Cry, Baby

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave. No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn't breathe. No matter how many nights that you lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain. Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go?

I walked in the door and was slapped in the face with a cold wind. You - lightning in your eyes, thunder in your voice, and the cold wall cloud to protect your core. I saw some of the beginnings, but I didn't know it would end up like this. I wasn't there for the forecast. Storm warning: hurricane. As we start to leave, the rain began to fall in you for a moment. Still building. Me, I am rage and fury. Tighter, denser.

As days go by, the night's on fire.

Three hours to get you there. I knew not what to expect when we GOT there, other than what I knew what was in that car. A hurricane spouting and feeding a tornado. There was a tamer for you where we were headed, that was true. I was hoping, no, praying that the feeder current wasn't going to be. You needed the tamer. You needed your promised release. I needed.... something. Something to eb the controlled rage, the pinpoint area that could be destruction. Tame myself, calm it, just get us there.

'You know, if you don't get that anger off of your face, you're going to scare someone.'

'If it helps, I'll scene with you. It's probably foolish of me to offer, a sacrifice, but I think I can handle it. I know I can handle pain.' [If what you need is to hurt someone]

No matter how many deaths that I die I will never forget. No matter how many lives that I live, I will never regret. There is a fire inside of this heart and a riot about to explode into flames. Where is your God? Where is your God? Where is your God?

Do I trust myself with that statement? Am I living a lie? I rage, nowhere near as much as you in truth, but I do rage. He is only worth my rage by now. Blind fury.

But, at an aside, without that rage, regardless of everything - do I trust how I would react in a scene with you at any time? Do I KNOW how I would react? It's been a very long time and almost another emotional life for both of us. No, I suppose I don't know how I will react. That's why I emphasised a lot of negotiation. Stalling. Building myself into a new skin. Rules to be set again, better this time. If I don't give you my all in a scene because of doubt and how much I've changed... Do I really want to throw caution to the wind and give it my all again, like last time? Like the first time? That one hesitant kiss that started it all for me? I.... I really don't know. I don't know where I'd be.

A scene as a bottom to me - not just play, but a true SCENE - is something special. I don't let myself go, connect with people that often. I'm vulnerable. I'm open. The ones that scene with me see into a part of me that is really hard to relenquish. For a short time, I'm yours to manipulate. I'm yours to destroy, or build in a mould of pain or feeling. Completely yours. I am a controlled sensationist because I have an addiction to what I hide and control... to what I need at the same time as I'm addicted to numbing it. I need to feel. Ice, stingy pain, needles, a hand in my hair or on my back, stroking, caressing... That's when I can FEEL something. I let someone see me, by letting me feel. I am that. Just as I, once, avoided all physical contact with people. Just as when I chose my name, I was called the ice bitch. No feeling; exuding cold. Absolute control. Where will I be? Can I trust where I'll be? Can I trust myself? No, not really... Yes. No. I suppose I'm afraid of that most of all.

Do you really want? Do you really want me? Do you really want me dead, or alive to torture for my sins? Do you really want? Do you really want me? Do you really want me dead, or alive to live a lie?

You had spoken of getting a scene with me. Calm, rational me didn't quite believe it. Past patterns. Past truth. It was not the most logical thoughts that made me believe that you don't want to scene with me. I was trusting what I'd seen before. Spoken words, negotiations, pawned off to another scene or ignored for someone higher on the list. I wasn't what you needed. Not that I blame anyone; it was how it was. No, I lived a lie to myself. I blame myself for it all. I made you uncomforterable. I wasn't worth the ride, the storm. I wasn't what you needed. You always needed someone else, something else. I was never it. Accepted it. You couldn't deal with a woman, with me. It didn't matter now, I could see you needed someone else tonight. I may have prayed for a scene once upon a time. I may have expected something once. Now, no, I think I'll reserve it. I think I'll be safe. Safety is not hoping... not feeling. Reserve myself.

You're my sister and you need my support. You need me to get you there, to the arms of what you DO need, and to accept that it is what you need. You need me to support you, to be there. Stand strong next to you. I get it. I do. I will. I've been there for a long time, now. I accept it, no regrets. I love you, I will support you as much as I can. We're family. I don't have that raw need to play with you any more. The need to be yours. That love was changed, warped, and I've moved into something else. I am something else.

I do have a tornado building, though. I'll take what I can get tonight, from whoever I trust that is willing. I'll find someone - something. Superficial, but something. Some pain or something. Or I won't. I'm not that important right now... I'm a bodyguard. Maybe, with luck, I can destroy. The bigger storm might begin and I can take some solace in what I'm trained for. No, that wouldn't be luck. That wouldn't be wise. Better to rage inside and carve the swath in a small diameter. Bring it in, bring it in. Spin, spin, down...

"You're not helping. Let me deal with it how I need to."

Cold wind again. Yes, I needed that. Adjust and ride it out. Soon, I'll get you where you need to be. Soon. Climb the stairs, I have your back. Clutch the sword.

The promises we made were not enough. Never play the game again. The prayers that we have prayed were like a drug. Never gonna hit the fear. The secrets that we sold were never known. We had to let it go. Never giving in again, never giving in again.

He IS here. He is here. The asshole, the little manipulative... I want to take this sword..... So is your protector, your confidant. I can leave you in capable hands. The hurricane can get what she needs. Reaching land, and winding down. Good. That is all I wanted for you tonight. I... I can spawn off and destroy what little I have to before going back up to the clouds. My lungs. Kill the feelings with cloves. Yea, that'll be good.

She's here? The storm's gone for a moment... I sit with friends.

He's playing with her. He's playing with HER. What the hell is she doing? I will... I will not... I will not interviene. I will give a storm warning when she's done. She's playing with firestorms; tossing sand on the ground, thinking she'll be safe. We watch. I spin and drop, bent to destroy.

It is not my perogative. It is not my buisness. I may worry, I may sit with friends and keep out of the path. But, so help me, I will give in to destruction if he so much as... I tell another the story, your story, the pieces so she can watch out for the blaze with me.

The scene ends. She knows my storm, or has an inkling of how much I'm raging. She trusted the public to keep her safe because she needed to play rough in the flames. A new bunny, he rushes and the cross falls. A snicker from me, and the storm abates slowly. She's ok. Although it knocked at your scene, you're also ok. I will not give in. I will let the storm ebb enough to show her my new toys. Egg her on to swing - an impulse. Pain, good pain, and the storm is gone. I hang on to the suspension ring and relax for the first time this night. An honor to be her first sadistic moment with a victim. Ahh, truth, sweet truth. Let the pain continue, but not too far. I do need to save myself. I have another scene tonight?

I guess I will hope. What do I have to lose? I do know I've been here before. I know what there is. It's different now. It's not reject - just a different truth. I serve what purpose I am here to serve, no more. No less.

He's here? Good. If it comes down to it, I can give in to another kind of lightning. Crackling against my skin. Good.

Tell me, would you kill to save a life? Tell me, would you kill to prove you're right? Crash, crash, burn - let it all burn. This hurricane's chasing us all underground.

"DO you want your scene with me?"

Like that question can push an ounce of doubt in me now. I'd kill myself again, surely. Shoot my own foot off. This time, though, I know where I can go. What's acceptable. I know where you are and where I am. Where I need to be. I need to let it all go for the moments, and pull myself back again once it's over. The only promise is this once. I understand. I understand completely.

And I do trust you.

We begin.

Naked, strapped to a cross, I trust you. I need to abandon fear like I did once a long time ago. I need to trust you to help me. Break me. I handed the tool to you. A bit of glass. Everything, including how far I go, is in your hands.

I surrender myself again, in this moment. I step into the new hurricane. This one isn't rage or hurt, no, it's release. Let it all burn, all these walls and protections and comfort. These thoughts that still burn at my core, eating me alive. The wind is whipping up all of the debris, scouring. I may hate myself, I may hate what I am, but this time, I'll kill it. Let go, let go. The hurricane can chase it all away for this moment. Underground. Flood the streets. This one moment. This one promise. Let it all go, surrender. Submit.

"It's been a long time."

Yes. Yes it has.

How far will I let myself be taken? Where will I go?

To battle is the only way we feel... alive.

Sharp stings and a brush through my hair. Unexpected swat against the sensation, a staccato. Pounding, aching, I don't know how much I can take... but I stretch into it. Stretch myself. Battle the pain and the memories combined, the little voice screaming. Let myself feel the caresses. A moment becomes a thousand, as time stops all together. You give me my voice. The whimpers, the shy glances, me biting my lip. I'm shy this time with my expressive face. I've fallen into the good slave. Take it for you, for me, the line blurred a long time or a short time ago. Somewhere in those blue eyes and grins, smirks, the joy in pain shared. I really can't tell.

'You're beautiful.'

It's an enigma. Reality is an enigma. I don't believe it in my core, but... my core does believe you. I trust you. Am I? Really? No, yes, no, yes, drop. Hypnotized space. Sub space. I must be. Because I believe you. You've said I am. You continue, you want to keep at me. I must be. Am I beautiful? Drop further. Am I really worth...?

You said it again.
I am? I am.
Thank you, ma'am.

So here we are, the witching hour. The quickest tongue to divide and devour. If I could end the quest for fire, for truth, for love and my desire. Myself.

I watched most implements you picked up. Some of them, anyway. This time, though, you reach for glass.... you reached for glass?!? Small panic, fear, the voice starts back up... no, I do NOT do this, I can not...

I trust you. Drop again. Submit to it. Desire, because it's what I want. It's who I am. An exhibitionist forced... repressed... someday to be free. I trust you to take the steps to let me taste what freedom is.

And I explode. That's the quickest I ever have. The hurricane is inside, broken windows - ravaging, moaning, whipping up the tempest to scour away the flagstones. Louder? I don't know how I can, but I do. Somehow. A bit. The shame of it, of me... To begin anew by tearing apart. Three times and I hit the eye of the storm. Absolute calm, absolute acceptance. I am beautiful and I am worth playing with. I'm worth the show. I'm worth my submission. I'm beautiful? I'm gone.

With no warning, the rain begins to fall from my eyes. The other side, the wall breaks over me.

And I fell apart, but got back up again.

I have no idea what... why am I sobbing? I'm broken and confused. My walls, my strength... I do not cry. I do not sob uncontrollably. Someone may have found a trigger reciently, but I gained control of that trigger. Quickly. I don't cry in public. Not here. NOT...

But this time, I weep. In shock - I have no idea how. Fear for a moment, because I can be SEEN. Without those bonds, I would have dropped. You bring me down from the cross, into your lap and I continue to pour it all out. Is it pain leaving me? I don't know, I don't... I'm so confused, bewildered... A hand on my back. You're still here. I trust you... time to let it all go. I have no idea what it is, but it's past time. Just immerse myself in it. Let the rain fall for once.

A voice in my head speaks once. Just once. I've calmed down a little bit, but it speaks. 'You should be ashamed - it's shameful to do that in public. To want THAT.' A clock of debris to the head - It's not going to let me go! In a moment, I realize it wasn't HIS voice this time. It wasn't.... that voice was me. Masculine me, sure, my "strength." But this time it's coming from ME. I trust you enough that I can ignore that voice of me.

Ride it out. Ride the storm. Keep releasing everything. Don't let that voice keep me from being alive - from FEELING. I'm so raw, and yet... still confused. Stunned. Quit questioning and submit to the rain. I was called stoic, but it was all a cover for who I am. Now I'm raw. You've let a piece of the world see... me.

I gain control enough to slow down. Stop. Pull myself back up to when and where I am. The storm's over. The streets are clear, bare. That wall, though, it's time to rebuild. Apologise, because I did not expect to let walls down like THAT. Ever. I did not expect that sand wall, then the brick and stone, to collapse and flood the streets and into my home core. But, through that... all of that...

You're still there. You're still? You're still there.

My sister is still here. She held me. Safe.

Time to stand up. Go back to life. Go back on home, put that face back on. Come on back....

~30 Seconds to Mars - Hurricane, Alibi

A Lesson in Time

WARNING - a fucking novel and a novel fucking

Thank you to the people that did this to me. You know who you are. I still can't believe that I did what I did - and held out that long.

4:50 pm

Spread-eagled, spread out: spread open in all senses. I let you two tie me to the bed with the red rope like errant children 'playing' with the babysitter in an alternate, sensory world. Clover clamps stretch already sore and bruised nipples from a scene a few days ago; the chain acts as a gag to a mouthy, squirming girl. She's been tickling me, but he thinks it's time to stop the bouncing... a bit of string over the headboard, a few weights, and a chain later and bouncing is out of the question.

I hear the distinctive buzz. There's two of them. Hitachis. One mini, one regular sized.

"She should be home from work soon... I bet she'd LOVE to walk in on this little number. Think we can string her out until then?"

"Wait... you mean I have to wait to cum until she comes home?"

"You're done after one?"

"No.... I'm multi.... but I thought that's what you meant?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. You're not going to cum until she gets home. Should be at 5:15 or so."

5 pm

An explosion of sensations. More weights, more touches, more caresses, more tickling. More. Just... more. The large hitachi is a wave, the small one an explosion of feeling. She's working on the waves now and I'm fighting. Fighting to stay here... it's not that much longer.

Except he's bringing the small hitachi and tangling it into the cord tension. The clamps are on a spasming rhythm that I'm not allowed to have.

5:05pm

He brought in an ice tray. A short reprieve for a struggling girl; the ice is a familiar sting amplified by time and the summer heat. She joins him in creating an ice ecstasy away from the vibrations.

He takes off one of the clamps and I'm in absolute agony. No, please, no, don't put that back on! Please!

"So, are you going to hold all that weight on one nipple?"

Nope. That's what my mouth is for.

5:10

She'll be home soon. Really soon. They've ramped it up; both clamps may be gone, but that freed up the small hitachi. She's doing her damnedest to insert the large hitachi inside of me. So tight, it's painful. I can't... move, I can't..... The ice in his hands steals my breath away.

5:20

She's... not back. Not yet. The large hitachi didn't fit, so they've brought the ice down to bounce above the hitachis vibrating on my entrance, above my clit. I really have no idea who is where now. Eyes wide shut to the overload. I....

I.... will.... not.....

I will not cum. I will fight this.

He brings out the punch and regular daggers.

5:30

A break; a reprieve. I had to beg for them to stop for a short time because theyalmost broke me. She checks her phone; there's a message.

"I thought you guys knew I got out of work at 5:30? I'll be home soon."

Oh, fuck. Fuck you all and the horses you rode in on. May you be damned. Or myself for forgetting when she gets home. Or someone. Or something. I really can't remember anything about now but the fight.

5:35

She's mastered the fingering technique by now for me and I'm having one hell of a time not succumbing. They both gang up on my breasts, but she uses teeth. Fuck, ouch, goddamn.... wait a minute. Pain. Use the pain to your advantage to forget what's going on between your legs.

"May I please have pain?"

"Oh, I have an idea. Do you want to be a zebra? I can give the insides of your thighs stripes and make you squirm"

Anything to keep me from orgasms. Anything. Bring on that fucking cane made from the window shade adjuster. She's going to keep working that little hitachi, the little fucker. That goddamn little pinpointed fucker.

5:45

The stripes are even too much for me by now. Warmed up, no place to go but into pain, and I can only take one good snap across the inside of both of my thighs.

And still the buzzing goes on. This time, she's inserted the smaller one into me.

5:55

They've figured out my secret. I HAVE to work harder than ever now. They know that insertion and laughing is torture because it hits just the right spot in a rhythm. Leaving a vibrating /thing/ in me doesn't do much - but the motion of deep to shallow and back again? She'd better open that thrice cursed door soon. So help me.

They found the second large hitachi? Three in a row on up and I'm fighting the bonds. I'm crunched up as much as I can. I'm pulling and pulling and...

I have to... I have to beg once more for a break. A short reprieve. Something. Pain? I'll take the tubing paddle of evil under my breasts. On my thighs. Yes, anything to keep me here and sane. Soon, help me, soon.

6:00

She walks into the door. I swear, I've been holding back so long that I don't know if I can let anything come forth. My fear, my deepest worry right now is if I ask her and I'm not allowed anything. If I have to wait even longer. Or can't if she says 'yes' and I disappoint.

But, this time, they attack with vigor that means business. This time I don't have to ask for a break. I don't have to hold the worst of everything in.

I can escape. I can let everything... everything go. My body shyness and sensitivity that sometimes I'm not the body that I feel like I should be. I can let go of the past and some hurt, some damage. I can be a bit reckless this time. I can orgasm in front of three people. ON CUE. Hot damn.

She says to let go, and I do.

She says to hold on, and I stop one in the middle of attempting to peak. Just in time. I wait for her command. I wait. I beg. I plead. I groan and squirm; pump my hips and ask for the hitachi deeper.

She tells me when to make them hard and good or when to let them come small and in a row. A few that roll I can't help. I beg harder the next time.

6:20

15 orgasms later under their count and I'm a mass on the bed.

I think I might have learned something... if I can conceive to think at all. Timeliness? I might have to spend more attention on it in the future. There's no telling what important things some people are waiting on you for.

Game? On.

Saturday night was holy. Sacred. Poker night with the boys could not be missed for any excuse; not only were you not invited back, but you were excluded from the club forever more. The game was serious business.

I couldn't believe I was invited this week as one of the men.

Donning a pinstripe suit and fedora, cigar in hand, packing and ready, it was time to play. Ace high to start the pool; wasn't a terrible hand, but I wanted to test the waters and judge the other four men around the table. Aha, there. As I lose my money, I notice Mr. Purple Tie to my right has a nervous tick to his mouth, Left side. Fantastic.

Time to lay down the bets. I have a pair of twos so far. Let's go... wait a minute. Is that a ring gag in the center of the table? Interesting.

"Ok, gents. You know the rules. No more monetary bets."

The serving girl has a nervous smile while she nods, four hungry looks in her direction and a quizzical one. Well then.

The dark green shirt wins that hand and takes up the ring gag with impetus. Grabbing her wrist and looking forcefully into her eyes he commands attention. "I suggest you strip." Cold, calculating. She trembles as she does so, his hand on her shoulder. Once unclothed, he grabs her neck in a choke with one hand and works the bit into her mouth with the other. He looks over his shoulder once the gag is in place and she is subdued. "Mike, you were a disgrace last week. You let her fight you. You obviously need more practice."

We worked through hands including cuffs, spreader bars, rope... until we got to an egg device with a remote control. I won the hand with three of a kind kings. I could see a bit of interest around the table as to how I would get on, considering my less than commanding disposition. Very well, then.

I stand, cigar in hand, and take a hit before moving to the trussed up woman on the floor. I regard her for a moment, relishing her fear at an unknown person touching her in such an intimate place. With a smirk, I drop ash across her chest. Ah, now there's that cute little tremble; a rabbit getting stared down. Kneeling, a finger is all I need to test the waters. She's almost ready.... I get a gasp as I bring my finger up and across her clit before smearing it across her knee. No emotion but a cruel smile. "Gents, I do believe you need to train them better as well." I work the egg into the ring gag just enough to moisten it on both sides before insertion. I turn back to the table and hear a slight moan; I had turned on and off the remote in quick succession on the way back to my seat. I get a nod from Mr. Dark Green Shirt before we pick up the remaining hands. The remote hits the center bid several times; we all were searching for control and we won several times.

"Last hand, gents" came the final call.

A condom hit the center of the table.

That which yields

Sometimes that sharp sting brings me home.

Once upon a time, there was a girl that could not cry. Not anatomically, no, she was fully capable. It was in her mind; that seed planted by decades of conditioning that to be weak was unacceptable. Pride was in a stoic facade and grace. She learned, in that point, that to be weak brought pain. Weakness was pain. To show pain was weakness.

But it's funny how time and wisdom can warp even the most devout things.

Once upon a time, she ran. Not because she enjoyed the physical exertion or the camaraderie, although there was some amount of it involved. No, it began as a command and evolved into the endurance. The pain held onto a body not meant or built for the seven plus mile haul she forced upon it. She found the fog there - the moments when the mind doesn't recognize anything because the body over reached what it think it can do. She found the sting of muscles there. She learned how to endure broken bones and sprains to keep going; to overcome pain and weakness. By dropping into a fog, she didn't have to feel the pain. She didn't have to be weak. She didn't have to be.

Even then, the fog warped and took over. She lost a lot to it, and over the years she had lost even the memory of how cleansing pain was. It was then that she became truly weak.

As things have a tenancy to, everything comes full circle. In the land of whips and chains, where weakness is not really weakness but a given gift and a strength of itself, she found the sting of memory, time, and emotions. The sharp crack of rejection and the ache of want. It erodes away at the blank control of everything. It reminds her that she is, indeed, human. That she does, indeed, feel something sometimes. Instead of a firm grasp and a tight hand, she sometimes has no control over how she will face the unknown sensations, or people, or events. That in order to feel, she needs to yield. But to yield, she is not weak.

Every time I feel the sharp crack against my skin, I'm reminded that I am home. home is where the pain is...

and the joy. The ache and the want. The desire. Sometimes, even sometimes, in the feeling. And for that, I think, I'm no longer weak.

Mardi Gras on St. Patties Day

There was one heck of a party this past weekend.

Almost 120 people were on the registration lists (although is was just over a hundred that came... I think), and we had the resort building to ourselves. That meant the rooms upstairs were for those that paid in advance for them (not I, that would have been way too much), and downstairs there were two full meeting halls dedicated to kink pleasure, food, and vending. This was going to be the biggest bash in the state... =)

Negotiations were set - all that was let was for me to get my happy behind up there.

The biggest issue was working in picking up a few surprises I had planned for various friends and playmates, picking up raffle prizes, and getting vanilla work out of the way enough to  not feel terrible if I had to crash the next day. By the time I had made it in, the food was already at full spread, the DM meeting already over (a-whoops - Yea, I had a later shift), and I was left parking at the end of a driveway to lug my crap and all the crap I had brought for everyone else up to the main event. Thank Heavens for Master E, who noticed my very recognizable car and wandered down to relieve me of some of the burden. He was especially enthused by the sword I had brought in - which I really can't blame him.

By the time I had gotten everything in, I had given hellos and hugs to just about everyone there but a few key people. One Dom was already hooking up the suspension rig, several people were strewn about the place, and I had gotten cornered for not having a sheathe for the friggin' sword. Grawr, that was mighty inconvenient, but by keeping it in the bag, that was no big deal. I went off to find myself some of the awesome Cajun cookin' and deliver my first of the night's surprises. =)

First was a niobium bracelet to Ana - it was her birthday bash that last week and I had forgotten it at home.

Next was... a more interesting proposal. You see, the sub that was having so much fun with me at the birthday bash - we had made arrangements and negotiations for a repeat of the scene with a few more edgier ( for me) modifications. In order for me to be able to fulfill my part of the bargain, I knew that I would have to be worked up in advance. I'm an exhibitionist and a self-sadist... and a mischievous bastard. She had said, as a part of he negotiations, that she wanted to take control of me and my pleasure. I didn't know if I'd be able to handle the whole proposition, but I had played pass the remote before... so I jumped in the deep end this time too. After a hug and a grin from her, I mentioned I had a surprise for her.

*questioning look and grin* "It's not an orgasm is it"
*wince* "Not quite. You wanted to be in control, right?"
"......?"
"Here!"
".......? What's that to?"
"Let's just say it's currently a remote to me."

I handed her the wireless remote to an insert-able vibrator. Now, before we get all squick!-ish, no, it wasn't going to give her that orgasm that she was looking for. I might have a thing for exhibition, but with all of the social anxiety, I'm more likely get struck by lightning than to hand over a controller like that at a party so huge. Instead, this little beau would remind me that there is someone there with the control - and that those vibrations would remind me that someone's thinking of using me. Insta-horny!

Unfortunately, she didn't figure out how to use it until halfway through dinner - which she had left it on and I couldn't focus very well on food. The couple across from me was starting to wonder why I was spending so much concentration on 'saying grace' as they put it later. XD

Finally we worked out our issues (so to speak), I got to eat, and then change into my costume for the evening.

This would be where I acquire a stalker. Lucky me? Actually, it was lucky for me - she got to learn how to lace up a corset and I didn't have to do it myself. 

After a bit of teasing, a touch of torture and torment, and my remote operator deciding to wander on over and put me through my paces (and a kiss), I finally ended up fully in-costume and ready to go!

To puppy education. My family has St. Bernards, and I helped train them basic commands. Human puppies are quite a bit more feisty, although sometimes you get a good puppy that only wants to please master. We had two pups this training round, both of opposite personalities. Even with pup treats (peanut butter cookies in dog bone shape), it took our male pup a bit to get his bearings and quit acting up. For me as a 'trainer' and 'instructor', it was enlightening. I'm not really a top, although I can, have done it, and enjoy it in some cases (Mmmmmm knife top). For pup training, I think I need more confidence and some more experience with pups playing before I offer obedience training again.

Next scene of mine was my FAVORITE of the night. A master around here does amazing needle work and I've been trying to get pierced again since my first encounter in July (someone else's account of it... XD) and this master does artistic needle play. I HAD to jump all over that - so I did. I've always wanted wings. 

27  18 ga needles later, I had wings.

I remember the first few needles she set being uncomfortable, to the point of "OMG, I don't know if I can handle all of them!" After those, I started to wander off into needle-space and life was fan-flippin'-tastic. =)  I remember hearing the people around me talking, I remember Bri and her Master getting up to scene from watching me get poked, and I remember the sub with my remote being the good DM and checking up on me even though she was really squicked. After what seemed like not that much time to me (although what probably was quite a while), I even remember her and her Dom hopping on a cross and having one hell of a flogging scene. Me? I was flying.

After the main wings were set, she asked if there was anything else in her kit I would like to adorn myself with. I was so far gone, I would have said 'sure' to having more needles. She placed a really pretty butterfly on my chest in 22 ga... so I ended up wandering around for a few hours with 28 needles. I'm proud to have stretched myself that far, and I am eager to try more and more challenging designs in the future.

Once the wings were set and I got my bearings, I got jumped by a friend who had suddenly acquired my remote from the control operator. Lucky me? I think I jumped about a foot when it turned on without the original sub around and I know someone got glared at. =P

First on the agenda once I wasn't wobbly from the needles combined with the remote was a 'topless walkaround' with a young switch who is very attractive but uncomfy with her body (hence the walkaround - natural walking tour of the space to ease her into being comfy). Then I ganged up on another friend that was experiencing needle play for the first time (chest pokage!) with her master to show her the ropes of what feels REALLY good. Her master's a sweetheart that means well, but he kind of forgot that I had needles in my back and grabbed my shoulder. *whimper*  Play with her broke up about then while I went to check on the wings and make sure I didn't tear anything.

Then those amazing friends of mine? Bri, her master, and a few others? Sat me down backwards in a chair and performed an 'experiment' with ice and the feathers. I admit, that experiment had excellent results that would probably be repeatable. *LOL*

It wasn't long after that I had to get the needles removed - the Whee! was turning into Oww! Taking them out is just as spacey as putting them in. =) Apparently the master had hit a vein on the way in that was plugged until we released the pressure because one of them started to REALLY bleed. The remote control operator? I felt sooo sorry for that gal when I had to warn her that there was blood all down my back. The look on her face once she realized I was talking about me when I warned her mid-hug. =/

Unfortunately, I had to turn down a few offers of play after that because of the wounds - like a knifeplay scene and electrical play. The scene I was anticipating with the couple didn't happen either because of how heavy their flogging scene went and how tired the two of them were afterward. Honestly, it was better that they admit defeat and go to bed than string me along and then only half-ass it. I'm going to try to make that scene the best I can do for them dammit... and I'm hoping that they're thinking the same thing.

Perhaps a rain-check for this weekend. Muhahahahahahaha!

Connections, Freakout, and DROP

I'm still spinning from the party aftermath.

Seriously, could I possibly get any more confused? Really?

Sunday, after I finally got my lazy self out of bed (which I had found myself in at 5 am after the shin-dig), I was on cloud nine all day. Beautiful skies, relaxed, and just hung out with very little to care about. =D Sunday night, though, was a nightmare.

Literally. Actually, not much of a nightmare on the scale of mischief and mayhem that nightmares can be - in fact it probably would be a really good dream for most of my kinky friends. There's a party coming up this weekend and one of my usual rope partners asked if he could tie me to the Sybian. If you know what a Sybian is, you understand why most kinky women would be THRILLED at the chance. Me... not so much. A Sybian is a box/sex toy/machine specifically designed to make women cum. As the folk lore goes, the guy made it for a frigid wife that never had an orgasm before, so it pulls out ALL the stops. Don't get me wrong, I love an orgasm just as much as the next kinkster. Public, while no chance of escape, in front of EVERYONE, though.... and under control of men... no. NO. FUCK no.

The dream itself was just that - and I was turned on for most of it, until I started to understand what was happening. Then came the panic attack that woke me the rest of the way up and lasted for an hour and a half. It took five hours to calm down to a 'normal' state... and then subdrop took over.

So, yesterday during all of the fear oriented AHHHH!, I posted a mini-version of my history on the favorite kink-friendly place. Thank you, everyone, who responded so positively. I was scared out of my mind from the panic attack and from what could happen at an event. Panic, to me, means either duck and run or fight free. As you can imagine, in a public play party - either of those is not recommended. As I said over there, "I scared myself enough to remember that it's NOT fair for those of you that want to play with a broken doll to not know how she's broken and how much damage she's capable of if something goes wrong. I do my damnedest to make sure of it, but... sometimes even I can't stop myself in time. This upcoming event might just be one hell of a fight."

As far as today and the subdrop - I have to admit not having experience with subdrop before. Normally my play is pretty superficial - a friend of mine brings out rope, ice, or some device. I enjoy the sensations - sometimes space out a bit in bliss, thank them, and away we go on our separate ways. This time, though, it went much further than that. I fell fucking HARD. As in, if I didn't have some of the walls up that I do, she could have done just about anything at all and I'd have taken it with a grin and a 'may I have another?' Perhaps faceplanted is more like it. I REALLY want another scene with those two, but now I'm more afraid (wary?) of the direction my head's going. I mean, it's all nice and dandy to get connected to someone - but if they're taken (although poly, although taken and happily), I do NOT want to get in over my head and end up worse off. Incel is bad enough, it doesn't need to be confounded by drop and emotional shit-piles.

And then I end up waking up this morning from ANOTHER dream (wtf subconscious, seriously?) where I'm cuddling up to those two in-sleep - all peaceful and happy. Then wake up alone at home. Insert frustration here.

It is looking like they are interested in a repeat performance of Saturday's scene - so maybe the party coming up won't be too bad? *crosses fingers*

Have a kink-tacular birthday!

It all started with an innocent little birthday bash. Ok, maybe not to innocent. Nor little. But it was a birthday bash to remember!

Kitty and I joined noggins for the planning stages (kinda, as it was overtaken by another birthday girl - I didn't really mind), and as such we showed up about an hour and 30 min before the party was to have taken place. There really wasn't much to do, to my surprise, except sit around and talk to the friends that willingly let us use their home. (which I tackle glomp them, ftw). About a half an hour before the bash, I excuse myself, slip into something a little less comfortable (the costume I had spoken of? Yea... I got it done), and walk out of the bathroom.....

Into just about getting jumped by everyone there. I had a LONG string of complements that evening about the outfit and the body under it that I am still trying to process. Needless to say, I'll be going to Mardi Gras in close to the same little number. =)

I DID end up getting jumped by one of my typical rope partners, who proceeded to tie me to an available box. ;)

Then the party started heating up.. in a good way! Angel and her Master got there - which I proceeded to glomp them the moment I was untied. I haven't seen them in FOREVER - mostly to their bad luck with illnesses and my horrible grading load when teaching. It was awesome to see them again, and I don't think I can thank them enough for making (our) birthday bash more memorable with their presence. =D (Did I mention that we love you?)

Other memorable items from the evening, in no real order 'cause I kind of lost track of when everything went on....

Angel's first suspension (of which I wish I got to see/respond more to because I was helping out a kinkster get the feeling back in her fingers after a bad rope job). Good heaven, I would be the happiest voyeur in the world if I got to see that beautiful lady 'in action' more often.

The tit-tacular zipper! Four of us gals ended up in a LONG zipper. For me, it wasn't that bad for clothespin placement... probably because I have really stiff tits and not much additional skin. I was also on the end that got done last, while another birthday girl was on the excruciating end of being clamped up first.... and then there was a countdown...  ZZZIIII.... to the halfway point and catch. Damn I felt sorry for those girls - they were the ones that really felt it. Finally, IIIIIIPPPPPPPP!  The clothespin on my nipple? Yea, buddy! The rest of them? Didn't really feel a thing. Everyone else, though, was groaning in agony, so I'm assuming I have tits of steel or something.

Nipple Wrestling - I kind of got yanked into this one. The guys were sitting around thinking of ideas when, somehow, they came up with a brilliant idea for a 'full contact' sport. The girls are (at least) topless and sent into the ring. The goal is to grab the nipple of the opponent without being grabbed in return. No biting, no hurting the opponent other than nipple tweaking. Three points, and the girl wins. I ended up in the 'ring' with a loverly gal who was undefeated by that point. I'm a martial artist, to some extent... I've been belted and enjoy a good grapple or two. The problem was, with no mats, there was NO way to do traditional takedowns or anything like that. It was also problematic that I usually don't find myself defending my knockers! Even though I got an 'oh, shit' from her and the audience when we began and I hit an open handed front-stance... even though it took a LONG while for her to score a hit... she prevailed, 3-1. I really need to get back into athletic shape - if nothing else but for nipple wrestling! *giggle*

A little bit of wax - Although there was a HUGE wax scene planned, several people ended up in so many directions that it ended up not happening in the original planned super-suspension-wax-orgy! Instead, because we had more than five pounds of wax melted/working up to being melted, I asked to have a first wax scene since it was already up and going. Oh, my! I was suspended face-down next to a half suspension and another beautiful gal laid out on the floor. I think we had four Doms painting wax all over us, but I'm not quite sure. Considering I was spacey with suspension at the time? I did realize that I'm meh about heat compared to cold... but I'm sure I can work my way into enjoying the heat-pain if given more opportunity.

One HOT ice scene - a gorgeous young lady, attached to one of the Doms around here that couldn't take his eyes off of me all evening (pfft!) decided it was a good idea to mention that my reaction to ice was something that she had a fantasy about. Lucky for her, I'm a service type person (like it was THAT hard? Please!), so I asked her Dom to tie me up and away we went! My reaction to ice is... hm... kind of a drop into sub-space mixed with sexual arousal. Both of their hands, teeth, the ice - I was floating on cloud nine for what could have been hours and I wouldn't have known the difference. I remember being petted, teased, nipped at, wanting 'release' for the sexual tension, cuddled, and flying as high as a kite. I wanted to stay tied to that position forever, stay cuddled with my face into her chest forever, stay there and not have another thing hurt me again unless there was pleasure involved. I don't think I'd ever been that 'connected' with a playmate in that type of a setting. I was safe. (not to say some casual play wasn't safe in other instances - there was just that... feeling, you know?  I hope we can do that one again someday - because it made EVERYTHING a better place. =D

Black, tight, and oh, so fun

So, after all the attention to wardrobe, hectic mental functioning and frantic prep work for everything in the world... (and a $700 hospital bill from the stair incident)...

I have a corset! Based on suggestions from a few people over on our favorite fetish friendly website, I wandered my happy behind over to Timeless Trends and picked out a corset to attempt to re-train on waist curvature. Unfortunately I may have picked out a size too big because it's a touch big around the rib area (although I did attempt to lace in myself - which might be a big factor) but I can reduce my waist by about 4" with the style I ended up with. I have 45 days to figure out if it's the right size - so if anyone wants to poke, prod, and generally annoy me at the birthday bash, I'm hoping to wear it with the hobble skirt then. If I can find the time to actually sew the skirt. And find a cinching garter belt, 'cause the corset doesn't quite cinch the rest of the area that I'd need beaten into shape. Hm.

Anywho! Picture!

Now, the one I WANT eventually... if I can afford it... is an overbust in a rust-brown. Someday! Maybe when I'm not a student that can only afford ramen noodles now that I get to pay off the medical people. Hm.

An old corset and a few words

I recently found an old photo from my undergrad days.

I'm standing in front of a white multi-pane door with black accents. I'm in a (plastic boned) corset, black with white flower designs, with my hair down and noir style makeup. I have a mysterious grin on my face - really, I don't remember why. I do remember it was just before heading out to goth night at my old stomping grounds and I had a good friend of mine take the photo.

So, I put it up on the *insert fetish website here* just for kicks. I have more images of chainmaille up there than anything else, and I figure most people are probably getting annoyed with me publicizing my side business. The only real flattering photo of myself I have up is from 2008 - the one of me in the dress and snow. Huzzah. I was also lusting for a real steel boned corset, so I figured I had to make my case that I like corsetry. Or something.

I got a huge and unexpected reaction from a ton of people in the local scene. As in, I was absolutely floored.

Most everyone put up the usual "damn, you look hot." Ok, that's a usual complement for pictures that people are just seeing where there is some sexual appeal. Fetish people and corsets - they go together like a turtle and water. Two responses really got me, though, because they had something deeper to say.

One, unnamed for general reasons, said something along the lines of (paraphrasing) With that shy and sexy smile, I wish we saw more of this side of you.

*blink*

O....k.....
I think I'm letting this out a bit, but I guess not?

The other said (paraphrasing, from a male source) - I don't really see you as a sexual type person until I saw this, but now I can objectify you in a good way.

*mini internal freakout*

That's when the knife decided to anchor itself somewhere in the rib/lung area and I had to flee from the site for a while. Why? Well, it's difficult really to pin down. I guess it's because I AM  a sexual person times ten bagillion and one. My libido (and attitude on sex in general) is like a 15-16 year old boy in a strip club.... which is why I keep it shoved in under a rock somewhere on the west coast.

I'm NOT a good person. I can't be trusted to keep my damn hands to myself, and I most certainly can't be trusted to keep in the acceptable limits spectrum. That 15-16 year old boy? He's been in the weight room and is more than willing to overcome the next beautiful woman that passes by. I fight, struggle, coerce, and generally beat the crap out of that part of me so it stays in relative submission and I can function like a 'normal' human during the day - but sometimes bits and pieces come flying on out at unexpected moments. So, after a few scares and a lot of self-loathing coming from the 'normal' person in here, I linked the sexual to the perverse. Not that it's a BAD thing to be perverse... it's just the extreme part of myself that I loathe to see loose control in ME.

It doesn't help that the 'sexy' in me is fleeting at best under the strain and pressure I hold myself to in order to not let anything 'unacceptable' show. Toss in the geek, throw in a 'fuck off' written on my forehead when I'm uncomfortable with myself and my thoughts... it's no wonder I'm still on the singles market.

But my submission, with someone else in control, I don't have to worry about that other personality... for some reason it disappears and I can relax. I rarely have to beat a tiger back with a stick when I'm being beaten, or iced, or *insert favorite torture here* ~ although I make sure to negotiate no sex.

Dammit, I rambled on again.

Anyway, if they want to see the relaxed sexiness? They can either wait until I get a better tiger cage or they can let me get it out with some activity that I can control. Dancing (as in stripping), I can control myself. Normal interactions - I haven't even tried out of fear.

This birthday party, after these requests, is going to be like throwing the rest of my head to the sharks. I'm just hoping for no panic attacks to sneak up from my past...

Slave Chains, Birthday Parties, and Hobble skirts - Oh my!

With a name like that, I'd better come up with something REALLY interesting to write about, huh.

Still here?

Well then. Hate to disappoint you, but all of these things have nothing to do with each other. My, that would make one hell of a fun story though, wouldn't it? Heh!

Anyway... Point one - Slave Chains!

A local group puts on a Mardi Gras Party every year - or so I hear. They've asked me to come up with a donation for a raffle, since I'm the local chainmaille nut and can maille something random in my sleep. Ok, then, but there's another mailler that's working her way up the jewelry market faster than I can blink - and I know she's looking at making something fabulous. Damn these pupils overcoming their masters! *fist wave* So, I'm open to opinions.... my first thought when I saw the outcome of the picture below was that - in Titanium - it would make bitchin' slave chain.

Jens Pind in micro

Yes, I intend to make it the same size. Yes, that is a real life penny in the center. Hence me wanting to make it from Titanium. Now, what I have envisioned is this: two anklets (lockable?), with a chain connector that can act as a hobble (only so long for the stride).

Part Dos - Birthday Parties!

At the game night I mentioned earlier (the one where I tried my damnedest to break my foot...), Ana had this wonderfully complex idea. You see, her 21st B-day is coming up [HUZZAH!!!!!!], and she wants a kinky bash along with the usual festivities. My b-day's not too far behind (25, whut?!?), and I'll be in a conference several states away, so why not a double?  I sat there coming up with ways to make this happen - which included a usual stomping ground for a local group. As long as we had the space and the people, we'd be ok, right? Yea, we ended up without the space. *headdesk*

All of the sudden, the complex part reminded me how much of a mental case I can be for taking on such things with enthusiasm. I ended up occupado for a few days with grading papers for my students (that I'm still not done with... heh.) and Ana heard of this and was frantic, which is understandable. The prospective community responded with gusto (I thank EVERYONE who offered up places/homes - again, I'm amazed at how awesome you people are =3), but that left us with a bit of a problem....

The only places that could handle the number of people that would show up are rather sizable rooms/locations. We have one that fits the bill (again - I LOVE Spider and Cross for mentioning their place! *MUAH!*), but the drama llama had to rear it's head because some people that we wouldn't mind inviting are on the THOU SHALT NOT list due to past personal issues. This wouldn't bother me too much (morality, what?) if she hadn't offered up HER place to host as well - which would have the same conditions.

*ball-punts the drama llama*

If in this sort of situation, is it acceptable to have a public lunch the day of, then a private kink party later? I don't want anyone to think we're choosing sides - 'cause I for one am NOT. I didn't even know there was a problem with these groups until really recently. I know that I just want to save myself from the crossfire (and Ana if I can help it) if there is any. So.... yea. Trouble? Sure? Thank you, Sir, may I have another?

Part Trox - Hobble Skirts

A few months ago (I'm not really sure when...) I noticed Pet had a deviantart account on his links. Thinking it was HIS, I wandered on over. Nope, it's not his, but a fantastic artist named Lord Dragon Master. He/She/It? Meh... They are a fantastic comic artist that draws a manga that I'll be reviewing shortly because... well... it's that awesome. BUT - while I'm waiting for LDM to hand me over a linkable button with a bit of his art on it for you to click on and wander over that way, he drew up a character in a costume that I absolutely LOVE (psssst - click me for the link). As in, I want it. I lust for it. And I want it to wear for the birthday party, dammit.

The best part is, I have a pair of black pants that are starting to wear really bad in the crotch region (yea, I have gams). I noticed they have a hole or two and I can't wear them as pants anymore. Lightbulb - on! Now I need to find someone with a sewing machine............... Oh, and I need to find a decently priced  steel boned corset. 'cause I also am 5'6", 230 lbs, and don't look like this anymore -

High School Self-Portrait. 165 lbs, Senior Year

 A play party, this past year - current body shape.

Also, the pants that will be altered.

230lbs

 Self Portrait, same dress as HS.

Junior year undergrad - and tightlacing.

225 lbs?

So, yea.... it'll be interesting. BUT I WILL DO IT! (I hope?)