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 Week that Was originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on January 27, 2012.

There were a couple of other times where, in the midst of our usual amazing sex, he said or did something that didn’t quite affect me in the usual way due to whatever mental state I was in. I think a large part of this is how I’ve reacted to the new medication. I find myself feeling very much NOT an exhibitionist. (Uh, like, hello where did Nadia go?!) I find myself not wanting strange guys to grope me. Things that I used to love I’m not into suddenly. I’m also very inclined to withdraw both physically and emotionally from many things. I am loath to leave the apartment these days. I have done an extraordinary job of the lesbian sheep dance – above and beyond my usual. (I’m still seeing the elegant, sexy, Mexican lady I started seeing late last year. We’ve finally made out – due to her making the first move!! And I’m the one with experience with women. Oy. Words can’t describe how frustrated I am with my fucked up self right now.) While I’m still kinky as anything, I’m much more one-on-one than I used to be. Granted, I think I’ve been moving in that direction for a while, but there’s still a part of me that wants to be an exhibitionist. I can feel it still in there. Just not right now.

I appreciate the fact that I can talk so openly about what’s going on with MasterDoc. He’s quite analytical, so I can discuss my being unsure what’s a true feeling of mine and what’s colored by adjusting to a new drug’s action on me. He’s calm and can take criticism. He wants me to talk to him. If it wasn’t for him asking me a few times, “Is there anything you want to discuss?” I wouldn’t have opened up.

After our talk, we reconnected with sex, and I felt myself wanting more than anything to melt into subspace and have him show his dominance over me. I found myself thinking about the fact that he still hasn’t pissed in my ass (something he’s threatened to do and I’ve dreaded). It wasn’t that him pissing on me was a wonderful thing, it’s that he has the control over me to make me want to do dirty and disgusting things to please him. While not everyone feels this way, I find it exquisite to be under someone’s control like that. Not just anyone’s control, but this man who I’ve served for about four and a half years now, who has proven himself to be someone I can truly look up to, but also someone who’s human. There are times he aggravates me (rest assured I aggravate him often too) and I disagree with him, but I respect that he’s a highly intelligent man capable of introspection. He’s an interesting person because he has a mean streak – and when I’m in subspace that’s a fabulous thing – but also a great desire to take care of those he loves. There’s tenderness, but also sometimes a picky critic.

And then there’s the lover who knows my buttons so well. He can still make me come from just grabbing my hair and saying something dominant to me. *fans self*

There was a moment last night when he told me to put his cock head against the inside of my cheek so he could slap my face and feel it through my cheek. This was after some deep throating, which I’m getting better at doing. I can hold it longer without gagging. Although, I think I would like to have one of those porny blow jobs where I’m on my knees and he’s fucking my face while standing up, the drool running down my chin.

I found myself craving to please him but I also admonished myself not to get upset over not being perfect. That’s an unattainable goal and giving myself angst over it will only cause grief. But I love the moments when I’m in subspace and absolutely worship him. While it sometimes sounds like submissives are in a constant state of worshipping their dominants I think that a healthy relationship also requires being able to see your dominant as a human with foibles. Dominants can’t be perfect any more than submissives can.

The main attraction of last night was him restraining my wrists to his bed frame and then fucking the living daylights out of me. I have long been a fan of some restraint during sex. It makes me feel that more vulnerable to him, which sets me off even more. I think my brain was scrambled by the end, but happily so.

I’ve been working on being more vocal – not in the way of sounds (I am quite a moaner and screamer) but in the way of saying hot things. Begging for his cock. Telling him I crave his cock up my ass in that moment.

Reconnecting originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on January 17, 2012.

I wasn’t feeling horny when Shane was over. getting lots of cuddles. helping him a little as he jerked off.

sex next night with md. sucking his cock. him reaching around to get it wet and lubed. having me get on top to fuck. pushing myself close to the edge of orgasm, and for once really and truly reaching the point where i couldn’t stop myself from coming.

md would keep thrusting now and then, joking about Nadia the fucktoy who he could make come at his whim.

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Yup, never fleshed this out.

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Beginning of blog entry #2. Around 12/22/11.

I have been a bad blogger again. Enjoying fun things without taking the time to write about them. Life just seems so busy lately. It’s not the holidays so much as working full time, doing stuff around the apartment, seeing Shane, having a second date with the pretty lady (where I did the lesbian sheep dance once again! Baa!) and other assorted things.

And yes, I’ve been having a fair amount of sex.

Shane was over last night, and as we watched a show with DeeDee in the living room, he started getting me worked up. He played with my clit and strangely I felt self-conscious. I could not come. I felt like it was tacky to do around DeeDee while she was watching something. I know personally I don’t want my relaxation time (she’s been sick this week) interrupted by someone crying out in orgasm. Hearing it through a closed door isn’t bad. I did manage to convince him to head to the bedroom.

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Yup, more writing that was totally not fleshed out or completed.

Another notable night was a few days ago when MasterDoc had me kneel in the tub. As he prepped a spot on my upper breast with alcohol, he told me I could come either when I felt the needle go in my skin or I felt his piss on my body. I cringed.

I couldn’t come with the needle. It hurt too much for the first 30 seconds or so. But I kept playing with my clit as he continued to tell me to come. Eventually I came, terribly humiliated at coming as he pissed on me and went on about how I’m his dirty piss slut.

I have such a love/hate relationship with humiliation play. I find myself wishing MasterDoc would push me more and make me do things I find disgusting. But of course I also wish that it never happens. I don’t want to ask for him to do things he’s talked about having me do, because I DO find them gross. But on the other hand I’ve been trying to revel in being his dirty whore as I know he’s into that (and don’t worry folks, I’m into it too or I wouldn’t consider doing it). Whenever we see ass-to-mouth in porn I cringe. But he would love to do that to me. I asked him why the other night and he said, “Because it’s dirty and disgusting.” I keep trying to reassure myself that while it’s gross, it’s not harmful. (MasterDoc has explained that since the cock has been in your ass you’re not encountering any foreign bacteria and such.)

I’ve been trying to get better about calling him Sir. I was slacking off something terrible. I feel like our dynamic needs to be reinforced a bit more. I like that we can be casual with each other, but it can’t come at the cost of losing respect.

Last night I described him as a Sour Patch Kid. *grin* He starts out tart but ends up sweet. (Or, often, the other way around.) I love that he has both sides to him.

But, my friends, I promise a blog post tomorrow as I already have my part in Mia Martina’s “A Year of Sex” virtual book tour written and scheduled. See you then.

Half-Assed Blog Post originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on December 29, 2011.

When I got to spend some time alone with MasterDoc on Tuesday, I was hoping for lots of cuddles and petting. I needed soothing to deal with the craziness that happens to me biologically at this time. I’m certainly getting better at dealing with it on my own, and this was never more apparent than when our naked time together started with MasterDoc laying with his back to me telling me to play with his ass to help him get off.

Starting off with his orgasm is rare. After all, men usually get one orgasm for the evening (unless they’re still young enough to get it up two or more times). The agitated part of me wanted to whine that I wasn’t getting the attention I needed. But the rational part of my brain said, “Ok, considering all the times he puts your orgasm first, you really need to be agreeable and allow him his release first tonight. (Not to mention the fact that he’s the Dom.) Also, you know he will make sure you are taken care of. It might not be penis-in-vagina sex, but he won’t leave you without orgasm or cuddles by the time the night is through.”

I worked through my whiny feelings and I did manage to enjoy making him feel good. By now I know just how to knead the muscles in his thighs and buttocks to make him twitch with pleasure. I slowly worked my way to his asshole, eventually sliding a finger inside. As I did so, I tugged gently at the entire perimeter of the sphincter muscle that holds it closed, working the muscle so it would relax.

After several minutes, MasterDoc came and I’ve learned by now to keep up the stimulation until he is done coming and indicates that I should slowly work my fingers out of him. I’ve been instructed to keep the pressure towards the front wall, so that any semen in the tubes gets gradually pushed to the tip of his cock and out.

I had made it through a selfish fit without throwing a fit. MasterDoc surveyed the toys I had laid out. (It’s my responsibility to set up the bed for sex. I put down the throe, make sure we have lube, condoms, my collar, my cuffs and any toys I might suggest for the evening.) He had already been concocting a scene, and the blindfold I laid out was definitely part of it.

Once I was in my collar, cuffs and the blindfold, he connected the cuffs around a pole that makes up part of the headboard. My arms were over my head now, and unless I was naughty and tried to uncuff myself, I was unable to use my hands. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

I tried to eroticize being left helpless. I felt excited wondering what would come next. After his return, he took a moment to raise the blindfold and show me what he had ready for play. My heart beat faster when I saw it was one of the knives from my kitchen knife collection. It was a small one, but I knew it could certainly cut me if used the right way. MasterDoc put the blindfold back over my eyes and the anxiety was something else!

You see, I have a bit of a knife phobia. I can handle using one myself, but if someone else is standing near me holding one (like those times when you start to talk with whomever is making dinner and they have a knife in their hand, which sometimes gets waved around expressively because it’s just there in their hand already) I get ridiculously flinchy. I could be five feet away but I’ll get anxious and hypervigilant of the knife’s location.

I knew that knife play, for me, would be very much about playing with my fears. (And, indeed, I had put the request in my wishing box.) I wasn’t as interested in cutting, although that can be part of knife play. Of course, since my brain chemistry was already rioting due to the PMDD, my phobia led me through some moments of pure terror that evening as MasterDoc ran the knife gently over my skin. He’d talk about making an incision on my inner thigh and I probably begged him not to. While the terror I felt was real, it was more like titillation as my subconscious knew I was ultimately safe. Even if MasterDoc did cut me, it would be careful and deliberate. And as a doctor he’d do anything necessary to prevent possible infection or complications.

I like fear play with someone I trust because there’s a certain exhilaration that occurs. I felt a little delirious with fear, but it most likely made my pussy wet. I’ve forgotten how exactly he made me come that night, but I came very hard, squirting a little bit.

In the aftermath, MasterDoc enjoyed showing me that there were in fact TWO knives. The sharp one he showed me, and a regular blunt dinner knife, which he used most often to run over my skin. The mind fuck was a success. My brain was convinced he was only using the sharp one.

I got the cuddles and petting I needed after the scene. And while I would have thought this week would be the worst time for something that intense, it was pretty amazing. I really loved it.

Knife Play originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on December 9, 2011.

Friday night we had something we so rarely have – bad sex. Perhaps bad isn’t the right term for it, but for whatever reason I couldn’t get into it. He was in a rough mood and wanted to cane me, but, quite unusually, I wasn’t in a rough mood. (When this discrepancy in mood occurs it’s usually the other way around.) We played, but I had a hard time getting wet and wasn’t anywhere near coming while he fucked me. It’s such a strange experience the few times this sort of thing has occurred. MasterDoc told me not to worry about it, and for once I managed pretty well to not worry. After all, if someone else was asking my advice on the same topic, I’d tell them not to worry as sometimes things just don’t click sexually. It doesn’t mean anything ominous. We all have “off” nights. Considering how much fantastic sex we have the few times it’s not fantastic are barely remarkable.

I had a girl date the next day with a woman who contacted me on a dating site. She’s poly, identifies as bi but hasn’t done much (if any) dating women yet. We met at a small restaurant in Manhattan (that describes pretty much every restaurant in Manhattan) and had gluhwein – mulled, spiced wine. It was so yummy. I’ve looked up recipes but my lazy ass hasn’t gotten the ingredients together yet. The restaurant was quirky and the food was mostly French or German. I wasn’t sure how the date was going until she brought up my allergy to cats and she mentioned unfortunately she and her husband have two. She said she’d like me to be able to come over to her place sometime though. I grinned broadly. I told her that my level of allergic reaction does vary from cat to cat, and some cause only minimal distress. It wouldn’t hurt to try. The goodbye was my usual hug and air smooch by her cheek. I nearly worked up the chutzpah to kiss her properly just before we parted ways, but it ended up a slightly awkward moment, as I think a moment too late she realized I was trying to go in for an extra goodbye.

I think I need a theme song that will play here on any post where I do the lesbian sheep dance (see paragraph 8 on at the link). Any ideas? I like to think of Joan Jett’s “AC/DC” as my general theme song.

I enjoyed Saturday night with MasterDoc. I’m happy to report the sex was totally different than the night before. We tried the neon wand again, since it seemed pretty weak the first time. I say it’s no substitute for a violet wand really, but it can hurt, so as a toy in its own right I liked it. Not to mention it’s far cheaper than a violet wand. (This makes me think of MasterDoc’s pointing out that there’s a “Dom arms race” on – it seems like dominant men keep acquiring more and more impressive, expensive toys to try to outdo the others. His big purchase was the sybian.

I wore my wrist cuffs which we’ve been doing more of lately. I was over the moon when he decided to cuff my hands above my head, attached to the bed frame. This sort of thing turns me on so much! I have been trying to get him to do things like this for a while. (Maybe next will be a little physical struggle or pushing me up against a wall?) His bed is a large silver frame that looks like so many pipes joined together. It’s ideal for bondage. I’ve tried to get MasterDoc to try this for a long time, but he’s usually not fond of bondage because he wants me to be able to do all sorts of things to him.

We worked around it though. He tormented me with the neon wand for a while, threatening to put it inside my cunt. This panicked me slightly – it was a great mind fuck. I begged him, “Please, please Sir, don’t do that! Please!” I’m sure my wiggling and begging were a delight to him. He pointed out that it’s when the wand is slightly away from flesh that it sparks, and being in constant contact like it would be inside me it probably wouldn’t hurt at all.

He surveyed my position and wondered aloud if he could hold himself in position over my head long enough to get his ass licked. He decided he wouldn’t be able to hold it long enough to make it worthwhile. I’m glad he moved on to a plan b and came over to stick his cock in my mouth.  He also lifted up his balls so I could lick them, and he seemed to enjoy even just resting his balls on my face while he stroked his cock.

He fucked me, and it was so hot to know I couldn’t get away. I realized that’s sorta silly since I wouldn’t try to get away anyway! But the helplessness is hot. He fucked me and it was like extra stimulation to have my wrists bound. I came like crazy. Since my arms weren’t free I couldn’t use them to  hold my legs up. I worked muscles I don’t usually to keep them up. He made me come repeatedly and I held my legs up without support for much longer than I thought I would be able to do. I had a goofy grin on my face after.

Bad Sex, A Date, Neon Wand, and Bondage originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on December 4, 2011.

Early on, she discussed the exercise of writing down 100 things you can offer as service. She encouraged us (and the Doms in their session) to break out of the “housework” box! There’s many other ways a sub can serve. For instance, when MasterDoc needs library books or something quickly looked up online, he turns to me. It’s something I’m good at and do all the time and I can provide that service to make his life easier. I think I’d like to take this on as an exercise. I may just walk away from it feeling pretty damn good about my talents. (Another exercise I might work on is what sort of puppy I’d be, and what I’d be called as a puppy.)

For most of the weekend, I reflected on how tolerant, respectful and loving the bdsm community can be. We’re fed this tale that bdsm is bad and religious people are the ones offering love and acceptance. Bullshit. There are tons of varied kinks but since we’re all reviled or denigrated in some way because of our kinks we come together to provide a place where we can just be ourselves for a few days. I see many transgender people at these events – is it that trans people are more kinky or is it simply that they find acceptance (and safety from violence) within the bdsm community?

There was a spa set up with people offering massages. I received a massage on Saturday night after our scene. While the entirety of my life experience with men made me a bit nervous to let a stranger massage me, I realized that most of the time I feel safer around kinkster men since there’s such a big emphasis on consent, respect and safety. The amateur masseuse was totally professional and respectful. My own issues with being able to articulate what I want became a problem as he did a fairly gentle massage that felt nice but didn’t leave my muscles relaxed like a more vigorous one. Not speaking up was my fault. MasterDoc and I identified this as something I need to work on in general – voicing my needs.

Just before I went away I finally heard from someone who worked for the Geeky Kink Event. If this person’s account is accurate, they handled things fairly well – except of course for getting in touch with me and telling me what was going on. One of them wanted to keep the dickhead from presenting but was outvoted. The guy who assaulted me tried to claim in a comment on Good Vibrations that, “It was concluded that she (me) described a consensual act, not assault.” That’s not at all what I heard from the event representative. I was told there were many sanctions placed on his behavior and if he was drunk or otherwise inappropriate he would be tossed out. There was concern and they took my complaints seriously. However, I do wonder at the fact that I asked if I could quote parts of their explanation to me – and they never replied. This paraphrasing will do. But quoting their own words would be more powerful.  It makes me wonder if they don’t stand by their claims. Also, the representative claimed that he told my assailant that there were several complaints – but he figured out it was me right away. (I make no secret of my problem with him.) I knew that I took that risk when I spoke up. It was an overall lousy experience with this, but not as bad as some past ones. I offered to put them in touch with people who were in the room that night, as well as others who have had a variety of problems with him. They haven’t taken me up on it as of yet.

Brimstone Reflections, Part III originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on November 29, 2011.

As he made me aroused while the clamps bit into my nipples Friday night, he said slyly, “You like the pain, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question but one that made me feel a little embarrassed by my kink but also one that turned me on since it’s clear I’m such a dirty girl.

The following night we played in the dungeon. MasterDoc bought a new candle for wax play, one designed for that use. (It doesn’t burn as hot as regular candles.) I lay on a massage table and he teased me, aroused me, hurt me and made me come so hard. I wonder how many people looked over when I was making so much noise during orgasm. MasterDoc had originally planned to, I think, show off by having both DeeDee and I in a scene with him. Since I was having so much stress, he kept the play to just himself and me. I appreciate that he recognized that I needed special attention.

The classes at the event were interesting. We missed a few here and there and I think flexibility is needed at these events. If there’s something you really want to get to, make the time for it. But otherwise be willing to go get lunch instead of attending another class if that’s what comes up. We went to some together, and some apart.

I’ve gotten curious about such forms of play as age play and puppy play, so I went to some classes on them. I was definitely one of those people freaked out by age play when I first heard of it. The idea of someone playing the role of a young person in a sexual situation brings up thoughts of incest (ick) and pedophilia (ick), but age play is NOT either of those. It is consenting adults role playing. Over time, I’ve come to see that playing non-sexually as a young girl could be very freeing for me. Being a child and handing over your well-being to a grown up is pretty much on par with being a Dominant and submissive. Age play seems like it could be very nurturing, and would give grown up me a break from making decisions and taking care of myself. Also, considering I’m a grown woman who still sleeps with her teddy bear and blanky, I’d be a natural for this.

Only this weekend did I start to consider age play where I’d be in the role of a teen girl. As I reflected on this, I realized that as a teenager I was incredibly horny! I would masturbate more than once a day. I was eager to learn about the entire spectrum of sexuality. Emotionally at that time I wasn’t ready for a relationship or sex. But going back, playing the horny yet innocent teen discovering sex at the hands of a grown man (while I’m actually an experienced adult) could be very hot play indeed.

Puppy play is a little different, but again I was struck by how it’s just another form of Dominance and submission. There can be a dehumanizing aspect to puppy play, but it’s one of those rare times when being dehumanized isn’t necessarily bad. If you get into the role of puppy, you can stop (for a while) thinking about adult human stuff. You can just be a playful, affectionate creature without human concerns. You hand over your well being to a trainer or owner. Please note that these things are play – they are temporary. Engaging in puppy play doesn’t mean you live your entire life like a dog. You’re human.

We did a tiny bit of puppy play there. A room was set up for pony/puppy/kitty/littles play. I crawled around, got into the doghouse there and wrestled with the squeaky toy MasterDoc played fetch with. It was fun. In the class I attended (taught by the excellent Lochai), I realized that the puppy can be such an endearing character, one who brings up feelings of affection for the owner. It can be carefree play. And who doesn’t like a gentle scritch behind the ear? Hm?

We somehow accept getting shitfaced on alcohol as an appropriate way for an adult to escape their responsibilities and worries for a little while. Why would something far healthier like role play not be ok as an alternative?

Brimstone Reflections, Part II originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on November 29, 2011.

Unfortunately I started off the weekend feeling neglected. MasterDoc had been busy for about four nights in a row, and it just coincided with me being a bit depressed. I was very difficult with him on Friday. But we talked and worked it out, as we always do. This weekend someone left a comment on one of my slightly older posts criticizing my being with MasterDoc. I approved the comment, this person is entitled to their opinion, but I think they don’t really see the fullness of my life with MasterDoc. (And, incidentally, while that’s his scene name he does not see himself as a Master and he’s definitely not looking for a slave. We both happily identify as Dom or sub, respectively.)

It begs the question, how full of a story does a sex blog tell? I use this like a diary sometimes, to sort out thoughts and feelings by writing about them. I vent when things are frustrating. There’s many, many mundane moments of our lives not caught here, as well as tender moments. I think it’s impossible for someone to know what my relationship is like just from reading the blog. Like any couple, we have ups and downs, but unlike many “vanilla” couples we talk, talk, talk and look for solutions. We both own when it’s our own mishegas causing the problem. We both work on becoming better partners to each other, and over time we have.

I think it’s funny when people are frustrated with their partner in a vanilla relationship it’s seen as part of having a relationship. But when a kinkster (particularly one on the bottom side of the dynamic) complains then it’s assumed they’re being abused. Being at this event this weekend brought home the fact that the reality of bdsm is so very different than the fantasy. And people who are experienced kinksters know this. I also noticed that kink is a very wide playing field, and what one person does and enjoys is not what the next person does and enjoys. Perhaps part of the problem with DeeDee’s family’s concerns is that they have read about the play I do with MasterDoc here and assume that it’s exactly what he and DeeDee to together. It’s not. I’m telling my story. I’m not telling hers. She may have a role in it, but I don’t presume to represent her. I’m quite a bit more fond of pain than DeeDee is, and of course MasterDoc’s play with her differs in this respect.

There’s also the problem with terms in bdsm having different meanings than terms outside of the community. When I say I got a beating, I do not mean that MasterDoc came at me in anger pummeling me with his fists. This has never happened and never will. It means he uses implements he has used in the past and has great control over. It means he watches my reactions carefully and keeps the beating at a level I can process. The end result is not trauma, but a fabulous release of endorphins. I’m not scared of MasterDoc ever being truly violent with me. He never hits in anger. He has fantastic self-control emotionally, which is perfect for someone who wants to dominate.

Brimstone Reflections, Part I originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on November 28, 2011.

I’ve been left contemplating how consenting adults can have their choices questioned (part I) but on the other hand people who violate withdrawn consent can go around denying it for years (part II).

Some members of DeeDee’s family have decided that she can’t possibly have chosen to be in a bdsm relationship. They think she must be abused. They’ve found my blog and point to my own history with depression (and the one time I was hospitalized for such 23 years ago when I was a teenager). People into bdsm are as varied as any other group of people. Some are mentally well, some have mental illness, some are awesome people who stick strictly to the notion that consent matters, and unfortunately, a few are predatory. People into bdsm generally like things more intense than others. Are people who like to burn their mouths on hot, spicy food sick people? How is this different? I like extra spice with my sexuality. I like the feelings of bliss released when controlled pain is applied to my body in a consensual situation. While I suffer from a mental illness, that is not what causes me to love playing with power differential sexually. I’ve had kinky fantasies since childhood, and while my family is your garden-variety dysfunctional American family, I was not abused at all in childhood. No one beat me, no one did inappropriate sexual things to me (or, indeed, any sexual things to me). I was treated lovingly for the most part and, as an only child for the first 11 years, I was pretty much spoiled. (On one side of the family, I was the only grandchild for 9 years. Oh yeah. Spoiled.) Being turned on by thoughts of bondage and helplessness just occurred naturally. (And, I might add, long before I was raped or sexually assaulted. Rape and sexual assault, sadly, are more common in this world than bdsm.)

The infantilization of those with mental illness would be humorous if it wasn’t so damn offensive. I would like to think that while I certainly talk about a lot of intense kinky sex here, I also very clearly convey the loving relationship I have with MasterDoc. He doesn’t take advantage of my mental illness. If anything he has mentored me in adopting better coping mechanisms. I don’t blow up in emotional outbursts as often as I used to. I’m far better at asking for what I need emotionally rather than stewing and expecting others to read my mind. Bad methods of coping I learned from my mother have been slowly unlearned with MasterDoc’s patient teaching. I suffer far less distress than I used to because I can handle things more rationally.

But, you see, I would bet DeeDee’s family will think he made me write that, or something. Determining that my agency has been taken away from me without so much as talking to me is also damn offensive. While I like the security of considering myself owned by MasterDoc, the truth is owning people is illegal in the United States. I am a free woman. I have a career. I can pay my own bills. No one is manipulating me to be MasterDoc’s submissive. I have the means to leave if I wanted. But I don’t want to – not because anyone has worn me down or some shit, but because I have a tremendous amount of loving support from my chosen family. My current household is so delightfully stable and placid compared to that of my parents’ house. (While ultimately loving, my Mother had a tendency to shout and have emotional outbursts. Thankfully my Dad was stable.)

I think it might actually disappoint some people just how normal and dare I say, equitable, our relationship can be. I can disagree with him. We will discuss things we disagree on. MasterDoc likes having intelligent women as submissives because he’s not looking to control someone 24/7 (not to mention the conversation is far better). He wants us to think for ourselves. He wants the best for us. He’s still good friends with his former submissives. Hardly sounds like they fled from him, huh? He walked one down the aisle as her bridal attendant and she counts him as her best friend.

But I could talk about that ad nauseum and still not convince people. That’s okay. I know I’m in a happy and stable relationship. I know MasterDoc has not ever laid a finger on me in anger, and never will.

Bullshit, Part I originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on November 21, 2011.

But Saturday I got some alone time with MasterDoc and I’m finally feeling much better. He put my cuffs on my wrists. The collar stayed off until we got to the bedroom. We put on some kinky porn (a full length Device Bondage clip on pornhub – I selected it). It was pretty damn hot. I got up for a moment to get something and complained that I didn’t want to miss any. MasterDoc paused the clip, went into the playroom and came back with his small flogger.

“Want to know what you missed? This is what you missed,” and he started flogging my tits. It made me giggle until the left nipple got a particularly sharp crack that made me wince. We smiled and got back to the porn.

Soon we realized that moving to the bedroom was overdue. We moved his laptop so we could continue the porn. I love how her helplessness in bondage is brought up by the Dom. If that was me I’d be so on the edge of coming if it was pointed out that I was secured. I still remember playing around with bondage with my first boyfriend. (Oh gawd, that was just over 20 years ago. I feel old.) He tied me to his bed with his school ties (Catholic school boys are freaks). I would come even harder whenever I pulled at the bonds and felt held down.

Yes, I’ve been kinky as long as I can remember. That was just the first time I got to do those things with another person.

There was no bondage for me today, but MasterDoc did have me sit on the bed with my hands behind my head while he flogged my tits, thighs, tummy and pussy. Someone recently expressed concern (not to me directly) that I’m some abused, broken woman after reading this blog. As he flogged me and I thought about how much I enjoyed it, I shook my head (internally, not literally) and wondered how our fun and games could be so misconstrued.

MasterDoc decided we should take a break to cuddle while we watched the porn. I played with my clit and I could tell he was stroking his cock behind me. Unexpectedly, he told me to come. Holy shit. I hadn’t been anywhere close to orgasm but I came within seconds. He gently but firmly grabbed my hair as I squirted a load of hot girl come on the throe. I was surprised by how much I squirted. Squirting seems really sporadic for me recently, but I certainly needed rehydration after this afternoon.

Huzzah!

He wanted to fuck me, and watch the porn, so we set up the bed. I was on my knees and could not wait for him to put his penis inside me. While I kinda wanted to watch the porn, I totally forgot about it when he started fucking me hard. He’d slap my ass a bit and then plow into me with his cock. I wanted to come so badly, but I waited until he gave permission.

Once he did there was no stopping me. The woman in the porn was on a sybian, and I marveled at how, like that machine, MasterDoc can make me just come and come and come. Seriously. I can only imagine the fun we would have had had we met earlier, although I’m not sure I could have handled him at a much younger age than when I met him. I bit the throe for a while and tried to bury my ecstatic screams in the mattress. While the coming would ebb for a bit, he’d slap my ass and plow into me some more, and I would be delirious with orgasm once again.

I have no idea how long he made me come. Wonderfully long. As I collapsed next to him, I said, deadpan, “I’m so abused.” This was good for a chuckle. Why do I find it so funny? Because an abused woman isn’t being given lots of orgasms, followed by lots of cuddles. She doesn’t find her self-esteem growing as her relationship grows deeper with her man. I have to laugh at the absurdity of it or I’d be pretty pissed off by the assumption that I’m only with MasterDoc because… well I don’t even know why. He’s beaten me down? Er, no. He keeps me on tight leash? Hardly. (Although that might be hot now and then. *wink*) I’m dependent on him? Nope, I’m not. Only dependent in the sense that I turn to my chosen family for comfort, support and companionship. I depend on them for that.

I thought that was probably all, especially since MasterDoc has started feeling under the weather himself today. But the porn kept running and I soon buried my fingers in my pussy. He returned to the room after a few moments away to find me masturbating. We chatted a little, and I reached for the Hitachi. With his assistance, I came even harder than before. I think you can tell the depth of the orgasmic feeling by my voice during it – it was higher pitched for the orgasms during sex, but got really guttural when I came from the wand and his hand. As I started to come he pushed the head of the wand against me. Fuuuuck. He slipped fingers inside my cunt, and also touched various spots on my pelvis and thighs that send me reeling.

I squirted some more. And lay spent. I gave him a fuzzy smile.

Surely we were finished.

I can’t recall how it came about, but the man made me come again. I’m just such a poor unfortunate soul aren’t I?

Hell no, I’m a very sexually satisfied woman.

Cuddles and caressing his the “spot” on his chest topped off a very pleasurable afternoon. (I’ve discussed the spot before. This patch of hair in the center of his chest that is just so wonderful to pet.)

Come Again? originally appeared on Diary of a Kinky Librarian on November 20, 2011.