Archive for ‘Rambling’

December 19th, 2014

The Little Things in Life

I’m finding myself in the position that I’m writing about something new I have found out about myself again.  I suppose this is what goes on in life, constant changing, evolving, learning about out ourselves.  Sometimes I think it’s really strange for my kinks to be like that but I think some of it is the people I am involved with.  Each one brings out something new, each one adds something different to my life.  I get to explore in a safe space and sometimes find something I don’t expect.  That’s where this post comes in.

I never thought I was someone with a little.  I occasionally did role play (maybe that needs to happen again!?) but it was never a real age thing.  I might play the younger girl but I was always really me.  I didn’t think there was anyone else.  I was wrong.  I have an inner child that I actually seem to be able to let out a little.  Not much, and she doesn’t take over completely.  I don’t know whether she ever will but I’m definitely letting her have her moments more.  She seems to be about 10, I think, although she’s sometimes more like a very naive and young 15.  She loves being cute and pretty, likes to play with Lego, to colour in pretty things and watch Adventure Time.  She’s silly, a little bratty but never too much.  Deep down, she’s like me, a good girl who doesn’t want to get into trouble, who would rather be praised than told off.  She generally just wants to drink hot chocolate and be looked after, to feel safe.  That’s all I know right now.  I’m scared to let her out too much.  She likes E but I don’t know how she sees him.  I really don’t know how she fits into E’s life!

Ok, this might be starting to sound a little weird to people, the fact I talk about my little as a different person.  Well, she kind of is and isn’t.  It’s obvious that she’s me but, at the same time, it’s not my adult head in there.  Or it wouldn’t be at all if I let go, gave her a little more freedom.  That’s something very new for me.  To realise that I do have this little, that she’s not just me acting a role.  This is something I actually feel is part of me.  She scares me sometimes.  I don’t know whether to ever let her out fully.  That is also a thing I need to work out with E.  I need to know she (and I) would be safe, which I do but I also don’t want him to be a non-consenting babysitter!  It’s probably hard enough as it is, especially when she pops up.

I suppose this is more me wondering what to do with a kink/dynamic/thing I didn’t expect, that I didn’t negotiate with my partner.  Obviously, communication is key, just like when I started to feel my submissive side coming out with S.  It’s just so hard when you barely get it yourself and you don’t know where things will take you.  All the fun of evolving, of changing, of growing; you never know exactly where you will end up, you just hope you have someone to share your journey with.

December 19th, 2014

All Quiet on the Western Front

Wow, I hadn’t realised just how long it’s been since I actually wrote something here. For that, I am very sorry. It’s not because I’ve not been a dirty, filthy slut; quite the opposite, I just seem to have been sucked into posting on a quite private (well, I’m not linking it here, anyway) Tumblr, all about filth and sex and BDSM and degradation. I may have become a little addicted. Also, I went a broke my leg over a month ago and that’s been holding me back a little bit, causing my world to slow down to a halt and make me lose all sense of time. What with a spell of depression busting, my writing seems to have taken a back seat. I shall try and do something about that and post more fun things soon.

July 13th, 2014

Pain

I promise there will be some more smut in the near future, rather than all this rambling on about my feelings and stuff but sometimes I feel this is a good place for me to talk about what is going on in my head as I know people can often relate.

I recently wrote about inadequacy and how I end up comparing myself with people when I top and not feeling good enough.  I talked about my feelings as a bottom and how it’s rare for me to do that same kind of comparison but I found myself thinking like that on Saturday night and it got me thinking about pain during play quite a lot, including talking to E about how I’m needing to play a little differently at the moment.

It started out on Friday.  At Lash, a couple were playing really hard, harder than I think I’ve seen anyone play for quite a while and for quite a long scene too.  I remarked that it was making me wince, feeling that there was no way I could take what the bottom was taking.  The thing is, I have done.  I did two videos that I am taking a lot in and I have taken some violent canings in my time too.  I can still take a good kicking (as I proved on Friday but that’s another story) even.  Thinking of those videos, of some scenes from about a year ago, I look back and don’t see the same person.  I can’t even believe that I could do those scenes and enjoy them as much as I know I did.  I went through a period for being a heavy masochist; probably more that than submissive at the time.

I didn’t think much of it until we played a little on Saturday night.  It was a flogging scene and I’d talked about needing a good warm up.  I ended up crying my eyes out, my tears getting worse at the fact that I was crying (silly, I know).   I actually don’t always have a problem crying during play but this didn’t feel like release or the kind of time that I wanted to be crying because of the pain.    I was struggling a lot more than I wanted to be, than I felt I should be, than I know I normally do.  I felt silly, less like a masochist than ever and frustrated as hell at myself for not taking the pain well.  E is so used to me warming up so much quicker that it caught him off guard and he started again, easing me in better.  It doesn’t help that he is a dacryphiliac either! It was a good scene and let me talk about my pain thing that’s going on right now, plus I got my own back later!

I do find it interesting that my pain threshold, especially for certain types of pain, has changed so much.  Or at least my perception of it has.  E insists (with witnesses) that he actually hits really damn hard anyway and that it’s not that I have no pain threshold.  There is a definite shift in my tolerance right now, though, and it still surprises me everytime it happens.  Currently, I feel my identity as a masochist is slipping away a bit and I’m actually quite sad at that.  Maybe it’s just because of the type of play I’ve been doing recently, maybe it’s because, much as I see myself as mainly a bottom, I have actually rarely bottomed to anyone other than E in the last year and we now have such a strong D/s dynamic that I can’t always remove that frame of mind from my subconscious.  I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s the time of the month, a change in my medications, something else entirely or a combination of any of them.  I know that I will learn to love pain again and I will stop feeling like a whimp.  And, in the meantime, I can play around at see how to ease this.  Or let E enjoy making me cry from the physical pain for once!

June 28th, 2014

Good Girl

As you may know, I didn’t always see myself as a submissive.  Or submissive really.  I’ve been thinking about that a lot, having read various different things recently, including some awesome posts on Sugarbutch Chronicles and I also took the Submissive Playground s-type quiz.  Plus I’ve just been doing my usual pondering/overthinking thing like I always do.  It’s been interesting to look at myself in retrospect, realising that there always was a submissive part of me, just I didn’t always have someone to submit to.  Or, I should say, someone I could submit to.  My journey with that is still continuing, although I’m sure I have met my match.  I still don’t always want to now, which is probably one of the main reasons that I can’t do a permanently collared, 24/7 D/s relationship!  It’s not just be being bratty, there are just aspects of my personality that don’t sit well with having that power exchange all of the time, plus, being a poly switch makes a permanent collar more difficult, for me anyway.

There is a difference between being submissive and a submissive.  I’ve always been aware of it but I don’t think I really got the distinction until quite recently.  Well, the distinction I have in my head, of my kind of submission.  There is a submissive side of me, one that wants to give myself up to someone.  It’s the act of submission, of serving, of taking a punishment, of being an object, whatever that act may be.  Being a submissive, though, is that craving I have.  That deep seated longing I have to behave, to give up my control, to be collared and cared for.  It’s subtle, with blurring edges and I’m not even sure if I’ve really put my point across well enough for you to see how I feel it’s different.  Plus I know that other people will probably see it in a different way.  Maybe it’s because I see myself as submissive but I am his submissive.  Not just a random one.  Not a submissive for just anyone.  I can act the part when needs be (sometimes my camming work dictates this) but, in general, I am his.  Let me explain.

Sometimes, all I want is to be a good girl, a princess, a good kitty.  Curled up, being stroked, my head in a lap, a collar round my neck.  Or on my knees, waiting, presenting, polishing boots.  Or wearing a plug, dressing up pretty, taking photos of myself.  I want to be his good girl.  I want my head in his lap.  I want to kneel before him.  Follow instructions for him.

This is where I realise I am a submissive, but not any random one, his.  Always.

April 21st, 2014

Inadequacy

For some, BDSM is solely an addition to their sex life, something that they can do without, something that is easy to not do when life is a bit stressful and confidence may not be at it’s highest.  For me, it’s a lot more than that as it is something that I find seeping into my life more and more, being a core part of me.  Being kinky is part of my sexual identity and is very important.  It’s not something that I can turn off when I’m not feeling great, even though I don’t have a 24/7 D/s type relationship with anyone.  There are times when, as a switch, my everyday life, feelings and emotions may mean that I lean heavily to being more dominant than submissive or however I happen to be feeling but BDSM and sex are still very important to me.

I have struggled with my mental health for a long time and there are definitely still times when my self-confidence is low.  If I’m feeling submissive, this may lead me to feeling like I’m not good enough, that I’m not doing my best or not taking as much pain as I should be able to or I’m crying too much but, mostly, I compare these things to how much better I can be and have been on other occasions.  I know it’s not the best way of looking at things but it says a lot about me.  I don’t end up comparing myself to others too much in this way; it’s rare that it will matter to me how other masochistic other people seem or whether they are less bratty or whatever other trait.  I hold my standards for myself very high.

When I am topping, however, I definitely have a different confidence issue.  Some of it is definitely experience levels as I just don’t top as much as I bottom but I do end up comparing myself with other tops and don’t feel like I am good enough for my bottoms.  I worry that I’m not sadistic enough, don’t cause enough pain, don’t push hard enough, don’t leave enough marks.  It’s an easy thing for me to do when I am poly as my partners play with other people and I switch with my main top, or when I co-top someone.  I see them as more experienced, more skilled, more knowledgeable.  I start to wonder why people want me to play with them when there are much better tops for them.  In a co-topping scene, I can find myself shrinking away and pulling back, letting the other person take over as I don’t think I’ll be good enough.  My standards for myself are so high and I don’t want anyone else to confirm my fears by saying I’m not as good as so-and-so.

I know this is my issue to deal with and that it is as silly as wondering, as a poly person, why my partners would want me because so-and-so is better.  Or why do they want another partner?  Am I not good enough?  I know the answer is no, that it’s not about someone being better but being different.  I know that people must want to play with me because they get something out of it that makes it worthwhile for them.  I might not be as sadistic as another play partner but maybe they like someone who’s not all about that.  I might not be the world’s best puncher but I have a pretty good caning arm.  I need to play to my strengths and remember that I am me when I am playing and that’s what people want.

December 31st, 2013

Rampant Kitty

The last year or so, I have had a pretty high sex drive.  Considering that I’ve gone through some really asexual periods other the years, this has been a pretty welcome change.  I love sex.  Even when I’ve had some of the lowest moods and worst depressive episodes that I’ve had in years recently, my sex drive has still been pretty high.  However, the last few days, it has been off the scale in how horny I have been and how insatiable too.  I’m not sure what has caused it, although my recent purchases from LoveHoney may have had some effect on me.  And spending a little too much time on Tumblr!

So, what are these wonderful items I have bought?  Well, there’s been a couple of butt plugs, including this lovely one that I bought especially for being able to wear for pretty long periods of time.  It’s really pretty too, although not as adorable as a princess plug!  Sir likes to push me and get me to wear one as long as possible, especially for car journeys and going out sometimes because he knows how much it will turn me on.

I’ve also just bought myself a magic wand in it’s own case.  It’s purple, pretty and so awesome!  I don’t know what actually took me so long to buy one, to be honest!  Much as I’ve had times when I don’t like vibrators and I don’t use them that often, the magic wand is just something else.  It’s so powerful that it’s a little insane and I’ve already had so much fun with my new one!

So, as well as buying some new toys and looking at too many hot gifs on Tumblr, I just seem to be constantly thinking about really hot, rough sex.  My head will get little images and ideas, not really full scenes or major concepts.  A lot of what I’ve been thinking about has been really brutal, rough and degrading, with lots of ideas of being used, being a filthy slut.  Lots of DP, anal, face fucking and general filth.  In the last few days, it’s hit fever pitch, being constantly turned on, my cunt constantly wet, my ass craving to be filled, really wanting to suck cock.  I’ve been distracted by it so much.  I seem to have found a very renewed love of anal and cock sucking recently.

So when I put on my catsuit the other day, it wasn’t surprising to me that I was dripping wet in minutes.  Although I didn’t keep it on to sleep, the horniness continued so when I was being thoroughly abused at 3am, I wasn’t complaining.  Treated roughly, filthily, just how I wanted.  Forced to bend over and teased, fingers at my cunt, my ass in the air, desperate to be full.  Wishing for too much as he grabbed the bigger plug out of the drawer, the one I knew I couldn’t take, the one that scares me.  I’m desperate to take it, for him, for me, for my slutty ass that feels so empty.  It’s only the second time I’ve tried to take it all and I don’t want to disappoint.  My arse in the air, pushing into the plug, screaming in pain, in ecstasy, so guttural, so loud.  I feel like I’m going to come so hard as it goes in, stretching me wide.  He’s so proud of me, so happy to see my ass so full and he finger fucks my cunt and uses my wand on me until I come so hard as he pulls the plug from me.  Come streams down my thighs, I feel so used.  And that’s only the start; his fingers in my arse, fucking me hard, then his cock until he pulls out and fucks my face, finally coming all over me.

I should be happy, sated, fulfilled but the next evening, I find myself slipping my blue butt plug in my tight arse and fucking myself with my favourite dildo, thinking of being fucked in both holes at the same time, wishing I could be used and abused again.  I went to sleep with my ass plugged and thus woke dripping again.

It was Kage that afternoon, overseeing and taking part in a friend’s gangbang.  I was so turned on being involved, getting to watch closely, seeing her and hearing her fucked and moaning for release.  Part of me was also a little jealous, wishing that I could be in her place.  I knew people were watching when I was fucking her and sitting on her face and that turned me on so much more.  We got to have some more fun just the two of us (we couldn’t put each other down) and there was some very hot sex had, me acting like a cat in heat, my arse constantly pushing up and into the air.  Being met with girlcock teasing me and pushing into me, making me gasp.  Both of us coming so hard.

Weirdly, though, I was still insatiable, wanting my arse full, my cunt full, being made to come.  Plugged and fucked, come all over and then still playing with my clit until T got the magic wand out and went to town on me, teasing me with it, varying the speed until finally roughly finger fucking me whilst I came violently from the intense wand on my clit.  Finally feeling sated after days until, of course, waking this morning, my cunt sopping again, my head full of filth, desperate to be used and abused again, desperate for my arse to be full, my cunt to be wreaked.  Messages from H adding to that, and now, here I am, horny and telling the world about my wanton desires, my current obsession with anal and wanting to be thoroughly used and abused.

November 13th, 2013

Submission and Collars

Collar

I’m a strange one, I suppose.  It took me a long time to accept my submission but, even when I did, I didn’t really understand the collaring thing, beyond it being a sign of ownership, something that I really didn’t want.  I’d owned a few collars as fashion accessories but nothing more. My opinion of it slowly changed, realising the connection I would get when S placed a collar around my neck, the nakedness I would feel without it.  Still, the collar I wore
actually belonged to me.  I did not wear her collar but my own.  When we had the uncollaring ceremony, I took the collar back but I decided that I didn’t want it giving to me directly; I wasn’t in a place emotionally to take it.  So E was with me and took it, as I trusted him to have my D/s interests and happiness at heart.  At the time, he was just a close friend and I wanted him and needed him to look out for me.

When we started playing more seriously and a D/s element crept in, it seemed like a logical and natural thing for him to place my old collar around my neck.  Collars and cuffs made me feel safe, loved, protected.  The Girl wears his permanent, locked collar but I know that’s just not something I could ever do; I’m too much of a switch for something like that.  My old collar was working out fine, most of the time, but it would get uncomfortable after a little while but I just couldn’t see myself getting another one though.  E talked of buying one for me but a few things happened and that saved me the conversation that would seem a little off for a submissive girl to be having.  The thing is, I can power exchange and give myself up in the moment.  I can submit, trust someone with everything and yet I cannot give up that teeny, tiny last bit of control.  I need to be in control, even if that does just mean that the collar that goes around my neck is one that I choose to let someone use on me.

We chose together and I even had it posted to him.  He brought it over and slipped it around my neck, padlocking it for extra effect.  It fits so well; wide enough to feel a little restrictive but comfy enough to wear for hours.  It matches the cuffs he owns already.  It feels beautiful, it smells lovely and it really is mine.  But it’s also a symbol when I wear it that he is looking after me, he is caring for me, he is in control.  I have chosen to give him that and that is what makes this collar so special now.  It may still belong to me but it was bought very much to show who I have given myself to, in that moment and it makes me feel safe and protected.  Plus, it is very pretty.  I’ve always loved wearing a collar but this is the first that has made me feel quite like this.

September 26th, 2013

Fear Him

Tied down
Gagged
Naked
Sat up but baring all
Restrained
Rope across my neck, no pressure until I strain
My fear
Brutal canes
Haphazard hits
My obvious arousal
Random marks
His cold eyes
My fear
And still my arousal
The threat of the gun
The warning shots
My fear
His cruel laughter
My heart racing
His mind games
His blows with words, with taunts
Searching his face, searching his eyes, searching for something
Finding only my fear
Eventually my tears
His smile at that
Unbound, still gagged
Begging to be used
Begging for him
My broken body
My adrenaline filled shakes
My smiles
His arms, his safety, his comfort

August 6th, 2013

Insatiable

I could spend every minute playing
Kink a major part of my life
Topping one moment
Submissive the next
Sadistic yearnings explored
Desires to be owned and to own
Dominant at times
Rope slipping across my skin
Needles piercing
Hand spanking
Being fucked
Fucking
Craving sensation
Craving closeness
Craving release, again and again.

June 25th, 2013

Olfactory Pleasure

Smell is really important but often a sense taken for granted. Without it, you can’t taste complex flavours fully, you can’t appreciate fragrance, you can’t smell dangerous situations like smoke, you don’t experience petrichor.

I am one of those people who enjoy slightly odd smells, like freshly pressed tarmac or toluene and yet I hate the odor of freshly mown grass.

I have scent memories. I get a feeling of dajavu with certain smells. The smell of my first kiss. The scent of a certain perfume that I don’t know the name of. I love it.

There are also the smells that will turn me on. Jute rope, leather, latex. All smells that are heavenly to me. A leather glove over my nose and mouth, my bag of bondage rope, Liberation’s shop in London. A delight for my nose, my brain, my cunt. I can try and dissociate when required but it’s hard when one tiny hint of the scent will have my mind thinking of all possibilities.


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