Tag Archives: fun

Teacher, Mine

Relationships go in cycles, or so it seems. At least, mine always have. Those who are meant to stick around in your life cycle back around in one way or another.

One of those that has cycled back for me is Cal, the person who started all of this. I still chuckle when I think about how I was when I started this journey. Monogamous, green, terrified of pain. Spankings were far from enjoyable for me and knives terrified me.

Now, most of that is the opposite.

Cal and I have danced around each other for years now… and we’re still dancing. It’s never been the right time. Things have always gotten in the way. He hasn’t been available. I haven’t been. And so, I swallowed the bits of desire that remained after his last breakup and told myself, over and over and over, I would be a safe person for him. I would be a friend.

What I didn’t factor in was that nothing about Cal is safe. At least for me.

I have several people that have always been kryptonite for me, just on a visceral level. James is one of them. He gets to me on every level. His voice, his smell, his presence… Cal is another one. When I was his mentee I would sleep in tee shirts that smelled of him. I think I still have one of his old green shirts stashed away that I sleep in on colder nights (I don’t normally wear shirts to bed. I get strangled by them). He figured out how to fuck my mind before he ever got to my body, which hardly helped things when I was first starting out. And he was protective of me. All things that give me a lady boner.

He started coming to BaGG, on and off, a couple of months ago. He saw James again (James doesn’t like him), met my Daddy and my Sir. BaGG… is a work in progress for Cal and I. The first time he got me shit faced on scotch and left me before saying goodbye and after making out with me. Several times. And telling me that he would be there long after James was gone, and we would end up together because we’re both too broken not to. The second was similar to the first, only I was more sober and stuck him on a stool for the last hour of the night to sober up while I rubbed at bruises he left on my neck. He’s into breath play, which is something I also love, but when he’s drunk his hands are very rough. And I was afraid.

Still. There had been kisses. And hugs. And he called me little one.

I found myself protective of this man, broken again by a relationship that I saw going down in flames long before it did. And I found myself terrified of him as well. He apologized for the incidents and promised to try and manage the alcohol more. He’s hurt, physically, and not eating as much as normally, and so alochol is affecting him more strongly than it normally does.

There is a war in my head when it comes to Cal. There is the good, protective friend that kinda wants to guide him back into our local scene and then there’s the submissive chomping at the bit to prove herself to him. To show what he missed. It’s the submissive that gets me in trouble, in ways that I didn’t see coming. And it’s the submissive that still.. can’t help but react to him. Smell. Voice. Presence. ESPECIALLY when he milks it. When he purrs my nickname after too many drinks and I tell my brain to shut up for a minute so I can enjoy.

He’s gotten better. We both have. Thank godde for time, firm boundaries, and bunnies. He has a new love that has slowly wrangled a lot of the darkness he has been carrying..and it means he’s behaving a lot more. And she is lovely.. Full compersion here. She’s the right age and the right temperment to actually be GOOD for him after his string of lemons, and I’m happy for him. I truly, honestly am. I just…have brain squirrels.

Last week, Cal came to BaGG. I was freshly back from a trip east and felt like absolute shit. I now know I probably had a fever..but I was determined to go. My friends wanted to see me. My meta wanted to talk about her trip and mine. I wanted my time with James. I was getting there.

I spent a good portion of the night on my knees, which were so sore they could barely support my weight. I didn’t think about this, until Cal saw me do it in the back of the smoking alley.

His hands were in my hair before I could warn him not to. He pet me gently, and I purred. Daddy was right in front of me. I knew it was safe, and Cal kept saying it wasn’t sexual. He was careful not to call me my nickname. I was careful not to call him sir. We were Cal and Rene and it was just a few head pets when I was in pain.

Later in the back room, he hugged me hard. He gets emotional after a few drinks and has a habit of thanking me for still being around.. which I appreciate. The hug captured my head. He had his hand in my hair and pulled, hard. I whimpered and reached for Daddy’s shirt, tugging just as hard. It was a signal we had agreed upon earlier in the evening that I would do when I was scared. Daddy interviened, gently pulling Cal off of me while my meta calmed me down. I blamed the last double he had and tried to shake it off.

It’s just with alcohol that I find myself on edge with Cal. When four or five drinks are removed he’s a safehaven. I crashed at his place after a play party last weekend, grateful for the couch and a day when I didn’t have to pay a bridge toll in order to get to work. He hugged me hello and I smelled him and immediately knew cuddling was out of the question. I put a big, fat blanket between he and I on the couch until he went to crash for the evening.

The next morning I tried to sneak out, dressing quickly for breakfast with Chris and scampering out the door. I dressed quickly before tossled hair and a furrowed brow stumbled outside, slightly confused. He was adorable. Bits of me melted that had been holding firm, and I smiled. He hugged me goodbye a beat too long. A dangerous beat. I wanted to kiss him.

But. I also want his head on straight. I want him established with his new parter. I want him happy and mostly whole. I want him to know that I am safe, and stable, and honestly pretty fucking close to poly saturated right now. I want to see more than one BaGG in a row without me getting scared of him physically harming me.

I want time, that lovely balm that heals all things, to finally decide the course for Cal and I. I keep telling myself that we are going to be friends. Friends are safe. Friends are good.

And all my instincts keep wanting more.

Yes, Cal is my teacher from a world ago, but lately we’ve been teaching each other. We talk daily, reading one another and keeping each other in check. For now, this is healthy.

For later?

I don’t know. Time will tell. Time always tells. For now, I have brain squrrels and he has a bunny. And this is how it should be.

So, what have you got left to teach me, teacher mine?

Yours, playful,

-Rene

Birthday Spankings

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Yes, that would be my ass.. The last remnants of the marks are still there from last week’s birthday spankings.

Not mine, mind you, but my Master’s. James’s birthday was on Thursday..which meant that Wednesday evening was his birthday BaGG.

Wednesday was… a much needed day. It started with a hot tub photo shoot with a friend of our’s, a beautiful model who knows how to work her body. I assisted, James shot, and then there were some shenanigans and a wonderful hot tub blow job that our friend was kind enough to take pictures of. After it was to BaGG, where my ass was already tingling in anticipation.

There was a bit of debate over who would take Master’s spankings. Spanking him.. is a difficult thing, and he’s more a Dominant than anything (although there are rare occasions when he will switch). Typically he asks for volunteers, who would take them.. but I had been missing him lately, missing our connection, and I selfishly played the girlfriend card. I wanted them. Badly. Knowing just how badly they were going to hurt.

And so I was excited when one of the BaGG members came to find me on the dance floor, telling me around midnight that my Master needed me. I all but skipped to the back dungeon, waiting with anticipation while the girl before us took her birthday spankings.

I have a love/hate relationship with spanking horses. I’m a wee bit too short for them.. I have to climb up onto them, not just bend over, and have to wrap my legs around them to stay up properly. Because of this, the harder slaps will actually cause the bench to dig into my inner thighs and bruise me, no matter how good the padding is. There would be four people spanking me that night. Two were my roommates, both people I adore and both people who have spanked me in some semblance before. I screamed and squirmed a little, though not too much. They were a lovely warm-up, getting ten spankings each. The woman after them was a friend from BaGG. She’s a tiny, beautiful thing with the most stunning outfits and a surprisingly sadistic side. With every couple of smacks she would pull me by my hips further back on the horse, having it dig further into me. By the time she finished, ending on a lovely note with a wooden paddle, I could feel the warmth coming from my ass. Tom, a BaGG member and friend, was holding my hands in front of the horse and checking in to make sure I was okay.

BaGG math is a funny thing; it’s never quite linear. Master James turned 32 this year.. so I should receive 33 spankings (one to grown on is important). The first three spankers gave me ten spankings each. This should leave Master with three, logically.

Nope. Somehow three turned into thirteen, which doesn’t sound like much, but my Master’s hands are his feet. When he spanks someone, most people tap out at three, five at the most. His hands are like concrete, and there is very rarely any sort of warm up. Often when he’s working the photo booth at the Citadel he will bend me over one of the benches in the back and use my screams to attract people to the room. I love it..

One, two, three spankings in I scream. My body shakes a little. Tom checks in. The crowd watching cheers. By spanking six I’m openly sobbing. With each one I’m slammed into the horse more, aggravating bruises that are already forming on my inner thighs. By ten the crowd seems quieter, further away. Tom is checking in with me more and more, asking if I want to tap out. I don’t. This is my normal. These spankings that feel like concrete. I hate and love everyone. It’s just a rarity for people to see us play for any length of time. Normally I get a few whacks in between at an event he’s working. This was enough to make up a decent scene.

By the time Master is done the room is almost quiet. I remember stumbling off the horse to Tom’s horror and immediately turning around and sinking to my knees, straight into Master’s arms. He held me like I was the most precious thing in the world, kissing the top of my head. There, wrapped in the cocoon of Master’s arms, I heard someone behind us say, “James and Rene, everybody!”. The quiet room erupted as Master helped me to my feet and led me to the side, where I could sit and curl back up in his arms again. After snuggles, and kisses, and a decent amount of aftercare he ordered me up and had me bend over to take this picture.

I love my marks…and the Master that gives them to me.

Yours, happily bruised

-Rene

 

Play Time

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I’ve been playing quite a bit lately, so much so that it seems the only time I’ve had to write about it was now that I’m pulled away from that world for a whole two weeks. I’m currently 3000 miles away from my every day life, at my parent’s home in New Jersey with my cat in my lap and my dog at my feet. What better a time to share my bits of fun. 

I’m very bad at just..random play, probably because I am still figuring out how far my body can be pushed and what exactly feels good to me. However, I have been socializing quite a bit and that has led to meeting some unique playmates whose company I’ve been enjoying. 

My favorite on a social level is by far a man named Kane. He’s a fellow artist, like myself, and that’s what started our communications back and fourth. Much like when Cal and I started talking, he opened the dialogue by mentioning a certain piece of my work that I have a soft spot for..and we took off from there into a rousing debate between the Expressionists and the Impressionists, and why we like both and why we don’t like it. It was a good week and change before we actually got around to talking about anything kinky. 

For him, it’s not about the ‘scene’, and public play doesn’t do it for him. For personal reasons, his play is very private, and it is also very closely integrated into some of his work. He is exceedingly picky about who submits to him, because they also inevitably become his muse. That was originally what made me want to play with him. The idea intrigued me, and flattered me that he thought I could be his muse. There was also a vey real boundary between he and I that kept away any danger of falling too deeply, or falling at all, and that has kept me in check with him. I can honestly say that I am attracted to his personality, and that I get great pleasure from just sitting and talking with him. I love that he thinks of me outside of the BDSM scene. The last time we got together, we got back to his place and he surprised me with new water color pads and beautiful new portable water color set. He knew I was traveling home and wanted me to be able to work while I was there. “I just was in Flax and thought of you.” he said, smiling.. I may have tackle hugged him. 

He may have tied me up afterward. He draws me like a kinky Matisse nude, and I find myself exceedingly flattered that he has deemed me captivating enough to keep in his company. 

Another playmate of mine I have mentally gone back and forth about… I liked him originally, admitting to Cal when I met him that I had a bit of a crush. By the next evening however he was driving me up the walls. Little things bothered me. I didn’t like how he smelled (eerily like my ex…) or that he ordered me to be affectionate afterwards. The play itself was FANTASTIC. I felt the bruises for days afterward and and wore them with a smile on my face. However, by the time the evening was over I had decided that the next time we got together there would be no snuggling and sleeping after, no matter how many orgasms he caused me to have and how exhausted I was. 

I ran into him again, at a play party at the local dungeon that I had gone to with a platonic friend. That meeting.. went radically differently, and ended with my first public scene and my first introduction to what being in subspace feels like. There I was in my element. I wanted to be affectionate; I liked him having his arm around me and wanting to paddle my ass until it all but glowed red. Thanks to him I discovered that I actually DO enjoy pain mixed with pleasure…and that a flogger handled properly is amazing. But why was I so attracted to him there and not the time before? Perhaps part of it was that I was still in the D/s relationship with Cal when George and I first met. Whether or not I want to admit it, Cal was always in the back of my mind when I played with others..or even flirted with others. I would do the bad thing.. compare, when I know I shouldn’t have. Another influence was probably the dungeon we were in, where I was in a very altered headspace and felt completely comfortable in my own skin. I was willing to go there, in an arena where I felt like we had a more even playing field than in his apartment. 

The third and final playmate of mine is a baby, and a switch. I say baby because he is much less experienced than the other two, and more that a decade younger as well. Chris is a handful of years older than I am, and reminds me eerily of one of my exes..but all the good things about him. He’s an ass hole in a snarky, sarcastic sort of way, and in certain ways I love that. He and I played at the play party as well.. though it was less play and more..well.

He and I met at a singles mixer weeks before. I liked him, however, life got in the way. I got pulled away into a new job, money issues, moving, etc.. and became horribly neglectful of my phone, which meant putting off the sexual tension between he and I. When we saw each other again at the play party we both knew that toys kinda.. didn’t matter for this romp. It was time to get rid of the damn sexual tension, and so we did. I played with him about a half hour after finishing the scene with George, which had pushed me to my limit and had me flying at the end. My ass was still sore, and wonderfully hot. A couple smacks with Chris’s bare hands and I was flying again. The sex was rather fantastic…but that also might be because of the mental space that I was in. Either way, I enjoyed playing with him. He plays a bit more vanilla than both George and Kane, and is much more on my level to where I feel comfortable experimenting and asking him to try this or that on me. He is a snarky, sarcastic friends with benefits… which is nice.

In certain ways I wish I had a primary partner.. and in other ways I’m loving the freedom of my playmates. All three are incredibly different, and thusly so are my interactions with them. With George I feel an instant need to fall to my knees and address him as sir (lowercase, thank you very much. He’s not my sir yet, but he is a regular partner and finds the term respectful when playing), and strive to get the “good girl” from him. With Kane.. it’s sensual, sweet, and pulls at my artistic heartstrings. No titles with him, just orders and held positions, and passion of a different sort. With Chris I don’t feel like kneeling at all. Once the scene is over I stand and look him in the eyes, which is nice in its own way. 

I have a lot going on in my vanilla life right now.. a lot of changes. Having my kinky life fall into a regular pattern of visits and dinners has in certain ways lifted a weight off my shoulders. It’s some normalcy, some safety while I continue to discover what exactly I want and do what I have to do in the other aspects of my life. I LIKE the play. I miss the serving element.. the orders, the tasks.. but that comes with time, and with feeling. I was told to be very picky in picking a primary partner..and I plan to be. I’m not jumping at the first Dom that gives me the time of day. In the meantime I will simply improve other aspects of my submission, which including exploring and refining my lists of limits and fetishes…

I would say there are much worse things in this world ^.~

The cat has decided it’s time to chase the dog around the house… ho boy. Back to vanilla life. 

-Rena