Jul 072017

To strip out of lingerie, slowly touching. To fuck myself with the wand, to make myself squirt. The bed had a puddle. To orgasm over and over again. To take my toy and fuck myself, to edge myself, to finger myself. To watch him play. To play while he does. To orgasm with him.

I was a sweaty, drenched mess resentful of squirting, of so many orgasms. Overwhelmed.

These were the notes to finish the punishment post – which I never did finish as we (of course) broke up shortly thereafter. It was our longest reconciliation, and our final break up, before we finally reconciled the fact that we were no longer meant to be together.

We jumped right into the power dynamics almost every time we reconciled, but this was different, this punishment – as it was truly a punishment. I dislike so many aspects of this scene:

To perform on command

To masturbate in front of another

To push past one orgasm towards another

To squirt

Edging myself


To dress sexy

To be told what to wear

To watch me over the phone live

I won’t finish this post either, as this is a purging, but it was incredibly fucking hot. And horrible. A great punishment for failing at a task.

But this isn’t just a purging, it’s a reflection also. My ex husband knew me so well that sometimes that’s what I ache for. He knew what was pushing my limits, how to control me, how to give me a look that could silence me, the tone of his voice that I simply could not argue with, what my limit was, and when I was hitting peaks.

As I explore power dynamics: both with Mr. Texas and The Wanderer, I miss this awareness that my ex husband had. I miss the absolute knowledge to control me. The Wanderer I heed to simply because it’s our dynamic, because I sense when he holds back for my sake and I am grateful, but also slightly intimidated that he does hold back a bit at times (yay for not always now though, I survived one time he didn’t). Mr. Texas is learning, but it is slow, as it will be with another, as my body and words and my actions are often at odds in pleasure and pain. I do not always feel the need to obey him, sometimes truly debate if I should (because I want him to grow confident in dominanting me and that’s what we negotiated so how horrible if I didn’t) or I should not (because he’s pushing me far more than he realizes, or doesn’t know my exact limits, or can’t read me so beautifully). He’ll get there – this is all new to him.

Mimir got it very quickly, but Mimir has a true gift in the BDSM realm of being able to observe, to withhold, to read people, to push people, to listen, to know them. He is incredibly intelligent and has such a background in kink that his bag of tricks never ceased to amaze me. Even with a bag of tricks, and a breadth of knowledge on things, I have nowhere near the patience nor the skill to read people the way that Mimir did.

The way that my ex husband could read me.

Mr. Texas has no advantage to him other than me as a bottom – who knows that he is capable and the love to be patient.

But how I crave, how I ache, for what my ex and I had. If I have to debate power dynamics, they don’t feel very powerful to me. It’s a choice I am making, a request I am granting; though I know that it is and has always been a choice – it felt more instinctive, allowed me to get out of my whirlwind thoughts and simply obey.

Neither of my current partners are capable of this dynamic – The Wanderer does not even have the time nor the inclination to pursue it at this point in our relationship, and my darling Mr. Texas and I are exploring it – not always with success, but more with persistence. We at least have physically forcing going for us – that’s hot.

Though I sometimes ache, sometimes crave, the power dynamics that force me with just a presence.


Jan 222017

I am like Pavlov’s dog with music selections.

Pavlov came across classical conditioning unintentionally…Whilst measuring the salivation rates of dogs, he found that they would produce saliva when they heard or smelt food in anticipation of feeding. This is a normal reflex response which we would expect to happen…

However, the dogs also began to salivate when events occurred which would otherwise be unrelated to feeding. By playing sounds to the dogs prior to feeding them, Pavlov showed that they could be conditioned to unconsciously associate neutral, unrelated events with being fed. – Psychologistworld.com

Certain songs will often remind people of a memory or a person. I find myself reacting to certain songs with physical reactions as well. It’s not that I’ve necessarily played with all these people often (though all but one I have), it’s just that music seemed to be prominent with us or in association with them.

Give me R&B or sexy pop beats, and I think of sex with my ex husbandOccasionally, my nipples will perk up or I will begin to tighten in anticipation. It’s strange to still have this reaction considering that it’s been so long, but it has been far longer still that this music trained me to respond with thoughts and aching for sex. With masturbation, I will still often play our radio station, so strong is my reaction that it helps my own self orgasm.

“I panted, by this time hours of pleasure not allowing me any sense of realism, and unable to help himself from toying with my quivering self, his fingers grazed my clit. I sucked in my breath, already feeling dizzy from the slight contact, my legs parting without thought. Suddenly two of his fingers danced upon my pearl, and I was so taken with pleasure I had no idea how I ended up laying with my back on his chest, one solid arm across my shoulder and neck so fingers could tugged at a nipple, the other hand quickly alternating between slipping into my sex and rubbing up into my clit.” – Incapable of Thinking

Always and Forever – Luther Vandross[jwplayer mediaid=”6952″]

Ride It – Jay Sean[jwplayer mediaid=”6954″]

Signs of Love Makin’ – Tyrese[jwplayer mediaid=”6955″]

Making Love (Into the Night) – Usher[jwplayer mediaid=”6956″]

Alternative music and I think of Mimir’s beautifully crafted scenes. Mimir had so much going on in his scenes that truly it’s a bit hard to pin down what specifically gets me physically reacting. It’s more like a whispered memory across my skin of sensations, an intake of breath of wondering what would have occurred, and a slight feeling of homesickness for rope and scenes crafted in a space that always felt safe and uniquely tailored to me. It’s an utter feeling of longing but incredibly sexy to me as well.

“He moved between my legs, and so softly – the merest gossamer of touches, slid a finger against the delicate lace of my underwear. If I had not been so fixated on his every move, if I had breathed too deeply, I might have missed the touch. It was a sharp contrast to the earlier dominance, this soft caress at my lips.

My body cried out for his touch. My mouth remained silent, not wanting to break the spell with demands that would go unheeded simply because they were uttered. He is not a man to be rushed.” – Take Down

Beautiful – 10 Years[jwplayer mediaid=”6957″]

Evil Angel – Breaking Benjamin[jwplayer mediaid=”6959″]

Bloody Creature Poster Girl – In This Moment[jwplayer mediaid=”6960″]

Industrial German and I think of painful rope with Master MondayRope with him was not unheard of, but we didn’t do it very often. Though I did see his look of planning often to this music, and occasionally was treated to some of his expertise. The music makes me me miss rope in general, but very specifically how badly it can cut into muscles, or the tension creating little doubt of being bound together, or the excitement of something new or creative. It’s a slight adrenaline rush.

“Did I mention the music was awesome? It’s amazing how music can create a scene, and in this case I feel it did. Next thing I knew I was being strung up and fully suspended with legs adjusted from time to time to a more painful position than the last. I was blindfolded and it was then used to pull my head back, in which he arched my back to tie the blindfold into an ankle. That was a tight tie, it didn’t allow any forgiveness or releasing of tension. It was very uncomfortable but sustainable, and I wished that I had been in it longer. He spun me around in that position, his hand brushing over my blindfold, my upturned chin, my tensely pulled back neck, my chest.” – Hurty Rope

Blutengel – Sing[jwplayer mediaid=”6961″]

Centhron – Lichtsucher[jwplayer mediaid=”6962″]

French pop songs and I think of being beat by Mr. Texas. – it’s a reaction I unconsciously created as country music just wasn’t doing it for me and he doesn’t care for most modern songs – so I picked Stromae and have tailored the songs specifically for our scenes. It is hearing these songs that inspired me to write some of my physical reactions to hearing certain music. Especially Love Story, and I think of having a cane taken to me, of the ebbs and flows to create a great scene where he is able to keep my pain threshold with a stinging strike just right and then use another song to build me up to perhaps punching on the back of my bottom or thighs, perhaps flogging (our newest exploration), or some other type of pain that while I handle it better, it certainly brings up the level of pain. Or he just may grip my hair and pull my head back forcefully as he slams his body deep inside of me, a hand around my throat and his deep throaty “mine” that imprints me as thoroughly as the marks. My body gets tense in anticipation of either an orgasm or bracing for impact when hearing this music now.

Love Story – Indila[jwplayer mediaid=”6963″]

Mes Aures – Frero Delavega[jwplayer mediaid=”6964″]

House’llelujah – Stromae[jwplayer mediaid=”6965″]

*I’m not including a post selection for Mr. Texas – for one I haven’t written much about our moments yet, for another, he is my future and we are beginning to strengthen my reactions to him and the music even further – I can’t wait!

**I had twelve songs picked out already as this sat in drafts, and when I saw the prompt for Wicked Wednesday, I thought it was perfect.

Masturbation Monday badge - small
Wicked Wednesday

Nov 012016

Inspired by Domme Chronicles

I think of myself as selfish though many would disagree. It is not unusual for me to handle more responsibility or take care of others; of course in the role of mom, but I sacrificed a great deal as a wife. As a friend and family member I will go above and beyond for – there is little I would not do, and my profession is known for being selfless and I will still put forth the extra mile for my coworkers and the people I work with. Sometimes in these roles, while fulfilling, I will overly commit and feel drained, exhausted, and have nothing left for myself. Being selfish shows up more in my intimate relationships, but even that, upon reflection, is some shades of grey.

That is how I felt for three years during my marriage, though through no fault of my husband; it was the cost of supporting him during a job that wrung us both dry that the military created. It was also a time that I didn’t have the support of the other fulfilling roles (with the exception of mother) in my life – it required me just to be a selfless in my role of wife and even diminished my role of lover with my husband. (There was more positives than negatives during our marriage, for one: I offered my full submission to him during the course of our marriage – the only man that I have completely done this for, and that was a beautiful connection that I really blossomed and grew in.) What I have learned in my marriage is that I cannot compromise who I am really am and what is important to me – I learned this of course months after the marriage ended. He has asked me to give up the blog and twitter, something that I worked years on and that I feel passionately about. I couldn’t do it. He has asked me to give up people in my life – something I could compromise to an extent on. (And yes, he has asked for other outrageous stuff which felt like he was testing my desperation to be with him, and some things I did and others I agreed to, and then months later I wouldn’t compromise on those when we discussed AGAIN getting back together.) He has asked for monogamy – something that during the course of my marriage I truly struggled with and was the only thing I asked of him to compromise on (granted it’s a huge thing), something I realized that I could commit to only when the marriage was over.

…Something that I will not compromise on in my current state. I am not ready for commitment, I need to discover truly who I am and what works for me, and if that means that I come out the gate with a selfish stand while dating then so be it – I need this attitude, and as long as I am being honest, it isn’t selfish, right? It’s actually a concept I struggle with a bit, because I know Mr. Texas wanted the full commitment (he even proposed marriage), and so do some other men, so even though they know and supposedly accept, I feel guilty when I do play or date others.

What I have learned as a top (the role it seems I take with my vanilla dating explorations) is that it comes from a place of both selfish and selflessness. It is what I want – my show, my decision, my entertainment, my pleasure. But it is no fun unless they are enjoying it too, so I want to provide an experience that they desire. Maybe I top from the bottom?

What I have learned as a rope bottom is that I want things done to me and to be passive – this is a role that I do not often take and I relinquish control in bondage. I have simply no choice. I am bound, I can fight or struggle all I want – I am still being forcibly controlled. The power dynamic of this is incredibly erotic to me, and also can be pointed towards another kink of mine with consensual non consent. Someone else is in control and I am powerless to do anything about it, even if I so desired. I can achieve a mindlessness in rope that is rare for me, though it needs to be a very challenging, painful, or include multiple orgasms, as the physical demands have to override the constant chaos that is my brain. There is also some part of myself that just wants to accept what is happening to me without resistance or responsive action; being so compliant and submissive is the path of least resistance that creates such peacefulness when I have the dynamic with another in rope to be passive (found most often with my ex husband or Mimir). Rope helps me find that peace. (Mimir taught me acceptance towards passiveness.)

What I have learned as a bottom and play partner could be everything in being a rope bottom but a bit more complicated due to the forced factor. I can be more switched into submissive head space where I want to do what they want, but it takes a strong connection, a feeling uncomfortably foreign (new place, new experience), or physically forced (oddly just placing a hand on my throat will do it, it doesn’t have to be forced take downs – though those are hot). Some examples are The Wanderer asking me to fetch things for him (connection), when I was co-topped and ordered to move certain ways (foreign), or when Mimir would tell me to just stand there and look at me (thus making me feel self-conscious and awkward but oddly beautiful) because it was a power play allowed due to our strong connection. But this role is self-serving, I am having things done to me and I am not taking an active role, I am selfish in that it is my body being played upon and that I am not making decisions or having to come up with a plan.

It is this role, in rope/bottom/play partner, that I want the most; this is most selfish role that I am in my life.

Jun 122016

Wicked WednesdayIMG_6374
When my sister and I first began blogging, I wanted absolutely no identifying factors. Sis A definitely chafed at this, but overall really respected my wish to be completely anonymous.

As time has gone on, I’ve become more relaxed about identifying factors, discussing more and more personal stories, letting her show more and more of her face, eventually showing a bit of me too.

I still don’t show my face, but I’m getting closer to it.

My reasons for being anonymous haven’t changed, simply how stringent I feel like I need to be.

At first, the only audience that I personally knew was my sister, and I had zero issues with that. Then my husband starting reading (he always knew, just wasn’t interested). As soon as I knew he read, I found myself changing how I wrote, keeping in mind he was in the audience.

The friend that was my tech help later became my lover for a time – he obviously knew about the blog, he helped me make it. He encouraged me to write after we were intimate, and loved to read it. I’ve written in more detail how people that I am intimate with have shaped my writing in Known Blogger.

When my sister convinced me to let her post the website on her Fetlife – certainly taking at least her away from anonymity with her kink community, my husband and I decided to do that as well.

So mostly everyone I met in the kink communities knew I wrote; it was odd to see a comment from someone I knew personally. It was strange to me that I may write up something that will influence how they see me, my sister, my husband. They may read something about a scene that I have had in their presence. (Lesson Learned would be a prime example.)

Mimir became my first true challenge on how to navigate consent with writing – I asked if I could post scenes for the first time ever and he read each and every write up beforehand for approval.

Because I started to write from a personal perspective about my life and explorations, I felt that it was important to write up any conflicts and had the full support and approval from my husband. The problem with this only came about when he moved across the country to try and find a job after getting out of the military, and we were separated for a few months while I supported us and gave notice to quit my job before joining him. New people in a new community were reading the blog without seeing our dynamic in person and the deep love that we had for each other. They also only viewed me from the one perspective that the blog affords – not as a wife, or mother, or professional, or friend, only from the sexual journey that I presented for a particular audience.

My identity is far more than the flat sided puzzle piece of the blog.

They began to criticize our dynamic.

Then my husband found a play partner and immediately broke all boundaries and limits that we had established in pursuit of a relationship. I understood the whys – after all, I had been guilty of it years prior, and I moved across country with a job offer in his town only to be turned down within hours of arriving.

I wrote of my heart ache in separating from the love of my life, sent them to him for permission, and tentatively got it. He was always my biggest supporter, though he disagreed on some posts and wanted his girlfriend left out of it completely.

And then I became the other woman, and he wanted that kept hidden. He began to  criticize and shame me on what he was reading from Twitter. I blocked him, he created a new account. He said his girlfriend read my Twitter, read my blog. I tried to stifle even more of me, take out less personal details.

But the blog had become something very personal, and I just couldn’t take it back to impersonal erotica. At a time where I was again alone from moving and not having a support system when I so desperately needed it, I found strength in the online community.

Then he wanted nothing else posted – this is about where I’ve left his story off, though I did share more than he wanted at the very end – I felt like it was important to gain perspective and for my healing process, not to mention that it completely killed the twisted future that he and I went back and forth on.

To be very honest: my marriage kicked ass and was truly magnificent (I absolutely mourn for it far more than I thought possible); it was my divorce that became dark, abusive, cruel, ugly.

Because the blog is a few months behind my actual life for most posts (not all), when I began venturing into new relationships and new communities, I have kept it anonymous: it is no longer on my Fetlife profile, the people I scene with do not know of its existence – though if I ever develop any sort of intimacy with someone they will know, I just feel that’s ethical, though I do not feel the need to share with my random hookups or random people I scene with.

So who does know in my “new” life?

Mr. Texas because he was someone that I became very intimate with and he features often.

David because he was in my old town so already met me with the full knowledge, and because I needed his permission to post the photos (each one emailed for approval prior).

Speaking of photos, any random guy that I take a photo of that I want to post knows (so far this is only one man).

The Wanderer who also knew me prior to me withdrawing open knowledge. Just like with Mimir, I am incredibly nervous to write about him, almost intimidated.

I am about to tell The Reservist because he is more than a one night stand, despite my original intention of only one time. He lives in my actual town though I hooked up with him across the country while he was in training, and he paid to fly me back out to see him over a long weekend before he deployed. We have a great connection and amazing sex. We have every intention of pursuing something once he is finished with his deployment. I figure when he returns, I will tell him if we truly do pick back up.

I am also about to tell someone I’ve scened a few times with; we are about to do some photo shoots which will definitely need his permission. He is great at rope, though I do not have the dynamic that I had with Mimir. (Hopefully, I will develop that strong of a dynamic with someone else someday as it was everything I could ever hope for.)

I am tentative about sharing the blog to people I am meeting because I do not want to be judged from this one sided perspective of my life – it does not define the entire person that I am, it simply sheds light into my sexual journeys and relationships with others.

 Posted by at 2:01 pm
May 182016

I’m a day late, but hey, better late than never.

1. Have you ever had bad sex? Why do you think it was bad?

I have bad sex, it’s bound to happen as often as I have sex. Once, when my ex husband was asleep but I didn’t realize it because he was still talking and moving, I had terrible sex on a physical level. 

Another time with my ex husband was because I was the other woman even though I was his wife. I was a dirty secret, and it really tore me up emotionally. 

And yet a third and fourth time that I can think of off the top of my head is during my slutfest week, with one guy I had no memory of and another guy that I felt desperate and used with (and not in the good way). 
2. Have you ever given bad sex? Why did that happen?

I’m sure I have, I’m certainly not an expertly skilled sex partner. Odds are I wasn’t feeling good or I was injured but I still wanted sex, however because I wasn’t up to it physically I was more passive and boring at it.
3. What instantly puts you in a bad mood?

Technology issues. If we’re talking about sex, however, I’m sure I have certain triggers, but I can’t think of any of them right this second. I’m sure my ex would be able to think of a few.
4. Have you been hurt during a sexual activity? What was the activity? How were you hurt or injured?

I’ve had the cartilage torn in one of my hips. I had my feet up closer to my ears and my ex pushed all his weight down on the back of one thigh. It had been our favorite sex position for a few months, but one time it just was too much. I’ll be injured for life on that one – it doesn’t heal. 
5. During sex, what instantly turns you off?

Age play, being called good girl, a few other things
6. Bad sex–is there really such a thing?

I think bad sex more stems from an emotional viewpoint than a physical one.

Bonus: Biting during sex–
a. do you like it?
b. do you do it?

a. I rarely like it. Mimir managed it once, and my ex managed it a few times, so it is possible. It’s just so rare that I’m still going to say no, I don’t like it.

b. Occasionally at the height of an orgasm I may, though I’m just as likely to bite myself as I am my partner. I will do it in more of the primal play, or when I’m being aggressive, but I rarely bite.


How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link totmituesdayblog from your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!

Apr 152016

M is for MIMIR, a rope partner who was truly spectacular, for my A to Z Challenge. How I miss that man!

Mimir sought to understand me. His communication was always excellent and lengthy, and began far before he ever touched me and continued past the scene.

When we began sexual play in ropes, he requested after the first time that I give a number on my orgasm intensity so that he could gauge exactly how far to push me and/or how to tease when he was in the mood. I only gave a number on my orgasm intensity once – it’s something I would have to be reminded on at first, but perhaps it was enough as I made the reminder suggestion but he never asked again. He is naturally intuitive, in my opinion.

He was excellent at making me feel exposed: once, during sensation play, he included a lot of staring. I was fully dressed and told to stand in the middle of the room. He just sat and looked at me; being placed in the middle of the room I couldn’t hide. He placed in ear plugs then slowly caressed and undressed my body. When I was naked, he sat and stared again, with no blindfold on I was aware of how he looked at me, that he was looking at me. I must’ve moved or shifted because he came to the center and tied my wrists up and over my head to a point above. Now I couldn’t hide even if I wanted to and I felt all the more exposed.

He also always made me feel his control; whether it was a statement or an action. He would pin my wrists if they were untied, letting me know that I did not have control.

Words also were big for him; once my thigh was tied up, but only after he clued me in that it would be for awhile by asking: “what leg can you stand on best?”. While caressing me, he demanded, “look at me,” a hairbrush ran up my thigh, occasionally soft and occasionally thudding against my skin and pinkening it.”Feel your thighs,” and I felt both the soft traces of the caresses and and the sting from the impact.  “Pussy,” and I clenched from the word. “Imagine yourself cumming. Now release,” and I did with wonderment over the order obeyed. Always he was in control.

He’s also sparse with praise but reaffirms that coloring is good; I’ve been praised both times I’ve colored yellow and he never pushed to red.

I miss this type of utter domination. We only saw each other once a week, but it truly satisfied me in a way that is rare.

 Posted by at 9:20 am
Apr 112016

For my A to Z Challenge, the letter I for Illusion, as suddenly rope seemed to be clothing slowly exposing me to him. It was also incredibly erotic to me, so I’m including it in Masturbation Monday.

At one point, sweaty and breathless, heightened by pain and pleasure, Mimir slowed down during the middle of a scene.

I stood with my chest tied to a suspension point (in case I lost balance or for added security for I couldn’t move?) and I had enough movement to grip and hug a metal pole of the suspension rig. He began to untie the rope at my chest, moved it slowly and sensually across my body with the unraveling. With one strand still around the underneath of my breasts, he cascaded it down, held it to caress my skin softly.

Suddenly, despite my being fully naked for quite awhile, it felt like he undressed me slowly. I became so aware of my heaving breasts exposed, I felt the kiss of the air in the wake of the rope traveling down around my waist, around my hips I had the urge to pull the rope up as if it were pants and hold it there, down my thighs; my sex tightened at how vulnerable I suddenly felt, next down my legs which no longer felt steady. I lifted one foot and then the other as I would with pants as he navigated the rope as such.

Masturbation Monday badge - smallAfter the scene, he also discussed how – just like me – in this part of the scene he felt like he was undressing me as well.

 Posted by at 8:24 am
Apr 072016

For my A to Z Challenge, for the letter F, I’m submitting this one for Fierce: a little ball of tied tiger.  

“There are three kinds of rope bottoms I’ve observed”, began Mimir.

“One is the silent one who doesn’t know how to process what is going on. They tend to be new and are just busy analyzing and deciding.

One is the zen one who becomes very calm and accepting of the ropes, who blisses out inside of them.

One also finds calm in the ropes, but it’s a very tentative zen. Poke them with a stick and they are liable to struggle and make you regret it.

You are the third. You’re very reactionary. A little ball of tied tiger who is by no means tame, more like hypnotized by the ropes. So I need to keep a pace to keep you hypnotized, to lure your calm, to keep your mind in only the present instead of the possibilities.”

 Posted by at 8:36 am
Apr 012016


For my A-Z Challenge, I’m going to get into the break up over my husband and myself. This was already titled starting with the letter A

*Written over four months ago, allowed to be posted unedited

“It’s too bad Mimir won’t let you write certain things,” my husband lamented on the phone after reading my notes on a scene Mimir and I just did. “It’s a form of censorship you haven’t had, and now you can’t write to give a full picture of the dynamic.”

“All the more reason why you kick so much ass. I’m so very lucky that you allow our own relationship to be so transparent and honest and raw. I am so grateful.” My husband truly kicks ass. We had just dealt with a person he knows finding the blog and going on a rant about how our relationship’s dirty laundry is being aired out, how I write about him negatively, and I am selfish in my pursuit of opening up our marriage. He stated quite calmly but firmly that he is aware of everything I write and that he appreciates how I am trying to share a difficult journey with others to show that not everything is smooth sailing, that there are challenges, but there are compromises and rewards and love.

I understand why Mimir doesn’t want me to post everything and I completely accept it. I still write up notes as a follow up, mostly because both of them want to read the notes: Mimir as a way to understand me better, my husband as a debriefing so that he can process what is going on before verbally discussing it.

Mimir is a private person and he was gracious enough to let me write up the unfolding of a new play partner, even though it was slightly outside of his comfort zone. He is very good to me. With the blog being so public, and even listed on my Fetlife, some of our mutual friends read it. I completely get why he wouldn’t want everything posted; it was incredibly unnerving for me to have everything (my inner most thoughts, desires, insecurities, and adventures) so public, but this blog has been a work in progress for years where I could slowly ease my way into being more brave and exposed in that. Not to mention it’s all from my one-sided perspective. For someone new to meet me, to be all of the sudden written about, for private/intimate moments to be very public, that has to be a bit of shock and even vulnerable feeling to the opinions of others.

And I do believe that the opinions of others matter to an extent; he is very conscientious of other people, doesn’t want to hurt or offend others, is very active in his community – especially with new people. I’d like to think that I am above the opinion of others, but I’m not. I want people to like me, to accept me. I try to not change who I am, but I realize that I am conscious of people influencing my moods based on their reactions to me. I even get self-conscious after sharing notes with Mimir and my husband, afraid that I am being judged and found lacking in some way.

And the recent person’s rant to my husband after reading the blog really hit home to me how an opinion influences my emotions. Of course, it was an attack on our marriage in general, not just my own thoughts and opinions; they stated that he should find someone else worthy of his good-guy, loving nature. Hard to not react on a deeply instinctive level with that. The opinion was all based on reading the blog, not knowing the two of us personally (just him), or seeing our dynamic play out in person.

One-sided reading can happen that way sometimes, and I do painfully try to share all my insecurities and even more negative traits honestly because I am human and it is okay to feel the way I do, be the way I am, and yes, even mess up in my relationships from time to time. I am not perfect, I don’t want to even begin to portray myself that way. I want a realistic view of how things are working and not working. I want someone to feel something when they read – most especially that their own turmoil or insecurities are shared by someone else. Finding those rare moments from others in the safe comfort behind a computer screen – without verbally being confronted by it, has truly helped myself.

But the perspective that I share here is only my own. It sets up my partners for an especial one-sided exposure and vulnerability. It gives me a feeling of gratitude and appreciation for my husband’s permission that is hard to express, but it also is completely understandable and respected that Mimir doesn’t allow.

So know that Mimir and I are continuing to explore new territory, and we are doing it slowly, respectfully, and with full disclosure to those involved. Communication, after all, is so very crucial.

 Posted by at 7:20 am
Mar 202016

Masturbation Monday badge - smallMimir unraveled rope slowly, slid it up to my neck, gently applied pressure and pulled me onto my back. We were both on our knees, and my hips and ass nestled against the seams of his jeans.

I was naked except for lace panties. He was fully clothed. It was a common (and for me unnerving) state for us to start in. His arm went around me as he removed the rope and replaced the pressure against my throat. I could feel his muscles bunch up against my neck, a hand instinctively went on top but I stopped myself before my nails dug in to his flesh in defense.

The rope wound itself around me, tighter than usual, his every move pushed or pulled my body with little indicated care of my balance. His arms would take turns choking me briefly as he traveled around, my wrists were tied behind my back. It was an intentional discomfort, a consistent physically dominating.

It was fucking hot.

Within moments, I found that quiet space.

At one point, I was pushed forward more than my balance could handle and he gripped the rope tied at my back and yanked me up. My head snapped up with the force.

Can I even begin to describe how my body reacted to the force he created? How I clenched in excitement, in concern – not for my safety, never that, but for the unaccustomed roughness. My heart pounded in my chest and my breathing quickened.

Could he tell how I was reacting? I believe so, he seems to instinctively know what I want, how I respond, what I need to find the calm inside the storm.

He gripped the rope after he was done tying my chest and arms, grabbed between my legs, picked me up and and placed me stomach down on the floor. He moved between my legs, and so softly – the merest gossamer of touches, slid a finger against the delicate lace of my underwear. If I had not been so fixated on his every move, if I had breathed too deeply, I might have missed the touch. It was a sharp contrast to the earlier dominance, this soft caress at my lips.

My body cried out for his touch. My mouth remained silent, not wanting to break the spell with demands that would go unheeded simply because they were uttered. He is not a man to be rushed. He tied my ankles to my thighs, far tighter than he’s ever done before, pressing my body to fold further into itself. He tied tight legs to a suspension point above him, my back arched and chest pressed further into the ground. My underwear was yanked down to mid thigh as far as the rope would allow. He fingered me to an orgasm, then pressed his knee against my upper back and grounded my upper body into the floor while he fingered me again.

The pain of the arched angle made further by his body weight, the bite of the ropes around my thighs, built and gathered and stormed with my orgasm, completely clouded my mind and kept it foggy even when he moved to kick at my bindings, to stand upon my legs and apply his body weight against the digging and pressure of the ropes holding me above the ground and not letting me go.

He sat beside me, the wartenberg wheel pricked at my skin as it traversed the exposed areas, shedded light in my haze to the smaller sections and bringing them into focus. His hand was around my throat and my moans of pain ceased.

Lowered fully to the ground, he smacked against the outside of my sore thighs, the sting of his hands felt all the way through them. He gripped at my hips and forced them upwards, pressed against me where half of me was exposed and the other half only shielded by lace barely felt.

Released, a paddle began to rein down upon my ass, the sting overrode the thump after awhile, and surprisingly (considering the head space) I yellowed. His hands soothed and caressed the reddened skin, and then gripped hard and I raised my hips to relieve some of the pressure.

2016 39

A picture of where he bit me on the inside of my arm during the height of an orgasm (the darker bruise my own carelessness)

There were so many moments in this scene that folded upon one another as I was less aware of what he was doing and more aware of what he was creating. I know I fought against the ropes while he played them to his advantage, I know he never lost contact with my skin regardless of how he moved us or what he grabbed. A sensitive little place on the inside of my arm that was vulnerable and exposed tied above my head, he bit into at the height of an orgasm.

The whole time he was in control and he would forcefully remind me of that, not that I was allowed to even have a moment’s lapse in being aware. My body was so heightened and aroused by his actions.

He played a beautiful balance of pain and pleasure until I was a gooey trembling mess, then he held me gently in his arms and brushed the sweaty, tangled hair from my face as I drifted.

 Posted by at 10:16 am