Archive for the 'emotions' Category

Body Angst

Published on February 4, 2012 in anxiety, embarrassment, emotions, musings, neurosis, stress and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

I keep thinking that I should write here, write about something. I’ve been having a lot of body angst lately. While I think I look exceptionally good (for me) when clothed, I still despair over my naked body. I wish I had better known how likely it was that I’d be left with extra skin after the weight loss. My thighs often look like an old lady’s! Doing downward facing dog just makes everything loose hang down and grosses me out. Remind me never to get into that sort of position during sex with someone new.

It doesn’t help that my 40th birthday comes later this year.

Sigh.

I know I shouldn’t despair. And I’m certainly not saying I would not lose weight if I had it to do again. But it does make he hesitate to get naked in front of someone new.

I’ve toyed with the idea of plastic surgery – something I’ve always been somewhat against. Searching on the web, I found some pretty impressive results. I think I’d most like to get my boobs lifted, but I’m not sure if that entails cutting the nipples off then re-attaching at a more aesthetic point on the re-done breast. That idea just horrifies me. I like being able to feel my nipples. Another idea is to get the torso tightened.

Ultimately, I doubt I’d do this. It’s expensive, and I don’t think the risk of surgery (even if it’s a low risk) is worth taking for something purely cosmetic. But damn, I want to look good. I worked so hard to lose weight only to end up more uncomfortable naked than I ever was when I was fat. I feel a bit freakish when I look at my naked body lately.

Reconnecting

Published on January 17, 2012 in anxiety, bdsm, blow jobs, bondage, D/s, emotions, exhibitionism, forced orgasm, happy, kink, masochism, mental illness, orgasm on command, piss play, restraints, sadism, sex, submissive, trauma, trust and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

It’s funny how after a period of time when I’ve felt disconnected or out of sync with MasterDoc, I find myself wanting him to assert his dominance during sex more than ever. There’s been a few times lately when I haven’t felt able to handle some things we’ve done. These are things that I’ve done in the past with no problem, but I’m going through a lot of sturm und drang as I acclimate to a new depression medication. (Several years on prozac and the damn drug seemed to stop working. I realize that happens frequently.) There was a time he decided to piss on me, and unlike my usual reaction of distaste but thinking his control over me is hot, I freaked out a little. I was downright belligerent even though my collar was on. I declined to use my vibe to come and just begged him to get it over with. I could see that I wasn’t in a mental state to handle it. In the end, I felt a little traumatized. (Meanwhile, he opted to piss on my ass as a way to soften the experience since he saw I was in distress.) Thankfully a good heart-to-heart talk later and I felt better. Gentlemen (Dominants in particular), saying you’re sorry after you’ve inadvertently and unintentionally freaked out your sub/lover is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign that you’re a decent human being who wants the pain and the anxiety connected with bdsm to be pleasurable for you both. (Or, at minimum, not traumatic.) A simple, “I’m sorry,” even though you haven’t done anything wrong per se, is the most amazing balm.

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.

A Geeky and Kinky Weekend

Published on November 6, 2011 in anxiety, assault, bdsm, bisexuality, caning, D/s, emotions, exhibitionism, flogging, forced orgasm, kink, lesbian, masochism, orgasm denial, orgasm on command, sadism, sex, sex parties, sexuality, shio, spanking, squirting, stress, stupid people, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

MasterDoc and I are home from the Geeky Kink Event. The idea of geekiness and kinkiness in one weekend was too much to resist.

Unfortunately, there were few sessions we were interested in attending – either they were too basic for us (such as the anatomy of masturbation) or just not well run. I can’t speak on the myriad sessions I skipped, but that was our general view. Also I run into the problem that I’m often not a geek for things that make up “geeky” events. I don’t watch Dr. Who (though I love Torchwood), or Buffy, or anime. I don’t know how to play many of the games geeks play. I needed a nice corner with Monty Python and popular music geeks to hang with.

I still had a good time. Our friend V. was there for the weekend with her girlfriend and I got to have lunch with them on Saturday. Shane was there, spending some time running (or attempting to run) games in the gaming room, but mostly spending time with an ex who had come along to hang out. (Alas, I did not get naughty naked time with Shane this weekend.) We met a cute, nice young woman who MasterDoc met on fetlife – she’s eager to become a librarian. After my initial advice of, “Don’t do it!,’ I followed that with, “Just kidding. But are you ready for a life of poverty?” It’s funny, I love my work in many, many ways, but knowing how tight the job market is, how difficult and stressful it can be doing more with less after massive budget cuts, I’m not as eager to encourage others into the profession. The profession itself is quite honorable – ensuring access to information to all citizens, regardless of income. (I speak from a public libraries point of view.) Like any customer-service kind of job, you deal with total assholes, but I’d say most people are at least ok to deal with, and others are just lovely.

Plus I get to buy books with money that isn’t mine. That’s awesome.

Friday night in the dungeon MasterDoc gave me a sybian ride – probably the first one I’ve had in months. Me and the sybian have been a little at odds with each other. Despite the incredible orgasms it can give me, I’ve gotten kinda sick of the machine as it eats up too much of MasterDoc’s time at parties. We put our differences aside, however, and I shrieked uncontrollably as I came. I find that I reach a point where I’m so out of breath I think I want it to stop, but then realize how good it feels and don’t want it to stop.

MasterDoc lay with me for a little while in the aftercare room down the hall. It was lovely to have an adorable young butch dyke offer something sweet to eat to help me recover. If I wasn’t such a scaredy cat at hitting on people I should have said she’s the something sweet I’d like. Since the mattresses were taken when we got there we ended up on a blanket on the hard floor. Oh well. The set up of water and snacks was such a good idea – every event should have an aftercare room.

All weekend, I was drooling over all the adorable baby dyke butches around me. I want one! My birthday’s coming up, will someone remember that for me? Mmkay? I got the impression that many of them were subs (collars being a clue) so I suppose I’m not really what they’d want. But if there’s a toppy, boyish, lesbian out there who’s interested, drop me a line. As much as I have a thing for transmen, I find that I prefer my butch lesbians to be boyish rather than manly.

It was fascinating to just people watch at the event. Lots of people wore costumes – Drs. Who and Horrible were pretty popular. One guy dressed as Dr. Horrible on Friday evening looked a great deal like NPH. There was a lot of steampunk aesthetic of course. There were sexy ladies walking around half naked, and even a few guys in that state. The creativity and gender bending was a lot of fun. Since it was a geek event, there was a preponderance of people who were perhaps social skills-impaired (or style-impaired), as well as a seemingly large percentage of the morbidly obese. (In costumes such as a Hogwarts school girl. Many things were NOT fun to see too. But I do my best to reserve judgement and support the idea that everyone deserves the right to dress up, or get naked in play space.)

We ran into a geeky, kinky woman we know who we haven’t seen in years. She didn’t recognize us because we’ve both lost weight and she had gained a little (in curves really, not fat, her tits looked amazing). MasterDoc finally got the opportunity to give her a sybian ride on Saturday night. I got my second one of the weekend that night as well, and squirted a fair amount. I hadn’t noticed Shane and his ex arrive in the dungeon because I was too busy coming.

The black cloud of the weekend was seeing the guy who sexually assaulted me several years ago. I knew he was going to be there since he was slated to teach one of the sessions (just the person you want to give some sort of legitimacy to by having them present at your event, no?) but it was still a shock and trigger when we went to the hotel bar for our free drink and there he was. I felt panicked and grabbed MasterDoc to tell him who was there. We got our drinks and sat down away from the douchebag and the poor unfortunate woman he undoubtedly got to pay for his hotel room. I had some PTSD to deal with when we hung out in our room waiting for dinner to be delivered.

He later appeared in the dungeon while MasterDoc was giving sybian rides, but I had popped a xanax by that time. He steered clear of me (if he recognizes me), I steered clear of him. Thankfully, I only saw him those two times. I was hoping I’d luck out and not see him at all. As I carried our heavy toybag down the hall Saturday night, I had a momentary fantasy of coming across him and feigning an accidental plowing into him with the bag. I’d say, “Oops. That was an accident. Don’t worry, it was just a bad thing that happened to two good people.” (He fed me that line while refusing to take responsibility for his actions after the assault.)

The shopping was fun – I mostly window shopped but I also bought a waist cincher that fits me. I need to sell off the two larger corsets I have. V. would like to try them on and maybe buy them from me. Fingers crossed they fit her. The hotel room had a full length mirror, and I rarely look in one, but I had to gaze at my transformed body for a bit. I understood how it is that people have told me I look even taller now. I do somehow. I guess because I’m narrower than before but still every bit as tall.

My new thinness gave me a certain boost of confidence, but my skin heard it was a geek event and decided to have a small breakout. Gee, thanks skin! Nothing like a big, red, cystic zit on the side of my neck, eh? There were a couple of equally red but much smaller pimples on my face. My bangs mostly hid those though.

Overall there were lots of nice and interesting people there. We didn’t end up playing with anyone we didn’t know (with the exception of MasterDoc giving a few ladies sybian rides). Our geekiness does translate into a little social awkwardness too. DeeDee is the social butterfly, but she wasn’t with us. I got to see intense scenes – one that I would NOT want to do myself, but it was intense and gripping to watch. A Dom used a staple gun to shoot staples into his subs upper arms. Youch. I cringed repeatedly, hopefully they didn’t notice or didn’t mind the reaction. There was a long-lasting flogging and spanking that was fun to watch too. MasterDoc gave me a caning before Saturday’s sybian ride, but that was our only bdsm play over the weekend.

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.

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.

Perving Time, Dear Readers

Published on July 28, 2011 in bdsm, D/s, embarrassment, emotions, forced orgasm, happy, humiliation play, kink, masochism, masturbation, orgasm denial, orgasm on command, piss play, sadism, sex, sex toys, submissive, trust and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

Finally, I’m going to write about hot sex! Get your lube and sex toys ready because this could be quite enjoyable. If you’re a perv, that is.

It’s funny how in a long-term relationship things can ebb and flow a bit. For a short while (a matter of weeks really) I felt a bit like I wasn’t quite in sync with MasterDoc sexually. Granted, my “not quite in sync” is still far better sex than most people have. He seemed less domly in nature for a bit, these things happen, but last night he was in an appropriately dominant and nasty mood. And it was like we were never out of sync.

I have a wonderful Dom, he listens when I mention things. I’ve mentioned recently really wanting to be actively touched (I like touching him too, but something about his hands moving over my body is awesome) and he touched me a hell of a lot last night. We had been together on the bed for a short while before his touch was driving me crazy. “That’s it. Think yourself wet,” he said. I could feel my hips bucking as if they were trying to reach for the nearest cock.

He’d stroke my face. He stroked my arms. And soon I was twitching uncontrollably. I can’t recall if he made me come with just words and non-genital touching, or if he decided to fuck me first.

He fucked me on my back, a position that we’ve come to really enjoy now that we’ve both lost some weight. He didn’t put it in right away, he had to tease me by rubbing his cock up and down my pussy. I was so close to verbally begging for his cock. I was already begging for it with my body language. He seemed to tease me much longer than usual. I wanted him so badly! Finally he fucked me, and I was well off on the journey to an orgasm. I tried to be good and hold off coming, but he kept pushing me, fucking me harder. I held out for a while (because, honestly it feels good to linger on the edge for a while), but he pushed me to the point where I couldn’t stop it. He seems to push me a lot lately with orgasms. Him exhausting me by forcing me to orgasm for long periods of time is becoming de rigeur. No, I am not complaining one bit.

I can’t recall if he slapped my face then, but at some point in the evening he slapped my face as I came. Him exerting power over me made me come even harder. I do know that at that point he grabbed onto and cradled my neck as my upper body moved forward during orgasm. It was an amazing feeling to clutch his bicep as that arm held me, him holding me to his chest so that my nose was buried in his chest hair and body scent. It felt like he was so strong and I was so taken care of, and taken over. His cock has been remaining hard lately even against my contracting vaginal muscles. So I get to feel his big cock sliding in and out of me while I come, not just leading up to it. I swear, my head will explode from this one of these days.

We took a break. He told me I could take my collar off, but I asked to keep it on. I was enjoying subspace and wanted to stay there. He let me keep it on, and somehow I managed to slip in a slightly sarcastic joke about how hard MasterDoc’s life is – i.e., He’ll manage somehow as I be subservient and helpful to him.

He watched some of the Yankee game as we both got ourselves desserts. (Yes, Doms can do things for themselves.) After a bit, he asked if I wanted more sex or not. “I’d like more, but I could be just as happy if we didn’t.”

He then gave me the two options of “no more sex tonight” or “I’ll piss on you and then take you into the bedroom and fuck you.” He was a little surprised that I chose the latter. The whole pee thing is such a mixed bunch of emotions for me. I hate the act, it’s terribly humiliating even if it’s just him and I in the bathroom. But I need him to sometimes make me do things he likes and I hate, because in the making me do it, I feel so submissive. The things we do put me into different headspace. It may seem like torture to a regular person, but for me it makes chemicals in my brain do amazing things. I can get such calm, and an almost meditative state from it. And there is a part of me, which despite my laziness and inclination towards egalitarianism outside of D/s, likes to take care of him. To fawn over him a bit. I stood over his bath last night before we fooled around, constantly adjusting the temperature so it would be just how he likes it. I told him I felt like an English butler. And there certainly is overlap in the duties of a submissive and a butler.

But the poor butler doesn’t get fucked to wild orgasms.

Back to our evening. MasterDoc was drinking water and hoping he’d be able to pee soon. I took that time to play games on my phone and generally distract myself from what was going to happen. He lamented, “The tribulations of a Dom! I’m planning to pee on you but then my cock gets hard thinking about it and I can’t pee with a hard cock!” (His life is so rough, I know.) He took me into the bedroom first and fucked me. I was thrilled about that. I love his cock! Plus a part of me hoped it would help him forget the whole peeing on me thing. Needless to say, I came a whole bunch again. He really worked at getting me highly aroused.

After some recovery from the coming – seriously folks, my body was tired - he ordered me into the bathroom. Urgh. I put on the knee pads and sat on the toilet lid waiting for him. I felt like it was diabolically ingenious for him to send me there to wait so I could stare at the tub and know what was going to be done to me shortly in there.

When he came in, he explained that this is the way it would work for the evening – he had put a condom on, he planned to piss in it and rub it against me, and I knew instinctively that he would pour it on me eventually. Or perhaps he mentioned it, I’m not sure. I burned with embarrassment. Just the idea of the humiliation of him rubbing his piss filled condom on me made me turn my head to the wall, quite involuntarily. I felt honest to goodness humiliation. I switched on my siri vibe when he told me to, and started playing with myself.

He started pissing and I closed my eyes as I often do, but he ordered me to look at the condom as he filled it. He rubbed it on my tits, and told me to suck on the condom a bit. Again, more humiliation, plus some disgust. I could smell the piss through the condom and made sure not to suck too hard on it lest it break.

And I suppose the most humiliating thing was the fact that with the help of my vibe (and being highly aroused already from the sex we had) I came when he told me to, and he laughed a bit as I continued to burn with humiliation while coming. He poured the contents of the condom over my breasts. I think he may have pissed directly on me too, but I was too deep in subspace to quite know what was going on.

Immediately after, I felt like a hungover person suddenly opening their eyes to find the aftermath of the party they had last night. You look around, feel confused about where you are for a moment, then things start to come into focus. Aftercare was definitely in order, but there was the little matter of being covered in piss. I showered off, and he met me in the bedroom.

Cuddling led to more orgasms. His touch feels amazing to me. He can make me come so easily. It really is astounding. I feel almost like it’s a magic trick we do. “Abra-cadabra! Watch this lady orgasm from my hand resting on her shoulder!” At some point he said, “I think you’ve had enough young lady,” as I was clearly getting aroused yet again. But I explained him that, indeed, I had had plenty of orgasms and I was just enjoying how wonderful it felt for him to touch me. Reaching an orgasm from it wasn’t the goal, even if I was twitching like I do on the way there.

Victory!

Published on July 26, 2011 in diet, emotions, happy, musings, optimism and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

Considering I haven’t had sex in days, this will be another non-sexual post. But I felt so triumphant earlier that I just have to share.

When I stepped on the Wii balance board tonight to weigh myself, I got to hear the little cartoony voice say, “That’s normal!” for the first time. Now, it’s referring to BMI which I realize is a terribly imperfect measure for individual weight loss. But the fact that I started off in the obese range about a year and a half ago, this feels like such a triumph. I went from a BMI of over 30, to one that’s 24.95. Just barely in the “normal” range, but this is the first time in my adult life I’ve been anywhere near there.

If you had asked me at the outset of this weight loss/lifestyle change if I would reach “normal” and be able to fit into some size 12 items of clothing, and weigh less than 170 lbs. I would have thought it was a lovely dream, but one I would never reach. I’ve reached it. (I’m taller than average, by the way. And I started this journey at a peak weight of 227 lbs.) Holy moly. Now I’m focusing on maintaining my eating habits and keeping up with exercise. I’ll probably lose a little more weight but that’s not my focus now. I’ve actually lost only about 5 lbs. this year, but the exercise is changing how my body looks.

After the weigh in, I switched discs to EA Sports Active, because I’ve been pushing myself with those workouts lately. The change in what I’m capable of doing is amazing. When I first tried it about two years ago, doing one squat was difficult. Now, I’ve set my squats to “hard” (which means it makes me do more of them. Twenty, I think.). My ass hurts, but I suppose it’s the hurt of a future non-flabby ass. I couldn’t do the lunges before without leaning on something for support. Now I can do it just like the animated figure on the screen. I can do the easy runs now, and hopefully I’ll work my way up to the longer ones. My asthmatic lungs need the workout.

Unfortunately this joy is always tempered by the perpetual body issues most women have in this culture of ours. I’m no different. I’m thrilled to be wearing smaller clothes, weighing less, getting compliments on my weight loss, feeling healthier. But I’m also angsty over my now flat and saggy breasts. (They were just saggy before. Hey, at DD cup you can’t help that. Now I’m a D in some bras, still DD in a few.) I hate the extra skin that I’m told could take up to 2 years to tighten up to match my new, thinner body. I love how my arms have started developing some visible muscle, but I still hate the under arm flab – even if it is much smaller than before.

I wish that as a feminist I truly didn’t care about looks. But I still do to a certain extent. Strangely enough I felt more comfortable being naked at a swing club when I was heavier. I suppose that’s because I had come to accept my body. I also think the loose skin is more unattractive than being fat. I remind myself that will change. Be patient. I didn’t lose all that weight at once, and my skin (largest organ of the human body!) will take some time to adjust to such a dramatic change.

But I will savor that moment when the Wii fit told me I was “normal” and I shouted to MasterDoc to come look. I’ve been hovering on that threshold for a while now, and it was awesome to go over it.

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.