On Being a Switch: Picking a Side

March 6, 2013 at 21:15 (M/S) (, , , , , , , , , , , )


When Angelflare and I met we were both Switches.  Don’t get me wrong, we still are, but we have chosen to live as a 24/7 M/s couple.  Because of this, we no longer switch with each other.  While I love the way our marriage has grown and strengthened as a result of our M/s, I also feel like a part of who we were is gone. I used to love that we could explore with each other on both sides of the whip, and at this time it is not a part of our relationship.

Bring in Angelflare’s girlfriend, A, who is a Dominant, and a deep part of myself that I had pushed down when we decided to take on a 24/7 relationship is awakened.  It’s hard for me to suppress feelings of loss and regret.  I miss who we were.  I miss how free we used to be with each other, and

Pulling

sometimes I feel like there are so many rules and so many compartments we’ve built for our relationship that I start to feel stifled and cornered.

This is an issue I did not foresee when we changed our arrangement, and one of the few places where I still find myself holding a lot of jealousy and resentment.  There are very few things that are unique to our relationship, but now there’s this significant one that is unique to theirs, one I really enjoyed and miss very much.  Not that I’ve pinpointed it I can begin to work through it, but it’s going to take some work, and maybe someday we can work out an arrangement that fulfills that desire in me again.

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A Very Merry Sinbirthday to Me

August 11, 2012 at 22:03 (BDSM) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )


birthday party

It all started with a Tweet.

This year I spent my birthday at the Floating World, a weekend long fet event.  Being my first, I was excited, and admittedly a little nervous, but I went into the mode in which I work the best; pack and prep.  Once that was done, the only recourse I had was to make sure I made an appropriate entrance into the realm of local kink events.  The fact that it would be my birthday had already given Angelflare delicious ideas, and I was anxious to see how the weekend would treat me.

Then there was Twitter, where one of my followers is The Floating World.  I very naively had sent them a Tweet asking if they had any packing sugegstions for newbies, obviously forgetting the kind of smart-assed crowd our community can be.  I received an answer, albeit an entirely unhelpfull one, suggesting newbies be wraped in bubble wrap.  “Not because they’re fragile.  We just like bubble wrap.”    With that in mind, I got to work.

What I ended up with was this:

And so, our adventure began!

I arrived Thursday night straight from work, still in my work uniform and exhausted from the ride, which included two SEPTA trains and a New Jersey Transit double-decker.  I managed to gt us unpacked and organized, double-checked our class schedules, and hit the bed running with dreams of suspended sugarplums dancing in my head.  My classes of the day included tips in suspension for curvy girls, M/s philosophies, and service positions.  I met some new people, made some new contacts, and had some insightful conversations.  I ran into a few people I recognized, which is still a rare but joyous thing for me, and managed to find my foothold in a somewhat overwhelming environment.  I felt immediately upon entering the facility that I was somewhere I belonged, but by the end of the day I felt like I was not going to just follow; I was going to flourish!

That night Angelflare decided it was time to debut my creation, and for him to unveil his plans to honour my birthday.  I bounced in my ebullient plastic skirt as people stopped me to ask for a pop or two, and I considered auctioning off the bubbles in the good bits.  Then it was time to really get the fun started.  I was pierced in both arms with a total of twenty-nine needles with birthday candles glued to them.  Once they were lit, a group of people who had flocked to watch sang the slowest version of Happy Birthday I have ever heard as birthday candle wax started to trickle, drip, and coat the skin around the needles before I could blow them out.  The resulting high was phenomenal.  I don’t remember the rest of that night, but at some point I lost the bubble wrap dress and sang some Eve 6 at Kinky Karaoke.  With Angelflare on his volunteer assignment, the night was mine, and I soaked up as much of it as I could before my head and body demanded sleep.

The next morning we were at it again with classes on cell popping, punishment, service, and single tailing.  I realized a love for swivel handled floggers and mentally added them to my Domme list, but ultimately we walked out that night with a newly adopted Violet Wand.  I skipped dungeon time to save my energy for the last day.  Instead I sat in the hotel room watching Mean Girls with the cheesecake Angelflare had bought me from the diner across the street.

Our last day was a lead up to dungeon time, with classes on duct tape and..well, duct tape!  I bought a new book on M/s, which I will review when I’m done, and we learned yet another suspension harness. Our time in the dungeon that night was intense.  I still have polka dots on my back from the fire play, which left me buzzed and alive all over.  Then there was flogging and my first single-tail experience.  A puddle of myself, I was given the best birthday gift a slave girl could ask for when Angelflare told me I had earned his mark (in the form of a cell popping).

At that moment I couldn’t even properly respond except to keep sobbing and let my mind whirl.  I hadn’t felt that wanted and cherished since he proposed to me.  In hindsight I realize it was the moment I finally felt like I was his, that I’d surrendered, and that I wasn’t just going through the motions.  He had noticed my evolution as a 24/7 slave, and he approved.  At that moment I felt and owned my position as a slave, and it was an indescribable release.  At that moment it felt like my birthday.  I had been given new life, as his slave, with new purpose and new resolve.

I felt like a different person on my way to work Monday morning, still in my event buzz.  I can definitely say this was one of the best first experiences I could possibly have imagined.  The people I met were fantastic, supportive, and immediately accepting, and Angelflare managed to make me feel loved and celebrated.  It was, indeed, a Very Merry Sintangible Birthday to me!

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Choosing Pain

July 28, 2012 at 00:12 (BDSM) (, , , , , , , , , , , )


BDSM activity

I was recently asked to give my two cents for an article about chronic conditions, physical limitations, disabilities etc and kink, the main question being Why would one who is in chronic pain choose to be in more pain?  As some of you may know, I am have Type 1 Diabetes and Fibromyalgia, and because of both I can be anywhere from mildly irritated to severely debilitated on any given day.   This has created a few extra considerations in how I lead a BDSM lifestyle, and at times has been a slight inconvenience.  It  has also not only helped in some ways, but the benefit seems to be mutual, meaning my kink and my chronic pain have found ways to improve each other.  Who knew?

A friend of mine who is a tattoo artist mentioned to be during my last session  that she has noticed a higher tolerance from people with chronic pain when it comes to tattoos.  The theory there is that we have grown so accustomed to dealing with deep aches and pains on a daily basis that the superficial irritation caused by tattooing is not registered as intensely by our nerves.  I have noticed the same can be said for flogging, spanking, scratching, and most other surface sensation pain during a scene.  Unless it’s a particularly bad day for me, as long as Angelflare doesn’t bite into me right away, I have more endurance than I used to.

Having a day-to-day condition has pushed Angelflare to get to know my body language more intimately than he might have to otherwise.  I never have to tell my Master I’m having a bad day or what tasks I may be incapable of performing.  He already knows.  This has strengthened the trust I have that he will always protect me as his slave, and I am more ready to be blindly obedient knowing he has that kind of consideration and ability to read my pain and energy levels.

In what ways has kink helped my chronic pain?  For one thing, fire play and percussion play are an excellent way to massage and loosen muscles, not to mention the endorphin release our bodies naturally experience at times of intense pleasure or pain, but it goes even beyond that.  Being in service has done wonders to fill the hole my illness tore in my self esteem.

When I started to get sick I felt useless as both a wife and a lover.  I couldn’t take care of my family or our house.  We couldn’t have sex at all let alone engage in any kind of kink activities.  I was sure Angelflare hated me and regretted marrying me.  I felt sick, ugly, old, fat, weak, and broken.  It took me a long time to heal those wounds to my confidence, and being in service has helped with that.  I feel wanted, I feel capable, and I know that I will be pushed to go until I need to stop not just until I want to stop.  Being a slave has also given me a constant awareness of my body, which has helped me identify bad days from just feeling down or every day aches and pains, and has given me no wiggle room to make excused.  Angelflare will tell me when to rest.  Until then, I have to believe I still have the strength.

The biggest benefit I have gotten out of kink has been community.  Whenever I have been sick or had a particularly bad stretch our friends in the community have been the first to offer support in any way possible.  It’s always been one of the best unexpected side-effects of our lifestyle, and I would never trade it for anything.

To answer the original question, why would I choose pain?  It’s the same reason anyone in the lifestyle would still be mad at an unrequested punch in the face.  When the pain comes from something I’ve chosen, something that brings me pleasure, or at least brings Angelflare pleasure, the pain is acceptable.  Chronic pain or not, I can’t think of anyone who would get pleasure out of breaking a leg in a skiing accident.  The concept here is the same.

The pain I choose is pain I can harness and transform into something powerful, something positive, something that cannot be replicated.  The pain I choose is mine, and it is bliss.  The pain I choose makes the pain I do not seem a million miles away.  The pain I choose makes me feel desired, and beautiful, and strong, even when I do not feel like it.  The pain I choose makes me feel human again, and that’s something I never want to lose sight of again.

 

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Common Sense as Protocol

July 26, 2012 at 21:48 (M/S) (, , , , , , , , , )


la dame sans merci III duotone

I was recently sunk into several layers of thought after reading this blog by Graydancer.  In fact, I had to read it several times, follow the rabbit hole of links he provided for references, and read it again to begin to comprehend what I was reading.  It seems, friends, as if I’ve been doing it wrong.  Try to suppress your surprise that anyone in an alternative lifestyle should think anyone else in that same lifestyle is doing it wrong, and therefore offensive to the lifestyle as a whole, but this seems to be a more widespread topic of conversation than I thought, and I have come to the only possible conclusion one can in this situation, which I will share at the end just to keep you reading.

Back to the matter at hand.  This all starts when Graydancer types the word “domist”, which I read as the belief that Doms are privileged and subs are devalued.  The topic at hand was third-party permission, meaning this:  As a third-party, should one ask permission of my Master to speak with me assuming our dynamic is obvious and that third-party is familiar with what I have always assumed to be “scene courtesy”?  I have always taken this as a sign of respect for a couple’s dynamic.  If the slave is free to interact on her own I have still done no harm by asking first.  If not I have saved myself the issue of stepping on her Master’s toes.

Apparently there is dissent and disagreement on this matter.  There were two reactions that Graydancer garnered that particularly rubbed me in funny ways, especially as a slave.

The first was, “I don’t like being ignored!”, which nearly caused an aneurysm.  Seriously, I had to walk away from the computer and find something to beat my head against that Angelflare wouldn’t beat me for breaking.  The idea that my Master is the privileged one of the two of us is a bit of a “duh” statement for me.  Isn’t that the role I accepted when I chose to be a slave?  My pleasure is his pleasure.  My life is his life.  I am property.  It really doesn’t matter if I like being ignored or not.  That’s not my choice to make.  Greydancer does point out that if someone is asking permission to talk to me it’s not being ignored, and to me it’s even more than being spoken to directly.  I’m worth asking  permission to talk to!  That makes my slave heart smile!

The second comment that ruffled my slave feathers a bit was the idea that by expecting this courtesy Angelflare and I would be forcing our scene on them without consent!  Yeah, read that again.  What?  Here Graydancer does a great job of explaining that for many of us this is not a scene.  This is how we live our lives.  This is who we are.  Angelflare and I are not forcing you to do anything.  Of course you can ignore our wishes and talk to anyone you want, and I can choose to ignore you until you’ve obtained permission from my Master.  Who are you to assume you deserve a breach in my obedience?

The basis of Graydancer’s post, and the original one he links to about “domism”, seems to be gender.  The original poster seems to focus on male Doms and female submissives, citing “Patriarchal and heterosexist patterns” in a scene that, in her experience, is saturated by male Dominants.  I have to admit I can’t relate to her feelings, as that has not been my experience.  As a pansexual female switch married to a pansexual male switch who just happens to take the role as my Master I have not noticed a dynamic paradigm.  Our local community is fairly balanced, and I had not assumed others to be any different.  Nor is it really any of my business.  As a female I don’t take any offence to it. I don’t assume any of it happens because I’m a woman; I assume it’s because of the collar around my neck.  If I’m the one holding the leash I expect, and am afforded, the same courtesy no matter what the gender of the person on the other end.  This is how it should be.

My conclusion?  That we are all taking how other people live their lives way too seriously, especially for people who are publicly hailing our rights to live the way we wish and talk to who we wish, and so on, and so forth.  This is not high school.  This is not a life or death decision.  You will not die if you speak to me and I ignore you because I refuse to let you impose your desire to be a rebel on my protocols.  Just don’t do so if you don’t like to be ignored, because ignored you will be.

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Attitude Adjustment – A Slave’s Journey

May 30, 2012 at 20:57 (M/S) (, , , , , , , , )


In my last post I addressed the issue of control, mainly my issue with giving it all away.  This week has been a rare opportunity, as I am on vacation from work and able to focus on my service.  Angelflare and I have both given this time the onus of deciding our future as a 24/7  M/s couple.  I had decided it myself before he brought it up, and we both cited the same basic reason: Attitude.

I have been aware for some time that I can be defensive, emotional, and at times I use my words as weapons.  They’re all I’ve got.  I can’t take many people in a fight, I don’t have wealth or affluence, nor am I a particularly intimidating person.  I have also been aware that this is not acceptable behaviour for a slave and have worked very hard to take the bite out of my words, even when I’m upset.  This has not always been successful, but I have been making progress.  At least, I thought I had.

Just as with the control issue I have no problem conceptualizing what needs to be done.  I have no problem understanding how I need to respond when he pushes my buttons.  The problem I have is deeper and entirely emotional, my response burning and angry before  I even have a chance to get my intention and reasoning across more respectfully.  Frankly, I’m not good at holding my tongue, and once it’s out and I realize I’ve gone too far or just don’t care.

Of course, I do care once I’ve calmed down.  I want this to work.  I want to please him, and I want to make him proud of me.  So, what do I do about this?  Count to ten? Deep breaths?  I can hold my tongue in a sterile environment for a short time.  I’ve been pretty calm this week for the most part.  He’s even offered an incentive and consequences.  It’s the moment I’m already stressed and he starts pressing my buttons to get a reaction that I fail miserably.  It’s the moment I think about it always being this way that I feel helpless and trapped.

All I can do at this time is keep working towards the goal, accept the consequences, and hope he doesn’t give up on me.  Am I really cut out for this? If not, does that make me a failure?  I recognize a slave can be independent and strong-willed in the rest of her life, and I’m trying to incorporate the two.  If I can’t “hack it”, as he so eloquently puts it, does that make me flawed and weak?  Or is his term meant to make me try harder and prove him wrong.  Is he using my own stubbornness against me?

Only one way to find out…

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Submissive

January 13, 2012 at 22:44 (erotica) (, , , , )


His touch comes
swift
strong
wringing from me
every last drop
of stubborn will
the collar not yet around my neck
but I am already his
all of me
this knowledge feeds him
my eyes drop
to the floor
I fallow
to my knees
waiting obediently
pleading silently in loving supplication
tearing myself open
I am my own sacrifice
to a God who needs nothing
takes nothing
and gets anything he wants
In this darkness there is no sound
but his growling laughter
he will destroy and devour me
he will desecrate and  dissolve me
I will find myself
int he marks he leaves behind
I will be defined
like a Rorschach test
I am now restrained and pleading
but is it for less or more
I know
my desire is as palpable as my fear
and my willingness to fall apart tastes acrid on my lips
sweet and succulent on his
an acquired taste, submission
I give in
incorporeal
before I know it
I am bleeding
his beating draining the impurities from my soul
I let go
of what’s left of my control
I am released
in tormented ecstasy
he takes me
then leaves me
a puddle of a girl
in a husk of a body
weeping and groaning
heaving and moaning
I feel his touch
now soft with love
and I know he will reconstruct me
shape me
fortify me
no longer an aberration
but a star
brilliant though distant
this is when we are the closest
where he breathes me in
where we absorb each other
with him, in him
I remain
untouched but by his hands
unhearing but from his voice
unheld but by his heart
this is where I am his
all of me

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