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.
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.
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.