When 2 halves don’t make a whole

I am sure the few readers I have might have noticed that I haven’t been writing much lately. Partially it has been that I have not had much time alone. And it’s very hard to keep an anonymous blog when your loves are looking over your shoulder at what you are typing. Also, vanilla life has gotten busy. But in addition…

I have not been doing much in the way of kinky play or D/s. In fact, both of my relationships have been gearing down from those things and steering in a much more vanilla direction. I do still have some kinky play times and some D/s in my life. But it isn’t nearly what it was a few years ago. So I simply have less to write about.

I wish I could say that I’m happy with this situation. But it seems that I keep finding myself in this kind of situation. (This has not been my first foray into multiple partners.) One, two, three partners, and very little kink in my life. You would think that with more partners, you would of necessity be getting more play. More D/s. Apparently it doesn’t always follow. The only way that I have found more kinky play (though not more D/s) with multiple partners are the times I have done more casual play with friends.

Now I find myself feeling that I am approaching a crossroads. I find the older that I get, the harder it is for me to find chemistry with anyone. The less often I am attracted to anyone on even the most rudimentary level. The less I have in common with any one person. And yet the more I find that what I need in my life is one (or two) permanent and committed relationship(s) with plenty of authority transfer and kinky play times. And I find myself needing someone (or someones) who has plenty of time to spend on me.

What I currently have are two halves of that equation. I have two partners with whom I have things in common and they have been fairly committed and permanent. But the kink and D/s have been fading into dust. They have become… are becoming… half relationships. Half relationships with men that I still love. And that aren’t filling my needs.

The Husband accepted a job that has taken him to another state. Our relationship has become long-distance. It was supposed to be temporary, but after a few years, it becomes clear that it isn’t. He is happy and doing work that suits his talents. This is wonderful! For him. But it is slowly killing our relationship. And it has already killed our kinky play and D/s. He no longer feels like mine. He feels like a handsome stranger that I want to get to know but can’t. Not enough time.

The Wild Thing was never going to be a forever relationship. There are too many things that he wants from life that I can’t deliver. And as those things return to his consciousness after the NRE and rose-colored-glasses phase of our relationship fades (we have had quite a long time, over 2 years of NRE and rose-colored-glasses), he doesn’t feel like mine either. He feels like a horse comfortable in the yoke but ready to start running free. And I want him to be able to run free. I never want to hold anyone back from being who they are.

But that leaves me with two vanilla halves of a relationship that don’t… can’t add up to a whole for someone who NEEDS the passionate whippings. The willing servitude. The concession of will. The hours of time together. And the joy in all these things must be mutual. When the joy and the enthusiasm is one-sided, I lose my energy and will to sustain things on my own.

I need a partner in crime. Someone or someones who glory in bending to my will and being the canvas for my passion. They must be in it with me. I am sad that I don’t have these things.

But I am also hesitantly hopeful that those things are out there. And that I can and will find him. Or them. And hesitantly hopeful for the men I love to find whatever it is that they need as well. Because I don’t think it is me. And I am cowardly. Because I have no idea how to go about speaking about this with them. I do still love them. I don’t want to damage them. And I can’t tell if staying together will damage them more than parting our paths.

Open letter to rope people

Dear rope people,

The takate kote is not the only way to tie someone up. There are plenty of other ways to tie someone up. You don’t have to put the arms behind the back. In fact, you don’t even have to tie the arms up at all. I promise, nobody will take away your Official Shibari Master Club card. And really, if you are all so concerned about the dreaded nerve damage and the even more dreaded wrist drop…

Maybe you should do a different fucking tie.

Seriously. I am sick of hearing the “woe is me” whining from rope bottoms bemoaning how they have to sacrifice their body for their art. Newsflash, you don’t have to. I’m even more sick of hearing the self-congratulatory blatherings of rope tops about how they have tied up someone, that someone got nerve damage, and the top is doing the right thing by admitting it happened. Congratulations for being a decent human.

Now you can all keep whining about nerve damage and the dangerous dangers of your dangerous shibari…

Or you can do a different fucking tie.

That is all,

Anonymouskinky

This is my life: I am a slave and you will do Master things to me right now!

When I first entered the kink scene, I thought I was a slave. I really believed that was where I fit in. It wasn’t, of course. But I hadn’t done any soul searching on the subject since I was brand new. I had no natural instinct about it. Perhaps because it all happened very suddenly and there were so many things happening at once. Perhaps it was because all of the examples of kink that I had before me were M/f. In the end, it doesn’t matter why, it matters that I wasn’t a slave. I wasn’t even submissive. What matters is that I did think about it eventually, after I slowed down enough to quit doing and start thinking. What matters is that I did find that natural instinct after I was not simply overwhelmed with delight in finding something that actually stirred me sexually.

So when I say that sometimes people are a little confused about exactly where they fall on the kink spectrum, I know from personal experience that it happens! When I say that sometimes, someone needs to figure out what actually works for them… brings them joy or personal fulfillment… turns them on… I know what I’m talking about. I think it’s wonderful when people are basically born with a whip in their hand. Those people who have these feelings or desires very early on have it all figured out by the time I was just stumbling into kink. They’re lucky.

I was not lucky so much as I was confused. I didn’t mean to mislead anyone. I genuinely thought I was great slave material! I was convinced I would make some nice man a wonderful slave. I was dead wrong. I am only happy that I didn’t have many dominant partners before I figured out that I was a dominant myself. And I thank the people who helped my on my journey in figuring that out. I admire their patience. I admire their restraint as well. Nobody yelled at me or tried to force me to be something I’m not. I haven’t always been so kind to the confused people in my life. I’m certainly not perfect. My past partners were merely trying to get me to do the things I said I wanted to do. To be the way I said I wanted to be.

But, of course, I wasn’t. And I didn’t want to do those things. I thought I was those things. But there is a world of difference between bottoming and submitting. And while I could manage bottoming, I never managed submitting. It was easy enough to get me to do the things I brought up. But I wasn’t very good at doing the things they wanted me to do. Sure, I might try it once to see if I liked it. But the problem was getting me to do anything more than once. And that was just in the context of play. I can’t even imagine the colossal pain in the ass I would have been if anything had ever moved from play partners to anything more.

So, my “submission” looked something like this:

Me: Hey, I saw this guy tying up this girl and spanking her. I want to try that with you.

Them: Well I am good with rope. I can totally do that.

 

Them: I am very good with a flogger. Have you ever been flogged?

Me: No, but it looked really fun to me when X was being flogged. I do think I want to try that!

 

Do you see a pattern here? I was keen to try new things. I was keen to do the things I wanted to do. But nowhere in there did I indicate that I wanted to do things with a thought to what they actually wanted. Nor did I ever indicate that I wanted to give up any control to anyone. I wanted to try the things I wanted to try. I wanted someone to do those things to me. Sure, I expected that they would enjoy the things to. But that was certainly not my main motivation.

Yes. I was a do-me bottom. And a confused one at that!

Not that being a bottom is wrong or bad. It isn’t. Bottoms are wonderful to have! They are the perfect counterpoint to tops. And do-me bottoms aren’t even a bad thing. They are the perfect counterpoint to service tops. But bottoming is not the same thing as submitting. And if you don’t have a conversation with your partner, it can lead to frustration and confusion. For both/all of you.

So listen up all you submissive people! Ask yourself if you want to do the things you want to do. Do you want to do the things that your partner wants to do? Maybe you want to do things that are mutually agreeable to all parties. Ask yourself if your main priority (not your only one, perhaps, but your main one) is you or your partner(s). Ask yourself if you want someone else making decisions about your scene. Or your life. Or maybe you want to be the one making those decisions. If your answers are anything like the examples above? Perhaps you are not submissive. Perhaps you are a bottom. Perhaps you are a do-me bottom. Perhaps you are actually… a dominant.

It happens sometimes that we are all a bit confused. And the best thing we can do for our own peace of mind and happiness is to give it some thought so that we can figure out what actually works for us. How can we find our happiness if we don’t even have a clue what it looks like?

Femdom play: fantasy vs. reality

The idea was to do some bondage and draw some designs on one of the guys…

I would tie up his hot naked body, the rope slowly getting tighter around him. Him, getting more turned on by the tightness of the rope. By being immobilized, naked, and vulnerable. Then, after I had him helpless and bound, I would use his flesh as a canvas for my art. Drawing on him languorously, the wet paint feeling cool against his hot skin… further exciting him. He is my object. My toy and my art. Finally, I would use his bound body for my sexual gratification. Riding him until he is begging me to be allowed to orgasm.

That was the fantasy. Sounds hot right? (I think it sounds hot, but I admit to quite a bias since it was my idea.) So here’s the reality…

I began tying him and his arm was feeling swollen. I loosened the rope but it still felt off a bit. I checked his motor reactions, and they were good. I asked if he thought he could continue or if he were feeling any numbness/tingling. He said he wasn’t feeling any numbness, tingling, or pain. Just that his arm felt a bit swollen and heavy. He said he thought he could continue, and would let me know if he needed to come out of the tie. But he was not comfortable or getting into any kind of pleasant headspace from being in the bondage. He was mildly annoyed and uncomfortable in a bad way. He was also cold, as my air conditioner refused to raise the temperature to any modicum of warmth. That thing has a mind of its own.

After I had managed to get him tied up, I checked back in and he was fine to continue. So I began writing on him. Unfortunately, by this time, he was falling asleep. Which was causing him to twitch and jerk about. Not good for trying to make a cohesive design. So I kept having to pinch and poke him to keep him awake. That sounds relatively sexy, but he didn’t enjoy it because he was literally falling asleep. I didn’t particularly enjoy it because it was interrupting my drawing and wasn’t giving me any kind of fun reactions.

When I had finished making my masterpiece on him, I had planned on ravishing him. But he let me know that he couldn’t manage in the bondage any longer. So I began to untie him. So much for having a helpless, squirming bundle of passion under me! Once I got him untied, he was freezing without the rope to help keep him warm. So I snuggled up to him to try to keep him warm. We did at least end up having sex. The second time went much better than the first. I think he had recovered from being tired and cold by that point.

Femdom reality. Yep.

In which I rant on cheating

So there is yet another thread on Fetlife about why it’s ok (or, in this case, hot) to cheat. The thread was started by a woman who thinks it’s just so hot to be with a guy who is cheating on his partner. That is the entirety of the original post. And most of the people in the group were not supportive of this idea. But, of course, there were also those who defended cheating. Because reasons. So many reasons. Reasons, people!

I will begin by saying that I’m no angel. I have made mistakes and bad decisions in my life. Because I’m human, and therefore imperfect. When I was beginning to navigate the world of dating, I cheated on my boyfriend. I knew what I was doing was outside the parameters of our agreed upon relationship. I did it anyhow. Because I wanted to. I was an asshole. After that, I decided that it was a bad idea and that I’d been an asshole. I determined that wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I decided not to do it again. So I know what I’m talking about.

I didn’t discover the world of BDSM until I was an adult in a vanilla marriage. It hit me like a sledge hammer. It was overwhelming. It was hot. It woke things in me that I didn’t even know existed. It is a story I’ve heard repeatedly on Fetlife. Really. Over and over and over and over in ad infinitum. So it isn’t even an original story.

So what did I do. I thought about it. With the head on my shoulders. I did my best not to let the newness and the hotness turn me into that asshole again. I had a husband. And I felt that if I cared enough about him to marry him, I cared enough about him to let him in on my newfound discovery. Was it frightening? Of course. Was it risky? Fucking yes it was! I was putting my entire relationship at risk. And I still did it. Because it was the right fucking thing to do!

So when I say to the people who can’t be bothered to inform their partners about their interest in kink that I think they are being a selfish asshole, I fucking know what I’m talking about.

There were several people in the thread who gave some excuses about why they were cheating (or looking to cheat) on their partner. Here are a few of them, and a brief deconstruction of why I think they are total bullshit.

Well I talked to my spouse about it, but s/he isn’t interested.

I commend you for talking to your spouse. It’s a difficult and frightening conversation to have. However, having the conversation doesn’t absolve your agreements and responsibilities to your partner. Just because not everyone is kinky is not a decent excuse to cheat on your partner. Yes, it’s the reason you are giving. But what you are really saying is that you want to be the selfish asshole who wants to have your cake and eat it too. That your need for kink is greater than your need to continue to be honest with the person you say you love and care for. That, my friends, is being a selfish asshole. And it brings your word into question.

My partner is physically/mentally ill and I cannot hurt hir further by bringing up getting my kink on with outside sources.

This one is my favorite. Because it seems so loving and giving doesn’t it? The loving partner who can’t bear to hurt hir partner. The loving partner who wants to support hir ailing partner… By lying to that ailing partner. By actually putting the need for kink above the need for being honest and honoring the agreements made with the ailing partner. Because that is what is actually going on. If leaving someone isn’t an option, there always exists the option to put BDSM on the back burner for a while. I have been there and done that. So I don’t believe in your supposed altruism for one short second. You are lying to your partner and you are lying to yourself if you think that you are not being selfish.

Well I couldn’t find a kink relationship/didn’t know there was such a thing as kink relationships/lived in an area where there was no access to kink, so I married vanilla and now I don’t want to hurt the love of my life.

So basically what you are saying here is that you think so little of your partner… who is the love of your life, your bestie, that you think they would not even make an attempt to understand your needs. This amazing person who is your partner is so without empathy that s/he would rather simply leave you than attempt to reach some agreement where you could both be happy. I think that is a horrid thing to say about your partner. If your partner really is like that, perhaps you would actually be better off without hir. And by the way, you are still basically saying that you are being a selfish asshole who wants to have hir cake and eat it too, without regard for the feelings of that love of your life.

I made a vow to stick with my husband/wife forever, so I could never actually leave hir.

Another favorite! So what you are saying here is that some vows are worth keeping. But others can be tossed out. Because there is always the option to put the kink back in the closet or to leave and find someone more compatible. But wait! Leave? Unthinkable! The vow not to leave? MUST BE HONORED!!!11!! The vow of fidelity? Well that one doesn’t really count. The vow to honor your partner? That one is only a suggestion. The vow to be honest? Well did we really mean that one? So, in short, this is another case of being selfish and lying to yourself about your supposedly noble intent.

So basically what I’m saying is that I get it. Adult relationships are complicated and often challenging. And sometimes we royally fuck them up. But the least we can do is respect ourselves and our partners. And admit when we have been selfish assholes. And to not try to justify it away when we have been (or are about to be) a selfish asshole. Admit it. And don’t fucking do it again.

This is my life: miracle weekend

It’s late in my part of the world. The night is dark and cool. Nobody here but me. It was an intense weekend, and I’m both elated and a bit exhausted. I have missed 3 days of work, played, argued, made up, fucked, and cried. Not necessarily in that order. I feel I’ve been living in a different land for the past 5 days. Tomorrow I go back to the real world. There may be repercussions for missing work. I believe it was worth it. Even if I end up being fired, it will have been worth it. The Husband and I have reconnected. I feel wonderful!

Now I am looking forward to the future. I feel that things can work. For all of us. Times are changing. I am changing. Again. More hope for more kink and more love and more togetherness. It may not be perfect, but what is? Nothing. And this is good. This weekend has been a much needed catharsis. And now for some sleep!

Wherein I rant because I am in a ranting mood

This is a random rant.

Please stop cleaning your leather toys with products not meant for leather. First, they are not meant for leather. This means they are going to be damaging your leather. Second, they are not meant to clean the things you’re trying to get rid of. Spraying your flogger with a countertop cleaner is not going to get rid of HIV if you have gotten HIV infected blood on your flogger. Your floor cleaner will not kill the hep c you have gotten on your leather paddle. And if you are playing someone that has the flu, I think you might have bigger problems than getting the virus off of your leather toys. Really. Just stop it.

Here’s a compromise for those of you who really feel you must clean your leather toys. If you’ll quit looking at me like I’m singlehandedly responsible for spreading blood borne pathogens throughout the kink community, I’ll quit looking at you like you’re an idiot.

Unrelated.

I understand that everyone has different comfort levels about their kinks. But please stop with the hand wringing and teeth gnashing about violating the consent of vanilla people by “showing your kinks in public.” So does someone at a kink party need to get the consent of everyone there before starting a scene? What if I don’t want to see your clown beating a furry scene because I’m terrified of clowns? Or furries? I didn’t consent to accidentally seeing that! You are now a consent violater! Because you didn’t get the consent of… someone not actually in your scene.

Sure, it’s not exactly the best thing ever if one were to tie up one’s bottom in the local grocery mart and start fucking hir mouth. But you know what’s the “not right” part in that? Hint: it isn’t the kink part. It’s the sex part. I know I know… won’t someone please think of the children!!! You know what also used to be completely unacceptable public behavior? Women wearing pants. Same sex partners. Partners of different ethnicities. Showing your ankles. Holding hands.

Somehow we have, as a culture, gotten the fuck over these horrid and scandalous visions. I hope that in time, seeing someone in a corset or wearing a collar or someone in a corset walking someone in a collar on a leash will hold the same scandal as seeing a woman’s ankles. And really, the people who seem the most scandalized by this sort of thing are the kinky ones. The vanilla ones mostly seem to think it’s funny if they even think anything about it at all.

This is my life: the parking lot

I hadn’t seen him in way too long. We were both hungering for each other. I met him for dinner though I had already eaten and wasn’t hungry for anything other than the sight of him. The touch of his lips. I had prepared for our particular relationship complications by putting a pillow and sleeping bag in the car.

We climbed in the back with the windows rolled partially down. It was warm and he was soft. It was quiet and I was enjoying holding him as he held me. I was so comfortable that I almost fell asleep. He shifted and I pulled him back to me for a kiss. Then he said it:

“I want you so badly.”

I wanted him too. When I pulled him back to me, I felt him hard against my belly. I grabbed it through his pants. Then I wanted to feel his skin. I had his pants unzipped and his cock in my hand. My mouth sucking on his tongue. He put his hand down my pants. His fingers inside me. I bit him hard as I came in the parking lot in the back seat of my car, hoping I wasn’t being loud enough to attract unwanted attention.

I pulled away from him and his lazy smile looked so pleased. But I wanted him to cum too. I pushed him back and put his lovely cock in my mouth. Until he came all over his shirt. In the back seat of my car in the parking lot. I pulled back to see the dreamy look on his face. A few minutes later, someone walked by and looked in at us. Both fully clothed but looking quite languidly satisfied. Maybe the passer by noticed the large wet stain on his shirt. It was hard to miss.

Musings on forced femme & feminization

It’s a touchy subject. And it’s surrounded by heated debates almost every time it is brought up. Forced anything play.

I do it. I like it. Sometimes. And other times, I wouldn’t touch it under threat of death. (Slight exaggeration, but you get the picture.) Why? Well I’m glad you asked. I’ll tell you! And I’m using forced femme as my platform as I’ve just read something that insisted that all forms of forced femme stem from a place of misogyny. I have, therefore, just been called a misogynyst. Of course, I disagree.

I have two very different submissives right now. The Wild Thing wears panties every day. I took away all his “man” undergarments. He has one pair of black boxer briefs that he is allowed to keep in case he has some kind of emergency where he needs to present as male/masculine. Otherwise he wears panties. All day every day. It isn’t forced. I require it, but I didn’t force it out of him. It’s who he is. He owned some before we met along with some skirts and feminine lingerie. It’s natural to him. As natural and right as his having skin or legs or eyes. It was my choice to have him wear them all the time, but I did so because it is a part of him. I want him to know I think it’s sexy and beautiful and that I love to see him in his panties.

I also like to see The Husband in sexy feminine clothing. He has a love/hate relationship with wearing them. He doesn’t like wearing them. He likes being forced. I like to see him in them. I like forcing him. Many people would say that he’s a misogynistic jerk because he likes me to force him to wear women’s clothing. And that I am, by my participation in this activity, a party to misogyny. Because I’m forcing him to be “lesser” by making him dress in a feminine manner.

Now, I will agree that many people who participate in forced femme are coming from a place of misogyny. I’ve heard many a submissive man want me to force him into a pair of heels and a dress in order to access his submissive side. That he couldn’t submit any other way. As if somehow only women can be submissive because they are somehow meant to be. That is the kind of forced femme that I don’t like. I won’t do it. It does nothing for me. In fact, it’s a big turn-off.

But that isn’t how forced femme works for The Husband. It makes him uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel natural to him. It’s as if he suddenly sprouted feathers instead of having hair. I like making him uncomfortable. I like taking him out of his comfort zone. And, admittedly, he looks incredibly hot in lace and satin and a pair of heels. Which I love!

And he does see it as a form of humiliation. Not because he’s being feminized or made to be more like a woman. But because it’s not who he is. I would get the same reaction if I dressed him as an infant. And it certainly isn’t like he feels being a baby was a humiliating time in his life. Or that babies are somehow not ok. It simply isn’t who he is. And I don’t dress him like that because I find stockings and heels sexy and I don’t find diapers and baby bonnets sexy.

If I did, he might find himself in a baby bonnet and thigh high boots. Of course, he would do it. And be uncomfortable. And turned on by being taken out of his comfort zone. But I’d really rather see him in lace.

Musings on the “pornified slave”

slave [sleyv]

noun

1. a person who is the property of and wholly subject to another; a bond servant

2. a person entirely under the domination of some influence or person

3. a drudge “a housekeeping slave”

Note that in the above official definition from the dictionary, the slave is entirely and wholly under the authority of someone (something) else. Entirely. Wholly. Not occasionally. Not somewhat. Not on a few things, but not on others. Not even on most things. Not even most of the time. Entirely. Wholly.