Baroque Sandpaper

Twas a quiet, processing sort of weekend. Not enough WinterFire unpacking. Friday night at home I felt a little raw and bruised from the week, working through drop is never fun, and while I was fortunate the drop was mild, and I had the lift from collaring boy m, by Friday night I felt sandpapered. Sandpapered to the point that I found Myself looking at My fleece onesie with interest. 

So I put on Princess’ blue budgie onesie, and two pairs of thick wool socks. I continue to be surprised at the emotional heft of having warm feet. How did I never really notice that before? I hung out around the house feeling snuggly, and in time climbed into My delightful buttery soft flannel sheets from boy m last year.  I spent most of Saturday in bed. Sleep, orgasm. Repeat. I think it was seven orgasms by time I got up in the afternoon. It was awesome. So satisfying.

Then it was up and figured out how to shower properly without a shower working in the house. That turned out to be six different steps of washing involving four different pieces of porcelain. The crossdresser I played with at WF had very kindly offered Me some tickets he could not use. So I dabbled in dressing up a bit and used My nice skin care products, never found the makeup (curses, foiled again) but applied some tinted lip gloss. I arranged with a kink girlfriend and we converged at a small house concert of Spanish baroque harpsichord music with accompanying readings, both Spanish and English, with a very well done printed program I still couldn’t manage to follow. We perched on better quality folding chairs in someone’s living room, where I had staked us out with a view of the musician’s hands.  

The reading performer has a small occasional part on a well known TV show, and was seated at our dinner table of 9, so there was more star fuckery than I enjoy. The dude himself was OK and showed signs of being interesting, but the pretentious suck up sitting between us was a pain and dragged the conversation in the most eyeball-glazingly tedious directions. Still, the music was delightful and I have realized that while I am exhausted to death of the Baroque music I know, I love this Spanish stuff. I want both to hear more and learn to play some. I remember I have long wished for a harpsichord, but let us not get carried away.

At one point, a guest at our table proposed a parlor game, we were all to name the book that has had the greatest influence on us. This of course elicited more pretentious displays of erudition. I was second to answer and didn’t care what these people might think so I told the truth: the Anne Rice Sleeping Beauty trilogy. It was not playing the game correctly but it grabbed actor guy’s attention. I definitely saw a flash of recognition and surprise, quickly wallpapered over. 

I gave heels a try last night, they are seldom worn, and I felt it was time to give the back another go at it. I was in pain already on the way home, and awoke quite afflicted today. 

It was a stark contrast with Saturday’s lying in bed. Today was too much pain for orgasms. I got very little done, but managed to get food and hydration sorted, did some but not enough stretching and only of the most passive sort involving lying on a narrow yoga bolster to open the chest and take some of the pull off the neck.  I blessedly found a dose of tylenol after what seemed an endless hunt. Was it the long night on uncomfortable chairs, the heels? The low grade sinus infection? The drop? Con crud? Fighting a bug? I don’t know. Late in the day, I now suspect the asthma has gotten away from Me again, and perhaps some form of PMS is in the mix, but who can tell? A friend suggested I take a percoset and that was a damned attractive idea. Exactly why I don’t keep that shit around.  Because on the rare occasions I have ever been prescribed it, I have always had a moment of: oh yeah. This is why opium dens and opium wars. Woooooow. This shit is gooooood. I wanna feel like this aaaaaaaallll the time. Hmmmm. Zzzzzz.

So it was Tylenol and lots of Eddie Izzard on youtube for Me. The turning point was a long session with the hitachi on My neck and upper body, which made Me notice the asthma might be worse again. Must find those steroids. A chilly rainy grey day spent in bed.  I try not to think of it as one less day of My life left, but perhaps I should. Perhaps I should have fought harder for it. I didn’t.

I’ve been texting a bit with the fine man who gave Me the big O at camp. He has made clear he is not available for deep relationship for Good Reasons. Still we enjoy each other and we have been slipping in and out of interactions that have a little dynamic to them. I couldn’t tell you what it is exactly, just that it seems titillating and a bit scary in a good way and well, Princess does attach like a barnacle. I re-read all My blogs of the last 12 months, for perspective. I’m trying to keep a close eye on it. NRE can be tough to manage esp., when there are strong orgasms involved.  I know that Princess is pretty undefended, and this is new to her. It is uncomfortable for Me in middle age to feel like a middle schooler with a crush, but there you have it. We are talking about meeting up next weekend but who knows, perhaps it will dissolve by then. 

All I can do is what I commit as I do in yoga each week when we are asked to form an intention: I commit to be present, brave, and compassionate.  The rest must take care of itself.

Lightly Collared

Yesterday, I collared boy m.

he has been in My life about 18 months, and has been the most unexpected of pleasant surprises. A trusted friend put in touch, about the time I was withdrawing from collarspace. he had asked our gay male friend how to find a Dominant and our friend knew *just* the Woman for the job. We met at a Starbucks after I applied pressure to meet in person promptly, and he left an NFL stadium game early in order to comply. he seemed so skittish, I really expected him to ghost yet somehow other boys have come and gone and he has remained steadfast.

Ours is a necessarily constrained dynamic and it took Me a while to reconcile what I wanted with what he realistically could give. Then in the last six months, his life circumstances have been tough and I have watched him struggle. But he remains My dedicated boy and I have come to accept him as My champion. his primary service is encouragement, enthusiasm, adoration, and making Me feel I am equal to any challenge. When boy t left last summer, m was deeply aggrieved. It hurt him greatly to see Me hurt.  he worships Me with his words and his touch and his chivalry when he takes Me out for a special meal together, where we talk non-stop about everything under the sun. Not once have I been relieved to see him go, we always wish for more. Today, he mentioned how much he enjoys the blog and characterized My writing as being complex, like a fine red wine. he is a bit of a poet and as well as a warrior who rises to My defense when life is unkind. I confess I like that clannish response more than I feel I should, I do have a thing for knights. 

Given ample lead time, he makes a fine Easter bunny, and he gives the gifts on the part of My wish list that I don’t expect anyone to give. In illness, he is wonderfully protective and care-taking. he brings Me supplies and good food, and monitors My well being daily.  We wish each other good morning daily, and often good night too. We know where the other is pretty much all the time despite not living together. When things go wrong at the house, he asks whether he can provide a hotel room. When I needed the ER last year, it was his begging that I go and his offer to pay for an Uber that got Me to the hospital. It was the extreme of his concern that convinced Me I needed help.

To fit the nature of our connection and his life demands, I chose a survival bracelet. Yesterday, I solemnly clicked it on his wrist, then removed it and clicked it onto his ankle where it stayed. It fit as if meant for him. This way he can keep it on continuously, despite a wide range of clothing and situations. These types of bracelets are very common especially among men like him, so he can be My proud collared boy in plain sight.  

I know how he aches for that profoundly deep sense of belonging and connection. Both of us were surprised at just how moved we felt, in the moment and for the rest of the day. It was such a shame we could not abandon the office and celebrate fully. I want very much for him to be naked in his collar, servicing Me well with all of his sleek otter body. There are Reasons that’s extremely difficult to make happen but I trust it will from time to time. I trust My boy.

Oh! You are French!

The day before WinterFire, I forcibly ejected from work for a few hours to get My hair done. It’s expensive to have a cut and full highlight, so I put it off and had not seen a salon in six months. This is a bit of a hardship, as I realized decades ago that when My hair is good, I look good. When the hair is not good, nothing else can get Me where I want to go. Clothes, makeup, bag, shoes, doesn’t matter. There’s just something about the hair.  When I felt the student loan finish line approaching, I got extremely frugal (still cannot quite believe it is paid!)  and so for the last six months it has gotten increasingly painful to look in the mirror. I looked old and grey and sallow and VERY middle aged and I did NOT like it, but oddly I sort of forgot what the cure was. 

Then I was out in an unfamiliar office building getting a sandwich one day and thought, I wonder where this hallway goes. Following it through a short dark tunnel it opened up to a brightly lit atrium and I found Myself looking down at a cascading green wall two stories high. It felt more than a little shamanic, and I noted that.  On My right was a hair salon. Popping in I looked around, spotted a seemingly gay male stylist and immediately knew: that’s the man I need. It was a weirdly certain feeling. Appointment was made and boom! Next day Sammie and I got started.

I walked in looking like the middle aged desk worker I am, super frumpy. I told him I wanted shorter and blonde again, a cut that projects confidence and fun, with a bit of an edge but professional enough to job hunt a white collar job. I told him I fantasize about making it multiple bold colors. I told him that in college I had it bleach blonde on top, shaved short underneath (it was the 80s), with the bleach blonde top coming to a stacked duck tail point high in the back, that perfectly matched the line of My mortarboard when I graduated. His eyes lit a little, he said ok.

I told him the cut was prompted by big plans for the weekend, an “alternative lifestyle” event, but the remark passed with no response. I eventually elicited that he is not gay, but French. Married, two adult kids. He came to America for love... love of money, opportunity, and married one of his clients. 

The pivot came when the only other person in the salon, the Central American sweeper, commented that My husband will really like the new look. I replied that I don’t have a man, I have four. I swear I heard Sammie’s ears perk up. I mentioned polyamory and briefly descibed each of My four boys. Sammie asked Me to define polyamory, as he had never heard the word, and when I did, he responded:

"Oh!  You are French!"

This made Sammie happy. Now talk turned to Dark Odyssey events. How do you know someone consents? When, where, how much? Are the hotel rooms assigned?  He has been looking for such people for years and never found them. Sammie was thrilled. I showed him event photos, the event website, I put the URL on his phone.

As we finished My stunning new do, blonder, shorter, sculptural, asymmetrical — I love it and it’s getting rave reviews — he said: now I know. 

Next time will be different, now I understand you.

I suspect maybe Sammie also wants to fuck Me, this much needs no translation. I didn’t get into the BDSM part of camp while we had an audience, though he saw some pictures and he lifted no eyebrows.  He may very well be as vanilla as they come, and het dom male at that, it may be a non-starter.  But I suspect we are good for a few dates, and who knows what could happen? Perhaps I’ll be getting My hair done regularly. Who knows where this could lead.

At minimum I have a new do, a new place, a new confidante, an easy place to procure My Aveda shampoo, a great escape from the office. And maybe much more.

I feel pretty again, and confident in perhaps yes that seemingly easy way of French women. Now when I look in the mirror, I see a more beautiful Me, oddly a thinner Me, a more vibrant Me, no mtter what I’m wearing.  Being able to see it again for the first time in a long time, makes Me want to eat right, makes Me want to exercise. I started wearing earrings again, I put on makeup at camp. It crossed My mind to buy more. My God, it even crossed My mind that if Eddie Izzard can run marathons around England with no training, I surely could start running too. Where did THAT come from? 

Who is this Woman that lurks beneath the debt, who has this beauty, and these wild thoughts of exercise and Frenchmen? I must meet her. 

WinterFire 2018: Sunday - Thanks, I Needed That

Sunday

It began with hanging out in the room with Unkey. He was feeling energy getting ready to present a class on Alchemy and sexual magick and such. It was far more detail about actual alchemical processes than I would have expected and it was really interesting.  Unkey is into the woo, and Unkey has some mojo. I think that mojo rubbed off,  as you’ll see.  This pair of posts is in the vein of tease and delay, I realize, but it will be worth it in the end. I promise.

The one class the whole event I felt strongly about seeing was Kali’s Dominant Self Care. I chose it simply because I have gotten a TON of completely unexpected mileage out of a Kali class several years ago on financial domination, she is a good presenter, and I can always work on My self care. So sat down toward the back in a very full class room, and who should come plonk down next to Me but Instigatosaurus in street clothes. So that was nice, and soon I had My arm around her in a friendly way.  Not long after that I was crying, most unexpectedly.

As it turned out, Kali began by reviewing what it’s like when a Dom doesn’t get self care or enough support from their partner, and she was moving really quickly. For a few minutes there, everything she said was kicking up a strongly emotional memory of the early days of My relationship with E…  not the boy  who died, but the one after, that I moved in with and lived with for 4 ½ years, at the beginning as a Master slave dynamic. The one I felt married to though we weren’t. But the M/s and then the D/s and then the relationship just didn’t work, and shortly after we split, he was identifying as a Master.  As Kali talked, I got hit with a freight train of feels from that time, back when I was a baby Domme and trying *SO HARD* to figure it out, and do what I needed for Myself and make My partner happy, and failing. Because as I understood then, I am a person first and a kinkster second; I’m not porn brought to life, and well, I’m just not able to be somebody’s infinite kink fantasy, exactly what they want, when they want it, each day’s fantasy different than before. But boy did I try, and boy did I want to succeed, and boy, did I feel really unsupported during that time as I tried to do it all right, and to build the confidence I now have. That’s not the whole story, but it’s enough for context in this story.

So there I am, crying in a class where it is really not intuitive one would be crying at all and I’m not crying just a little.  Normally, if I feel the impulse to cry, My reflex to squelch it is so strong that it gets stuck, but not this time, it never gave Me the chance. Someone turned around to give Me a tissue (I had some, a Dominant is prepared for everything, right?), Instigatosaurus was very sweet and cuddly and supportive.  I could see E a few rows ahead on the aisle by the wall, and seriously considered getting up and sitting next to him on the floor so I could lay My head in his lap while I cried. But in My experience he’s not a cuddly, overly supportive guy and never was with Me – exactly WHY I was having these feels in the first place -- and the idea of getting that kind of support from him was ridonculous, mere fantasy. I tortured Myself with the fantasy for a while, but in the end returned to:  we’ve been split for years, this is My rodeo to manage.  If I had gone to him, I think he would have been annoyed. The class ended, and he stopped by to talk about getting BBQ for lunch. I thought What The Hell, looked at him and said “I’ve just cried through most of this class because it really took Me back to the beginning of our relationship”. I don’t think he said anything, but he didn’t leave, and I sort of fell forward in My chair until My head was on his scratchy wool sweater, and I started to cry again with My sensitive cheeks on the scratchy fabric, which also is a sense memory from that time. He amazingly put his hand on My shoulder, and with this small gesture of in-the-moment compassion, which is a lot from him in My experience, I was sobbing. He put his hand on My head, and the flood gates came down the last bit, leaving Me utterly dissolved until the storm had passed. 

Then we talked about BBQ for lunch and how to eat it in the bar space despite the ban on outside food. We chatted briefly with Kali, sharing a brief of what had just happened, enough to express thanks.

In the bar, I told a few friends I’d just had a cathartic release in class and while they listened patiently, the E relationship is well trod ground so no one seemed wildly interested in the details. Still, every time the thought “I tried SO HARD” went through My head, I was on the verge of sobbing again, so I blocked it.  The BBQ was good.  We always did share our emotions encoded in food, and it was nice to feel that very particular form of caretaking from him, as we continued to not talk about it.  Wasn’t even awkward that it was the three of us, Me, him, and his now wife-and-slave, whom I like very much and whom I credit with the fact I got My head patted on February 19, 2018.  It sounds weird, but it was fine.

After BBQ, it was off to class where I was meeting John for IPCookieMonster’s talk on How To Fuck a FemDom.  It was OK, but I’m not sure I got a lot out of it. Like many classes, it immediately bogged down in nomenclature and definition of the problem, leaving the meaty solution teaser of the class title until way too late. And even then, I never felt we arrived at the center of the question.  But as john astutely observed, the takeaway was affirmation that we have figured some things out, him and Chloe, him and Me. And that was a sweet point to make. It’s so delightful to trust john to be gracious and make a solid point.

The memorable part of the class was the guy in the front row of the HOW TO FUCK A FEMDOM CLASS who was dressed as a pimp and presenting very much as a Dom. He apparently wanted to talk about what to do when you are a Dom and you are in a relationship with a Dom, how do you make THAT work?  And the presenter was too nice to shut him down.  I recognize she gets to be a presenter in part because she doesn’t shut people down, but this guy deserved it and I sensed the trouble immediately. Sure enough, he kept talking, pulling the class way off topic where HE wanted to go, leaving the other 40 people in the room rolling their eyes, shooting him with their gun fingers, pretending to wank off.  How he survived that level of hostility aimed at the back of his fur ruff collar, I cannot imagine. After the guy’s third comment, john leaned over and said to Me… Breathe.  So I did.  And it quickly became a little joke that he didn’t have to tell Me, but every time that dude started talking again (“When I was in art school…”) I would do an exaggerated inhale and exhale.  After a bit, john looked at Me and said quietly, “If Chloe were here, she’d have left”.  And I thought you know what, screw it.  Since the presenter didn’t seem be managing him, I would. I appointed Myself responsible to keep us on the class topic and get to the part we were all there for: not the definitions, the problem solving. It became a power struggle for control of the class, with him pulling us to his personal problem, and Me dragging us back.  I believe john was amused, and three people in the class later thanked Me in various ways.

Looking back, what strikes Me is: I didn’t question it. I didn’t question whether I should engage in a power struggle with stranger for control of a class being taught by a third person. I didn’t debate whether it was right, or My place, or likely to be unpopular. I just trusted Myself and did it.  Even with john there as an intimate audience whose judgment would be meaningful to Me, I didn’t question Myself.  This seems to be one of Princess’ gifts. She is clear about what she wants, and she will go for it.  She doesn’t do self conscious and she doesn’t do analysis paralysis.  It’s like a clear, crisp wind and I like it a lot.  I see the danger of self absorption if taken too far, but I think overall, it pulls Me into a better balance.

After class, I popped into a FemDom centric birthday event, where a boy was tied to the dining room table, being smeared with ice cream cake, and having a birthday candle pressed into his urethra so it could be lit while we sang him Happy Birthday.  He didn’t seem to want a candle in his urethra and I’m not sure how it ultimately got in, perhaps they finally applied lube.  It made Me a little uncomfortable, as those sorts of scenes tend to do, but he seemed happy enough afterwards. I got to peek at My cross dressing playmate’s bottom to see the tragic absence of marks, and check in with his wife.  Then it was off to john and Chloe’s room, to chat with a couple they had met, and let john ply Me with just the right amount of vodka cran and he served us all naked.  I hardly even notice that any more, it’s just the way it should be.  After a good hour they dressed, putting him in yumyum leather chaps over black undies, with a buttondown shirt and tie. Off we went to dinner in the restaurant.

After being nudged by Chloe to poke j about having taken several bites of food before Madame did and enjoying his face as realization dawned (ooops, more cane strokes for j), we had lovely conversation with the two others in our party.  The woman had helped with staff and was seated with us in the restaurant – possibly really pushing the dress code – bare breasted except for some pasties on her nips.  But they are the most amazingly beautiful breasts and were the most incredible pasties… miniature gardens, really.  Each had a butterfly on it, a little scene of moss and flowers, and I just have never seen such a thing. Really incredible and now I want garden on My nipples too.  At dinner, Chloe mentioned that someone I played with at Fusion was having a bit of a day with playmates cancelling so I texted to remind him that if he wanted to massage a nice nekkid woman, I was available. Moments later, that was in progress, and we landed in the dungeon’s medical room where he gave Me the most delightful full body massage. The plan was to take a break after the massage, hit the bathroom, and return to turn things sexual. 

I got up, wrapped up (nekkid police on the job), ran to the loo, and on the way back, saw a different playmate who had flirted even sexted all week with Me before camp then completely blown Me off throughout the event. That was a frownie moment, but didn’t really pierce My endorphin veil.  What did pierce the veil was walking back into the medical room and seeing that the table only four feet from Mine was now occupied by…. My former slave who vaporized in July.  My former slave to whom I had reached out before the event requesting we have a coffee and a friendly catch-up chat, who had also blown Me off.  There was no way I was going to Get Off with Mr. Exponential Blow-Off right next to Me.  Not happening. So I wrapped back up, popped out of the room, met My playmate in the open space and announced that very regrettably, Houston had a problem.  He was suitably horrified and fully understood the implications. We grabbed the stuff, I tried extremely hard (but probably failed) to not-glare at the folks who really might have been considerate enough to choose a different play spot, even on peak dungeon night.  I was feeling almost panicky by this point and really wanted to get away before any sort of conversation could occur. I was not equipped to deal at that moment.  We headed to My room, where we found Unkey in for the night, with a friend keeping him company.  Off to the guy’s room! At last, a landing spot.

I find it uncomfortable to go to a guy’s turf for sex. It makes Me nervous and not in a good way. It’s the singularity of it.  The very clear message of: we are in this place to fuck. I don’t like it. I somehow tend to feel that from the moment we walk in to his place, it becomes about conquest, he has in fact already conquered, even before we hit the bed, because I’m now a foregone conclusion, and yes, I can leave but I feel a pressure to stay just by virtue of not being home.  I threw down My washable pet piddle pad that is bigger and better than paper chux, and causes Me no worries, and we started with cuddling and flirting, then he was going down on Me, and it was nice but we needed to back up to START to deal with My agita and get Me back to a relaxed, happy place again. We got there and well, I really don’t remember exactly what happened in what order, but it was good.  I tried at one point to get Myself off with fingers while he did a really well calibrated spanking, and I was trying to work My more reliable go-to hot images, but I needed something in My pussy, and I was really too wet to get the traction I needed. I had a little cum but it was frustrating and I was feeling breathless from being face down in the blanket.  We moved on to a little G spot which he quickly located and I was really quite impressed with his skills.  He is a sweet man and I enjoy him. 

By this time we had talked quite a bit about My pussy and what it likes, and how My brain is presently wired, what tends to work, where things have gone off the rails.  I specifically had shared with him that there have been times where there has been a huge orgasm in sight, and it has felt frightening, which has shut it down. I’ve just not had a partner who seemed equipped to handle that and Me; I cannot let Myself go there unless I am sure the guy can gather up the shattered Me and put Me back together. He said he knew what I was talking about, and he could. I had told him about the class catharsis; I had told him enough about why we left the Medical Room.  I had talked to him about what the pussy likes that seems to be a bit unusual and he had shared that a recent girlfriend had similar needs.  I had coached him not to say the thing men so often say near orgasm, which tends to shut Me down, and had given him alternative language. So I was emotionally open, we had some good trust, the pump was primed, we had done a good job of laying the foundation. 

But I was really thinking this wasn’t going to result in a great orgasm. It had gotten away from Me already and I just didn’t know what was going to bring it out.  I didn’t have any toys on Me and I didn’t know him well enough to have a line of tried and true sexy talk. He was giving it a great effort but I could tell sexy talk is no more natural for him than for Me.  So he got Me squirting which was excellent and I called a break, really not expecting things to progress much further.  Then he changed something and there was a new Gspotty sensation that felt different, it felt very much like the clit sensation I give Myself, but he was doing it from the inside. I lay there playing with My clit, him playing inside, and it was pretty idle for quite a while. We were chatting. My legs were supported by a pillow on each side to take the strain off.  I was just beginning to worry in the back of My mind that at some point he was going to get bored or was going to make the move to climb aboard.  And for most of My past, I would choose to exit the awkwardness by just letting him fuck Me.  Feeling I had taken up too much time and space, and hadn’t performed well enough, and that was the nearest exit door.  It isn’t the best choice, it’s possibly the worst, but that’s where I lived a long time, and old habits reappear under stress.

I’ve said this before recently, that I’ve realized bottoms and subs are really brave, they don’t have a choice. And I’ve realized there’s a way in which being on the top is the emotionally safer choice for Me, but it’s not getting Me great sex. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. So I’ve been working on it for a while, this idea that to have a better sex life, dammit, I am going to have to be more brave than I want to have to be.  And that’s what changed since I paid off the student loan, it feels safer and easier to be braver in many areas of life.

I read Dan Savage once to say something along the lines of:  we all want to say and do things in bed that we would file charges against in daily life.  So when I got a little sparkle of something-might-happen, I followed it, sort of knowing while refusing to know that this was going to take Me somewhere… that all the emotions flying around the last 24 hours had opened the door to something new.  There was a moment when, in a new way, I chose to be brave.  I chose to be brave in bed with someone I don’t know especially well.

So when I got a glimmer that the two orgasmy clit feelings might converge to lead somewhere, I said go, and we started.  He started stroking Me in that place, and I deepened the pressure outside, and when it popped into My mind to say a very loaded word out loud, I chose to do it.  It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just sounds, it’s just sex, we all know what is said in the heat of passion isn’t necessarily real, but it took Me a good four tries to get the word all the way out the first time. I thought that would be it, one and done, get Me over the edge, get My rocks off, time for a nap.  

But no.  

It was so powerful, that we were immediately beyond what I think of as orgasm.  We didn’t just go there, we blew through the light. It was like in movies where the fighter jet roars away to Mach 3 or the spaceship goes to Warp Speed, Mr. Sulu.  From here on I really cannot tell you what happened in any way that conveys My experience, I can only convey what an observer might say because it became an out of body experience, or perhaps it happened to someone else, to a person I already no longer am.

I said the difficult word again, louder, and this time, the air changed, the sound changed, My voice changed.  It was higher pitched. Warp Speed jump again. I said it again, the voice goes higher. Another Warp Speed jump. I have no idea where we are, where the orgasm is, I don’t know what an orgasm is, I don’t know who I am, whoheis, wherethisiswhathisis. I didn’t even know at that point I was having sex or having an orgasm. I know only that: (1) I now understand why people refer sometimes to women’s orgasmic noises as singing, because I was definitely singing and (2) I had become the person I hate, the person screaming as they orgasm noisily and inconsiderately in a hotel at one o'clock in the God damned morning, bothering everyone else who is trying get some fucking sleep. I was THAT girl.  But I knew it in such a detached way that I didn’t even consider stopping. 

I don’t know how long it lasted, and I don’t know exactly how it ended, but the five (?) or so Warp Speed jumps took Me to a place where the screaming became shrieking became something that became laughing and the laughing became falling – very definitely FALLING even though I was horizontal -- which became something else which became sobbing. And he remembered what to say to Me, and at the right moment he did exactly the right thing and he released My beautiful, succulent cunt and grabbed hold of Me bodily, wrapped his arms and legs around Me and pulled Me into him, and told Me he had Me, and he held Me together so I could let go more completely than I have ever let go sexually.

It is hard to explain, but a process I have been going through for a long time feels like it culminated in that orgasm, in a way that reminds Me of this Rilke poetry.  

It is possible I’ve been pushing through solid rock

As the ore lies alone

I am such a long way in, and see no way through, and no space;

Everything is close to my face and everything close to My face is stone.

I don’t have much knowledge yet in grief

So this great darkness makes Me feel small.

You be the Master.

Make yourself fierce.

Break in.

Then your great transforming will happen to Me

And My great grief cry will happen to You.

I had thought I was having a nice mellow, low key, no drama, nothing special, maybe even phoning it in kind of WinterFire. Instead I think I got a tectonic plate shift. I got an earthquake. Not a cum. A release. Several releases.  SEVERAL experiences of release from old ways of going through life. SEVERAL experiences of engaging with real male power and handling it, past and present, handling it in a way that I didn’t just survive  but thrived.  

Unkey is right, I think.  You might not get the camp you want, but you get the camp you need. 

Thanks, I needed that.

I think I was right. I think 2018 is definitely the year of detox. And I think I just set a whole bunch of stuff down which is already allowing Me to fly.

WinterFire 2018: Friday/Saturday - Setting the Scene

I have learned over the years that if I don’t write about camp quickly, much is lost, and there is really good stuff this time, so here goes.

Friday

I went to a class in the first slot of the day,  IPCookieMonster’s class on getting what you want without asking for it. It turned out to not be as expected, but had some good takeaways at the end, namely: (1) it’s very common for people to want a top to magically read their mind and know how to fill desires without communicating them (2) this is actually edge play (3) the less communication happening in the scene, the more is needed before and after (4) the less time and trust you have previously invested with the partner, the edgier it is (5) you might find a stranger top that somehow magically does it for you once or even more than once (6) but you should understand that you are taking big risks, and it’s likely to go very wrong at some point and when it goes bad, it’s likely to be very bad, and above all (7) the kind of person that will do the Stranger Mind Read Top thing is someone who doesn’t care a lot about consent and is probably dangerous.    

The presenter described two successful and very hot scenes she has had in past with a strangerish mind-reader top and noted that while she didn’t get hurt, others did, and neither is now welcome in the community.

Afterward, up in the room had the pleasure of lacing a girl into a corset, and the next night, got to do it again with someone I like very much, the beautiful young woman who was My slave during Butchmann’s several years ago. We still see each other at most events, and it’s become a very warm thing. She’s not in service to Me, but we both remember how meaningful that experience was for us in different ways, and recall it fondly, so there’s a comfort level.  She pimped Me out to a friend who needed lacing and I was happy to oblige.  Unkey didn’t seem to mind, and I appreciated that he enjoyed watching in a way that was respectful and friendly fun.

It was difficult to connect with john Thursday night through most of Friday and didn’t happen until well into the evening, but he made it happen, coming to My room and kneeling. he was buzzed and in big happy mode after a lot of hard work. The boy threw himself on the floor next to My bed on his knees and sang out, “Hi, Love!” at which point all the delay and missed connections were forgotten. Later he gave Me some unexpected presents from where he lives, one of which he took care to point out Princess might enjoy. He also at several points looked Me up and down with a smile and commented that Princess had been the one to choose My outfit that day.  I alternated between hot pink Capri pants with a black bondage belt and a swoopy, tarty black stretchy top… the short black kilt with hot pink knife pleats that boy m gifted Me last year, plus the fun black top, and silk long johns beneath for warmth with big rugged black boots sporting hot pink laces… or a short tartan little kilt over yoga pants, with a smartwool black stretch jacket.  The changeable weather meant most people were always either too hot or too cold, but I was having fun.  I like that he is amused by the Princess energy, and knowing he isn’t into Littles at all, have been careful to inquire periodically if I’m doing anything that makes him uncomfortable, but he continues to say that he enjoys watching Me be happy and I can relax about it, unless he tells Me otherwise.  But it’s possible I didn’t wear the onesie around him for fear it would be over that line, and I don’t want to cross it. Not with him and not now and not without specific prior negotiation.

After john left,  I spent much of the time in the bar hanging out, crossing paths with them repeatedly along the way. I picked up a guy Stuart, who was hard to get a bead on but we seemed to have nice attraction and he kept coming back into conversation and contact.  I had a fun new haircut and was feeling flirty and happy, and was pleased by the whole thing.  I had a cocktail and was feeling adventurous, intrigued enough to give it some rope.  I cannot recall the last time I picked up a guy in a bar, it’s not My usual thing and I do not consider Myself a bar person.  He clearly wasn’t a slave or sub, but seemed like he could be service oriented enough to have some fun with, so when he stepped to holding My hand firmly and telling Me he intended to kiss Me now, I told him to get on with it, and we played tennis like that for a bit. In the end we went down to Sex O Rama and got naked on a big round pouf.  At some point after the endorphins hit, I had to pee – like you do – so I popped out to the loo, but was altered enough to not realize I had left the curtained zone. I sprinted in a state of full nudity out into the common area where everyone is required to be dressed. Almost made it, too, before being stopped cold by the elevator bank. I paused in My happy-empowered nudity to ask how the nudity police would like to handle the situation, and was granted leave to do My business with promise not to repeat the error.  As I flew to and fro, My mind noticed how cool it is that I am these days completely unconcerned with being the only naked person in a very large open  space of clothed strangers.  

Back to SOR, we played, I squirted on his badly positioned puffer jacket, but he told Me he found the idea very sexy. He later told Me his nose itched and when he touched it he could smell Me and he loved that. So we were in a good place for Me. Back to the bar for a drink, back to SOR, he wanted a blow job, I made clear that’s edgy for Me but I liked his cock and was willing to play some on My own terms; he tried to control My head, I articulated boundaries which took him a moment to catch up to, but he eventually grasped. Then he pulled back and asked how the Dom-Dom thing could work, I gave him a sound answer, which he seemed to agree with. It was late, so he left saying he couldn’t wait to fuck me tomorrow, which I was perfectly amenable to, though I did at the same time note the temporal proximity of all these factors to each other and the possibility that he had pulled the rip cord on Me.  He texted at 2 am with a room number NOT at an event hotel, saying I should come now, which  made Me think he had continued drinking; I nicely and cheerfully refused the offer/command, as it was obviously unsafe and duh, I’m not a sex dispenser for bar rando’s.  Aaaaaaand…. never heard from him again, though our eyes did meet in the bar the next day.  Score one for Me. Picked up a stranger, played, kept boundaries, didn’t waste a moment of time when he turned out to be a douchebag.  Confirmed douchebag suspicions with Unkey roommate who declared him a player  and characterized him as one of the peripheral men who give events and the scene a bad name posing as doms.  No trauma occurred even though there was plenty of room for it. Proud of Myself and had some fun. Forward.

Incidentally… bad poser dom spotting flags:  he didn’t inquire what I’m into; he didn’t offer what he is into; I got no specifics about him when I inquired about his interests; but when he made a move knowing I’m a Dominant, he still played it in an overly Dom way with those “I know what you want” mind reading undertones; his fet profile is under a year old although he said he had been in the scene years, and says little other than that he is a sensualist, though he had given no specifics about which sensual techniques (rope, knives, fire) he feels are his core interests; he has only a half dozen friends on fet -- all women no men, signaling an aversion to competition and community accountability; and he moves across geographies, always coming and going; didn’t name a single other event or group with which he is affiliated.  In short: who was that masked man?  Cuz I’m not even convinced his name was Stuart.  Still, I felt it was a fair start to the weekend. Yer gonna kiss a few frogs occasionally, and this frog really could kiss.

In retrospect, what stands out to Me most is that he kept giving Me compliments, I kept taking them, and I think that’s not the way he intended it to work.  He would tell Me I was great in some way, and I would reply either yes, you’re right, or “what’s not to like?”.  He gave a lot of compliments, far above the norm really, and in retrospect, I think he was trying to play on some insecurities and failing. He didn’t get a full on erection from being licked, and I think it must have been mental. I wasn’t giving him enough power over Me, and since the power he wanted wasn’t the responsible kind, I’m very proud of his semi-soft cock.

After the poser took his leave Friday night, I did laps around the dungeons and SexOrama, joined in a few scenes, and late in the evening happened upon a handsome shirtless man being hit by two people in fleece dinosaur onesies.  The man was muscular and attractive and the dinosaurs were adorable. The one hitting him really couldn’t punch, and for some reason they decided I could help, so the instigator dinosaur approached and asked if I would like to hit him.  I thanked them for the offer, confirmed his consent, told the punching dino to stand back, told him to move a little to the left, shifted My feet so I could hit well without straining My back injury, and the punching dino, “Said, wow, you’re really taking this seriously, I think I’m a little scared now.”  And she looked it.  I replied that being scared of Me is probably not a bad thing.  So the boy got his punch and it was good, and he liked it. Then Instigatosaur asked if I could punch her too in the same place, which led to Me holding her head as I hit her, which led to punching her thigh, which led to an invitation to play. The Punchosaur didn’t like to receive hand impact, so the boy fetched a flogger and I flogged the gender fluid Punchosaur while the guy and Instigatosaur grappled.  Along the way, there was a three way Punchosaur, Instigatosaur, Me kiss… My first triangle kiss with extinct reptiles, so cherry popped there in the SOR.  At some point late into the flogging, I felt My switch flip. I was done for the night. So wrapped it up, gave cuddles, parted with thanks and a few smooches and head pats.  Never got their names. Back to the room, took herbs and vitamins to fight off con crud and all the flu going around, climbed into bed, laid one hand on Unkey to let him know I was back, and off to sleep.

Saturday

Woke late, lingered in the room sipping coffee we made there and talking about the poser with Unkey (we are minus the dynamic but I was sure we would make good roomies) who gave Me some really great guidance on how I can manage and protect Princess in this situation. John surfaced, so we went to lunch and I learned he was mine for the afternoon. Lunch became piss play, a full body hitachi massage, and culminating in what was for Me delightful woo sex, where I held him on the edge of spilling as he had a series of non-ejaculatory orgasms and I talked sexy ideas into his ear in a way that felt easy and organic.  When it was over, he asked if that had been 43 orgasms or just one long one. Such a monkey, he is.  It was delightful. We separated for dinner, and I puttered in the room, ultimately making food from the room stash, and watching part of a Doc Martin episode for a break and perhaps also to keep some space between Me and the bar guy until the dungeon opened.  The understanding had been that after dinner, Chloe and I would likely beat j up, or I would handle an outsourced punishment beating, but dinner seemed to run long and I was starting wonder, when he came in with a dark energy, and said he was there, but couldn’t play tonight because something had happened.

Now you could look at this and be unhappy that the unfortunate accidental death of a family puppy  500 miles away was interfering in the camp fun.  But it hit Me very differently. I was touched.  Chloe had chosen to not disappoint her play date, so j had something over an hour before she would be back and then he expected to comfort her about the pet, and that called for them to have couples private time.  Until then, however, I got a rare opportunity to be physically present with My boy during a Real Life Thing.  I never get to do this. I, in fact, find it quite frustrating to be far away and *not* be able to Be There for My boy when life happens.  So we had a deeply beautiful hour together, in which I just held him, as he laid his head on My breast and listened to My heart, and we breathed in synchrony, and we talked about loss and family.  I got to be there for him at camp, in a non-camp way, and that made Me very happy.

Afterward, I took Myself back into the event, chatting, watching scenes. I helped with a FFm scene that wanted a heavier hitter. They invited Me in to use a “knife” on him, which was really the edge of a rubber spatula.  I added the occasional single fingernail and wet the edge of the spatula with My spit to enhance the illusion, and it was effective, so made some new dungeon friends.  Also helped tease a boy sealed into a vacu-bed, and learned it makes the sensations more intense, rather than less, which I find crazy counter intuitive and he had to coach Me more than once about it. I later thanked him for the opportunity to play and also to learn, appreciating the feedback.  More little love moments.

I hung out in the lobby very late, and about 2am was sitting with an older, local couple I know. The wife is a frail and unsteady now but the story goes that she was into girls before they married, and he is a bisexual crossdresser who likes Me, and often includes Me in invitations to cultural events.  The wife very compersion-ally told Me he needed a good beating and asked Me to do the deed. So we made her comfy and popped down to the dungeon for half an hour of more intense play than he has had in some time.  I had only three toys on Me:  a leather paddle, a rubber paddle, a leather dragon tail.  The goal was to provide marks and I really thought there should be some, but leather butt had nothing to show for it 12 hours later. Sad face.  He is one of those who laughs to pain process, which is always a chuckling good time. Me dressed in something inflected with sadistic Little and him being an older person in full-on crossdress screaming with laughter, we attracted a little attention in the dungeon with the fast and heavy play.  That was a lovely relationship builder and I think I’ll likely be seeing more of them in future.  I really enjoy the chance to play with people who have been in the scene since the Seventies, there’s a lot of wisdom there, a lot to learn about self acceptance, and a lot of perspective to be gained about how far we have come as a community. Sitting around, I cuddled the wife a bit, she is a whisper of a thing so she was on My lap at one point, and at another I tried to lift her as requested from the swiveling chair, only to be surprised in a way that caused Me to… drop her gently onto the floor, about which I felt badly, and it was suddenly a bit scary to get her up again. They forgave Me thankfully, and pointed out they’d been drinking a good bit.  Along the way, I learned some interesting and touching things about some of their peers who are also My friends.  Apparently, I need to have one of My occasional subbies come give My strapon some blow jobs to help him accept his attraction to men.

Just call Me a kink evangelist.

(See Sunday's Post for the Payoff)

Un-Stuck

It feels like life has both accelerated and gone into slo mo at once these last few months. Turns out I was not just “fighting a bug” off and on all fall, but experiencing asthma and other nae-so-good, systemic inflammatory stuff. All I knew was I was tired and hurt in several ways and couldn’t keep up with requirements, and spend most weekends doing little but sleeping so I could get through another week.  The house was a mess, the car was a mess, My office was a mess, absolutely everything was a mess at comical levels, and it wasn’t until I had a week of prednisone that I started finding the energy to even notice.  Oxygen, what a concept.

Of course, I wished in a distant abstract way for a boy to be of service big time, but one cannot summon unicorns on demand, and My lovely boys all were supportive but had legitimate limits on what they could offer. So October turned into December. 

I decided to take a certification exam boot camp over Christmas which meant going nowhere. While the General (you remember the General) was fine with this choice, I knew Princess would feel deprived-lonely-sad if a real Christmas didn’t happen. I put the word out to family and friends that for the first time, I would of necessity be alone on Christmas, and instead of being awful, it was awesome. Gift boxes arrived, My little tabletop tree was surrounded by love gifts. I didn’t let Princess open anything early and for a month before, anything extra I bought for Myself I set aside as extra fun for Princess to open. On Christmas morning, I cranked up a space heater, made Bailey’s hot mocha, and had Princess put on her blue budgie onesie and fuzzy slippers and flannel robe, and we made a day of it. We opened presents very slowly ALL DAY, talking with friends and family along the way, nibbliing from a stockpile of special favorite foods, and it was wonderful. 

john and Chloe were just amazing, sending lots of fun things with wrapping and handwritten notes. boy ed came through with some jaw dropping choices that really delighted Me to My toes. boy mike did something wonderful. My parents, My sister. Gifts from Me to me. A few colleagues. And somehow, I felt it all in a way I never have, it got through a forcefield I knew was there but couldn’t deactivate until now. It wasn’t just stuff, it was love and I could feel it.  It think maybe that because I have let her out of the shadows, Princess could feel it, and she is the piece that has needed it.  As an adult, I have learned to communicate My needs effectively, and Princess’ vulnerability has been brought forward so that she can feel cared for. It’s the most magical experience I’ve ever had sitting by Myself, and I am deeply grateful.  Something in Me feels whole and healed as a result.

Princess continues to be more and more involved in daily life, the General doesn’t seem to feel the need to yell much these days, now that Princess can be heard, and I feel Master of My own house and My own life in a new and exciting way.

boy ed is proving a delightful addition to My life and while he doesn’t identify as a submissive, My experience of him is much like an excellent subby with great instincts for anticipatory service.

I never make New Years Resolutions but late in December it coalesced in My mind the theme for 2018 is DETOX.  This was partly a function of the medical stuff, partly because I watched Myself go through the academic bootcamp feeling disliked for being My nerdy self (Princess childhood experiences and filters at work) while at the same time realizing everyone liked Me fine and suspecting I was disliked was all in My head. I decided I was ready to let go of that. The year of DETOX began by deciding to raid the emergency fund and put an end to the most toxic thing in My life: the student loan.  I’ve been working up to this for some time and finally reached the point of pulling the trigger.  boy ed very sweetly celebrated the occasion from far away by surprising Me hours later via amazon with a DEBT FREE tshirt that I have been wearing a lot.  I promised Myself I would pay it off before I turned 50 and I kept the promise comfortably, which feels so good.

I have realized it doesn’t feel right to say “I did it”.  I don’t have a bodily sensation of who the “I” is there.  But I can say wholeheartedly: WE DID IT.  Me, the General, the Princess, whoever else has been along for the ride, the multiple versions of Me that I have grown through in the 22+ years I carried that rock. We did it.  There was a time I thought I would die before I paid off the student debt, and for a few days I was sort of afraid that having paid it, I was going to die. But I also understood that feeling metaphorically:  dying to the old life and being reborn into another. The fear has passed and now I’m just really proud of us, proud of Me as Master of My life, and looking forward to the next phase. 

I also have been feeling stuck in My job, so I did a major barnstorming effort and got a big new professional certification involving a rather infamous exam. I did it all in under 3 months and passed on the first attempt. With that and the debt mischief managed, I am feeling much more free and relaxed and at ease in life.

I feel like a wiser version of Myself at 25 and I am re-discovering positive aspects of Myself from that time, notably a greater sense of possibility and adventure and fun. When I glimpse Myself passing a window lately, what I see seems younger. I can see Me 20 years ago in the mirror again now. That’s really cool. I’m beginning the process of retrieving some things I had forgotten I’d lost. It’s exciting.