Tag Archives: acceptance

Day 17

tumblr_n0twjebLkc1rgfmbco1_500

Day 17

What does trust mean to you in the context of submission?

There is nothing without trust.

A BDSM relationship is nonexistent without trust. Hell, a vanilla relationship should be nothing without trust…but some would argue in vanilla relationships there is less risk without the trust. You’re less likely to get physically harmed in a vanilla relationship without trust. You just risk being emotionally gutted…

In an M/s or D/s relationship you’re risking both emotional and physical harm if you don’t trust your partner. From a Dominant’s side of things, they are learning how to read you and your body. They’re learning what makes you up, and are trying to understand how best to take care of you, in various ways. They’re learning when tender touch is necessary, and when you need not so tender touches. They’re learning what sensations you enjoy, what sensations you tolerate, and what you physically find not enjoyable at all.

When you’re letting someone beat the living shit out of you, when you ask them to take you to places physically and emotionally that you’ve never gone before, they have to trust that you’re being honest with them. That you’ll call a safeword if they push you too hard. That, when they check in with you, you’re actually being honest with them when they ask how you’re doing. They need to be able to trust that their submissive/slave/bottom will communicate when something is wrong.. That they actually want and enjoy (in their own way) the activities going on. The Dominant needs to know that all that goes on is okay.. to trust that everything is done with full consent and that they are on the same page. That if you ever are not on the same page as your Dominant that you will communicate that.

On the submissive’s side of things, whether you are giving yourself into someone’s care for a scene, an evening, or for the length of the relationship you’re trusting them to listen. To know when ‘no’ means no and when it means ‘oww motherfucker…okay keep going.’ When ‘I hate you’ really means ‘I love you, you asshole.’ At minimum you’re trusting them with the care of your body for a few moments, to know when to bruise and not to bruise and how hard to hit to not break you in half and to listen when you’re being the tough subby gritting your teeth through a few very hard hits going ‘I can do it I can do it I can do it’… to know that those WERE hard hits for you and to not ramp it up fifty thousand times the next stroke.

James could break me in half, easily. The man’s upper body has so much strength that me wrapping myself around one of his arms and holding on for dear life does very little good. He can bruise with one bare-handed hit, easily.. But I know he won’t with me. He won’t hit me harder than I can take. He pushes me… There are times when he’s finished or he pauses after a few really hard hits that I’m shaking and exhausted, with part of me begging it is over and part of me begging him to continue before the endorphins wear off. But he trusts me to tell him when he pushes too far… And I trust him to take me where I need to be when I don’t have the words to express it.

Trust. Is. Everything. If you don’t have that in any relationship you don’t have a foundation. Nothing else can be built up.. It will crumble under the weight of doubt, suspicion, frustration, miscommunication, and anger. Trust comes first.. then honesty, then openness.. Have all three and you have a fabulous start to a relationship.

.. If you don’t have trust..then why the heck are you with that person?

Yours, as always.

-Rene

Advertisements

One Last Blast

This will be a very short entry.

I’ve mentioned from time to time my search for a new home, and the scramble to find the place.

Life has been a little bit kind to me. I got lucky.. And unlucky at the same time.

I’ve found a new place, more expensive than my last but with so much more potential. And I love it. My roommates are kinky. There is room for Sir to move in if we reach that point. It is the perfect new home for Poe and I.

As if by magic I got a third job at the same time that all of this was finalized… Finally there was light at the end of the tunnel. I was able to slightly dig myself out of the financial hole I’ve sunk into.

… Life never works out perfectly. It’s just how it goes. This new job that made it possible for me to make first months rent suddenly told me after two weeks of pay that I was going to be off for a week and then they will “let me know” if I would be coming back.

I have a good feeling about this job. I’ve gotten nothing but positive reviews so far and I’ve never been let go from a job of this nature… But that doesn’t mean the fear and panic have not set in.. I needed that week of work, desperately, to make rent… They let me know so late that my backup job wouldn’t be able to pay me until the day AFTER rent is due…

Because the universe is funny like that. When everything seems to start falling into place but the littlest thing off throws EVERYTHING off it’s easy to get scared.

I am still working as hard as I can. As I go through my possessions, packing everything up, I am selling what I can..

But I am scared.

When I first started my search for a place I made a gofundme page.. I was not prepped at all to have to move and found out I had 60 days left in my place two weeks before my birthday.. With being so close… SO close to a safe new home and a couple hundred short I am trying one last blast on here..

I feel pathetic asking for financial help when I have tried extremely hard to build myself back up again, and I’ve come so damn close I can taste it… Nothing is stable right now though. And while my ego is suffering at the thought of this… I’m asking for help.

My birthday was about 3 weeks ago now… So if you awesome people out in cyber space take a bit of pity on a twenty something sub and her cat trying to make it by, a secured safe new home would be.. Incredible.

gofundme.com/mss44j4p

That would be me… You all now have a vague idea of what both Poe and I look like..

Thank you for taking the time to read this… I honesty do appreciate it

We now return to our regularly scheduled kinky fuckery

As always, I am yours

-Rene, aka Rena

Day 15

tumblr_muv9e1kV9p1rjklmso1_250

Day 15

Has your submission evolved over time? If so, how has it evolved for you and if not (or if you are just starting out) how might you see or imagine it evolving in the future?

Oh goodness yes. Of course my submission has evolved over time.

I’m a big believer in the fact that everyone’s sexuality evolves over time. You grow. You learn more about yourself, about what you actually want in a partner.. or about actually wanting ‘partners’ instead.

For me, I have natural submissive tendencies that just.. come out. I am exceedingly comfortable sitting on the floor at someone’s feet, or even kneeling there for a great length of time. I like cleaning up after partners, making their lives easier by disposing of sodas and plates and glasses in cafes and stuff like that. I like when a partner chooses my clothing, because I like to be as pleasing to my partner as possible (though in all reality for this to be practical I wouldn’t want this unless I was living with a partner.. which I’m currently not). This is without any of the hitty and slappy stuff.

When I first dove into this lifestyle I dove in full force. I had fought being subby for so long.. because females have been fighting so long for equal rights, why on earth would a female want to submit under the hand of a male? It took me over 20 years to wrap my mind around that being okay when both the religion I practiced and the people that raised me preached women standing up to men, being equals, never submitting. Once I embraced the submissive part of myself it was as if the floodgates opened.. I couldn’t control it. I craved ritual, craved the hand of another.. and I got it.

I got the 24/7 relationship I desired… and discovered, over time, that it was exhausting and trying. That in order to keep up the BDSM side of our lifestyle other parts were suffering and communication was breaking down. Eventually, obviously, we broke apart. The pressures of what we were expected to maintain became too great.

I developed from being a 24/7 submissive to being a submissive with a switch. Flip it and I was on my knees in a heartbeat. Ignore it and I stayed in girlfriend mode completely. With my current partner… There is a balance forming in our relationship.. There are times when I am just the girlfriend and not the submissive. I am always his.. because I want to be. Because I expressed that desire, not because he imposed it on me.

The pain thing.. That is also knew. I heard a term the other week that summarized what I am very well. Pain for pleasure. Meaning I take the pain for the pleasure of another. I enjoy being beaten because I see him enjoying it. I look forward to it because I know the pleasure that it will cause my Sir, and that gives me quite a lot of joy. I love showing him how much I can take. How I can lay there and scream and cry but not yellow or red, because I want his hands on me. I want the nails. I want the smacks. I want it all so much…

Oh yes,  my submission has changed over time..and I am thoroughly enjoying how it has transformed, and I’m sure will continue to transform over time…

Yours, a work in progress

-Rena

Day 9

tumblr_nr9h2dgckt1rs1xcco1_540

Day 9

Do you accept and/or expect structure, rules and limits as a part of your submission? How do you feel about them?

I feel like structure and limits need to be part of any relationship, D/s related or not. Everyone has their boundary lines, their ‘do not cross’ behaviors that they’re just… not comfortable with. Some are completely vanilla. Some are kinky. Some are sexual.

I compartmentalize a lot, especially when it comes to relationships. I like knowing the boundary lines of those compartments to see the potential for some to grow, to know which ones won’t grow, and to make sure that the relationships don’t bleed into one another and get muddy… This is a good thing and a bad thing, I suppose. In certain ways it’s incredibly self-limiting.. I set myself up to know exactly how far a relationship can go before I abandon ship. And in other ways it’s a good thing because I will look at relationships realistically. … And then I have partners like James that continually wipe away the boundary lines, push what we can be, surprise me.. and tell me that I have as much input as him. That he does not make all the rules just because he is the Dominant and that a relationship is a partnership…

But I’ve digressed, haven’t I? This is supposed to be about D/s relationships.

Structure in rules in D/s relationships specifically.. I believe they’re good things. They reinforce the dynamic and keep me in a submissive head space. I like to push my limits with certain partners.. Be playful… But you learn from a tone or a look when you’ve pushed enough.

There is less of a structured rule set with James right now and more just understood things… I text him when I’m home safe from work. We wish each other goodnight when we’re going to sleep and we’re apart. I know not to push when he tells me to lean back or drop my arms because he wants access to a part of me.. I know when to extend my neck for him to put the collar on me, and know not to touch the collar to take it off or loosen it. I ask him if I needed loosed. But there are no set rituals in place yet, other then I know when to call him James and when he is Sir. When he is my boyfriend and when the Dominant takes priority.

I don’t think I would do well with rules all the time.. with a true 24/7 set up that involves no silly downtime. I need the time to be the girlfriend and the partner as well as the submissive. When there is a collar around my neck (and I don’t mean a day collar.. I mean a big leather dungeon collar) there are certain things I feel like I can’t say..certain ways of talking that get toned down a bit until the collar comes off… When that collar is on he is “Sir” not “James”.  And I love it. I love being subby.. Don’t think I don’t… But the main rule, the number one rule, that James and I have (and that I recommend all D/s couples couples have) is emotional honesty. Even if it makes him unhappy or would upset him, if I’m feeling something I am supposed to talk to him about that.. and as much as it is a rule, it’s a rule I can only really follow without the collar on.

Balance. Balance is a good thing. I’m sure all D/s couples have their own equilibrium for how deep the dynamic goes in their relationship. This is just mine

Nine down, twenty-one to go

yours,

-Rena

P.s. I am very sorry for being a couple days behind in these.. The weekend has been hectic and filled with internet problems. Day 10 and 11 will also be posted today to make up for it.

Safe

tumblr_n0n2i1WuI91trdtt4o6_500

Today on the way to the way to the dungeon I got stopped on the street. I’m used to it, in certain ways. The Tenderloin is a rough neighborhood. Cat calls abound, there are some sketch characters on the street, and I’m not exactly the most intimidating creature in the world. It’s getting to be that time of the year where it’s no longer daylight when I get to the dungeon to play.. It’s getting dark again. And I, being foolish, walk through the Tenderloin alone.

The person who stopped me wasn’t part of the usual suspects.. It was a tourist, a woman who was obviously uncomfortable with the neighborhood she was in and took a wrong turn somewhere around Union Square, by the fancy hotels. I gave her directions to where she needed to go. She was polite, thanked me..and then paused, giving me a once over.

“Aren’t you scared of walking this neighborhood at night?”

I laughed. I’ve worked in some rough areas of cities in the past, especially back when I was in college. Internships were part of our requirement to graduate, and more often than not the internships that needed psych majors the most were internships in the not so pretty parts of the state… I got mugged twice while working at my second year internship and took several self-defense classes as a result so that it would never happen again. I’m tougher than I look… But that’s not why I laughed. It was the reason I gave, but it’s not why I laughed at all.

The woman was satisfied with that explanation and went on her way. The honest answer to why I laughed?

Because anyone stupid enough to harm me will suffer a much worse fate than anything they dish out.

I am a bit of a Tumblr addict these days. I was on the other day and saw that someone I follow, a Dom called lovemysub, got accused of not being a real Dom by an anonymous asker because he cared for his sub too much. Because he was too affectionate. Because he loved her. This is part of his response..and I think it’s brilliant.

“A dom does not demand respect. He conducts himself in such a way as to be worthy of respect.

A dom does not bark commands. His presence is such that he can seduce and command with nothing more than a glance.

A dom does not raise his voice. He is the kind of man who gets what he wants without needing to.

A dom is not a braggart. He is possessed of a calm, quiet confidence that is evident in his demeanor, the way he walks, the tone of his voice, and all other aspects of him.

A dom understands balance. He knows that while a firm hand and discipline are critical in this type of relationship, knowing when to be gentle and understanding is every bit as important.

A dom is a gentleman first and foremost. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he is a fancy man who values the finer things in life, but he does understand manners and protocol. He opens the car door for her. He orders for her if she is having trouble deciding. He treats strangers with courtesy and respect.

A dom is a protector. He makes sure that his submissive feels safe and protected at all times. This means so much more than just telling her you will protect her. A dom shows her. He keeps a hand on her shoulder or on her waist in crowds so she doesn’t get nervous. He sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door so that he is always between his submissive and an intruder. He walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street so that an errant vehicle will hit him before his submissive. If anything or anyone should threaten his submissive, he must be prepared to fight for her with the ferocity of an alpha wolf.

A dom earns her submission. It is not a thing to be demanded, expected, or assumed. And he continues to earn it, each and every day.

A dom values her submission. Fully submitting your will and trusting your body and well-being to someone takes a kind of strength most can’t imagine, and a dom never loses sight of that.

A dom understands that being a dominant is 10% privilege and 90% responsibility. He is literally taking her life into his hands. He is accepting the most sacred and important thing she has to give. He is taking her burdens and bearing them as his own, always, every day.

A dom is consistent. He understands that he can’t just be her protector, lover, confidant, master, etc. when he feels like it. There will be days when a dom is tired. There will be days when he is stressed. There will be days when he is broken. On those days, it is more important than ever for a dom to show his submissive that he is still everything she needs him to be. ”

Why am I confident walking to the dungeon at night?

Tonight, I was at a party. An amazing party where James wasn’t working for once. I got some much needed play time with my Sir, and some even more needed cuddles with him after. The night ended too quickly… and when I knew it was ending I groaned. I was wrapped up in his arms, decompressing from the scene and enjoying aftercare, my head on his chest. I didn’t want to move, and voiced my dissatisfaction about the idea.

“Until they say that everyone has to leave you’re staying right here.” Sir squeezed me just a little bit tighter then… and I felt completely untouchable in his embrace. Safe from the world. Cherished, in my own little kinky cocoon.

My Sir is a Dom. He expects me to have common sense, and to protect myself when I possibly can. But that does not mean he is not protective of me. He puts his hand on my knee when I feel uncomfortable in a crowd and it calms me down.. He sleeps closest to my apartment door. He will take the lead when I beg him too, and only when he’s sure it’s what he wants. And if, despite common sense and self-defense skills, someone manages to hurt me he and several others will break them in half. It’s not something I’ve ever asked him about.. It’s not something I’ve ever had to. It’s something I know from the way he talks to me, touches me, treats me around others. The safest place for any lucky submissive is with their Sir.

Okay… mushy post over.. I thought one was overdue.

Yours hoping you enjoyed it ;P

-Rena

Day 8

tumblr_n6q9njSQ3C1tnt7wmo1_540

Day 8

Is spanking or corporal punishment a part of your submission? Why or why not?

…This may end up being a very short post.

Yes. Yes. YES it is part of my submission. Big screamy capital letters YESSSSSSS.

It used to scare me.. being hit. Spanked. Flogged. It used to scare the living shit out of me.

Now?

…mmmmmmmmmmmmm

With Kane, spanking and beating used to be the work for the reward.. The tender touches, the good girl, the fantastic sex to follow. I wanted to earn the ‘good girl’, the ultimate reward for the submissive…

James… He’s a whole other ball of wax. Ever since he and I started playing around months ago, before any feels or dating or… relationshippy stuff… he’s turned my perceptions of pain and pleasure on their heads. It’s just.. part of the dynamic between he and I… I take pleasure from being on my knees in from of James, chest out, knowing a hand is going to come down and redden it. Knowing it’s going to hurt, and it’s going to make him smile. I HATE when he hits my thighs, but smile after the pain fades and they are red and warm.

But spanking with James?

How do I put this…. and this is not in a bragging sense.. This is just him.

The man is to bare handed spanking as Midori is to rope.

His upper body is BUILT. Pretty sure his biceps are bigger than my head… and he wants to get in even better shape. The man can bruise with a single strike.. He could easily finish me for an evening easily.. and instead he pushes me.. His spankings are a rare treat for me. It’s never just a strike. It’s always a build up. He will reach out first, let me know it’s coming, and gently put a hand on my ass, caress it.. sometimes squeeze. And then his hand comes down. I scream. I buck. I gasp. I wonder if I can possibly take another, because damn if that man isn’t always symmetrical. It hurts..and I want more.

There are times when his spankings are gentle. Well, at least for him. Sometimes he will spank me while I’m in between his legs sucking him, light taps compared to his normal strikes. Just enough to attempt to distract me and make me moan, through pants or skirts.

Other types of play… Floggings, paddles, mean wooden spoons that I am still not on speaking terms with… Yes, I like all of that as well. Intense scenes don’t happen as often between James and I.. It’s usually quick moments of play. We’ve only had one full official play scene at a party, on the cross, where he beat me to my almost-breaking point… and then stops right before I would have yellowed.. The man can read my body extremely well. He’s learned how I react to different types of pain even before I process how I handle them.. Yes, I love the intense scenes as well. I look forward to more.

So yes, spanking and corporal punishment are part of my D/s relationship. Why?

Because we enjoy it, both Sir and I. Because we both, in certain ways, need it. And love it. And crave it.

Because it’s part of who I am. And I relish it.

Maybe if I’m a good girl, I’ll get spanked tonight.

I’ve made it more than a week. YES!

Yours in antici…..pation,

-Rena

Day 7

tumblr_nmuxk3tupc1re8c2to1_500

Day 7

Do you accept and/or expect discipline or punishments as a part of your submission? How do you feel about it?

I was never one of those submissives that dreaded submission. I was one of those trouble makers that tried to get rewarded for bad behavior. I still am.

My relationship with pain and punishment is a unique one.. My pain tolerance varies depending on who I’m with and what the setting is. Sometimes I am a real masochist, craving the pain. Sometimes I dread it.

A couple months ago, I went over my friend Chris’s house. We had met up several times in the past, and I admit that I was tardy almost every time to see him. I was a sassy creature that often forgot to call him sir even though we played, and when we played he topped me.. And so, one even when I came over his house he punished me. He had me crawl on to the bed and told me why he was punishing me, said he only punished those he cared about, and proceeded to hit me with his belt. I HATED it. The belt stung. It made me cry. I counted the strokes and was grateful when it was over.. Penance paid, life returned to normal and all was well.

The beauty of punishment is that once it’s done, the issue is dune. All is forgiven, the slate is wiped clean.

My interaction with James… blurs the line between play and punishment. He has yet to really punish me.. and I try very hard not to earn his punishment or his disappointment. However, he is a sadist, and under his hand I am a masochist.. I will do things like mew quietly, kiss his arm, nuzzle him… Nothing warranting real punishment.

He then turns to me and raises an eyebrow, a half smirk on his face.

“Really now?” Usually I will mew quietly, my body slightly shrinking in expectation of the pain that will follow. “You’re sure about that?” Again, I usually mew. I’m never sure. I never can be sure. This is a trick question.

“Well okay then.”

And then the pain starts. A smack on my thigh. Nails digging into my chest or back. Bites. Lots and lots and lots of nibbles. But never enough nibbles. I love nibbles…Mmmmm…

I have a love/hate relationship with pain under Jame’s hand. It hurts, I scream… But I crave it. It’s our dance, the steps familiar and comforting now. Not punishment, per say, but punishment-like behavior and discipline that keeps me happily under his hand.

I accept punishment when I have earned it.. I would rather stand in the corner, go into the ‘apology’ position, get spanked until I bleed, or even wear a fucking ball gag than carry the burden of my Sir’s disappointment, or the disappointment of another friend or partner. Physical pain is much easier for me than emotional… And the truth is that fuck ups happen. As much as submissives try to be perfect for our Dominants, we are human. Humans are flawed. We make mistakes, and we mentally beat the shit out of ourselves because of the mistakes. Because we failed. Because we let the person who we belong to down. We disappointed the person we try more than anything to please. For me, personally, punishment and discipline after the emotional beating I just gave myself is a very sweet release and relief. It makes it all better… Fresh, clean, blank slate. I am a good girl again, willing and eager to serve my Sir.

A whole week down! HA! Twenty three days to go.

Still here, still writing, still yours,

Rena

The Man That Came Back

tumblr_nqwqeczz811ttltlno1_540

I love Rocky Horror nights.

I grew up with Rocky Horror. I’ve gone to shows in five different cities across the country, helped out in a few crews, had a couple very brief appearances as Colombia on one cast when I was skinny enough to pull it off, and know every single damn thing you’re supposed to scream at the screen by heart.

I love Rocky Horror nights even more when they’re James’s Rocky Horror nights. His friends are awesome, the show is entertaining, it gets me to actually talk a little bit to people.. and I get actual alone time with my boyfriend.

I enjoy BaGG with James. I enjoy sitting in the back of the Citadel with him watching him take photos. I enjoy Wicked Grounds with him… But time alone with him is a special treat. It’s what makes my heart race and gets those stupid, silly grins plastered on my face, for no other reason other than we talk.. No filter, no one else butting in, just us. We go off on tangents, and smile, and laugh, and have inside jokes, and it makes Rocky Horror fifty thousand times more enjoyable.

And I LOVE Rocky Horror as is.

And so, at the end of the night of giggles and snuggles and kisses..and a little bit of kinky fuckery (because, let’s face it, it’s us) I said goodnight to my Sir and slipped inside smiling. It was late, but my landlord keeps odd hours, and it was also the first of the month. So I ran upstairs to give him my rent check.

He was stoned off his ass..and I’m not saying that in a mean way. I am very 4/20 friendly. But he..was no longer coherent. He told me when I gave him my check that what he was about to say had nothing to do with the check. He said he grew up in this house, that he had had a hard week, and that things were changing. That, because of a feeling, he was giving me my 60 days notice. He would meet with me tomorrow to discuss with me.

I was stunned. Shell shocked. I briefly begged for my apartment back out of sheer terror before my landlord sent me downstairs.

I vaguely remember fumbling for my phone. I don’t call James. I text him, quite happily, on a regular basis and poke him if he gets lost in Workland too long, but I don’t call. We’re both awkward as hell on the phone, we see each other a couple times a week normally, text a lot… I don’t call. Somehow, in my shell-shocked state I called him.

I was shaking, and crying. I needed him… That is a sickening feeling for me. Needing someone. I take great pride in being able to function perfectly well on my own. I clean up my own messes. I keep my life together. I get by on the skin of my teeth sometimes but dammit I get by. Normally the pride and that little bit of logic that I have keeps me from doing things like dialing my boyfriend’s number and sobbing into the phone until he turns around and drives back to my notapartment. Normally I wouldn’t have let him see me sobbing at all.

I have no memory of that lovely gap of time between after the phone call and before he came back. The next thing I remember after calling him was clinging to him and sobbing. He didn’t shrink, he didn’t drive away. He held me.. he calmed me down. I went from being alone and scared to being surrounded by warmth and safety and a calm voice telling me logical next steps. Post on Fetlife. Go on Craigslist. Post on Facebook. Put up specifics for him to re-post.

He let me ramble. I hiccuped and cried and shook and got his shirt all wet..I kept him up later when he had to go home for breakfast. He snuggled and kissed and nuzzled and talked to me in that voice that turns me into a melted puddle of warm and fuzzy. The voice that only comes out when we’re on our own. It’s the tone that goes along with things like kissing me on top of the head or pulling me to his chest, so that my head rests right under his chin…

When I would have worked myself up again he had me meet his eyes, focus on him. “Hey. It’s going to be alright. You know why? Because I said so.”

That was about where it dawned on me, in my sniffily state as I stood in his arms. He came back. He actually came back. I looked up at him, a little in awe, and ask him why.

He shrugged, his arms still around me. “You called…”

That’s never happened to me before… someone coming back like that.. The closest I came to a crisis with Kane was finding a cockroach in my bed and freaking out. I had called him, just wanting to hear his voice so that I could calm down and he sent me to voicemail, because it was too late and he needed his sleep for work tomorrow. James had to drive over an hour back to his place.. It was nearly dawn as it was. He could have told me just to go to sleep. My mind would have calmed down eventually, just as it did with the cockroach. Ewwww cockroach.

James came back.. He didn’t run when I freaked out. He calmed me down, gave me logical next steps, and made my racing mind slow down enough for me to actually see that it would be okay.

Something like this is… stressful, intimidating, and trying. I fall into routines really easily and like the comfort of routines. It’s easy to become complacent. To get used to a ‘normal’, and I admit that I have. I like my dinky little apartment… but there are some serious pros to moving. Poe no longer constantly getting fleas (and by constantly I mean he’s gotten four flea baths, been professionally groomed, the apartment has been bombed 3 times, he’s had 3 doses of Advantage and wears a flea collar… the struggle is real), my boyfriend not having to pop off a wheel to get in and out of my place.. Actually being able to shower with my boyfriend. Him not getting into a fight with my bathroom every time he comes over…

Dare I hope for a bath tub? Dare I dream? Ohhh bubble baths from time to time would be so nice…

And a non-psycho landlord who isn’t half out of his mind most of the time would be a huge plus.

I hope for positive things. Good changes.

Now to continue packing up my apartment, stalking Craigslist, and searching Fetlife for more kink friendly housing.

And just because Poe and I could really use a new home.. I’m looking for a room in the San Francisco Bay area. About $1000 a month budget. Must be cat friendly because of Poe. Kink friendly and wheelchair accessible both pluses. `If anyone knows of anything… Contacting me is definitely okay.

It’ll all be okay.. I have faith.. And in reality I am a very lucky girl.. I love who I belong to. I actually have a man who cares enough to come back when I need him…

How could things not end up being okay?

Yours, as always,

~Rena

When One Dore Closes…

tumblr_npb9p92ohg1t2wi5uo1_500

Purposeful misspelling, I promise.

Yesterday was Dore Alley, or Up Your Alley, or Leather Alley..whatever you want to label it as. I tend to go with “baby Folsom” because it’s the easiest way to explain it. It’s Folsom before Folsom. A taste of what is to come at the end of September. And going to it the last two years has made me very, very happy.

It was a harder day for me than it was a year ago. My sister, my best friend, is now 5800 miles away in Denmark. She left that morning, around the time that the event started…

I don’t really want to go into the details of my emotional state.. Rather the events resulting from it.

I found myself at Dore Alley, drying some tears after an intense last-stateside conversation with my sister. It seemed like just the therapy I needed.. I knew James would be there. My friends would be there. I wanted to be around my friends, out dressed in clothing that had me feeling more comfortable than any street clothing could.

It was right about then that I got nostalgic. I walked through the sea of half-naked bodies, assless chaps, and human puppies thinking about the previous Dore Alley, where Kane had met me after his wife left for the airport..

Kane and I have talked from time to time since we’ve split and had a habit of passively liking posts on Instagram, but other than that I had long ago stopped going out of my way to reach out to him. The year before Kane had been all that was on my mind. I took teasing photos for him at the event, begging him to come out and play, missing my boyfriend while I tried not to think about his wife.

Being the little show off that I am sometimes, I signed up for the naked dance contest. This, at the time, was extremely out of the ordinary for me. I still changed in the bathroom at the Citadel. I was never naked in public, never. I didn’t think anyone wanted to see chubby little me naked. I wanted to do something bawlsy and get lost in kink while I could. I had a vanilla job, Kane had no interest in the public scene, and the voyeuristic part of me that I refused to acknowledge most of the time wanted the attention of gyrating on stage in front of hundreds of people.

And so I stripped with Kane watching me, looking at me with the ‘I will fuck you later’ look. He held my bag and my clothes while I ran on stage, terrified and thrilled all at once. I stood in back, found him in the crowd, and danced like an idiot.. But it was fun. I kept locking eyes with him. I shimmied my hips and my ass and stuck my tongue out and just…enjoyed myself.

Somehow I ended up shoved in the front. I don’t know how. I still don’t like being in the front.. I like being the support, the background, but the spotlight and I still aren’t on speaking terms. I couldn’t find Kane in the crowd and wasn’t sure I wanted to still be on stage at all.

I looked down and locked eyes with my worse nightmare, a camera.

I vaguely recognized the person behind it. He took photos at some of the play parties I had gone to, and usually had a naked Asian woman in his lap. He was loud, with a big booming voice and over-the-top personality that scared the shit out of me. He had an easy power to take center stage, to make others notice him.

And he was watching me.

I kept dancing. I still couldn’t find Kane..and so I kept my eyes on the red headed camera guy. Saw the smirk on his face, the look of amusement as he took photos of everyone. I was attracted to him.. to strong hands, to the look of intensity he got when he worked, to the blue eyes I somehow hadn’t noticed before and the scruff… I have such a weakness for scruff.

Eventually we all stopped dancing and my viking collected me. We waited around to see who won the big prize, and I remember the red headed photo guy won even though he hadn’t danced. He knew everyone, was talking to everyone when I went home with Kane.

It’s amazing the difference a year can make. I ended up running into Kane amongst the latex and leather of Dore Alley. We talked..caught up, touched on why we ended and what we had become. He told me he was still pretty single. I finally told him I wasn’t. I confronted him about me being a secret..about him never fully letting me in his life. I wanted to meet his friends and his family, and he always kept me at arms length. I was never fully one of his people.

He looked started when I told him that, and then he smiled really sadly.

“Rena… I didn’t keep you from meeting my people. I don’t…have people.” He shrugged. In the middle of this clusters came over and chatted. They hugged, we talked. There were people from the Citadel, from BaGG, people I see week after week that I would call friends. When there was finally a break in the people and conversation he smiled. “Clearly, Rena, you have people now. You needed it.. It’s nice to see you finally happy.”

He’s right. I am happy.

We parted on good terms with plans to do a studio night together and hang out, just as friends. He went off to explore the rest of the festival, and I ended up kneeling next to my favorite red head with a camera. Yes, the same one that I finally noticed a year ago.

The same one that, during my conversation with Kane, was never too far away.

James still scares me.. but for entirely different reasons than that day I first noticed him. The chuckle doesn’t scare me..or the smirk.. The nails digging into my chest don’t scare me, and while I flinch when his hand comes down to hit me that doesn’t scare me either.

It’s when his voice gets soft and tender and his touch becomes feather-light that I become afraid. When he pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head so softly, so sweetly that I feel so entirely cherished and safe.. That is when he scares me.. Because this man has slowly captured more and more of my heart.

My life is changing.. for the better I think. I’m slowly getting myself un-stuck. Creatively I’m working again, financially I’ve collected another job that is slowly taking the place of unstable funds. Social wise I have friends… I go out, I see people. I smile a lot.

Romantically..

Romantically, he’s got me. I trust him, completely. I am his.

…It really is that simple

I am his. And I am happy.

Sometimes, doors closing can be an incredibly healthy thing. It can make you even more confident about your choices to open others.

Yours, smiling

-Rena

Uncharted Territory

tumblr_mhyyxkdrJ21rkrbi9o1_500

I have never fallen asleep in someone’s arms before and actually SLEPT there. I’m so used to the tuck and roll, or snuggle until right before sleep and then get into comfy sleeping positions. Arms fall asleep, legs get tangled. Sleeping in someone’s arms just doesn’t work.

Until it does.

I feel like I need to backtrack. I have been in the scene here in San Francisco for over a year now, and in that year there have been constant figures that are always some part of it. I have not been one of those constants. There have been several month gaps where I pulled away from the scene, from the munches and the people I called friends. Things weren’t right with Kane, or I was focusing on building the relationship with Smith. Or I was off in New Jersey.

Things end. Sometimes you have control over those endings, and sometimes you don’t. Kane is still in my life. I hope he will be for the rest of my life. There are points where we just.. get each other as friends and artists. There is a soul connection there. Smith is no longer in my life. I had no control over this, and I lost someone who could have been a phenomenal friend over miscommunications that were never clarified or explained. I trusted Smith..and it hurt, a lot, it especially hurt my Little side. At the same time Kane was gently nudging me out of my collar, not because I failed him or because I was a bad submissive, but because his life is complicated to say the least. There was room for me to be in his life as his friend, but not as his submissive, and accepting that took some time.

I hid. I licked my wounds. I wallowed. And then I got it into my head that I should go to the Littles munch at the local kink cafe. I hadn’t gone in ages. I wasn’t feeling interested in play just for play’s sake, and my Little side was the most damaged. I thought.. why not? And so I went.

I got bored by the munch in about 10 minutes. I ran out to get food, and that’s when I ran into James.

James is one of the constants I mentioned. Always there, always playing some sort of part, he’s been involved in the Bay Area scene longer than I’ve been here. I’ve been attracted to him since the beginning, but I got involved with Kane so quickly after my mentorship ended and I just wanted to focus on him and my collar and all the bells and whistles attached to it.. James got thrown into the category of “crush”, which, for some reason in my mind makes someone untouchable. He’s safe. I admire from a far, can keep up the friendship, and all is well.

We had played once, at Surrender, but there was something about him that made my heart race..made me afraid. I knew enough about him to know he had his demons. I felt safe when I was around him.. I saw how he looked at a lot of the subby girls around him. Protective. He was always my friend, but he kept me at a a distance just as much as I kept him there. Distance was safe. Distance meant there was some level of detachment.

Somehow, that night at the kink cafe, I ended up on my knees in front of him for a mini scene right there in the cafe. For the first time I enjoyed pain for his pleasure. I reconnected with him, and with other friends that were in his circle that I had lost touch with. I had a community again. He invited me along to an event in the city called Bondage a Go Go that’s half club, half dungeon. I don’t do well in clubs, and I was still jumpy despite the endorphins rushing through me and the beautiful teeth marks I was suddenly sporting on my neck. That first week, I declined.

The second week was much the same as the first, with a mini scene again, just a bit bolder.. and this time I went to BaGG. The week after that I went with the anticipation of his hands on me, of the marks he would leave. I brought clothes for BaGG.

As the weeks progressed, it became more than play. In my shy, awkward way (which can be VERY socially awkward) I got to know him more. There was talking in between slaps, and kissing. And lots of squeaking. I found my crush getting stronger. I listened to whispers that he had a thing for me too. I had taken my collar off, and was adjusting to the nakedness of my neck. I was feeling bold… and did something I had never done before, ever.

I asked him out one night at BaGG. And he actually said yes.

And then I failed at follow up. I didn’t know how to have conversations with him via text. Did he want to hear from me, did he not? I didn’t know. Again, socially awkward as all hell, especially if I’m crushing on someone. He’s been very patience with me, slowly pulling me out of my shell week after week as we spend more time together.

It started with just BaGG every week. And then, week after week, he was at the play parties once a week as well, and I ended up as his plus 1..

I don’t remember how to date, and I’ve never done an out-in-the-open relationship with BDSM undertones. I have no clue what the hell I’m doing..and while I am scared shitless I am also loving every last minute of this strange adventure with James. A lot of his friend are mine.. and we both have kink as one of the main parts of our lives. It is a large part of both of our artistic practices. He pushes me, in so many ways; pushes me to ask for what I want, pushes me to take control and stand on my own two feet, to give but to not be taken advantage of. He pushes me physically, leaving wonderful marks all over my chest, back, thighs, and ass. I have bruises, bites, nail marks, scratches…

I have talked about zinging with someone before, that moment of “Oh shit.” When you make a real connection with someone, that moment always appears when you know you are in trouble. When you realize that something is going to make an impact on you, mean something.

For me that moment was last night. He spent the night, which is a novelty in and of itself to me. I hadn’t spent the night with someone in a good six months, and even that it hadn’t been in my tiny apartment with my cat and my chaos and my ‘single girl in her 20’s’ stuff. As much as we engage in kinky fuckery, we are taking things very slow in a lot of ways. For one, we haven’t had sex yet. We haven’t put labels on anything, haven’t rushed into anything. Building a strong foundation and really exploring is important to both of us. One on one, yes we kiss and play and touch, but we also talk, a lot. Conversations start casual and become deep and meaningful between us very quickly.

We were having one of those conversations last night, the deep and meaningful ones. The evening itself was FANTASTIC. He’s involved in theatre, and he let me tag along to a show he helped out with. By the time we got back to my place it was close to 4 a.m. We were both exhausted thanks to a party the night before at the Citadel that hadn’t seen us home until 5 a.m.. There was no logical reason for us to do anything but stumble into my place and pass out.

Only I didn’t want to. Not in that moment. I didn’t want the conversation to end, didn’t want the magic to go away. I was enjoying myself so much that I didn’t want the night to end. I just wanted to talk more. Learn more. I wanted to peel back more layers of this man. I was so comfortable, and able to be so totally myself with him. I could really care for this man. This could be something special.

Cue “oh fuck” moment. There, unexpected and delayed after a year of knowing this man but not really knowing him, was the Zing. That zaa zaa zoo moment that added a new level of intensity to our interaction, a new level of intimacy that wasn’t quite there before.

Eventually we did go inside. We got ready for bed and kept talking, kept touching, kept kissing. I didn’t expect to sleep in his arms. I never do. Men always do the tuck and roll, or they’ll wait until just before they pass out to move because they have to sleep in a certain position. And yet I was pulled into his arms and held. I can’t quite put into words how.. safe I felt, how secure. How fucking good it felt to be surrounded by an embrace. My last thought of the night was that there was no way this was going to last, that you don’t actually get to sleep in someone’s arms.

I woke up surrounded by warmth and security, as safely anchored in his arms as I had been when I passed out, mind boggled. I have no idea what I’m doing; no idea at all. I could stress. I could over analyze, freak myself out, tell myself all the reasons I shouldn’t pursue this, or want this, or want him or want to explore this uncharted territory of dating. I’m sure I could come up with a good list of reasons as to why this isn’t a good idea.

Instead, I’m going to feel the feels. I’m going to just… smile and enjoy the moment.

I am in uncharted territory, and I am happy.

Yours, as always

-Rena

P.S. on a more comical note, James and Poe had a wonderful conversation where they plotted my demise. I believe James meets with kitty approval. I haven’t decided yet whether this thrills me or terrifies me. Ho boy…