Tag Archives: dating

The Auction Machine

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Lately, my world has been very small.

Words have been difficult. I ran head-first into some undealt with trauma going through December and rather than burying it to face it again come next year I’ve been trying my best to actually FEEL everything. It’s much easier to just bury it for later. Burying it has always let me function. But I’m a wee bit passed functioning, and since the start of 2018 I have done my best to try to live. Improve my life. I’ve started a new job, been trying to eat better, sleep more, meditate.. All things that feed my soul.

The con of all of this is that my social anxiety has been wreaking havoc on my life. It’s flaired to a terrifying extent, severly impacting how I talk to people and maintain relationships. I’ve bungled communicating with Ryan more than once because of it. I’m blessed with people in my life like my roommate, Ace, and James that get it.. Ace to an unfortunately intimate degree. But. Writing messages makes my mind feel like it’s stuck in mud. Like each sentence is pulled bit by bit out of quicksand. There’s a weight on my chest as I talk to people that was never there before, and even small amounts of unfamiliar interraction is EXHAUSTING. It’s lessening, bit by bit, as time goes on, and it’s oddly comforting to finally have words and understanding of what is going on, but this whole thing has cost me friendships and romantic interractions. Which, as expected, blows.

It’s different with the public stuff. BaGG, Sanctum, the Citadel; these are all places that are part performance. I put on a show. I keep the show running and make sure things are taken care of. Because of that, for the most part interractions at BaGG and the Citadel are much easier for me lately than messages and texts, but even then unless I’m in scene my energy has been lower, and my ability to social less.

Typially at least one of my weekend days is taken up with a date with Ryan. We usually see each other about twice a week and that’s about all the romantic exposure I get for the week (my vibrator has become my best friend -__- ), but one of my metas through him was coming in from out of town. I’ve been missing Ace with an intensity that I don’t have words for lately… and the reality of our situation is that I don’t know the next time I’ll see him. Hold him. Kiss him. Knowing that ache, I kept my distance from Ryan this weekend when normally we talk fairly consistently throughout the day. Let him have his fill of my amazing meta and be able to fully focus on her while he can. I had a challenge that I had placed in front of myself for the weekend.

It was Master’s Den yet again, and I had not gone solo in a very long time. For about a year I had been going with Ryan, which was lovely and always resulted in amazing scenes, but my social circle had dwindled, and I was aching for some impact play. With Ryan occupied and Chris busy for the weekend I decided to get myself a new outfit, do my hair and makeup proper, and put myself out there for something that has never been my forte. Pickup play.

When I say I got a new outfity I mean I peacocked with the best of them. It was a lace one piece that unbuttoned at the crotch. The cups did runneth over in the best way possible, and I paired both with black lace heels and black tights. After changing from my mundane clothes I got James to do a damn double take at me. I felt good. Really good. I have the ability to come off as cute with quite a bit of ease. It’s sexy that I have to work for. I wanted to be wanted and desired, not just patted on the head, and as I walked through the Citadel to the orientation I felt eyes on me and beamed.

Typically, Master’s Den is made up of three different parties that rotate; Casino, Revelry, and Auction. That night was the introduction of a fourth component; Auction Machine. We submissives learned at orientation that like at auction, we would be put up for scenes with the winner, but unlike auction there wasn’t going to be any bidding. It was all random. We would fill out auction cards that would be slipped into the auction machine. The Dominants would then step up with a token that they won playing the casino games, slip it in the machine, and be given a card at random.

Gulp.

Whelp. I had wanted to push myself and I had wanted to attempt pick up play.

I grabbed a card for the 10pm auction, knowing that my play safety nets weren’t available. James had been pushing himself way too damn hard trying to work on a shoot for an upcoming show and his body was in no shape to play. He spent the night playing blackjack, building up his Den dollars with me periodically doing food and water runs for him so that he didn’t pass out. Ryan and Chris weren’t there. I was fully solo.

I filled out the card. Open to play and service. Interested in flogging, canes, whips, rope bondage/suspension, bondage, oral giving (marked to be negotiated), receiving sexual stimuation, paddles, hands.

The last part of the card is writing out two possible scene ideas. I grinned.

1: So far as I know, there is only one person in the Citadel right now that can still bruise my ass. Challenge accepted?
2: I love my tights. They’re quite pretty. But. They have a hole in them. So, they are pretty tights that need to die a glorious death.

And. I waited.

The first auction happened. I watched, and watched James watch. I perched by James for a bit and watched him play blackjack (submissives aren’t allowed to play). I nommed on the yummy sushi made by the caterer for the event (a Citadel regular that I clashed with, but that I have to give props to when it comes to cooking), and let myself get teased by a Dominant that has wanted in my pants for a good few months. He pulled my hair, nipped at my neck, and growled in my ear that I was a good girl, getting me ramped up just enough for whoever won me out of the machine.

10 pm. Auction time.

I stood, and watched, and waited as card by card was handed out. We were given numbers with our cards, and one by one they were called. I was, quite literally, the very last card to be chosen.

I am a picky bitch when it comes to play. It’s one of the reasons I suck at pick-up play. As the Dominants chose their scenes I judged each one that stepped up. There were one or two in the bunch that I was attracted to, but not many. And then I saw one, one that I had a thing for for over a year.

He was clad all in leather with a proper harnness, and internally I purred. Just enough scruff, a muscular build, and the ‘I can rip a submissive apart and put them back together’ look perfected. I had watched him play in the past and wanted to crawl into his toy bag and live there. Leather, wood, floggers, whips, a bunny pelt for senation play, and leather gloves.

Leather. Fucking. Gloves. An impact slut has not lived until they’ve gotten their ass tanned by a top sporting properly fitting leather gloves.

By the luck of the gods, Leatherman chose my card. He had his submissive, an adorable Bunny, with him that would be assisting with the scene, keeping sweat out of his eyes and helping hand him toys and the like. The Bunny was sweet and shy with a British accent. I was immediately comfortable.

He tied me to the cross, something that Ryan often does. I let myself relax as he pulled out huge wooden paddles and leather floggers. He slipped the one piece I was wearing over my head, leaving me bare outside of my stockings, and began flogging my back.

It had been far too long since I felt steady leather. I purred under the blows, and mewed, and yipped as they got harder. Leatherman keeps a good rhythm. He knew how to break up the thumps by switching up sensations, thumping on my back with his leather-clad hands, touching me softly, tickling me ever so slightly and pulling my hair. It was a style that James often used, and had me flying high in moments.

Feeling honest play chemistry from a long-running crush was a wonderful surprise. I moaned, and cursed, and came, and had the sadist smiling from ear to ear by the end of the scene and his submissive giggling at my comments and very at ease. Leatherman even managed to flip me over and pound on my tits, something that I usually cannot take. It was.. something I honestly really enjoyed. He held each breast in one hand while pounding it with the other, giving me the catharsis I was craving without overstimulating my way too sensative nipples. He found the tattoos under my breasts with my slave number and ‘As You Wish’ and understood exactly what it was without me saying anything. I watched him get hard at the connection and internally screamed ‘YESSSSSSSS’. My submissive side, my slave side, was still sexy. Not just cute. I wasn’t just an adorable little that was tolerated, or something people were used to. I. Was. Sexy. Dammit. And it felt so, SO good.

And yes, by the end of the scene I was butt-ass naked, and smiling. A need I didn’t know was there had been filled. Leather; gods how I had missed the feel of leather against my skin. The scene lasted a good hour, and while it didn’t end in bruises it did end in an established connection. Leatherman and I agreed to play together at the next party we were both at, and I made the choice to aftercare on my own and let him have some time with his submissive before the end of the party. I could see the lovely Bunny antsy to play, and didn’t want to take up any more of his time.

I spent the rest of the party purring, curled up next to James as he played his cards. I had done all the hard things, and it had gone well. I even made a friend out of it in Bunny, who I got to talk to again at the end of the party. I truly enjoyed their company, and felt very at ease with both Leatherman and Bunny both.

Sometimes, risks pay off. I’m slowly becoming myself again… or rather, a more whole version of myself. I look forward to more nights like I had the other night, more opportunities to be bold, and more chances the strut like the peacock I can be.

Yours, regrouping.

-Rene

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’m Still Alive!

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GAH…barely, but I am.

I’m actually quite a bit better than I was a couple of weeks ago. Finals…bad juju. False friends…also bad juju.

A lot has happened in the last couple weeks. I started and stopped several blog posts, almost like in the beginning.. Too much. I got too overwhelmed to update.

First off… on the vanilla front my job is fantastic. I am in absolute love..even though the paperwork is proving to be a huge pain in the ass. The job requires health information and doctors stuff… I’m a bad 20something. I haven’t had a primary care doctor since I outgrew my pediatrician. So…that may take some figuring. Time to pull up my big girl pants and actually figure out this real life shit.

Not being a student for the first time in my life is an..odd feeling, especially when I was so set on going to grad school. My health insurance may be at risk because of it..but I will figure all that out.

I was at work the other day on my lunch break when I began thinking of all my firsts for the next year, and the past few months. Certain things I love and look forward to (first Dom, first collar, first poly relationship, first big girl job, first actual non-shoebox apartment) and certain things are hard (first Mother’s Day away from home, first time missing my daddy’s birthday when I’m the only one that ever makes a big deal of it, first summer away from my baby sister). A lot of what I’m not looking forward to are things that were staples, traditions, that I’m missing, but that’s part of growing up and gaining your own life. Growing pains are always hard. If they weren’t, they would have a different fricken nickname.

On a BDSM front… Okay where do I start.

The beginning, I guess. Which is where Sir and I have started again. I imploded, there is no two ways around it, and I screwed up in a big way. While I expected all of the blame to be put on my rookie mistake and for him to walk away, frustrated, Sir took some of the blame for my behavior as well. We talked, it got emotional (it often does…) and decided to start from the beginning, doing this the right way. Not rushed, because I’m disappearing. The pressure of me going poof is no longer there. Which means I will get my collar when I’ve earned it.

Literally.

I make chainmail jewelry. A couple weeks ago, Sir tasked me with making my own collar. He had picked out a particularly challenging weave and instructed me to create a collar similar to that, and to think about what it meant, what the relationship meant, all aspects of it, while I made it. Well… once I got the weave down I made it in a couple hours..and a few days later saw a very similar collar in a shop window. My inner artist twitched, and I asked Sir if I could make another one, with a weave that seemed more unique and more fitting. He granted my request, and I made it in a couple of days (It’s now my new favorite weave to do ^.^ Is fun…).

The day after I imploded, Sir and I met up for the evening. I gave him the collar that I had made. He picked it up, contemplated it, played with it… and tasked me with something that requires quite a bit more patience. I am to make a carbon copy of the collar I showed him that night, exact in every detail. I have to do it by earning _every_last_ring_. Each evening, I ask Sir before bed how many links I can add to my collar. Some nights are more than others. I get one link just for asking, and I get more if I’ve done something proving certain submissive behaviors, or done anything particularly pleasing to him. I’ve learned to adjust the times I ask because there are times when he passes out or is busy or I pass out and I miss my chance.

Last night, I earned 10 rings. I went to a kink coffee social for beginners in the BDSM world and hit it off with a guy. He’s pan-sexual, and the typical type of guy I am attracted to. Big. Scruffy. Could toss me around like a hot potato. He pulled my chair out for me when I came over to sit down and kept sending me glances.. and so I sent them back. And then we talked after…and we cuddled a bit, and we kissed. He was even gentlemanly and walked me back to my apartment.

A very sweet fella, and definitely someone I will hang out with in the future…but no romantic potential. He’s nice… but the intellectual conversations just aren’t there (a brain is a huge turn on), and he may Top from time to time…but he is not a Dom. He’s a switch, and tends to be more of a bottom with women. Both were huge buzz kills for me. He was a decent kisser, however, and I was proud of myself for putting myself out there. So was Sir đŸ™‚

I’m still working on the whole dating thing.. I feel like I haven’t experienced enough of what being a sub really is, what it means, to tackle another Dom. I don’t want a vanilla relationships, and casual anything seems to always come with catches. I thought coffee house guy would be some casual fun until he mentioned taking things slow.

….Taking what slow? We have things? Mrow? Damn.

I’m hoping to click with someone eventually. The more things I go to, the more I expose myself to, the more people I meet and the more chances of me hitting it off with someone. I’m even attempting to be on Fetlife more. I joined a group that posts classifieds seeking D/s partners, for curiosities sake of what’s out there more than anything else. I read, I learn. I ask Sir questions when I have them. I earn my collar link by link. So far, I’ve earned 21 rings. Only about 120 or so to go. No, I haven’t counted every last ring that I have to earn. If I do, I will obsess, and I don’t want that. I’ll get the collar when I’m supposed to.

I had a conversation with Sir a few days ago after another meltdown that made some things just…click with me. I was beating the shit out of myself. I hate disappointing him, HATE IT. I don’t want him to regret picking me when I wanted him to so badly. I voiced my fears to him. He said, “Well get through it, little one. Together.” Neither of us had realized just how stubborn I was..just how hard I was clinging to that last bit holding me back from completely submitting to him.

Submission is a choice. I find myself rereading this blog post almost daily lately to remind myself of that http://servingmaster.com/2014/04/24/the-good-submissive/ . I recommend it. I remind myself that I am choosing this path, that I want this, need this. I need to trust Sir, obey him, and submit.

That evening after the meltdown, when Sir told me that we would get through it all together, he also said that he would turn me into a submissive than any Dom would be proud to have, and that he would help me find a Dom, wherever I was, when the time is right. I adore Sir, truly. I trust him completely. When he says it’s going to be okay and that we’ll get through it, he means it and I believe him. I still have so much to learn..so much I need to let myself learn, but I’m on the right track.

The night of the munch everyone went around and told people who they were and why they were there. When I introduced myself I mentioned that I was there because the Dom mentoring me thought it would be a good activity for me to go to; that he and his girlfriend/submissive were very experienced in BDSM and I was as green as green could be and he wanted me to get some exposure to others, connect to people both green and experienced. Meet people in general. The Dom heading the meeting said, “You are very, VERY lucky your Dom found you, because there are some psychos out there…there are a lot of psychos out there. It seems you have one of the real ones.”

I know I’m lucky. I’m grateful. And I’m definitely changing, slowly, for the better.

More to come… when things settle a bit.

-Rena