Archive for the 'emotions' Category

Page 2 of 6

Weight

Published on May 10, 2011 in emotions, musings and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

I’m going to take a moment to stray from sex blogging to talk a bit about weight and body image. Since February 2010, when I started a concerted effort, until now I’ve lost about 50-55 lbs. (I put the range because my weight can fluctuate a couple of pounds up or down on any given day.) I live in a society (the United States) where weight loss is hailed as unequivocally a “good thing.” But a friend recently forwarded me this excellent blog entry about weight loss, and why you shouldn’t assume anything about it: Dear People Who Comment about Weight Loss.

I think that overwhelmingly my weight loss is a positive thing since I did it healthfully and gradually. (I averaged 2 lbs. every 2 weeks when it was going strong. After a few months of plateau I seem to be losing again.) With 50 fewer pounds to lug around, my knee issues have all but disappeared. My father was diagnosed with diabetes last year, and if I stayed obese that was pretty much inevitably my destiny too. I feel better and I’m glad I did this for my health. A huge part of the weight loss is due to improving my diet. At various points in my life having a serving of fruit a month was usual, now I eat fruit daily as much as possible since it can fill me up without a lot of calories. I eat more whole grains and vegetables now, and I’m sure my body thanks me for it. When I calculated the amount of calories I had to be averaging a day to maintain the weight I was, I was dumbfounded. (I’ve read you need 12 calories per pound of body weight a day to maintain your current weight.) No wonder I was fat! And eating in pretty much any restaurant in the United States will help you keep weight on. (For most of us. There are people who are thin and wish they could gain weight. This needs to be considered and these people treated with the same respect as the “average” and the fat.)

Counting calories and changing my diet was a lot of work, but now that it’s become habit it is much easier than before. (DeeDee’s cooking healthfully for MasterDoc and I has been a HUGE help.) I still have to be vigilant, however. This is a trade off I will probably need to do the rest of my life – count calories to make sure what I’m eating on average is reasonable. I’d like to thank my parents around now for the terrible diet habits I’ve had. (Sarcasm.)

But the idea that losing weight is 100% a positive experience is just not true. I thought it would be, but I’ve been caught by surprise with the difficulties. Having to buy an entirely new wardrobe, not once but two or three times, as I dropped clothing sizes has been difficult. I’ve scoured clearance, sales and the local thrift store but without that I don’t know what I’d be wearing right now. I seem to be on the verge of another size drop, so the pants I bought two sizes ago (and less than 6 months ago) and really liked are now ridiculously big on me. Clothing that I loved to wear doesn’t fit any more and I have to say goodbye to it. I have a corset and a waist cincher I need to put up for sale on ebay as they’re too big. The belts I purchased to help with my pant issues are nearly on the last hole just months later.

I’m sure before the weight loss I would have just felt envious over this “problem” I’m having, but the weirdest thing is feeling like a) my body isn’t my own/familiar anymore and b) while I KNOW I’ve lost weight and clothing sizes, I’m fat/flabby in the same places and don’t feel like I’ve changed as much as I have.

Remembering one of my favorite novels as a pre-teen, There’s a Bat in Bunk Five by (the fabulous) Paula Danziger, there was a scene where the main character, who had lost a lot of weight since the previous novel, The Cat Ate my Gymsuit, is at a store in Woodstock, NY and asks for a t-shirt that is clearly (to the salesperson) too big for her. The salesperson comments on how the main character must have lost a lot of weight and that people who do so have a hard time visualizing their bodies as they now are. I go clothes shopping and think, “That’s a large, it won’t fit me. I need 1x.” but then the large fits me wonderfully now. I had developed an identity as a young woman who wore size 18 or 20. Now that I’m in size 14 and needing to check out size 12 pants, my identity has been skewed. On some levels I see my body as it was. I’m still flabby in the same spots (yet according to the terribly imperfect BMI, I’m just on the verge of being in the “normal” weight category, after being in the obese one for my entire adult life thus far). Regular exercise has helped me feel better and has clearly improved my stamina during sex, but I still have an “imperfect” body by so many standards. If I don’t manage to tone up, a part of me will feel like I didn’t quite succeed. I realize this is sad. I realize that at nearly 40 years old this is tougher than it could have been 20 years ago.

And the times when I notice the changes in my body, I’m thrown off. Various sections feel kinda bony now whereas they never did before. I caught sight of myself in the mirror before a shower recently and I was shocked to see the definition of my ribs in my back. (I was slouching, that “helped.”) I feel like I’m in someone else’s body. “I’m plus size, what’s this nonsense about shopping in the non-plus size section?” The stores I’ve shopped in for years don’t carry my bra band size. I’ve had to figure out where other women get their bras. While I haven’t lost cup size, my boobs seem saggier, less dense and flatter than before. I don’t like this.

I don’t know if the flab I see is mere flab that I could lose via continuing to eat healthier and exercise, or if it’s loose skin. And if it’s loose skin do I want to pursue cosmetic surgery to remove it? I’ve been hoping that through such slow weight loss my skin would adjust.

I get more male attention now than before, and while it’s flattering it’s also weird for me. Men eye me on the street who wouldn’t have given me a second glance before.

Perhaps I’m most disturbed by the fact that I feel like I’m somehow “normal” now that I’m down to size 14 (or perhaps a size smaller now). I can shop in “normal” stores (although plus size stores carry my size quite often and I still shop them). I’m tall and not inclined to being skinny so being a size 6 is totally unreasonable for me, but to be within the “small – medium – large” paradigm after so many years is strange. I have a large bag of 1x and 2x size clothing to get rid of. I don’t think I should feel any more normal now than before, however, and this is poisonous cultural programming rearing its ugly head.

I’m all for fat acceptance. I have a hard time with people who totally ignore the health issues that can come with obesity, but on the other hand we all should have the freedom to do with our bodies what we wish. If you’re happier being fat, then you shouldn’t be treated badly for it. If you’re truly healthy at your heavier weight, then why change? Also, weight loss is not easy – I didn’t do it for nearly 20 years of being technically obese (I was in total denial about how overweight I was too) – I’m not here to judge anyone who is struggling, or has given up or just refuses to live their life on a diet. That’s their choice. And being fat does not make one stupid, lazy, or any other a thousand things our culture ascribes to obesity. We need to treat people as human beings – regardless of what they look like.

I’m happy I’ve made these changes, but my body feels so foreign right now.

MasterDoc, the Cure for What Ails Me

Published on April 25, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, bondage, caning, crazy, D/s, derangement, dom, emotions, forced orgasm, gags, kink, libido, masochism, neurosis, restraints, sex, sex parties, shio, spanking, squirting, trust and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

The rest of the weekend was uneven in quality. On Friday, I hung out with Blondie in SoHo and the east Village. I had a great time but carrying a too large, too heavy purse screwed up my back. MasterDoc was planning on schtuping me that night, which hadn’t happened since the previous Monday due to various plans and time constraints. With my back bothering me so much, I wasn’t up for it. I was frustrated to no end, but I couldn’t manage the pain of the back and staying in a sex position for too long. I tried to write it off considering the next evening I was going to be his date to a kink party. DeeDee was going with her other boyfriend.

MasterDoc did massage my back (isn’t he a nice Dom?) and cuddle a little, but PMDD was setting in and I felt abandoned when, my eyes closed while resting, he left me alone in the bedroom. The madness that can come with a particularly bad bout of PMDD was strong, and I started thinking… no, I started being convinced that MasterDoc was bored with me and/or no longer attracted to me. This resulted in a heavy depression on Saturday. I took a trip downtown to get my hair cut and found myself not having any impetus afterward to do anything but wander around in the rain until I could catch the next express bus. I tried to perk up in time for the party. MasterDoc was concerned about taking me out because of the depression, and unfortunately that proved founded.

All night, somehow our wires crossed and things ended up badly. I just kept longing for him to hug me, to cuddle me, to touch me and tell me everything was all right. I wanted him to play with me since it had been a little while and reestablishing that connection would feel so good to my depressed, insecure brain. On his end, he says that I put up walls and made it impossible to connect with me. I felt like he wasn’t really trying. Oy. We did connect for just long enough for him to make me come, and squirt a little, but when he became engrossed with watching another D/s couple play, I felt ignored and threatened because the other woman had a much hotter body than me. Meanwhile MasterDoc was enjoying watching the connection of the other couple because they seemed to have the sort of unspoken connection he and I so often have.

Please allow me to say, I don’t like myself when I’m depressed. I don’t like being depressed. With many people, I can hold off on getting downright hysterical, but I think because I trust MasterDoc so much I often suddenly direct any sadness and rage at him. I hate when I do this. At the time, the idea of being no longer attractive or interesting felt entirely real to me. I’m sure anyone reading this can see that it was just the PMDD.

The following morning was tearful. But thankfully I was ultimately able to realize that he wasn’t shunning me the night before (even if that’s how I felt) and I was probably putting up walls (even if I didn’t think I was) and that we love each other very much. My intense feelings of anger and sadness came out of worrying that he didn’t want me anymore. As ridiculous as that sounds it was insanely intense.

The depression lasted the rest of the weekend, but I was able to reconnect with MasterDoc. Having him cuddle me soothed my crazy brain. He took me into the bedroom and employed playing techniques that I had been clamoring for. Like the couple we saw the prior evening, he cuffed my hands behind my back, and he used a strip of duct tape to gag me. I lay over the Liberator Axis and he gave me a good caning. My pain tolerance was lousy and I wished I could move out of the way – but with my hands behind me I couldn’t push myself up. I couldn’t even wiggle out of the way. I had to trust that he would judge the right amount of pain to induce an endorphin rush. While the caning hurt like the dickens, I think it had the right effect on my brain chemistry.

He told me to get up on hands and knees, and I mumbled through the gag that I couldn’t get on my hands with them behind my back. I was still gagged, and struggling to breathe slowly through the one clear nostril I had. (You see, if you breathe in too sharply your nasal passage narrows.) He slipped a condom on and fucked me with my arms secured behind my back. It was so worth waiting for. He fucked me long and hard. I know that phrase is totally overused but it’s the best description. He kept pounding me until I couldn’t hold back and I came. It was a magnificent orgasm, but I felt like I was suffocating and that abruptly stopped my body and compelled me to manage to move my arms around to the side just enough to rip off the duct tape. MasterDoc joked that he’s a doctor and wouldn’t let anything happen to me. If I passed out he’d be there. I know breath play can be hot but it often just makes me anxious. He understood that the anxiety was too much. He fucked me again, with my wrists released and the tape off, and that time I had every possible orgasm wrung from my body.

My depression was lifted for the entire time I was fucking and coming. Hey, how could I feel depressed mid-orgasm? (Although if it’s possible I’m sure I can do it.) After cuddles to further soothe my savage soul he had me get on top. We tried doing it with my cuffs linked but I couldn’t lean forward onto my hands and as a result my hips and thighs got such a workout that I was promptly exhausted. MasterDoc put me on the bottom, and he fucked me silly again. I’ve always loved sex with MasterDoc, but holy fuck now that he gets testosterone supplements and he’s lost some weight he can fuck harder and longer. It’s wonderfully bewildering to have a Dom in his mid-50′s fuck better than guys half his age.

I felt better having reconnected and gotten fucked. My hormones still raged and I found myself feeling teary, but thankfully I was no longer aiming my mad and sad feelings at MasterDoc. (He should be made the first Jewish saint for dealing with my anger when I’m depressed. It hurts him, even if he knows it’s just the chemical imbalance talking.) Feeling his skin pressed against me is soothing. While he can’t magically cure my PMDD, he has the capacity to make it better, even if only for a little while.

Heh. Saint MasterDoc, patron saint of wayward women. (By the way, I managed to leave out of the flow of the story that I blew him for a while, and then later in the evening I helped him come with prostate massage. So my Sir did get direct appreciation shown for him putting up with me.)

Back to Normal

Published on March 17, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, blow jobs, consensual non-consent, D/s, emotions, forced orgasm, happy, libido, musings, non-monogamy, orgasm on command, sex, sex toys, shio, squirting, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

Somehow, I rediscovered my submissive spirit after the rough bit over the weekend. It was a relief to both myself and MasterDoc for things between us to seem normal again. A guy I’m talking to on a dating site has read through this blog a bit, and named a post he liked – and the funny thing is, it’s from October 2009 and I was talking about how hard it is to submit when it’s not how YOU want to submit back then too. The struggle goes on.

I focused on being good while at MasterDoc’s Wednesday night. I tried to be obedient when needed. I tried to be calm when addressing him. I felt joy in being submissive. Some days are like that, I love it. Other days are a huge struggle. I’ve been examining why I get so self-centered and I think my mother’s influence has a lot to do with it. My father is a very giving, generous person. I do have some of that in me, but my mother is self-centered – and took advantage of my father many times. So I think the combination of learning behavior from her, and having to be selfish and focus on myself since she never did, has led to my horribly spoiled, self-centered moments. I was spoiled while growing up. (An only child til my brother surprised us all and came along when I was 11.) But also, my mother was a tad verbally abusive, emotionally distant and unpredictable (so unpredictable!). I find myself to be two seemingly contradictory things at once. I have times when I’m really generous with my friends and am happy to do so. I have other times when I obsess with things evening out. (Usually the closer I am to someone the more I worry about such things. I think it’s the whole “you can be at your worst with those who love you most” thing.)

It reminds me of how sometimes people ask how I can reconcile the kinky slut with the librarian. The thing is, I don’t need to reconcile them. They are both part of the same person. I can be wonderful and I can be a real shit. These things are both true about me. I can be intelligent, professional, slutty, kinky, shy, exhibitionist, etc. all at once. All in one package. The descriptors are many.

But on to the sex! I probably won’t see MasterDoc for several days, so I was eager to get laid. (When am I not?) I realized last night that I truly love sucking his cock. I would be disappointed if I wasn’t allowed to do it. He commented that he should make me beg for it then. I focused on loving having his cock in my mouth and I managed to get him to say, “You suck a mean cock!”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said with a grin.

We played with some cock choking and I find at times that I can hold him deep in my throat for a moment and not gag. But eventually I need to breathe and start to gag. I think I’m still surprised that I like the gagging so much. He holds my head down on his cock and I love that he’s “making me” do it at that point. I love when I gasp for air and the saliva flows. Right after the deep breath I go right back to sucking his cock.

We were back in sync last night and MasterDoc had no trouble making me come several ways. He wrenched orgasms out of me until I reached exhaustion. (I honestly thought he might succeed in making me pass out. I kept holding my breath as I came, but then my body would make me gasp when it became too much.) He made me come from just stroking my body and talking to me. He pushed orgasm out of orgasm out of me with his probing fingers in my pussy. If the orgasm started to decline, he did something different to put me right back in the midst of deep orgasm again. He fucked me and made me come. He realized that part of what was upsetting about the weekend is that he had suddenly “lost” the ability to make me come whenever he wants. Saturday night was truly a weird night. I’m happy to say he hadn’t lost his skill.

At some point, we talked about working in (to my cunt) the large Randy dildo again sometime. He warmed me up a bit the one time we played with it but not quite enough for it to feel good. He asked if he started with smaller penetrative toys and worked his way up. I told him I didn’t think so.

“That was dumb,” he blurted out. “Oh, did I say that aloud?” I smiled because his ability to admit his own mistakes is one of the many things I love about him. (I must add, that in retrospect I think he DID use smaller penetrative toys before that big dildo. Just not for long enough.)

A cuddle after sex and many orgasms led to him making me come again from stroking my arms and legs. I am so lucky! Devoid of selfish worries and depressive episodes, I realized how utterly happy he makes me. While sharing him can be difficult, he is so wonderful that having him part time is better than having him no time. I took the time to savor the feeling of him against me. I’ll try to recall it this weekend when I don’t see him. His touch seems to release some sort of fabulous chemicals in my brain.

After sex, I got MasterDoc a snack from the kitchen, and was reminded that I still needed to clean up after dinner. (The dishwasher had been running, and since his is a little counter top one that gets water directly from the faucet, I had to put off any other cleaning til the cycle was done.) While I cleaned up, I thought about service. I realized that on some level, I should think that I’m doing these little annoying tasks so that the man I love, who makes me really happy, doesn’t have to. I think I struggle with such selflessness though because I have constant subconscious worries that I will be taken advantage of, that I won’t get my needs met. Again, this seems to stem from my upbringing and NOT from life with MasterDoc. So I continue to work on finding the joy in submission. It’s there. I just don’t always open myself up to it. While I’m afraid of truly being selfless, I think learning it to a reasonable extent would be very good for me.

Rethinking Service

Published on March 14, 2011 in anxiety, bored, D/s, emotions, horny, libido, musings, non-monogamy, orgasm on command, poly, sex, sex parties, slump, stress, submissive, swinging and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

On Saturday night MasterDoc and I went out to the swing club. We rarely go on Saturday nights, and it’s a couples-only night. The vibe is completely different than the “single guys allowed” nights we usually go to. On our usual nights, putting on a show and indulging our exhibitionist tendencies is mostly what we do. We wouldn’t object to a couple to swing with, but we realize it’s less likely on those nights. We noticed that on couples’ night the couples are “better” (to our perception at least) than the couples who come on singles nights. (What does that say about us? Heh. We like to put on a show and have me groped by random guys.)

Early in the evening, while I was feeling distinctly in the mood for some Dom/sub type of play, I focused on being the loving girlfriend in the swing situation. We had a lovely time making out for a bit. I did my best to show off how good he makes me feel in case I could pique some lady’s interest.

It was nice, but we didn’t talk to any couples and none of them spoke to us. We’re both shyer than you would think. (Not shy about nudity, shy about talking.) I started to get rather bored. When we finally went off to fool around, I found it hard to get fully aroused. I enjoyed the sweet kissing and touching, but when MasterDoc tried to make me come I had to struggle to come a while after he gave permission. I had a bout of crankiness. I just couldn’t get into the evening and my inner brat came out. I wanted rough sex when gentle sex was on the menu. I was bored and totally didn’t handle the accompanying frustration well. MasterDoc gave me a stern talking to, and I did my best to refocus and enjoy the evening. I didn’t want to ruin it for either of us.

I struggled. I was disappointed that my evening was fairly sex-free when I was craving lots of bdsm and sex goodness. I wanted an evening of fucking – wherever we were. But the sex was slow to come. When MasterDoc did fuck me, I just couldn’t get into it. He was frustrated because he thinks that I mentally set myself up to not come. I don’t think I did that, at least not consciously. The sex hurt, which seems to happen now and then lately if my cunt isn’t well warmed up first, and my cervix in particular was hyper-sensitive. I did my best mentally to get into it, and I asked him not to go too deep, but there was no way in hell I could get aroused enough to come. He told me that in swing situations I can come at will, but even after hearing his voice tell me to come, I couldn’t. I couldn’t even get close. It was a miserable experience for both of us, not because I didn’t have an orgasm, but because fucking was downright unpleasant. Our fucking is rarely short of spectacular.

The next day we discussed things, and I was feeling self-righteous and angry over my perceived reduction in sex lately with MasterDoc. (He had spent the night before with a playmate of his. They went to the club and she slept over his place.) He explained that I don’t get less sex. I’m not entirely sure that’s true, at least not back in the days before he started seeing DeeDee and his current plethora of playmates. The discussion left me depressed (just mood-wise, not illness-wise), but I did try to not let it get to me. Over time, I had to admit to myself that it was bratty of me to have a fit the night before. I started to examine my attitudes towards service to my Dom. I started looking at how I react when I don’t get what I want right away. Delayed gratification has never been my strong point.

It’s easy to serve when it’s kinky and stimulating for me. It’s much harder to be patient when he goes off with others or the goal seems to be a swap rather than sex together. I’m all for serving when and how it suits me – but I struggle with other types of service. I’m probably not the first sub to have this problem, and if any of you have suggestions let me know. I struggle with things that seem to “take away” from my time with him. I found myself craving sexual submission on Saturday night, but that’s not what my Dom needed from me.

I need to find a friend with benefits for regular fucking to augment what I get with MasterDoc. And/or a service top to play with. MasterDoc is polyamorous and will always be, so if my 38-year-old libido needs more fucking, then I need to get additional fucking elsewhere. Perhaps if I was getting laid more often then I wouldn’t get so insecure, needy and cranky.

At any rate, I realized that I needed to work on my submissive service. I need to work on submitting when it’s hard. I did my best tonight to make things easier for DeeDee who just came home and has a bunch of furniture to move in. I made dinner and cleaned up so MasterDoc and DeeDee could get stuff done. It’s a small step, but I’m going to continue to examine my service skills.

On Sunday, we had sex twice and it was just as wonderful as usual.

Brief Update

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brat

Published on November 25, 2010 in anxiety, bdsm, blow jobs, caning, D/s, dom, edge play, embarrassment, emotions, gags, horny, humiliation play, kink, masochism, masturbation, musings, non-monogamy, orgasm denial, orgasm on command, piss play, sadism, sex, shio, squirting, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

While emotional outbursts, for me, are often caused by depression or anxiety issues, sometimes I’m just being a spoiled brat. Last Saturday I got cranky and pouty because the evening I thought I was to have alone with MasterDoc got changed around when DeeDee didn’t leave for her Thanksgiving trip for an extra day. So of course since she’s away this week, MasterDoc opted to spend time alone with her that night.

I think the pouting worked in some way for me growing up, otherwise why do I default to it so often? It’s immature and pretty counterproductive. (Especially with MasterDoc, he likes things to be calm and me having a childish fit doesn’t help that.) He spoke with me that day and while I cried over some things that bother me, I ultimately left his place feeling happy. I had plans to see him for definite on Sunday afternoon, and Monday evening AND Tuesday evening. He was right when he pointed out, “What’s one evening’s delay?” Nothing really.

When I saw him Sunday I got a lecture about my behavior and while I agree that I was certainly being a brat, I don’t think all my displeasure was unfounded. But I’ll leave those details between myself and my Dom. He tossed out the theory that since I was an only child (for nearly 11 years), and developed that sense of entitlement many only children develop, that having it taken away so abruptly (at the dawn of puberty no less) has left me feeling the need to count every minute, every task I do, etc. and demand as much time and as much recognition for my work as possible. It’s pretty obnoxious when I think about it. But there was always this, “Hey that’s not fair!” thing going on with my brother and me. Becoming a sister was a far rougher transition than I had thought it would be. But what did I know at 10 years old? I resented my poor brother for many years, and only as we’ve both become adults have I taken the time to apologize.

I really can be a dysfunctional shit sometimes. I’m lucky my friends love me despite my flaws.

So it’s time for me to refocus on my attitude and my service. This is something I’ve decided in light of my recent behavior. I will try to not mentally keep tabs on all tasks I do versus what DeeDee does. I will try to be more gracious when plans change. I will try to be a better submissive.

After our discussion, there was much pleasurable cock sucking and choking. I enthusiastically blew him for as long as possible. When we lay close to each other, he made me come on command a few times. When he brought up the idea of piss play, he really hit the nail on the head when he pressed me to admit I want him to piss on me. I couldn’t deny it, although I really wanted to. The humiliation that came with it was hot, however.

He didn’t piss on me that day, but I did ride his cock for a good long time. It was quite a full-body exercise! It seemed like he drew out the teasing phase before each orgasm, and I just loved it. While I am desperate for release, I’m also enjoying how it feels to be brought to the edge of orgasm. Stimulation feels good!

Monday and Tuesday evenings were spent with MasterDoc as well. There was some really hot sex Monday night and MasterDoc talked me through being able to handle a ball gag without gagging. The trick is to breathe slowly through the nose. If you breathe too quickly it narrows the nasal passages and you get less air. I also found that having my head tilting down or to the side helped too – the saliva didn’t pool at the back of my throat so much as dribble out, so I didn’t feel like I was drowning in spit. The gag is pretty loose and at one point while tantalizing me, MasterDoc pulled on it. It fit snugly in between my lips and the very act of him doing that made me so hot as my head was pulled back. (I’m twitching right now in remembrance.) There was more marvelous fucking – this time with him on top.

I am a damn lucky bitch.

Tuesday was quieter, but he made me come like crazy after I warmed myself up with masturbation. I think there was also quite a bit of caning. After two consecutive days of great sex, I was feeling pretty content and doing less on Tuesday wasn’t a big deal.

I’m sure I’m leaving stuff out or have changed the evenings when a particular activity occured. This is what comes of not having as much time to write lately. I get to see MasterDoc tomorrow and after just a day away from him I’m ready for nooky again.

The Next Steps?

Published on November 11, 2010 in analingus, bdsm, bondage, D/s, dom, emotions, gang bang, humiliation play, kink, masochism, musings, piss play, restraints, sex parties, submissive, swinging, trust, Uncategorized and wishing box. 1 Comment

As my D/s relationship with MasterDoc develops, the focus can change over time. When I first met him of course the focus was teaching me precisely how he likes to be pleasured, getting me to remember to say “Sir,” and training my ability to come at his command. On the service side of things he taught me what chores he wants me to do, and how to prepare things how he likes them, etc.

Recently I’ve felt like there’s a shift – the shift hasn’t happened just yet but it feels like a new phase of our relationship is ready to begin. I’ve been contemplating for at least a week now telling him that if he wants me to lick his ass, then I would respect him even more if he made me do it despite my dislike of the activity. I think I’m at the point now where him making me do a few things I dislike (but know full well won’t harm me) is the way to go. Not so much to exercise power, but I think he, as the Dom, should feel free to engage in whatever experiences he would like to – and not give as much concern over what I like to do.* Of course, I’ve hesitated to say anything because I’m worried this is a case of “be careful of what you wish for!” But I feel like I need to take another step into being his submissive on perhaps a deeper level than before. We’re at a point where if he makes me lick his ass I’m not going to consider leaving him. If he pisses in my mouth I’m not going to leave him. I don’t like these activities and hope they don’t become frequent, but I feel like if he’s the Dom then he should use me as he likes.

We’ve watched a lot of porn on theupperfloor.com lately and it’s been giving him all sorts of ideas. The forced exercise I found too painful to watch. I hate exercise but can handle it better if I’m doing it by myself and of my own volition. But the scene where the slave was hooded (and therefore couldn’t see) and forced to scrub the floor while the dominant whipped or fingered her – that was damn hot. Just scrubbing a floor isn’t hot to me. But being in some sort of bondage/blindfolding/gagging and being watched over by the man who delivers such delicious torment to me, that would be hot.

The Upper Floor has also made me crave kinky parties where I could serve and be toyed with by the guests freely. Not only toyed with but perhaps also gang-banged.

MasterDoc and I talked briefly about the idea of things like positions the sub needs to learn and use in certain situations. He was never into that, but I’ve been curious about it and now feels like a time to maybe delve into some of that, to maybe have a little more protocol than we currently have? (We’ve never been big on protocol other than calling him Sir and being respectful and obedient.) I’m also wishing for more bondage in my life.

All this is dependent on what MasterDoc wants and thinks is right. I’m merely expressing my willingness and desire to go a little further into submission and service to him. I feel like I need to be pushed a little.

* This meaning that of course I hope my needs will still be met, but I think he should feel more latitude in making me satisfy his needs even if I find an act distasteful.

Fucking Back to Health

Published on November 2, 2010 in anxiety, bdsm, caning, cunt, D/s, DeeDee, emotions, kink, masochism, masturbation, nipple clamps, orgasm on command, porn, sadism, sex, shio, spanking, squirting, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

The weekend was pretty mellow since I wasn’t feeling well. Before I came down with something, I was feeling needy Friday night. DeeDee had just come back from a few days away, so of course intellectually I realized she should get more of MasterDoc’s attention. But probably because I was starting to feel ill, I became easily cranky when I thought I was being left out. Internet porn was put up on the big, flat screen tv and MasterDoc stroked his cock and DeeDee’s pussy. I took up rubbing my own, but my discontent at what I perceived as being ignored prevented me from getting into it. Ironic thing is that as soon as I stopped, MasterDoc asked why because he had been watching me play with myself. So the feeling of being left out or disconnected to what was going on was merely my perception. But the perception is enough to make me feel like it’s real.

I had a bit of a meltdown and MasterDoc hurried me off into the playroom. He gave me a quick beating, followed by a really hard finger fucking. He made me come over and over, and I was left exhausted. He’s figured out that my anxieties over being left out or ignored can easily be fixed by making me come. I don’t need a ton of attention, once I’ve come I’m much more mellow and able to enjoy watching. He invited me to join him and DeeDee, but I was feeling like I wanted to be alone rather than part of a threesome. I went to bed early that night and woke up sick early the next morning. You know I’m sick when I don’t have the energy to even consider fucking.

The following day I had hit that point where I’m still sick, but I have just enough energy to be horny. I didn’t have energy to be much of an active participant, but MasterDoc handled that by putting clover clamps on my nipples. It hurt like crazy, but I am getting used to them. I can wear them a while without freaking out over the pain. He told me to speak up when the pain got too much. He then proceeded to fuck me silly from on top. I’d notice the pain in my clamped nipples now and then but then I’d get lost in the pleasure of being fucked and the pain would register as pleasure for a while. This reminds me of a bdsmer I dated briefly years ago. He played with my nipples on a deserted Manhattan street – twisting them for the longest time. I remember the sensation would hurt, then go slightly numb and then turn me on totally. This wasn’t just one cycle, but over and over the cycle would go while he continued twisting.

After fucking and making me come over and over, MasterDoc took the clamps off quickly to try to reduce the length of the worst pain. When you remove clover clamps they hurt even more than when you were wearing them. The blood rushes back into the compressed nipple and is agonizing. My nipples were tender for the rest of the day.

I was pretty worn out, but we still had bdsm porn playing on the laptop. I started masturbating and MasterDoc gave me the order to come, stroking his cock while watching me. I could feel liquid squirt out of my cunt and splash my hand. I left a wet spot on the throe.

He had mentioned recently that watching a woman lick/suck the pussy juice off her fingers is hot, so I made a display of licking my soaking wet fingers clean. He suggested I do that next time we do a show.

He asked if I was ready to be fucked again and despite some fatigue I was happy to get more. He fucked me from behind, hard and for what seemed like a long time. He had me tilt the laptop so he could watch the porn. Think about it guys – kinky porn right next to the shuddering form of the woman you’re fucking, who is moaning in delight and eager to come. He made me come for a long time again. I think I squirted some more. I moaned incessantly as my face pressed into the mat. I was a little sweaty and a lot tired after, but oh so happy.

National Coming Out Day

Published on October 11, 2010 in attraction, bisexuality, dating, emotions, lesbian, musings, sex, sexuality and Uncategorized. 2 Comments

Today is National Coming Out Day in the U.S.

I’m not in a place where I feel comfortable putting my face and name here. I long to, but I understand the reality of needing a steady job. Instead, today I want to talk about accepting myself as bisexual (or pansexual) – fully, not in name only.

Last night I spent the evening with Blondie. She came over my place to watch movies (although I think we all know that such a plan is mostly an excuse to get together with someone). We only vaguely started La Dolce Vita and then later Coco Before Chanel. Both times we ended up talking or she initiated some cuddling and kissing. I still have such trouble initiating, which takes things to an absurd extreme considering a few weeks ago she fingered me to orgasm at a play party. If she wasn’t one to take the initiative, we would have just sat side by side on my sofa for hours.

I’ve written here before about the idea that I probably have some internal homophobia that goes on. I find that I was socialized for so many years to be just friends with women, that I have trouble acting like (and thinking that) I’m dating a woman. I’ve known for a very long time that I like women in pretty much the same way I like men – sexually and romantically. I first embraced the bisexual identity about 10 years ago when I stopped thinking, “Oh I like fantasizing about women, but I don’t think I want to actually do anything.” and had an epiphany that I really do like women. And yes, I want to date them, kiss them, make love to them, fuck them silly – just like I like doing with men. (In more recent years I’ve started opening myself up more to different gender representations, such as the crush I had on a wonderfully androgynous woman I sorta kinda dated briefly. And I’ve discovered that I like transmen. I have yet to become intimate with a transman, but the desire is there.)

It was lovely last night – she positioned herself so her legs were over my lap, and we would both caress whatever body parts were in reach now and then while we watched one of the movies. She asked if it was okay if she sat like that, and thankfully I can at least say, “Yes, I like this,” and articulate that her advances were not unwanted in the least. There have been women I’ve been “involved” with over the past 10 years who were just sexual playmates, but I find with Blondie that the experience is much fuller. I’m hot for her, for sure, and think it’s sexy and bold that she’s done a lot of porn in the past. But I also find her to be smart, fun to talk to, pretty and wonderful to cuddle with. She’s not just a porn actress to me, I like knowing her in her role as mother of two young children, or as someone who has studied Chinese medicine.

Thanks to her, things progressed and lots of touching, kissing, cuddling moved on to clothes coming off and nipples being sucked. (I love her nipples by the way.) While my intellectual brain sees nothing wrong with same-sex relationships, I think there’s a small part of me that has to check in with myself constantly to reassure myself that there’s nothing wrong with feeling desire for a woman and acting on it. I want to blame the Catholic church for this, as that’s how I was raised and I’m sure it has had an impact on me despite my renouncing religious faith of all kinds in my life.

Touching her, and being touched, was wonderful. She shyly checked in to see if I minded all the caressing, and I pointed out that I am a glutton for touch. I massaged her clit through her adorable new leopard print undies. She pulled mine down a bit and kissed and licked near my “landing strip” of pubic hair. Things didn’t progress into full-on sex as I was remiss in making sure I had gloves around. She prefers going the safer sex route even though she admits that the chances of transmitting infection via manual stimulation are pretty low. While I find that manual stimulation with bare hands to be an acceptable level of risk (for me), I can completely respect her wishes to use gloves. Hey, no glove, no love! So while there was teasing, tantalizing and lots of glorious foreplay, we didn’t fuck. I didn’t mind. I would have loved to fuck her, but spending time with her and being affectionate was really enough to make me happy.

But of course I will be sure to get some gloves for my place. *grin*

So I declare, on this National Coming Out Day, that I am dating a woman and am truly happy that I’m doing so. I identify as pansexual these days as bisexual just reinforces the whole gender binary thing (which isn’t really accurate). I like Blondie a great deal, and hope that things will continue to develop between us.

My coming out here isn’t really a revelation for my readers. I’ve been openly pansexual, kinky, poly and slutty for a long time here. But I needed to stand up and declare for myself that I am who I am, and who I am is just fine.