A fellow blogger invited my sister and myself (M) to engage in a blog tour. Stella Kink is a fantastic writer who we often engage with in the various memes – to which she always does such an outstanding job. I’ve been reading her for so long now, and her tagline always stands out to me and is sometimes (secretly) a mantra I tell myself when I’ve plans to be a little kinky.
1. What am I working on at the moment?
I am working on getting life a bit more settled so that I have the time and inclination to write for publication. It’s my goal to write longer stories starting before the fall season – life should be calmer then. For the blog, I am currently tackling a personal traumatic event and trying to find some point of it all other than the telling. Sharing is important – but I’m not sure that should just be it.
2. How does my work differ from others in its genre?
Right now my writing is exploring the newness of BDSM. Many people that I read are already firmly comfortable and settled in the lifestyle (if it could ever be considered “settled”). I also have the issue of being a lower priority to my lover than the demanding and complex military. Am I really all that different? Not really, but we are each of us individual in some respects. And I for one appreciate reading that I am not alone in my desires and learning from others.
3. Why do I write what I do?
I needed a creative outlet and my thoughts are often centered on sex at home. I needed a sharing community. I needed to not feel alone, or judged, or strange. I wanted to be understood and appreciated. Most importantly: I needed acceptance of my desires. I felt that I was always being pushed to be “normal” and conform to something I didn’t want – and I was even unsure what the hell I wanted.
I write because I want to reach out and help others with the same needs. Reading the other bloggers have helped me greatly with my own acceptance of myself. They have given me something to point out what I desire, or why I desire it. They have helped me understand myself. They have pushed past my comfort zones towards understanding things I didn’t.
I write because I want to read my experiences and explorations, to see and understand myself better in the telling. I write to see others’ comments that I wrote well, made others think, helped someone else, or experienced something that is not only acceptable but incredibly sexy.
I write to hone a craft that I have always loved.
4. How does my writing process work?
I normally experience what I write and write about it within a day of it occurring. If I do not, I will not write about the experience at all. Then I keep the written experience as a draft for a bit, and edit when I feel uninspired or have nothing new to write about. Most often, the posts stay drafts for a long time where they have been edited several times – unless I find a prompt that it fits perfectly. Then I cringe when I reread it, but don’t touch it to edit because it’s been submitted already with issues.
Sadly I don’t always have the time to write about all the exciting moments I go through.
Otherwise, I read or see something that prompts me to write. These writings either end up being my best or my worst (an opinion shared by a friend and myself) – it’s the middle of road writing that really happened to me.
My view, and that of my sister’s, may vary. With than in mind, I think trigger warnings everywhere are ridiculous, and nonsense. I understand the need for general warnings, such as the rating system for movies and other visual media, but books? Clearly a person can read the synopsis on the jacket of a book and garner if this book might discuss adult themes. Also, books are already arranged into young adult vs adult readers. I think pasting trigger warnings onto everything is having our society live in fear.
I’ve had experiences in my life that were traumatic, and sometimes things do bring those memories rushing to the forefront. The thing is, I then deal with those thoughts, I work through the feelings that have been brought up, and I am a stronger, healthier person afterwards. I don’t think we should stifle the creativity of a nation by burying it in fear. If you are not mature enough to handle reading something, then don’t. If you’re that worried about the content of a book, look it up before reading. As for me, part of the joy of reading is being moved and made to feel things, so why would I want that experienced watered down, or censored?
My husband and I are new to a D/s relationship. We only do this in the bedroom, I am primary decision maker in all other aspects.
Truly in the bedroom, it began as my decision, my request. But he now has captivated the role so well, that he finds it difficult sometimes to not dominate me. We don’t always incorporate every time we are intimate.
The other night he had me tied up, one hand in my hair, the other around my throat. My head was hanging off the side of the bed and he was slowly easing his penis in my mouth to the back of my throat, seeing how far I could take it. He would give me breaks, and then try again, always pushing a little more. I tried so hard to do the best I could, and he whispered, “good job,” at one point.
In a conversation afterwards, he stated that he really thought about his words before saying them. He knew, “good girl,” wasn’t appropriate with me, as I don’t like the DaddyDom kink (which is not to say I judge that kink, just not for me). I confessed that I loved hearing the words he spoke and I felt a sense of pride at my own accomplishment of taking so much of him. This isn’t the first time he’s shared that finding the right wording while dominating me is challenging for him at times.
Being so new to this, and still discovering each other’s boundaries, is exciting, scary, nerve wracking, and sometimes anxious. AND SO MUCH FUN. I am beyond grateful that we can tell each other anything without judgment; that we have respect, consideration, and trust in each other enough to communicate and talk through things.
It’s a complicated, complex navigation for us behind the scenes that seamlessly falls together when we do engage in these new roles. And if not smooth, we just discuss and find the right words to express the why and how.
I suppose finding the right wording requires a lot of consideration. Read about other considerations.
Kids douse the flames of passion from relationships, there are ways to spark and set it aflame. Though not as often talked about, sometimes it’s daddy who is most affected by the change in parenting, while the mommy still wants sex. (I’m using daddy to mean the non primary caretaker because that’s my experience and it’s easier. I realize that “daddy” may not be gendered a male, nor “mommy” a female or the biological mother.)
I’ll start with an even more uncommon reason, but one no one wants to tackle: icky. There are some men who see a woman giving birth, and simply don’t want to go into what they watched all that mess come out of. Or they don’t want to suck on a woman’s nipples they’ve watched their sweet little piglets (I mean babies) monopolize, and now categorize them different. That’s something that needs to be acknowledged and then seek help for.
The more common reason, I’ve noticed, is:
Just a little respect…
A great daddy respects the mother of his children. He demonstrates to his kids how to respect mommy. Hell, he gives her so much respect that she’s no longer the erotic, sexy, somewhat objectified lover that induced lust. She is the mother of his children, too worthy of being bothered by those pesky baser desires. She becomes “the mother” (often associated with the virgin Mary, mother of Jesus, and pure and untouch(ed)(able)).
The Madonna/Whore complex. I’ve sadly had such an issue with this complex, and am grateful that at least in my marriage now, this is no longer an issue.
First, he needs to realize that she is not his mother, she is their mother. Establish that boundary, associate her with things other than “the mother”. Add just a dash of objectification – it’s okay to view her as a sexual creature. She can be a great nurturer and have a fantastic ass. She can tuck in the children and give him great blow jobs. He can show her to upmost respect then close the bedroom door and bend her over and spank her ass (if they’re into that sort of thing). She is capable of being both of these things. It is possible to be “a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets”. It does not detract or distract her from her other role.
If he struggles with this? She needs to spice it up and show him her inner whore. I’ve joked that he can “leave the money on the dresser”. There may not need to go that far, but she needs to assert her more sexual self, show him that she is that woman that inspired carnal lust worthy of fucking (or making love) that created the kids in the first place. Play strip poker, share a sexy fantasy, recall a steamy moment of the two of them from the past, make a bet with sexual stakes.
Or hell, she could just tell him that while intimacy and kisses are always allowed and welcomed, she expects to be paid for more skilled services like blow jobs or being on top. Because after all, you don’t pay the mother for sexual services and she would never barter that.
No, we aren’t splitting up.
Some exciting news is that the sisters will be within driving distance to each other very shortly! Hopefully we’ll have some spicy stories to share.
Some other business to attend to is that I (M) will be traveling across and around country a few times in the next couple of weeks. That means that A is in charge off and on.
When we originally began discussing and actually blogging, it was pretty split who wrote and commented. This was the way we intended it, so that no one person was left with the majority, and to give the blog here more variety to read. A has been having some complications, and I have been the primary person. It hasn’t been equal by any means for quite awhile.
Hopefully that’ll change back to our original intention, as A is such a gifted writer and her wild exploits and thought processes are so very different from mine.
But in just in case, and with so much traveling, if writing become sparser, know that it is temporary.
By no means in this the meaning of “going Dutch”, and yet when I read it, I envisioned the sisters splitting the blog as if it were a bill. It seemed to be a perfect transition into the news of travel and us sisters living closer together.
“Only the tongue,” he said after flogging me for quite awhile and moving up to my mouth, his hardened shaft in his hands.
Obedient, I stuck my tongue out. He positioned just the tip in my reach, and I flicked and licked as much as possible before he finally granted me more. My tongue slide down and around the underside of the head, followed as much as I could the shaft, went back up the head, slid around and slipped my lips around as well.
Thwack! His hand came down hard between my legs, the stinging so evident, my tied ankles jerked in a futile attempt to pull up to protect myself.
“What did I tell you?” his voice was very firm. “Just the tongue, right?” I nodded. “Yes, let’s try this again. What can you use?”
“Just the tongue,” I whispered, my tongue already out to receive and taste him.
“Good.” He slipped his penis back on my tongue, moving and positioning himself so that I covered his whole member. It took me some time to forget myself again, and in my desire to fully pleasure him, I again tried to take him in my mouth.
Whack! Even harder this time, and I cried out, more frustrated with myself than anything.
I am a horrible listener.
And lucky, as he gave me another chance, and one that I obeyed this time. Soon I was rewarded by fingers stroking me, fingering me orgasm, before the shaft that I had covered so thoroughly with my tongue was sliding inside of me.