion to spend time with once a week or so. I want mutual affection but not a romance.

Of course even this sort of deal requires some effort.

I think I also feel lonely lately because the chasm between my being a frequent visitor at MasterDoc’s, but not being someone who actually lives there, seems to be opening up even more for me. It’s not easy having chores at his place (AND chores at my place) but not having a bedroom that I can really consider the one I sleep in. I’m partial to the playroom because I like the bed and the fact there’s a bedside table for me there, but as it’s the playroom I can’t just make that my space while I’m there. I have a few drawers with some things in it in that room, but I don’t really have a “place.” And if I’m not scheduled to hang out with MasterDoc I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome if I hang out. I used to feel welcome all the time in his place.

I like my apartment. I like having a place to keep just as I want it, a place to decorate as I wish. But it can be horribly lonely sometimes. I’m one of those strangest of people – an introvert who doesn’t like being alone too much. I like spending time alone with others in the house. My “time alone” happens in my head when I’m not interrupted.

But the past few days I’ve been at MasterDoc’s and I haven’t been alone. He was sick with a cold when I got there, so I felt bummed that while he saw another lady the night before (I think) and DeeDee was having very audible fun with her other gentleman, that I hadn’t had anything for days and didn’t look likely to get anything from my sick and tired Dom. I find lately that even though I’m still very horny, I crave the physical affection and touch more than anything. By the next day MasterDoc was feeling a bit better. We got some alone time and he gave me marvelous orgasms.

I’m blanking out on the details, but I know it felt good. The next morning I felt a bit sore down there – not sure why I’m feeling inflamed since I can’t recall exactly what we did (I think thrusting fingers played a part), but it’s an ok kinda sore. The following night, DeeDee went out to play with our friend S and one of her guys. We put on (at my suggestion for once) theupperfloor.com and watched a couple of videos as we had dinner and started getting things moving on the couch. He took me into the bedroom and had me get ready for his cock immediately. I got laid for the first time in days. Whoo hoo! But then my irritated vag couldn’t take it and we had to stop. MasterDoc improvised and make me come til I was exhausted by rubbing my upper labia and clit, giving the vaginal opening a break. I got to suck his cock, which I love, and I keep hoping he’ll come on my face one day.

He’s tried making me come until I pass out, but it seems like I’m more of the collapsing type. It’s something else when he pushes me and pushes me, and I think that I just can’t come any more but he keeps up the stimulation and I come again. And again. I’m helpless under his hands. He’s doing a lot of this lately.

I’ve been getting itchy to try role play. Or a scene with more formalized D/s behavior and theme. I want to be taken roughly. I want that gangbang I’ve been promised.

But I’m the submissive, and while my wants do get taken into consideration, it’s not always about me. When our friend S visited, MasterDoc got her and I cuddling on either side of him on the bed in the playroom. He told us he wanted us to both suck his cock, and he had me start. It was lots of fun to watch his face while S blew him. He was clearly feeling good, and I like when he feels good.