Monthly Archives: June 2014

Musings on aftercare

It was a night like many other. I had tied him up. I had teased him. I had used him how I saw fit. I had made him the canvas for my art, my kink. I untied him and had him clean up a bit. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t a night like any other any more. I was in the bed waiting for him. Waiting for our usual post-scene ritual of snuggling and just feeling each other’s skin. He came up to the bed and… announced he was very tired and was going to go get some sleep.

To say I was astonished is an understatement. He’s usually all over me after a scene. He can’t get close enough to me. Which is fine with me since I thrive on touch. I may be quite particular about whom I want touching me, but if I want someone’s touch then it’s never too much. My shock must have shown on my face. He relented that maybe he could snuggle for a few minutes. Reluctantly. And he meant a few minutes. In under 5 minutes he was out of the bed and out the door. Never again.

I need aftercare. It isn’t always all about the one getting hit. Sometimes it’s about the one doing the hitting (or tying or teasing or humiliating or whatever) as well. For me, aftercare is as much a means of connecting with the person I’m playing with as it is a means to come back to reality. I will eventually come back to this world on my own. But I can’t connect to someone who isn’t there. And if I can’t make that connection, it can feel a lot like rejection. Rejection of what just happened. Which is, at the heart of things, a rejection of myself. What I do with my kink comes from my mind and my heart. And running off after I’ve shared my dark side and offered you a side of myself that very few people get to see makes me feel like… at best, I’ve been an experience which has run its course… at worst, I’ve shown you my vulnerable underbelly and been gutted for my trouble.

And I can now say with certainty that it feels even worse to have someone you love do this. And to feel as if your touch and your nakedness is a bother to be endured until an escape can be made. Never again. In the future, if someone doesn’t want to snuggle and reconnect with me after a scene…

I will tell them not to do me any fucking favors.

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Musings on loving

Love. Most people want it, and who can blame them? It’s a wondrous thing. I used to think I couldn’t really love. Then I learned I could. Then I thought that my love was probably limited to one person. Then I learned it wasn’t. It’s been a very slow walk down this particular path. And I’m not even sure I’ve reached the end of it yet!

I liken how I love to a well. It’s a very oddly shaped well, but I think that’s the best analogy. I still think there are edges to it. It isn’t like the ocean or the air. It isn’t everywhere. And you can reach the end of it. It’s also not as easily available as the air we breathe or an ocean you can just run jump into. There are walls. They’re big and thick and high.

And on top of that, the opening to that well isn’t very big. And I don’t mean that you can’t fit an elephant through it. I mean that you probably couldn’t fit a bucket through it. Not even a small one. You might be able to fit a thimble through it. With a generous amount of lube to help things through. It requires trust.

He has to trust that there’s a way in. And sometimes he has to trust that there’s also a way back out. And that there’s water in there at all, that the well isn’t actually empty. Then he has to be willing to go to the well, because that well isn’t going to come to him. But if he can manage to get past all that…

The water in there is both cool and calm, and alternatively full of vicious waves that will toss you around. And it’s pretty vast in the well. It’s a whole universe. To find those edges, you’d need a very large ship. And a lot of time. Once I figured out how to love, I proceeded to do it with great abandon. It’s probably why the opening to my vast sea of love is so small. And it’s also probably good that one can’t just accidentally fall into the well. It’s not the kind of sea that just anyone should try to swim in.

Some can tread the waters or even thrive in the water. Some might swim like a beluga and play in the waves. But I think that there are also a lot of people who would drown instead.

Musings on befriendings

Somewhere along the line, I seem to have lost my ability to play well with others. I don’t socialize well. I used to. I remember a time when I didn’t feel awkward talking to people. I remember being better at small talk and discussing the weather. I could create a topic out of thin air if I needed to. I could talk to most people most of the time.

Now I can barely talk to anyone about anything. I don’t know when I lost my social skills. But I did. I can barely tolerate small talk. I find it strained and awkward and I’m sure it shows. Maybe it’s because I find it so tedious and taxing that I can’t do it any more. Perhaps what I really lost is my ability to fake it. But the net result of whatever I’m lost along the way is that I almost never make new friends.

I can’t remember making more than one new friend in the last 5 years. I have made a few acquaintances. Other than that, I feel sometimes like I’m in a barren wasteland. Or I feel like I’ve become so boring (or… unlikable… but I try not to go down that path) that I simply have nothing to talk about any more. And that without things to discuss in order to establish some commonalities, it’s even harder to forge friendships.

The Husband and I discussed it over the weekend. I used to have work, school, and hobbies. The people at work may or may not have had much in common with me, but often they did because I tend to choose work that I enjoy over work that is simply a paycheck. This tends to self-select for other people who do the same thing. That means that we will likely have a few things in common. Thus, a pool of potential friends. The same could be said for school and hobbies. Both are highly likely to be pools for potential friends because we’re studying the same things, going through the same things, or passionate about the same things we’re choosing to do in our free time. And, of course, there are usually plenty of people at the same rough stage in life.

Now, I am not in school. I don’t have any hobbies. I just work. I’ve cut my pool by two thirds.

In addition to that, I have little in common with other people in my age group. We usually have different experiences and priorities since I chose not to have children. I can’t relate to their stories of annoying teens, potty training woes, or being a grandparent. I don’t have a corporate job, so I have nothing in common there either. Nor can I really talk about the current life experiences of people in school for the first time. I can talk about my past experience with school. But it bears little resemblance to the experiences of being in school today. It’s simply been so long that it has changed too much. Then, of course, there’s the kink.

Being kinky is certainly not enough to guarantee we could be friends. But if I befriend a vanilla person, I will either have to hide my kinky side from them. (And did I mention it’s the only notable activity in my life right now?) Or I will have to come out to them and hope they don’t look at me like I’ve suddenly turned into a monster.

So basically, what I’m saying is that I think I might have missed my window of opportunity for easy friend-making. If I want to make friends from now on, I suspect that I’m going to have to put some Herculean effort into it.

Musings on particular sex acts: titfucking

I keep seeing discussions on the intarwebz about “What is the most dominant/submissive act?” And I don’t think such a thing exists on a meta level since I don’t believe any given act is inherently dominant/submissive. It seems to come up even more in relation to sex acts. And I’ve found it especially problematic in relation to being a dominant woman who enjoys sex. There are an unfortunate number of people (where “people” includes the submissive men I would like to be doing sex acts with) who equate any kind of penetration with submissiveness. As a woman who really likes to be in charge of how the sex goes and who also really likes to have penis in my vagina, it’s a problem.

Penetration isn’t a submissive act. Neither is penetrating. It’s all in what’s going on in someone’s head. I find the “x act is submissive/dominant” line of thinking gets in the way of some of the things I like to do. I have been assured on several occasions that “titfucking” (I really hate that label for it, but calling it “masturbating someone between my breasts while using their body to stimulate my nipples” is a bit unwieldy) can’t possibly be a dominant act. So here’s a little guide on how I like to do it. Not that having someone sit on one’s chest can’t be a dominant act. If I told someone to do that, it would be him submitting to my will and doing what I want. But I have enough trouble breathing without someone adding their weight to my chest. So I have developed some alternative… less subtly dominant… methods. Here are a few ways to have a penis between your chest in 5 easy steps:

Step 1: Find a willing fellow whose penis you’d like to have between your breasts

Step 2: Use a Swiss seat harness to suspend this willing fellow from a hard point.

Step 3 (optional): Tie his hands behind his back or otherwise restrain his hands

Step 4: Lift him to the appropriate height to have his penis between your breasts

Step 5: Have fun with the penis that’s now between your breasts

 

Step 1: Find a penis attached to a man who you fancy, who’s game to have his penis between your breasts

Step 2: Make him lay down somewhere

Step 3 (optional): Bind him so he can barely move

Step 4: Lay on top of him such that your breasts are surrounding his penis

Step 5: Enjoy the penis between your breasts as you see fit

 

So now you know way more about my sex life than you ever wanted to! Do I think liking these things suddenly turns me into a submissive woman? No I don’t.

Breaking it down

“Setting aside the fact that localtranswoman* clearly identified him/herself to me as a female sub, and therefore ineligible to be part of a femdom group, now a biological male–and regardless of what she wants to believe, localtranswoman is a bio male–wants to explore his dominance in a femdom setting.”
The thing about people is… they change over time. Like everything else in the world, people aren’t static. We grow and explore and change. That is (in my humble opinion) one of the things we’re meant to do here on this big blue planet. Sure, some people don’t change much over their lifetimes. Some people are averse to change, and try their best to avoid it. But human beings change. Someone who has been in the kink lifestyle for a few months can’t always be expected to fall directly into the identity or identities that suit them best. Sometimes it takes a while to figure out where we fit. So I don’t find it hard to believe that someone who identified as x might later identify as x and also y or even not x and very y.
And in addition, I will just reiterate that I find it highly offensive for someone to deny another autonomous human the right to self-identify something like gender or sexuality. It’s the height of arrogance.
“I asked guywhowantstobelongtome* about the munch. He was there and I wasn’t. He said it was weird to be in that femdom setting with a male — never for a moment does localtranswoman look femme — who he was supposed to consider a woman and dominant. I can imagine what that would do to the boys’ energy at a party. Many submales don’t come out to pansexual events because they don’t feel comfortable around submissive women or dominant men and it messes with their head space.”
So, because one person who wasn’t there was confused and uncomfortable and the submissive she’s considering was uncomfortable, we will now deny someone the right to participate. Well, it isn’t my group. And the owner of the group can do whatever she wants to do with the group. If she wants to limit the group to dominant women between the ages of 57 and 82 who have long hair and paint their fingernails blue and submissive men who want to paint blue nailpolish on the fingernails of dominant women between the ages of 57 and 82… it’s her right to define the parameters of her own group. However, the more you limit things, the fewer eligible people there are. And when it comes to something as volatile as gender identities or kink roles, it can alienate even those who do fit the parameters if you put your limits on things in a less than savory way.
And are we so delicate as dominant women and submissive men that we can’t handle a dominant woman who happens to have a cock or a submissive man who happens to have a vagina? I asked the Wild Thing if being at a femdom event with a transdomme had disturbed or confused him. He hadn’t even noticed. So I asked the Husband if it would bother him. He didn’t think so. So clearly for some it matters, and for others it’s not an issue at all. And exactly how feminine in appearance does one have to be before we allow them to call themselves a woman? How masculine does one have to appear before we let him call himself a man? Who decides this crap anyhow? Is this the best we can do? I hope not.
“localgenderfluidperson* has given me similar brain-twisting, since he has come to our munches as a man — which he is — but has told me that his male personna is dominant. I got past that because he feels sub to me, but if he showed up dressed as a woman and claimed to be dominant I wouldn’t consider him a Domme.
I vote no. I will yield to groupowner’s* decision, but I’m firm about localtranswoman not coming to my home. I don’t want localgenderfluidperson here, either, for the record.”
So herein lies the crux of the actual issue. Someone who doesn’t understand or acknowledge transgendered people is being confronted about her bigotry and doesn’t want to give it any critical thought or have to put up with those pesky trans people in her world. Because it’s all her world, of course.
*names changed to protect… well you know how it works
** further edited to add that I have no idea why the formatting is messed up and I can’t seem to fix it.

And now, for something completely different

You think you know someone. Today I found out that someone I consider a friend (perhaps not a close friend, but definitely more than an acquaintance) is… a bigot. I’m shocked. I usually have a fairly good radar for people with whom I won’t get on well. This is a massive fail.

The good news is that I can now look back and see some subtle warning signs. I know that many kinky people have long-term kink relationships of one sort or another. In this regard, they might claim more knowledge about kink relationships. Or relationships in general. But… If someone thinks they know more about my relationship than I do, they might not be someone incredibly flexible in their thinking. Knowing more about a 24/7 TPE relationship with a non-romantic partner does not qualify you to judge my romantic D/s kinky relationships.

And I think that perhaps this lack of flexibility in general thinking might lead to bigotry. I have met many wonderful people since I’ve been involved in kink. Some of them are female-identified Masters. Some of them are female-gendered persons in a genetically male body. Some of them are bisexual, transexual, sapiosexual, or asexual. I know people who don’t identify with either traditional gender or a binary gender system. And I also know that a binary gender system isn’t a universal theme. I’m pretty open to them identifying in whatever way is honest and right for them. I really don’t like other people telling me how I have to identify. If I listened to the traditional wisdom, I’d be considered a submissive. Because I look like a woman. And it wouldn’t matter that I have no desire to submit.

If someone tells me that though she has a penis instead of a vagina, she is a woman… I fucking believe her. I don’t argue that because she has a penis, she must identify as a male. I don’t tell her that I’m confused and uncomfortable and it’s her fault and so she should quit identifying as a woman because I find it discomfiting. I don’t say that I know her better than she does. Because I don’t. I haven’t walked in her shoes. I’ve had it incredibly easy. Other than being a dominant, which isn’t apparent just by looking at me, I’m quite stereotypical. I’m genetically female, I look very feminine, and I identify as a female. But I have friends that aren’t that lucky. And fuck anyone who thinks that being confused, uncomfortable, or having a superiority complex is an excuse for bigotry.

Musings: Here and now

Well I’ve been so busy doing things that I have not been writing much. It’s a good problem to have! Mostly I’ve been feeling very lucky and happy to have some wonderful men in my life. I’ve checked in with both of them, and they also seem to be doing well. Though the Husband does struggle, he’s really doing pretty well. I certainly couldn’t share my spouse, so I appreciate that he can. (Even when it’s hard for him.) And I appreciate that he’s doing better about both recognizing that I have needs as well and knowing that he wants to be given an opportunity to meet them. Which sounds very obvious. But it wasn’t. Not to him. Not for a long time.

And the Wild Thing? Well he is dealing quite well with the fact that this isn’t your typical dating relationship. He’s very impressive in his willingness to both accept what I am able to give him. Because it isn’t at all what he’s used to from vanilla women. Nor is it even typical of most monogamous romantic D/s relationships I’ve seen. And he is also willing and able to communicate when he is struggling to accept it. I know men twice his age that wouldn’t be able to handle this type of situation with such grace.

So basically this is an entire post dedicated wholly and completely to bragging about my men! Yes. Completely shameless bragging. Oh, and they are both completely gorgeous. Ok, I’ll stop now!