Diary of a Kinky Librarian

His

Published on August 24, 2011 in bdsm, blow jobs, D/s, edge play, forced orgasm, kink, masochism, needle play, orgasm denial, orgasm on command, sadism, sex, sex toys, submissive and Uncategorized. 1 Comment

I’ve been quiet on the blogging front because I’m preparing to move out of my little studio apartment into MasterDoc’s apartment. I haven’t been working on that every minute, but often when I have free time I just want to kick back and play The Sims Medieval to relax and escape.

There have also been times of fantastic sex. But when I have time to write up a blog entry, well, The Sims call to me.

Last night we had sex, and his grabbing my hair and asking, “Now what am I going to do with you, young lady?” made me shudder in anticipation. He can get my entire body involuntarily twitching from just simple touches. I tried to relax my muscles, but the convulsing still went on whether I wanted it to or not. It’s like my whole body becomes a stand-in for my vagina. He had already gotten me to put my collar on, and as something different, he put wrist cuffs on me as well. He said he likes the rattling sound when I move and the metal on the cuffs makes noise.

The other night, the phrase that got me was, “I’m excited you’re moving in. Now I can have this pussy whenever I want it.” It’s funny how, despite an independent streak, I really love the idea of him owning me. I don’t want to be treated like a possession all the time, but when we’re in bed knowing that he can do whatever he chooses to me is exciting. While I’m a strong feminist with a successful career, it gets me hot to feel like he has such control over me.

Last night he brought out the needles. Thankfully he used them on my butt and not my inner thighs like he’s threatened. But the pain was still difficult to bear as each needle was inserted. I whimpered like crazy. He had me blindfolded but I could tell when he might be preparing to put in another needle when he grabbed a bit of flesh. I think he put in three needles, and while it hurt it would only really hurt for the duration of the needles being inserted. After, I’d breathe deeply trying to slow my breath and relax my body.

He brought out the Hitachi magic wand and pressed it to my cunt. “If you don’t want any more needles, you’ll come when I count to three.” Jeez, I was going to make sure I came! The needle play was intense. He counted slowly, “One…Two…Two and a half…Two and three quarters…” Argh! Evil man. I did manage to come when he finally, finally, said three.

After a period of time, he took the wand away and told me I could either play with myself or fall forward if I wanted to. (I was on my hands and knees.) I chose the latter. We cuddled for a bit and I played with his chest hair.

As I often do, I’ve neglected to mention that we started off with me sucking his cock, and then using my skilled hands on his inner thighs to make him feel good. I really enjoy making him feel good. Touching him feels good to me too.

As we cuddled, he said he wasn’t sure if he should just come and call it a night or if he should fuck me. I politely indicated that I really would like his cock inside of me. I think it had been a week. We fooled around on Sunday night, but there was no PIV (penis-in-vagina). He said that fine, he’d give me some sex. I continued to stroke his chest hair, and then on a whim I leaned in and started kissing and licking his chest. This had a great effect.

He fucked me from on top, and try as I might not to come without permission, he forced an orgasm out of me. Then he proceeded to keep me coming for an extended period of time. I’d start thinking that maybe I’d need to ask him to stop as my body was tired, but then he’d send me into the throes of orgasm again and I’d forget all about any fatigue. I was really amazed at how long he went on fucking me, and how I was unable to stop the orgasms from coming. I was exhausted by the end, but of course very, very happy.

Just “regular” sex at home

Published on August 17, 2011 in anxiety, bdsm, blow jobs, caning, cunt, D/s, edge play, forced orgasm, happy, humiliation play, kink, masochism, masturbation, needle play, orgasm denial, orgasm on command, sadism, sex, sex toys, spanking, submissive, trust and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

“Who wants to have sex?”

This sudden question from MasterDoc caused me and DeeDee to look up at him with surprise. He hadn’t indicated the slightest interest in sex earlier in the evening. When I recovered my wits from the surprise, I meekly raised my hand. DeeDee was watching a show and was interested in finishing it. I hadn’t had sex with him since Tuesday, and this was Sunday, so I was already feeling like I needed a little MasterDoc-iliciousness. The sex with the new guy on Friday was satisfying, but the connection I have with MasterDoc is unique and I like to experience it regularly.

MasterDoc started the evening talking about piercing me – on my inner thighs. Eek. I was really scared because I imagine this to be even more sensitive in a way than the outer labia was that one time he pierced it. I was working the Siri on my clit as it was getting late, and I needed to get to bed, so I had to have a part in getting myself warmed up. I had a hard time getting aroused because the needles scared me. Me, the person who pushed for needle play in the first place. Somehow lately that kind of pain strikes me as too much to bear. Other submissives and masochists out there will probably know what I mean by “kind of pain.” Different implements cause different sensations. A needle is different than a cane strike which is different than hot wax.

The talk of piercing was merely a mind-fuck (for the time being). He put me on hands and knees and fucked me, which, he said, would ensure I’d stop complaining that I hadn’t had his cock since Tuesday. The scene climaxed with me coming over and over again, as per usual. I wish everyone could describe their incredible, mind-scrambling orgasms in such a blase way.

Two nights later, DeeDee had plans, so it was just MasterDoc and me at home. I lay on the bed, face up, relaxing while waiting for him to decide what we’re going to do. He gets the medium cane (The only one he could find. Thankfully the only one he could find wasn’t the thickest one.) and starts caning my thighs. I “ooh!” and “ouch!” He orders me to spread my legs. He starts working on caning my inner thighs. Red cane stripes appear – but only on one thigh. He decides he must make the other one match. Interestingly enough, the second thigh is the one that bruised slightly the next day.

He has me roll over eventually, laying flat on my tummy. He canes my butt and I work to slow my breathing when it hurts a lot. I was in the mind space where I worried I couldn’t handle the pain, but then ultimately it turned me on. It’s not just the physical pain causing a biological reaction, but also the idea that I’m his. He can use me like this if he chooses. I have handed myself over to him in such a way that I trust him even to make me hurt. If he gets pleasure from it, I do too.

It’s interesting to have a dynamic with someone where you both love each other very much, and endeavor to take care of each other in your own ways, but that same person who loves you can make you hurt and leave bruises. I can see how a non-kinkster might have trouble understanding that. But when we’re in a scene, he takes me on a journey. I always come back safe from that journey, inevitably wiped out from lots of yummy orgasms after the pain. Four years with him, and I still find sex with him to be ultra-exciting.

Satisfied with beating me, he tells me to get over there and suck his cock. Pleasuring his cock with my mouth was delectable.I use various techniques he’s taught me over time. Most recently he’s asked for more suction, whereas before he didn’t want it because the head of his cock is so sensitive. He still doesn’t want the head sucked on hard, but I work my lips along the shaft, squeezing. I lick. I slap the head against my outstretched tongue. I work the base with my hand while orally taking care of the rest.

He gets a condom and puts it on, taking time to slap my cunt a little. He flicks my clit with his fingers. (I hate when he does that. I hate when he does it to my nipples too.) He works some lube into my pussy. He slowly slides the head of his cock inside of me. His cock is thick, so when I’m not especially warmed up I appreciate it when he goes slow. Just that bit of cock feels great, however, and soon he’s sliding the full length into me. As he does this, he props himself up on one hand and uses the other to slap my face. Oh yes. That was hot. Cock sliding in simultaneously as face getting struck.

He fucks me silly, I feel on the verge of orgasm, sure that I won’t be able to hold back until he gives permission. I whimper and moan, a clear sign that I’m dying for orgasm. I do manage to hold out until he tells me to come. When I come, he slaps my face some more, making me come harder, and pounds my pussy intermittently to really make me scream. I find myself orgasming for what feels like an insanely long time. I thought to myself that surely, I’d run out of steam and not keep coming after a while, but this took a very long time to occur.

Aftercare consisted of pillow talk and my massaging “the spot” on his chest. I think I cracked some silly jokes and we laughed a little. He touched me a bit and stopped when he worried that he was turning me on. But post-orgasm lately, I can get aroused and immerse myself in the feel of his touch without needing to go on to orgasm. It’s extremely pleasurable being touched by him. No one else feels like him. No one else knows my body as well as he does.

Am I a Cougar in Training?

Published on August 14, 2011 in anal, bdsm, blow jobs, caning, cunt, D/s, dating, horny, masturbation, non-monogamy, prostate massage, sex, shio, slut, spanking, squirting, submissive and Uncategorized. 1 Comment

I met someone new on Friday. We enjoyed lunch and then went back to my place. He’s someone who doesn’t have time for a relationship, but of course would like some sex and companionship now and then. This is ideal for me as I’m not looking for another serious relationship. Lunch with him was pleasant, and we know a few people in common. He gave me a ride on his scooter back to my place, and it was the first time I ever rode a scooter (haven’t been on a motorcycle yet). In my usual ladylike manner (har) I threw my leg over the back of the scooter despite wearing a dress. Thankfully I had worn a stretchy casual dress.

I clenched my thighs around his hips as we got started. He took things slow since it was my first time. It was fun and yes, I did wear a helmet. At the stop light, he reached down to caress my bare leg. Rowr. Some small part of me was still thinking, “Am I going to fuck him today or just make out or something?” But my subconscious knew I’d go all the way.

This guy is 10 years younger than me, and I’ve been questioning if this makes me a cougar. I think not since he wrote to me and I’m not exactly out trying to find younger men. He seemed to know what he was doing sexually, unlike too many men in their 20s. We got to my apartment, kissed and he suggested we get more comfortable. When I caught a glimpse of him in just his boxers, with a hard-on raging, I was delighted to see it was a substantial size. I don’t consider myself a size queen, but a little larger than average is always a bonus.

Since I didn’t think to put the air conditioning on until part-way through, it was hot, sweaty sex. I usually hate sweating for any reason, but it was sexy how our bodies slipped easily against each other. He had difficulty in that he’s similarly endowed as MasterDoc, and I mainly had the NYC condoms on hand – they run a bit small. (What’s up with that, NYC??) He didn’t try to get out of wearing them, he just pointed out that coming was going to be difficult with the condom so tight. I said that I’m sure we could figure out a way to make him come. I sucked his cock deep which he loved but it didn’t lead to orgasm.

While fucking younger men makes me worry they’ll be clueless sexually, this guy paired youthful energy with some expertise. As he pounded me into the bed he made me come over and over. I had to speak up a few times as my cervix can get cranky being pummeled like that. He could flip me over without ever taking his cock out. I ended up on top where I could control the depth more. I squirted a bit and he loved to hear that I did. It turns him on a great deal. That early on, however, it was difficult to tell the little bit of girl come from the copious amounts of sweat.

We went on playing without much of a break for much longer than most sexual encounters I have. (He accosted me in the kitchen as I tried to get a drink of water. Ha ha.) Again, I said a silent word of thanks to the weight loss and exercise. In the past I would have had to cry uncle. He asked if I like anal, and I said yes. I lubed my ass up and yet again this slut had anal on a first date.

Yeah well, you know my philosophy – if it feels good and I want to do it, why should I not? This is an area in which being an atheist is so liberating. I don’t have some fictional god telling me sex is wrong, or clergymen claiming to know how we should all live our lives. If it’s consensual and both parties want it? I can’t see why not to do it. The fucking went on a long time and I came countless times. I was glad that he knew he could go pussy to ass with the same condom, but needed a new condom to go back to the pussy. Sexual knowledge is sexy.

After much rolling around and rubbing body parts against each other (including more girl come as lubricant), I mentioned that I know how to do prostate massage. He was up for it and I lubed up his ass and slowly worked a finger in. Eventually, I took the time to work a second finger in. He writhed around and said it was too intense at times. He said it was the best prostate massage he’s ever had – the others didn’t know what they were doing. (I told him to thank MasterDoc.)

While the massage felt good, the intensity made him need a break, and he ended up jerking off while hovering over and intently examining my pussy. He complimented me on it, and while the skeptic in me thinks, “He must say that to all the girls!” it was still nice to hear. I didn’t hesitate to compliment his cock that day too. He came on my tummy and I felt glad that both of us had come. We each showered off the sweat and come we were pretty much covered in. He took his time getting dressed and soon after we said goodbye. I then proceeded to work on packing up my apartment for my upcoming move.

I was exhausted that night. I had worked out hard in the morning, and then there was that pleasurable second workout in the afternoon. I tried to cuddle with MasterDoc a bit, as I wanted to reconnect with him after having had recreational sex with someone else. On Saturday night, I hoped that he and I would get it on (we haven’t since Tuesday) but he was feeling like having time alone. I felt emotionally needy and luckily managed to strike a balance between asking for and getting attention, and giving him space to be by himself. We cuddled, and MasterDoc picked up on the fact that a beating would do me good. He whacked away at my ass with various implements. Sometimes I think there’s no way I can handle the pain, but then as soon as the beating stops the pain lowers to a manageable level. He made me come with the Hitachi magic wand and after I felt so much better. I had really needed the beating for the endorphin release, and the orgasm to round out the relaxation. I was able to go amuse myself after that and give MasterDoc more time alone. (My current addiction is figuring out how Sims Medieval is played.)

And They Lived Happily Ever After

Published on August 12, 2011 in DeeDee, happy, non-monogamy, poly, threesome and Uncategorized. 4 Comments

After such a heavy post, it’s good that I’m filled to the brim with excitement about officially moving in with MasterDoc and DeeDee. We’ve become an intentional family – working together so we can all be well, secure, and live in a nice apartment. And this family is far more functional than the one I grew up in. I think all adults should be allowed to form a chosen family.

I’ve spent significant amounts of time at MasterDoc’s since I met him 4 years ago. DeeDee moved in a little over a year ago when she lost her job and wanted to look for work in New York. It was meant to be temporary. Despite being highly educated (MBA!) and capable, a suitable job offer hasn’t come her way. But this works out because she takes up a bit more housework, whereas I do less housework, but contribute more financially since I’m working. Each of us contributes in the ways we currently can. I hate cooking, she doesn’t mind, so she cooks and I clean up after dinner.

It’s a shame that this is considered highly unusual. I don’t feel I can tell my co-workers, for example, about my very happy home life. I have to pretend I’m simply moving in with my boyfriend. And as far as they know I’ve only dated him several months – Davey was my “official” boyfriend for a long time and I’m not out as poly at work – so after my breakup with him last year I waited several months before mentioning someone “new”.

I’ve told both my parents about poly. My dad seems totally weirded out. We’ll see how it goes when I tell him that MasterDoc’s “other girlfriend” lives with us. Hopefully, when he sees how happy I am and what a lovely place I live in, he will manage to deal with the strangeness of the situation. My dad is old-fashioned in many ways, but he wants to see me happy and stable. He helped me weather my teenage depression more than my mom. (She usually contributed to it.) He respects my agency as an adult and loves me. My Mom? She doesn’t quite “get” poly but she’s supportive of my choices.

DeeDee says that people’s top question when they hear about our situation is – where do you all sleep? MasterDoc’s apartment has three bedrooms, and each of us has our own. DeeDee and I trade off sleeping with MasterDoc, and sometimes he just wants to sleep alone. Luckily, I like sleeping alone so it’s not a hardship when I do so. And if one of us is having a rough time and want to sleep with him this is arranged – and always without drama. When both of them are away, I usually sleep in MasterDoc’s bed as I find it comforting.

My room is in disarray as MasterDoc cleans out his things (except the fax, modem, wireless router, etc. all that will stay there) and I gradually move my things over. We’re in the process of combining the household items I have and what they have. I have to get my stuff out of my current apartment by the end of the month. It’s a little nerve-wracking not to be more packed. I look forward to setting up my room as “my” space. Having your own space is important. I’ve never been someone who wants to spend every waking moment with my partner. (It often seems like I do to MasterDoc, probably because he’s extremely poly in nature and likes to spend a lot of time with a variety of people. I tend to gravitate towards smaller groups and a bit less variety.)

I love DeeDee like a best friend and I’m thrilled to have her to talk to on a regular basis. I feel incredibly fortunate to have found this situation (or it found me) – and frustrated that I can’t shout about it from the rooftops. While I’m not officially moved in, I have spent most of the past few months here. I only stop in to my apartment to check mail or pick up things I need. Most of my wardrobe is in the closet here already. DeeDee made sure I had my own dresser to store things in many months ago.

When MasterDoc and I were fooling around earlier this week, he gushed a little about us three living happily ever after. It’s adorable when Doms gush. But the fact is, we’re all really happy to be forming a little family. I hope we DO live happily ever after.

The Dark Secret

Published on August 11, 2011 in assault, crazy, kink, musings, stupid people, trauma and Uncategorized. 5 Comments

I have a lovely, happy blog post brewing in my head. But I also have this one. I’m gonna handle this one first.

If you’ve hung around here for any length of time you know that I was sexually assaulted six years ago at a sex party. I’ve written about the triggering and post-traumatic stress issues I can still encounter after all this time. I probably have also written that the shitty way I was treated after was just as bad as the assault.

And if I haven’t, I should.

The dark secret of the kink/sex-positive community is that not everyone plays by the rules. And even those who do often fail to call out the predators on their bullshit. I’ve submitted a proposal for a panel discussion at Momentum next spring on finding ways to address this rather than sweep it under the rug. I feel like I’ve healed to the point where I’m ready to be an activist. Because I sure wish I had had an activist on my side when all that shit was originally going down. I’ve spoken to various women over the years who have been somehow abused or violated within what should have been a consensual, mutually enjoyable kink scene or sexual experience. (I don’t doubt that the men who have experienced abuse don’t even try to come forward. Being realistic, the majority of survivors are women, but I think the men who experience this need us to listen too.)

As a brief aside here, I like the term “survivor” rather than “victim.” I was a victim for the duration of my assault. I’m not always a victim. I have survived people ignoring my clearly stated boundaries on two occasions. I’m bitter that they have both changed my life forever (the first was totally outside the scene) but I have prevailed and found myself a wonderful Dom who takes care of me, not violates my boundaries. (Waxing poetic on this will be the next post.)

A big issue going hand-in-hand with the violations happening is that most people in the scene won’t listen when someone speaks up about it. These assaults (I’m using it as a general term for rape, sexual assault, physical assault, abuse, etc.) are whispered about at most. Those who speak up loudly, as I did via my old blog right after the assault happened to me, get branded as “crazy,” “drama queens,” and “troublemakers.” Often they do what I did for a few years – they disappear from the scene, disillusioned that a community that gives so much lip service to consent could turn a blind eye. The predators doing this do it more than once. I know of at least three men within the NYC scene who have violated boundaries more than once. On twitter this week one of my twitter pals was furious and frustrated when she tried to speak up about another woman’s assault within her local kink scene. She must have received mostly the same sort of bullshit I had.

“It’s a he said/she said thing. I don’t want to get involved.”

Or they make up excuses for the person. “Well, he was drunk.” The support I’ve received over the years from people within “the community” has been minimal. But it is increasing and I want to lend my voice to those speaking out.

Let me start with this, if you don’t get involved, don’t take sides, then you are by default supporting the perpetrator. Silence lets this cancer flourish in the community. Sometimes, the predatory people are the ones running parties and educational sessions at conferences. This will not end until we speak up and hold our fellow kinksters responsible for their actions. I don’t give a shit if “that guy” seems nice and throws fun parties. If you keep quiet you are enabling him. (I’ll bet there are a few women who violate boundaries, but because of our socialization, it ends up being men far more often.)

I had the pleasure of meeting a kinkster guy recently, and we somehow got onto this lovely topic. He filled me in on someone being predatory that I didn’t know about, and I filled him in on the one I know about first hand. We compared notes and he too has seen women who speak up dismissed as “crazy.” Branding someone as crazy is an effective way to silence them. I’m sure this tactic has been used to silence women (and other minorities) for centuries.

But this guy I met up with brought up a concern we must address. He pointed out that in his experiences as a Dom he has made mistakes. People do make mistakes. But you know what? If you make a mistake you apologize, try to mend the hurt as best you can and learn from it. There are men like himself who hesitate to get involved in lambasting a predator because they fear that a simple, unintentional mistake on their part will place them in that position.

I know this can be difficult for nice guys to believe, but the chance of that is small. People who apologize and try to fix the harm they’ve accidentally done are not the types I’m talking about here. I spoke online with the guy who assaulted me a night or two after the event. I wanted to believe it was a mistake. I wanted an apology so I could do my best to forgive and move on. I didn’t get an apology. I got excuses. I got a scared little man trying to deny his responsibility and getting angry with me when I called him out. Soon I was one of those so-called “crazy” women in the scene. The few who actually listened to me and agreed that what happened was wrong were usually afraid to speak up. The predators among us manage to snag a few friends who will stand up for them, not really knowing what they’re like. The person who’s been assaulted, and their allies, get their voices drowned out.

Since I’ve seen this time and time again, I have to call all of you out on one bullshit excuse item: the idea that women make up stories of being assaulted to retaliate against someone.

Seriously? Go back and read my description above about what happens when someone speaks up. What would making up a story accomplish? Absolutely nothing. False rape reporting has been a red herring thrown about by the media for years. With 60% of ACTUAL rapes not being reported because of the dismal reaction victims of sexual violence usually get from law enforcement, how many women can be stupid enough to lie about it? There are a few of course, but the estimate of “unfounded” reported rapes is just 8%.

From Wikipedia:

FBI reports consistently put the number of “unfounded” rape accusations around 8%. The average rate of unfounded reports for Index crimes is 2%. However, “unfounded” is not synonymous with false allegationand as Bruce Gross of the Forensic Examiner explains,

“This statistic is almost meaningless, as many of the jurisdictions from which the FBI collects data on crime use different definitions of, or criteria for, “unfounded.” That is, a report of rape might be classified as unfounded (rather than as forcible rape) if the alleged victim did not try to fight off the suspect, if the alleged perpetrator did not use physical force or a weapon of some sort, if the alleged victim did not sustain any physical injuries, or if the alleged victim and the accused had a prior sexual relationship. Similarly, a report might be deemed unfounded if there is no physical evidence or too many inconsistencies between the accuser’s statement and what evidence does exist. As such, although some unfounded cases of rape may be false or fabricated, not all unfounded cases are false.” (Emphasis mine)

It’s time to end this now. If we want the outside world to know that bsdm doesn’t equal abuse, then we need to make sure that’s true to the best of our ability. I’m thrilled that I’ve seen signs of people waking up and speaking out. But we still have a long way to go.

Are you an activist or an enabler?

______________________________________________________________________________

Kitty Stryker has been tackling the topic:
Safe/Ward: A What You Can Do Guide

Safe/Ward Blog Carnival (trigger warning) This link will lead you to a cornucopia of blog posts by kinkster women who have been violated at some point or another, often not speaking out until years later.

If you’ve been subjected to assault or abuse, RAINN is a good resource for information. I found that even being at a sex party didn’t make the professional counselors I went to dismiss what happened to me. (I tried coping for 2-3 months on my own because I was afraid I’d be blamed.) I’m sure a few asshole therapists out there would blame the victim, but most professionals do not.

I’m one of those kinksters who will lend an ear to any survivor who needs to talk. There are a few more out there. Let’s make THOSE voices the ones that are heard.

Untitled Night Out

Published on August 7, 2011 in bdsm, bisexuality, blow jobs, couple, D/s, dom, embarrassment, exhibitionism, humiliation play, masturbation, non-monogamy, sex, sex parties, sex toys, show, slut, sub drop, swinging and Uncategorized. 3 Comments

Friday night was a particularly fun night out at the swing club. When we arrived and saw our friend who is always there on single guy nights (Veronica) she was flirty with me and MasterDoc asked, “I thought you weren’t into girls.” She said, “I’m not but I’m trying.” while looking at me. Rawr. I’d do her. Definitely. She loved my new hair cut.

A little later, MasterDoc and I were giving a show in the large room. MasterDoc really got into the powerful Dom & a submissive piece of meat mode. It was hot, but somehow lately I feel embarrassment about being slutty. It’s totally weird. Ultimately, I don’t have a problem with being made to come in front of a bunch of strangers, but I feel kinda embarrassed lately. It’s a little in a hot, humiliation-play type way, and a little in a “Oh my god I have to close my eyes and tune the audience out” way.

MasterDoc made me come. He gave a flashlight to one of the guys and so my pussy was on full display in the spotlight. I’d shut my eyes and let myself feel his hands on me, and THAT feels amazing so I just go with it. Soon, I’m coming and for me the only people there are me and him. As the orgasm subsides I crack open my eyes now and then, usually to shut them quickly.

MasterDoc made me give show with my vibe. Despite a little embarrassment I just went at it and made myself come – again with my eyes closed. I usually get myself off with some sort of clitoral vibe. I guess having my eyes closed it isn’t THAT weird for me. I usually close my eyes when we’ve a big audience.

Next he fucked me, but we knew we only had a few minutes left because the owner needed the room for something. Again, I was screaming in orgasm. This deep grunt comes out from my lower throat when I’m really in the throes. MasterDoc told me to come, but I had already started. I asked him later if he realized that, and he hadn’t. I thought the sounds I made were very different than when I’m just really turned on and wanting to come. I couldn’t hold back. Orgasm control has become a bit less important in our relationship lately. (He’s told me that if I get to the point where I just can’t help coming that it’s hot and acceptable.) I think it’s because my pussy doesn’t push his cock out like it used to. It does sometimes, but not nearly as often. (Score!)

We went to cuddle in another room. I mentioned a guy who had plopped himself down near us being cute – we had met him before and both times MD was like, “Him?” He looked a bit scruffy, but it seemed to me it’s in that “I’m a sensitive artist type guy” sort of way. Don’t know if he actually is, but that’s the look. he massaged my feet. MasterDoc leaned in and told me to play with the guy’s cock with my foot. So I started doing it through his pants. Soon, MasterDoc had granted the guy permission to rub his bare cock on my feet. I did my best to stroke his cock with both feet hanging over the edge of the bed. I’m kinda squicked by feet so it’s not hot for me, but then it wasn’t a problem for me either.

When MasterDoc went to bathroom the guy kept hitting on me, coming over and licking my toes even. When MasterDoc came back he let the guy go down on me. This guy was pretty lousy at it! I got MasterDoc to rescue me. I think perhaps that happened last time we met him there too. I hope if I see him again I remember he’s terrible at licking pussy!

MasterDoc and I cuddled for a while. I was definitely experiencing a cuddle deficiency. He was away the night before (the slut!) and we didn’t cuddle much the night before that because we had been doing a lot of cuddling and fucking over the past week. I was feeling pretty sated. (He rubbed one out not once but twice that night. As I like to tease him sometimes, “That’s pretty impressive Old Man.” The old man bit is just teasing. While he’s considerably older than me, he’s not a senior citizen (except at IHOP). But I must admit I wouldn’t expect a guy in his 50s to fuck like he does. I’m a very, very lucky woman.

We were hanging out a bit later and I heard some guy make a comment about, “She’s just some whore who hangs around here.” Hearing the “whore” comment, I figured it was about Veronica. This pissed me off. I thought, “She’s my friend, asshole. And quite frankly I don’t care if she’s earning money here. (I’ve never confirmed this, but yeah, I guess I’d be naive if I didn’t realize it.)” Anyway, she’s a sex worker, not inhuman. She’s my friend – we don’t hang out otherwise as of yet, but we’ve known her a while now from the club. So the tone of that guy’s voice irked me to no end. I’m sure he’d be all to glad to have that “whore” touch him.

Since I was happyily post-orgasmic, I sent MasterDoc off to chase women. I was content to relax and watch porn in the lounge area. I realized why women might seem like ice queen bitches at a swing club – you’re petrified to show even a polite interest because with many guys they’ll take it as actual interest. I have no trouble telling a guy, “No you can’t touch me.” but still it can be annoying. So I do my best to watch the porn and act like the single guys aren’t there.

MasterDoc was busy adding another notch in his belt of porn actresses fucked. (Alas she was a lousy lay!) Meanwhile I got hit on by cute couple. I was surprised in a way, always devaluing myself as usual. She has her hair really short like I do, and it looks great on her too. Her guy was cute and flirty but not in an oppressive way at all. Apparently they’re poly too. And she’s certainly bi. She went to use bathroom and he asked if he could make out with me. Actually, he ‘asked’ her if she’d mind if he made out with me while she was gone. She seemed a little perplexed and he clarified, “I wasn’t actually asking you I was just trying to hit on her.” (me) Rawr. We made out while she was in the restroom. She came back and sat behind him because she was feeling weirded out by the tons of single guys hovering. I don’t blame her for feeling that way. It was packed – mostly guys. We exchanged numbers and they’re certainly interested in seeing me again (and I them! Well, he wants to see me again at least.) I told them this blog address so I could even be found here.

MasterDoc came back after a long time. The couple had apparently met him once before. I’m not sure if the, “Oh you didn’t tell us your boyfriend is Doc!’ was just a surprised reaction or they were not as interested in him as me. This is a problem I’ve noticed since being in an age differential relationship. MasterDoc is an awesome guy and and awesome fuck but he is in his 50s and most of his attractiveness comes from his confidence, warm personality, and large cock. And his intelligence and his sense of humor and, well, his large cock that fucks me so well. A foursome with us and that couple would be so hot. I don’t get the sense it will happen, but a girl can fantasize.

Happy Sub

Published on August 3, 2011 in bdsm, blow jobs, caning, D/s, dom, forced orgasm, happy, horny, kink, masochism, neurosis, orgasm on command, sadism, sex, sex parties, spanking, submissive and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

So I must take a moment here to say that the rest of the weekend was better than the night of my last post. On Saturday, MasterDoc and I went on an outing to Rye Playland (an amusement park in existence since 1927) hosted by another kinkster. It was fun but I have too many back issues to make riding most rides fun or smart. I rode a few. Mostly I used it as an excuse to eat junk food. I hadn’t had cotton candy in ages, and I split a cup of Carvel ice cream with MasterDoc. (We split a wrap for lunch too.) While, granted, I indulged in not one but TWO junk foods, I was pleasantly surprised when I worked out the calorie content of the day.

I had to nap when we got home since we had been out late the previous night (when I had my meltdown). When I got up, I asked MasterDoc if we were going to the party we were invited to for that night. He decided that we would skip the party. I’m sure he didn’t want to risk a repeat of the night before, however this other party usually has guests older than I am so I don’t have young, hot things to feel intimidated by. I’m feeling better about my body, but the day after I was still fragile.

I was perfectly happy to spend the night in with MasterDoc, however. We ran into an issue that sometimes comes up – we plan to have sex but get distracted. And I have some weird issue (I’ve lost count which one this is. If I could get paid by the neurosis, I’d be set for life.) about not initiating because I don’t want to “bother” him. He’s already told me that it’s silly and he would always welcome a cuddle, at minimum. Even if I don’t get sex, I love cuddles with him and it would be worth it to speak up. I need a minimum of cuddles. While I hate going for a long time without sex with him, I’d have a much harder time without cuddles.

Kinky freaks need cuddles too!

After sorting out my issue, he bathed and I set up the bedroom. In the time I had alone I suddenly realized that if he’s my Dom, then his opinion (about my body/looks) is the only one that should matter. He was thrilled to hear me say it.

The sex from that night is a blur – hot, orgasmic, intimate. He made me come until I was exhausted. The man just keeps getting better and better.

The following night, we dressed up to the nines for a 60′s themed party. We got to the club, rang the buzzer and right then MasterDoc realized the party is next week. *facepalm* He was disappointed, but I just looked at it as an opportunity for more sex at home – which again, was hot. I’ve been getting so much sex with DeeDee away. I miss her but I’m enjoying all the MasterDoc attention while it lasts.

When I headed home from work on Tuesday, I got hopeful for even more sex. When I told MasterDoc this, he casually mentioned that he had treated himself to a little playtime with someone earlier that day – but he had planned on giving me the long overdue beating I needed. It’s cute how he never named who came over, and since he’s the Dom he can do as he chooses. I trust that he always uses condoms. My brain is curious, but I’ve let him have his little secret without trying to pry it out of him. (I don’t know that prying would be successful with him anyway.)

He had me suck his cock while he planned out the scene. I love getting his cock hard. It starts out all flaccid but before long it’s perfectly rigid. I love playing with different licks, sucks and movements to see when I can get an involuntary twitch of pleasure out of him.

Using a cane, paint stirrer and riding crop, he beat my ass something fierce. I think his technique is getting even better – this time he seemed to do a lot of lighter tapping followed by the hard strikes. He said my ass was a lovely shade of red by the end. Too bad I don’t seem to have marks for reminders the next day though. He followed up the beating with fucking me while I was still on hands and knees. (I love my Liberator Axis. I don’t know what I’d do without that to rest on so comfortably. Way better than a pillow because it’s firm.) He made me come until my brain was on another planet. I lay in place over the axis for a moment after he finished, unable to move. I eventually managed to push it to the side and collapse on the bed.

Post-coital cuddles were lovely. I positively glowed with how happy I was. Since I can be so negative when I get depressed, I’m on a mission lately to voice when I’m overjoyed with him. I think MasterDoc is awesome. Around this time four years ago we met and I’m so happy I gave this older guy a chance. He’s been the best lover I’ve ever had, an intelligent mentor I can always ask for advice, and a loving but firm Dom.

Not to mention we can be silly together and laugh so much.

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.